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Ralph Waldo EmersonA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Emerson often uses metaphors in his writing, as a means of making the abstract concrete. He is writing about how a scholar should regard the world and comport themselves in the world, which is an inherently abstract subject. Moreover, one of the points that he is making is that a scholar should be engaged in the immediate world around him, as a means of nourishing his intellect. His use of tactile figurative language helps to emphasize this point.
Emerson’s topic could be perceived as a fancy one, but his metaphors are never fancy. They are blunt, earthy and often irreverent, and they serve to underscore his point that an intellectual should not isolate themselves from the world or (even while being serious about their work) take themselves too seriously. Discussing what he sees as the modern tendency towards over-specialization, and its warping effect on the spirit, he uses a metaphor that is both violent and comical: “The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters,—a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man” (Paragraph 4). This is a startling image, which makes the finer sort of societal “amputation” that he is describing seem just as unnatural and gruesome.
At other times Emerson’s metaphors are more earnest, although no less earthy. Discussing the means by which ideas are formed by worldly experience, he compares the process to a ripening fruit:
The new deed is yet a part of life,—remains for a time immersed in our unconscious life. In some contemplative hour it detaches itself from the life like a ripe fruit, to become a thought of the mind […] Henceforth it is an object of beauty, however base its origin and neighborhood (Paragraph 23).
Emerson’s aim in this metaphor is to show the beauty of the natural world—one that is inseparable from its “baseness”—and to anchor the process of thought within this unassuming beauty.
Emerson came from a family of ministers and trained as a minister as a young man. It is possible to hear the effects of this training in this essay, which was originally a lecture, and which in many ways sounds like a sermon. This is not only because of the frequent references in the essay to “the Divine Soul” (Paragraph 43) and to God, but also because of the rhythms of its language.
Emerson often uses verbal parallelism—the use of repeated grammatical elements—in order to create an effect of urgency and inevitability and to give an incantatory rhythm to his speech. Speaking of the importance of an active life for the intellectual, he declares:
I run eagerly into this resounding tumult. I grasp the hands of those next to me, and take my place in the ring to suffer and to work, taught by an instinct that so shall the dumb abyss be vocal with speech. I pierce its order; I dissipate its fear; I dispose of it within the circuit of my expanding life (Paragraph 22).
In this passage, the repeated grammatical elements are present tense verbs (“run,” “grasp,” “pierce,” “dissipate,” “dispose”) and together they give an effect of immediacy and dynamism to an idea that might otherwise be vague and abstract (“within the circuit of my expanding life”).
Emerson also frequently uses lists—another sort of verbal parallelism—in order to illustrate his points. Discussing the means by which our memories inform our intellects—and therefore eventually inform the world—he states:
Cradle and infancy, school and playground, the fear of boys, and dogs, and ferules, the love of little maids and berries, and many another fact that once filled the whole sky, are gone already; friend and relative, profession and party, town and country, nation and world, must also soar and sing (Paragraph 23).
Here, the parallel elements are nouns, which are sometimes concrete (“cradle”) and sometimes abstract (“profession”). These nouns are also paired in a parallel way; “school and playground” echoes “cradle and infancy” as a phrase, as does “the love of little maids” with “the fear of boys.” This parallelism serves to impose a cumulative order on a list that would otherwise seem filled with random, mismatched examples; at the same time, the lengthiness and variety of the list gives an effect of richness and abundance. As a whole, the list gives an idea of a life that is full and hectic, but that also makes an eventual sort of sense
Emerson often coins aphorisms—succinct statements of general truths—in this essay. One such aphorism is: “Thinking is the function. Living is the functionary” (Paragraph 27). Another one is: “Only so much do I know, as I have lived” (Paragraph 21). Both of these aphorisms express one of the central points in his essay, about the need for a scholar to have an active life in the world. They also serve to heighten the drama of Emerson’s writing, by providing a stylistic contrast with some of his lengthier passages. That is, their shortness serves to jolt the reader (or the listener) awake.
The ideas expressed in both of these aphorisms are abstract, and are not fleshed out through metaphors or concrete examples. What makes the ideas resonate, despite their abstractedness, is the rhythmic simplicity of the language: the way in which “functionary” echoes “function” in the first statement, and the cadenced plainness of the second statement. Although short, the statements are no less hypnotic and poetic than the longer passages in the essay.
By Ralph Waldo Emerson