Getting as far as page 157 in Harold Bloom's The Daemon Knows, I
read his quote from Emerson's journals "Far the best part, I repeat,
of every mind is not that which he knows, but that which hovers in
gleams, suggestions, tantalizing unpossessed before him. His firm
recorded knowledge soon loses all interest for him. But this
dancing chorus of thoughts and hopes is the quarry of his future, is
his possibility . . . ." That much sounds very like something I
thought recently. Having had a number of arguments with people who
when I noticed a similarity between something they said and the
writings of some philosopher only to have them claim vociferously
that they had come to their views entirely independently, I
invariably take an opposite view, that is, I assume that I have
been influenced by such a writer even if I don't recall the occasion
of that influence.
After all I must have read quite a bit of Emerson in American lit
classes if not on my own. I have a vague distaste when I think of
Emerson and must have gotten that some place. On page 158 Bloom
writes, "Frost was an absolute Emersonian; Mark Twain had no
overwhelming American precursor. Of the other writers discussed
here, Faulkner never read Emerson, and Eliot scorned him: 'The
Essays of Emerson are already an encumbrance.' Melville read and
annotated Emerson and attended his lectures, while manifesting an
acute ambivalence. Hawthorne was the sage's walking companion in
Concord but held out against him, yet Hester Prynne, Ahab, and
Ishmael are dark Emersonians. Henry James, linked to Emerson by
family traditions, resisted him, though Isabel Archer is wholly a
disciple of self-reliance. Walt Whitman, though later he denied it,
started from Emerson, just as Wallace Stevens subtly evaded his vast
dependence upon Whitman and satirized Emerson while repeating him.
Hart Crane, wholly Emersonian, clearly takes his Platonic
daemonization both from Concord and from Walter Pater."
How embarrassing for a writer (could he but know) to learn that
despite his certainty that he had (like Twain) no precursor, that he
was "an absolute Emersonian." I searched a bit in the Library of
America edition of Emerson's writings. Surely I read "Self
Reliance" at some point, and I recall his essay "the Over Soul" --
thinking him very like Jung, or vice versa, but that was it.
Perhaps I only read Emerson back in the 50s during classes. I
began reading his "The Conduct of Life" and ran across, ". . . You
may as well ask a loom which weaves huckaback, why it does not make
cashmere, as expect poetry from this engineer . . ." Feeling
temporarily outraged I shall perhaps scorn him once again (perhaps
that is why I never read him extensively) as Eliot did.
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
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