Knickerbocker, or New York Monthly Magazine, March 1844

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T H E K N I C K E R B O C K E R.

VOL. XXIII. MARCH, 1844. NO. 3.

WHAT IS TRANSCENDENTALISM?

BY A THINKING MAN.

This question has often been asked but seldom answered satisfactorily.
Newspaper editors and correspondents have frequently attempted a practical
elucidation of the mystery, by quoting from their own brains the rarest
piece of absurdity which they could imagine, and entitling it
'Transcendentalism.' One good hit of this kind may be well enough, by way
of satire upon the fogginess of certain writers who deem themselves, and
are deemed by the multitude, transcendental _par excellence_. COLERIDGE
however thought that to parody stupidity by way of ridiculing it, only
proves the parodist more stupid than the original blockhead. Still, one
such attempt may be tolerated; but when imitators of the parodist arise
and fill almost every newspaper in the country with similar witticisms,
such efforts become 'flat and unprofitable;' for nothing is easier than to
put words together in a form which conveys no meaning to the reader. It is
a cheap kind of wit, asinine rather than attic, and can be exercised as
well by those who know nothing of the subject as by those best acquainted
with it. Indeed, it is greatly to be doubted whether one in a hundred of
these witty persons know any thing of the matter; for if they possess
sense enough to make them worthy of being ranked among reasonable men, it
could be proved to them in five minutes that they are themselves
transcendentalists, as all thinking men find themselves compelled to be,
whether they know themselves by that name or not.

'Poh!' said a friend, looking over my shoulder; 'you can't prove _me_ a
transcendentalist; I defy you to do it; I despise the name.'

Why so? Let us know what it is that you despise. Is it the sound of the
word? Is it not sufficiently euphonious? Does it not strike your ear as
smoothly as Puseyite, or Presbyterian?

'Nonsense!' said he; 'you don't suppose I am to be misled by the sound of
a word; it is the meaning to which I object. I despise transcendentalism;
therefore I do not wish to be called transcendentalist.'

Very well; but we shall never 'get ahead' unless you define
transcendentalism according to your understanding of the word.

'That request is easily made, but not easily complied with. Have you
Carlyle or Emerson at hand?'

Here I took down a volume of each, and read various sentences and
paragraphs therefrom. These passages are full of transcendental ideas; do
you object to them?

'No,' said my friend; 'for aught I can perceive, they might have been
uttered by any one who was _not_ a transcendentalist. Let me see the
books.'

After turning over the leaves a long while, he selected and read aloud a
passage from Carlyle, one of his very worst; abrupt, nervous, jerking, and
at the same time windy, long-drawn-out, and parenthetical; a period
filling a whole page.

'There,' said he, stopping to take breath, 'if that is not enough to
disgust one with transcendentalism, then I know nothing of the matter.'

A very sensible conclusion. Bless your soul, that is _Carlyle-ism_, not
transcendentalism. You said but now that you were not to be misled by the
sound of a word; and yet you are condemning a principle on account of the
bad style of a writer who is supposed to be governed by it. Is that right?
Would you condemn Christianity because of the weaknesses and sins of one
of its professors?

'Of course not,' replied he; 'I wish to be fair. I cannot express my idea
of the meaning of transcendentalism without tedious circumlocution, and I
begin to despair of proving my position by quotations. It is not on any
particular passage that I rest my case. You have read this work, and will
understand me when I say that it is to its general intent and spirit that
I object, and not merely to the author's style.'

I think I comprehend you. You disregard the mere form in which the author
expresses his thoughts; you go beyond and behind that, and judge him by
the thoughts themselves; not by one or by two, but by the sum and
_substance_ of the whole. You strip off the husk to arrive at the kernel,
and judge of the goodness of the crop by the latter, not the former.

'Just so,' said he; 'that's my meaning precisely. I always strive to
follow that rule in every thing. 'Appearances,' you know, 'are
deceitful.''

That is to say, you go beyond or transcend appearances and circumstances,
and divine the true meaning, the substance, the spirit of that on which
you are about to decide. That is practical transcendentalism, and you are
a transcendentalist.

'I wish you would suggest another name for it,' said my friend, as he went
out of the door; 'I detest the sound of that word.'

