Emerson on the American Scholar
Emerson’s definition of the American Scholar and inquiry into how they came to be. Submitted for PHIL 2103 on February 15, 2021.
By the time Ralph Waldo Emerson delivered his speech to the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Harvard College in 1837, American colonies had already gained independence from the British Empire for a little over six decades. While America was a politically independent country, Emerson remarks that America as a cultural society had been and still was reliant on the “courtly muses of Europe” (12). Yet not all hope is lost. Emerson posits that our days of intellectual dependence would soon draw to a close, and an uniquely American spirit, albeit nascent in its form, was sure to arise. Emerson’s optimism lies in the impending realization of “the American Scholar” who shall distinguish the country from its current reputation of timidity, tameness, and an imitator and give voice to the American experience. In this paper, I will first outline Emerson’s definition of the American Scholar and examine the main influences they receive. Then, I will discuss the benefits of being an American Scholar. Lastly, I will argue whether the term is limited to people of American birth based on Emerson’s speech.
For the Man Divided—an analogy faithfully resembling how our society, which depends heavily on the division of labor, functions—the scholar is the “delegated intellect” (2). In the right state, the scholar is the “Man Thinking” (2). In the wrong state, the scholar is “a mere thinker” or even just a “parrot of other men’s thinking” (2). The American Scholar is no different. Their duty is “to cheer, to raise, and to guide” others by distilling facts from appearances (7). Their duty is to continuously improve the state of the world by “gradual domestication of the ideal of culture;” that is, scholars should aim to focus on domestic issues and foster unity among Americans (9). The American Scholar’s duty is also to become a “university of knowledges,” so that others may learn from them that “the world is nothing, the man is all”—that endless potential slumbers within you, waiting to be evoked (11, 12). Altogether, the American Scholar is one who strives to become “Man Thinking” (2). Though the scholar must endure the “periods of solitude, inquest, and self-discovery” which are inevitable to the enquiry of human knowledge, they should not become a purely “speculative” individual who performs their duty from the ivory tower, completely isolated from other more “practical men” (4, 5). Rather, as a portion of “One Man,” like other portions of the Man, the scholar should work toward the common goal of the society as a whole (1). That is, the American Scholar’s inquiry of knowledge is not only to satisfy their own intellectual curiosity, but to also benefit the society and its people with its “new verdict of Reason” (8).
In order to do so, the American Scholar should avoid the “wrong handle” of scholarship by closely examining the main influences of their studies—namely, that of nature, that of the mind of the Past, and that of action. Emerson believes that nature is first “in time and… in importance” among the aforementioned influences (2). By observing nature, we come to better understand our mind and the human nature, we expand our knowledge as the “becoming creator,” and we come to appreciate the beauty of nature—its entireness, its boundlessness, its mysteriousness, its divinity—as our own, because we notice that nature and ourselves in fact “proceed from one root,” and nature’s circularity resembles the our own spirit (2, 3). Nature and the scholar’s mind, then, is ever inspiring and worthy of exploring. As such, it appears that nature cannot but help fulfill the American Scholar’s duties.
Engagement with the mind of the Past, however, requires more caution. Emerson singles out books, which he deems “the best type of influence of the past,” in this particular discussion (3). Despite being noble in theory, books are not perfect. They are without exception bound to “the conventional, the local, the perishable” (3). That is, there is no one book of “pure thought” that perfectly transcends time and reaches every single future generation with the same soundness and relatedness as it does to contemporaries (3). Hence, scholars of each generation must write their own books for the next generation, just as the preceding generation of scholars did for them.
But such a ritual of succession gives rise to “a grave mischief” (3). The sacredness and value of the creative act no longer rests in the act itself, but in what it produces—in the books. We worship the books as sacred simply because their writer is sacred, just as we dismiss the validity of a fine argument simply because the debater’s character is flawed in an ad hominem attack. Young scholars plunge their heads into the books, expending all of their energy in the established opinions and scriptures, all the while forgetting that they themselves are capable of creating works just as significant. Thus, instead of “Man Thinking,” they become “the bookworm… the restorers of readings, the emendators, the bibliomaniacs” (4). Such is the price of abusing books.
