The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 76, February, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics — John Shaqi
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 76, February, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 76, February, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
The boy does not choose, neither does the belly choose for him, what
object shall be supremely beautiful in his eyes. He has not resolved to
see only this splendor of color, and neglect sound,--or to give himself
to sound alone, and shut his eyes to sight. If the divine order reaches
any mind, those creatures in which it appears will haunt that mind, will
take lordly their own place, and hang as constellations high overhead in
thought. So long as he can turn the eye hither and thither, or lightly
determine what he will see, the man is conversant with form alone, and
bigots who are on that plane of experience identify him with choice,
hold thought to be altogether voluntary, and burn the thinker, as though
his view were a fruit, not a root, of him. But truth is that which does
not wait for our making, but makes us,--does not lie like water at the
bottom of our wells, but comes like sunshine flooding the air, and
compelling recognition. "To believe your own thought," says a master,
"that is genius"; but is not genius primarily the arrival of a thought
able to authenticate itself, to compel trust, and make its own value
known against the sneers or anger of the world? From my own thought once
reached there is but one appeal,--to my own thought: from Philip sober
to Philip more sober.
The good spirit appears as a spark in our embers, and draws out these
careful hands to ward itself from every gust,--sets our tasks and crowns
them. We know that from first desire to last performance wisdom is
altogether a grace. Wisdom is this wish for wisdom, already given in the
readiness to receive. We have not cared for it, but it has cared for us.
Grown stronger, it is a guide, and needs none. Turner sees what he must
love; there is no rule for such seeing: what he does not love is hid
from him; there is no rule for such omission. It is in the eye, not more
a happy opening than a happy closing. A private ordinance, dividing man
into men, makes the same creature a wall to one, an open door to his
neighbor. The value of man appears to Scott in feudalism, to Wordsworth
in contemplation, to Byron in impatience, to Kant in certainty, to
Calvin in authority, to Calame in landscape, to Newton in measure, to
Carlyle in retribution, to Shakspeare in society, to Dante in the
contrast of right and wrong.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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