I wish we could, said I, but he was out of hearing; I wish we could, for
it is an abominably long word to write.

'I wish we could,' mutters the printer, 'for it is an awfully long word to
print.'

'I wish we could,' is the sober second thought of all; for people will
always condemn transcendentalism until it is called by another name. Such
is the force of prejudice.

'I have been thinking over our conversation of yesterday,' said my friend
next morning, on entering my room.

'Oh, you have been writing it down, have you? Let me see it.' After
looking over the sketch, he remarked:

'You _seem_ to have me fast enough, but after all I believe you conquered
merely by playing upon a word, and in proving me to be a transcendentalist
you only proved me to be a reasonable being; one capable of perceiving,
remembering, combining, comparing and deducing; one who, amid the apparent
contradictions with which we are surrounded, strives to reconcile
appearances and discover principles; and from the outward and visible
learn the inward and spiritual; in fine, arrive at truth. Now every
reasonable man claims to be all that I have avowed myself to be. If this
is to be a transcendentalist, then I am one. When I read that I must hate
my father and mother before I can be a disciple of JESUS, I do not
understand that passage literally; I call to mind other precepts of
CHRIST; I remember the peculiarities of eastern style; I compare these
facts together, and deduce therefrom a very different principle from that
apparently embodied in the passage quoted. When I see the Isle of Shoals
doubled, and the duplicates reversed in the air above the old familiar
rocks, I do not, as I stand on Rye-beach, observing the interesting
phenomenon, believe there are two sets of islands there; but recalling
facts which I have learned, and philosophical truths which I have acquired
and verified, I attribute the appearance to its true cause, refraction of
light. When in passing from room to room in the dark, with my arms
outspread, I run my nose against the edge of a door, I do not therefrom
conclude that my nose is longer than my arms! When I see a man stumble in
the street, I do not at once set him down as a drunkard, not considering
that to be sufficient evidence, although some of our Washingtonian friends
do; but I compare that fact with the state of the streets, and what I know
of his previous life, and judge accordingly.'

Well, said I, you are an excellent transcendentalist; one after my own
heart, in morals, philosophy and religion. To be a transcendentalist is
after all to be _only_ a sensible, unprejudiced man, open to conviction at
all times, and spiritually-minded. I can well understand that, when you
condemn transcendentalism, you object not to the principle, but to the
practice, in the superlative degree, of that principle. Transcendentalism
is but an abstract mode of considering morals, philosophy, religion; an
application of the principles of abstract science to these subjects. All
metaphysicians are transcendentalists, and every one is transcendental so
far as he is metaphysical. There are as many different modifications of
the one as of the other, and probably no two transcendentalists ever
thought alike; their creed is not yet written. You certainly do not
condemn spiritualism, but ultra spiritualism you seem to abhor.

'Precisely so. I did not yesterday give you the meaning which I attached
to transcendentalism; in truth, practically you meant one thing by that
term, and I another, though I now see that in principle they are the same.
The spiritualism which I like, looks through nature and revelation up to
GOD; that which I abhor, condescends hardly to make use of nature at all,
but demands direct converse with GOD, and declares that it enjoys it too;
a sort of continual and _immediate_ revelation. Itself is its own
authority. The ultra-spiritualist contains within himself the fulness of
the Godhead. He allows of nothing external, unless it be brother spirits
like himself. He has abolished nature, and to the uninitiated seems to
have abolished GOD himself, although I am charitable enough to believe
that he has full faith in GOD, after his own fashion. He claims to be
inspired; to be equal to JESUS; nay superior; for one of them lately said:
'Greater is the container than the contained, therefore I am greater than
GOD, for I contain God!' The ultra-spiritualist believes only _by_ and
_through_ and _in_ his own inward light. Let him take care, as Carlyle
says, that his own contemptible tar-link does not, by being held too near
his eyes, extinguish to him the sun of the universe. Now the true
spiritualist makes use not only of his own moral and religious instincts,
but all that can be gathered by the senses from external nature, and all
that can be acquired by untiring consultation with the sages who have gone
before him; and from these materials in the alembic of his mind, with such
power as GOD has given him, he distils truth.'