Yet there is a way to use books well, and that is to read them during your idle time, when you are hindered from their usual observations of nature due to divine interference, such as bad weather, and when you reach a bottleneck in creating something original (4). However, it is only when the reader is “an inventor,” one who engages in creative reading, that the book serves to inspire their thinking and help them phrase their original ideas instead of dogmatizing their mind (5). Only the active, creative soul is capable of discerning between the “authentic utterances of the oracles” from the less natural parts of the book (5). Furthermore, history and exact science, or “elements,” must be acquired by “laborious reading” (5). Even so, if they are to be beneficial to the scholar, such reading’s goal cannot be “to drill, but to create” (5). Thus, it seems that Emerson thinks that the value of books lies in their power to encourage the act of creativity in the next generation of scholars rather than in their esteem as records of past thoughts.
The last of the main influences on the scholar’s spirit is action. Some believe that action is a negligible, if not an unnecessary, part of a scholar’s pursuit. But that belief, Emerson notes, albeit true for certain groups, is unjust and unwise, because without action, the scholar is “not yet man” (5). Action is the “raw material” that the scholar shall refine with the individuality of their own mind and their lived experiences (6). Accordingly, as the scholar gathers more raw materials, both in terms of quantity and diversity, they become better equipped to manufacture works that contain more wisdom, relatability, and originality—they march closer to becoming Man Thinking. Moreover, action is an ever-giving and ever-present resource that is better than books (7). When the scholar reaches a roadblock and finds it difficult to read or convey their thoughts, they can always turn to the “total act” of living for a stimulating respite (7). The scholar should welcome labor of all degrees and categories, for thinking and action “reproduces” one another (7).
All of the influences previously discussed, if well partaken, facilitates the scholar to become “Man Thinking” (7). Yet many wonder what the appeal of becoming such a scholar may be. Indeed, unlike their practical counterparts, the speculative scholar most likely will not enjoy “immediate fame,” nor are they popular among contemporaries for being well-versed in “popular arts,” and even more dreary is their common conditions of “poverty and solitude” (7). Such loss and scorn are the costs of treading the path of the “self-relying and self-directed” (8). But in comparison to the scholar’s exercise in the “highest functions of human nature,” these costs are but paltry (8). The scholar maintains civility in times of barbarity. They are the eye when the world cannot see, they are the heart when the world fails to empathize. To do so undeniably requires the scholar to never defer to “popular cry,” and that is testament to the proper scholar’s confidence and self-trust (8). “[F]ree and brave,” the scholar finds what is “the most acceptable, most public, and universally true” (8). That is, the scholar who is steadfast and confident finds strength in self-trust to look beyond the world’s “pretension” and to reject worldly avarice so that they may unite us as one (8, 9).
In Emerson’s view, people should not be judged “in the gross, in the hundred, or the thousand,” ideas should not be “predicted geographically” (12). Conversely, we should be regarded as a whole “unit” (12). And thus, while the term “the American Scholar” is semantically bound to the United States, the spirit and duties of the American Scholar transcend the borders of nations. A scholar does not necessarily need to be American by birth to be self-reliant, aware, and compassionate. In adhering to their own mind, the scholar learns “the secrets of all minds,” for all of society is “One Man” which is continuous and ubiquitous in all persons (8). The work of the self-reliant scholar does not only help their home country realize their identity, it also helps reinforce the “pre-established harmony” existing within each of us, regardless of our nationality, for all people are but one (5). American Scholars of all nationality provide each other with diversity in perspectives, abundance in actions, reinvigoration in understanding—and what are they but an affair to be rejoiced as we depart from our sluggard state.
Reference Notes
(12) refers to page 12 of Emerson’s American Scholar.