Truth! Ah, that is the very point in question. 'What is truth?' has been
the ardent inquiry of every honest mind from the days of Adam to the
present time, and the sneering demand of many an unbeliever. Eve sought it
when she tasted the forbidden fruit. But since then, thank GOD! no
prohibition has been uttered against the search after truth, and mankind
have improved their liberty with great industry for six thousand years;
and what is the result? Is truth discovered? How much? and how much of
falsehood is mixed up with what _is_ known to be true? These questions are
constantly suggesting themselves to thinkers, and to answer them is the
labor of their lives. Let them have free scope, ultra-spiritualists and
all. Even these latter go through the same operation which you have just
claimed to be peculiar to the true spiritualist. All do, whether they will
or not, make use of observation, learning, and the inward light. Some
arrive at one result, and some at another, because the elements differ in
each. If any two could be found whose external observations, learning,
intellect and inward light or instincts were precisely equal in volume and
proportion, can it be doubted that these two would arrive at precisely
similar results? But they are _not_ equal; and so one comes to believe in
external authority, and the other refers every thing to a standard which
he thinks he finds within himself. The latter is deemed by the public to
be a representative of pure transcendentalism, and he is condemned
accordingly as self-sufficient.

And privately, between you and me, my good friend, I cannot help thinking
it rather ungrateful in him, after becoming so deeply indebted to his
senses, to books, and the Bible for his spiritual education, to turn round
and despise these means of advancement, and declare that they are mere
non-essential _circumstances_, and that a man may reach the same end by
studying himself _in_ himself. It is as if a man should use a ladder to
reach a lofty crag, and then kick it over contemptuously, and aver that he
could just as well have flown up, and ask the crowd below to break up that
miserable ladder and try their wings. Doubtless they _have_ wings, if they
only knew it. But seriously, I am not inclined to join in the hue-and-cry
against even the ultra-transcendentalist. He has truth mixed up with what
I esteem objectionable, and some truth to which others have not attained;
and as I deem the eclectic the only true mode of philosophy, I am willing
to take truth where I can find it, whether in China or Boston, in
Confucius or Emerson, Kant or Cousin, the Bible or the Koran; and though I
have more reverence for one of these sources than all others, it is only
because I think I find there the greatest amount of truth, sanctioned by
the highest authority. To put the belief in the Bible on any other ground,
is to base it on educational prejudice and superstition; on which
principle the Koran should be as binding on the Mahometan as the Bible on
us. Do we not all finally resort to _ourselves_ in order to decide a
difficult question in morals or religion? and is not the decision more or
less correct accordingly as we refer it to the better or to the baser
portion of our nature?

'Most certainly! I have often said I would not and could not believe in
the Bible, if it commanded us to worship Sin and leave our passions
unbridled.'

Well said! And in so saying, you acknowledge yourself to be governed by
the same principle which actuates the ultra-transcendentalist; the moral
sense or instinct, similar to the 'inward light' of the Friends. After
all, I apprehend the true point in which men differ is, whether this moral
sense is really an instinct, or whether it is evolved and put in operation
by education. How much is due to nature? is the true question. But to
solve it, is important only theoretically, for practically we all act
alike; we cannot, if we would, separate the educational from the natural
moral sense; we cannot _uneducate_ it, and then judge by it, freed from
all circumstantial bias. But whether more or less indebted either to
nature or education, it is to this moral and religious sense that the
ultra-transcendentalist refers every question, and passes judgment
according to its verdict. It is sometimes rather vaguely called the 'Pure
Reason;' but that is only a _term_, hardly a 'mouthful of articulate
wind.'

'You and I shall agree very well together, I see,' replied my friend. 'If
we dispute at all, it will be foolishly about the meaning of a word. All
the world have been doing that ever since the confusion of tongues at
Babel. That great event prophetically shadowed forth the future; for now,
as then, the confusion and disputation is greatest when we are striving
most earnestly to reach heaven by our earth-built contrivances. We may
draw a lesson therefrom; not to be too aspiring for our means; for our
inevitable failure only makes us the more ridiculous, the higher the
position we seem to have attained.'

Very true; but we should never arrive at the height of wisdom, which
consists in knowing our own ignorance and weakness, unless we made full
trial of our powers. The fall of which you speak should give us a modesty
not to be otherwise obtained, and make us very careful how we ridicule
others, seeing how open to it we ourselves are. Every man may build his
tower of Babel, and if he make a right use of his failure, may in the end
be nearer heaven than if he had never made the attempt. Ridicule is no
argument, and should only be used by way of a _jeu d'esprit_, and never on
solemn subjects. It is very hard, I know, for one who has mirthfulness
strongly developed, to restrain himself on all occasions; and what is
solemn to one may not be so to another; hence we should be very charitable
to all; alike to the bigots, the dreamers, and the laughers; to the
builders of theoretic Babel-towers, and the grovellers on the low earth.

'There is one kind of transcendentalism,' replied my friend, 'which you
have not noticed particularly, which consists in believing in nothing
except the spiritual existence of the unbeliever himself, and hardly that.
It believes not in the external world at all.'

If you are on _that_ ground, I have done. To talk of that, would be
wasting our time on nothing; or 'our eternity,' for with that sect time is
altogether a delusion. It _may_ be true, but the believer, even in the act
of declaring his faith, must practically prove himself persuaded of the
falsity of his doctrine.

'You wanted a short name for transcendentalism; if a long one will make
_this_ modification of it more odious, let us call it
_Incomprehensibilityosityivityalityationmentnessism_.'

My friend said this with a face nearly as long as the word, made a low
bow, and departed. I took my pen and reduced our conversation to writing.
I hope by this time the reader has a very lucid answer to give to the
question, _What is Transcendentalism?_ It will be a miracle if he can see
one inch farther into the fog-bank than before. I should like to take back
the boast made in the beginning of this paper, that I could prove in five
minutes any reasonable man a transcendentalist. My friend disconcerted my
plan of battle, by taking command of the enemy's forces, instead of
allowing me to marshal them on paper to suit myself; and so a mere
friendly joust ensued, instead of the utter demolition of my adversary,
which I had intended.

And this little circumstance has led me to think, what a miserable
business controversialists would make of it, if each had his opponent
looking over his shoulder, pointing out flaws in his arguments, suggesting
untimely truths, and putting every possible impediment in the path of his
logic; and if, moreover, he were obliged to mend every flaw, prove every
such truth a falsehood, and remove every impediment before he could
advance a step. Were such the case, how much less would there be of
fine-spun theory and specious argument; how much more of practical truth!
Always supposing the logical combatants did not lose their patience and
resort to material means and knock-down arguments; of which, judging by
the spirit sometimes manifested in theological controversies, there would
really seem to be some danger. Oh! it is a very easy thing to sit in one's
study and demolish an opponent, who after all is generally no opponent at
all, but only a man of straw, dressed up for the occasion with a few
purposely-tattered shreds of the adversary's cast-off garments.

* * * * *

NOTE BY THE 'FRIEND.'--The foregoing is a _correct_ sketch of our
conversations, especially as the reporter has, like his congressional
brother, corrected most of the bad grammar, and left out some of the
vulgarisms and colloquialisms, and given me the better side of the
argument in the last conversation; it is _very_ correct. But it seems to
me that the question put at the commencement is as far from being solved
as ever. It is as difficult to be answered as the question, What is
Christianity? to which every sect will return a different reply, and each
prove all the others wrong.

_Portsmouth, (N. H.)_ J. K. Jr.

LINES SENT WITH A BOUQUET.

BY PARK BENJAMIN.

I.

I've read in legends old of men
Who hung up fruits and flowers
Before the altar-shrines of those
They called Superior Powers:
It was, I think, a blessed thought
That things so pure and sweet
Should be esteemed an offering
For gods and angels meet.

II.

I imitate that charming rite
In this our sober day,
And, when I worship, strew sweet flowers
Along my angel's way:
And, if my heart's fond prayer be heard,
The offering I renew;
For flowers like books have leaves that speak,
And thoughts of every hue.

III.

They are Love's paper, pictured o'er
With gentle hopes and fears;
Their blushes are the smiles of Love,
And their soft dew his tears!
Ah! more than poet's pen can write
Or poet's tongue reveal
Is hidden by their folded buds
And by their rosy seal.

IV.

Mute letters! yet how eloquent!
Expressive silence dwells
In every blossom Heaven creates,
Like sound in ocean shells.
Press to my flowers thy lips, beloved,
And then thy heart will see
Inscribed upon their leaves the words
I dare not breathe to thee!

THE ALMS HOUSE.

BY A NEW CONTRIBUTOR.

It is not my purpose in the following narrative to point out all the evils
arising from the modern practice of relieving the wants of the poor and
destitute which prevails in this country and in England, where the arm of
the law compels that pittance which should be the voluntary donation of
benevolence; one consequence of which system is, that the poor claim
support as a _debt_ due from society at large, and feel no gratitude
toward any of the individuals paying the tax. The payer of the tax, on the
other hand, feeling that he can claim no merit for surrendering that which
is wrung from him by force, and expecting no thanks for the act, and
knowing that in many cases it operates as a bounty on idleness, hates the
ungrateful burthen thus imposed upon him, and strives to reduce it to the
least possible amount. In this way the ties which should bind together the
poor and the rich are sundered. The benevolence of the patron and the
gratitude of the dependent, which formerly existed, is changed to dislike
and suspicion on the one part, and envy and ingratitude on the other.

Doubtless one design of Providence in suffering want and misery to exist
in the world, is that the benevolent virtues should be kept in exercise.
He who was benevolence itself, seemed thus to think, when he said: 'The
poor ye have always with you.' But man in his selfishness virtually says:
'The poor we will not have with us; we will put them out of our sight.'
For in many towns in New-England, and probably in other States, it is
customary to contract with some individual for their support; or, in other
words, to sell them by auction, to him who will support them by the year,
for the least sum per head. To illustrate some of the results of this
system, the following incidents are related from memory, having been
witnessed by me in my native place (an interior town in New-England) at an
age when the feelings are most susceptible. And so deep was the impression
then made on my mind, that I am enabled to vouch for the accuracy of the
details.

A meeting for the purpose of disposing of the poor of the town for the
ensuing year was held at the house of the person who had kept them the
previous year, (and where these unfortunates still were) as well because
it was supposed he would again bid for them, as that those who wished to
become competitors might ascertain their number and condition. It was in
the afternoon of a day in November, one of those dark and dreary days so
common to the season and climate, adding gloom to the surrounding objects,
in themselves sufficiently cheerless. The house was situated on an obscure
road in a remote part of the town, surrounded by level and sandy fields;
and the monotony of the prospect only broken by scattered clumps of
dwarf-pine and shrub-oak; a few stunted apple-trees, the remains of an
orchard which the barren soil had refused to nourish; some half ruinous
out-houses, and a meagre kitchen garden enclosed with a common rough
fence, completed the picture without.

Still more depressing was the scene within. The paupers were collected in
the same room with their more fortunate townsmen, that the bidders might
be enabled to view more closely their condition, and estimate the probable
expense of supporting them through the year. Many considerations entered
as items into this sordid calculation; such as the very lowest amount of
the very coarsest food which would suffice, (not to keep them in comfort,
but to sustain their miserable existence for the next three hundred and
sixty-five days, and yet screen the provider from the odium of having
starved his victims,) the value of the clothes they then wore, and thus
the future expense of their clothing; and other such considerations, which
I will not farther disgust the reader by enumerating.

They were about twenty in number, and not greatly distinguished from the
ordinary poor of a country town in New-England; unless by there being
present three idiot daughters of one poor man, whose low and narrow
foreheads, sunken temples, fixed but dead and unmeaning eyes, half opened
and formless mouths, indicating even to childhood the absence of that
intellectual light, which in those who possess it shines through the
features. Insanity also was there, that most dreadful infliction of
Providence; the purpose of which lies hidden in the darkness which
surrounds His throne. Its unhappy subject was with them, but not of them.
His eyes were fixed upon the scene, but the uncertain fire which illumined
his features was caused by thoughts which had no connection with the
passing scene.

Vice, too, had its representatives; for in a community where wealth is
nearly the only source of distinction, and where Mammon is consequently
worshipped as the true god, the destiny of the unfortunate and of the
vicious is nearly the same. And the 'poor-house' was used, as in other
towns in New-England, as a house of correction, and at this time contained
several professors of vice of each sex. Alas! of that sex which when
corrupt is more dangerous than the other in a like condition, as the most
rich and grateful things are in their decay the most noxious!

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