SELF-RELIANCE. “Self-Reliance” is perhaps Emerson’s most popular and infl uential essay

(1841)

“Self-Reliance” is perhaps Emerson’s most popular and infl uential essay. In it he encourages readers to trust in themselves rather than in traditions or institutions—to discern and develop their own individual connections to and understandings of God, nature, society, and the universe. “Whoso would be a man, ” he says, “must be a nonconformist”.

Emerson’s essay is one of the most uncompromising assertions of individualism in the English language, and perhaps the best way to convey its meaning and capture its tone is by offering a few representative quotations. “To believe in your own thought, ” Emerson declares, “to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men—that is genius”. “Trust thyself, ” he counsels; “every heart vibrates to that iron string”. “Society everywhere, ” he asserts, “is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members.... Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of our own mind”. In a passage that can easily shock (or even disgust) readers with more traditional notions of morality, Emerson avows, “No law can be sacred to me but that of my nature. Good and bad are but names very readily transferable to that or this; the only right is what is after my constitution; the only wrong what is against it”. In a passage that ironically echoes the Christian gospels, Emerson maintains that “the doctrine of hatred must be preached, as the counteraction of the doctrine of love, when that pules and whines. I shun father and mother and wife and brother when my genius calls me”. He even condemns indiscriminate charity, and he rejects any idea of virtue as a means of atonement for imperfection: “I do not wish to expiate, but to live. My life is not an apology, but a life”. Discussing the various inhibitions that prevent people from living autonomous existences, he mentions their fear of being inconsistent, and in one of the most famous sentences he ever wrote, he sweepingly maintains that “a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines”. He proclaims that “the essence of genius, the essence of virtue, and the essence of life” is “Spontaneity or Instinct”. “Insist on yourself, ” he advises; “never imitate”. And then, in the final two sentences of the piece he announces, “Nothing can bring you peace but yourself. Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles”.

That final word— principles —is important, because it implicitly helps qualify and limit the extreme egotism and adolescent narcissism seemingly endorsed by much of the rest of the essay. Emerson believed that the independent, self-reliant person would somehow also be virtuous; he felt that the true individual should (and would) act in accordance with the will of God and in line with the dictates of an ultimately benevolent nature. Exactly how and why this would happen are never spelled out very fully or explicitly, and it is easy to see why so many critics of Emerson have regarded him as an amoral (if not actually immoral) defender of the unbridled ego—a kind of New World Nietzsche. His essay is not a reasoned piece of careful argument, nor does it really invite or facilitate a rational response: One either agrees or disagrees with his claims, depending on one’s personal temperament. Emerson offers little in the way of “proof” or “demonstration” as those terms are conventionally understood, nor does he really take the time to dispute potential objections. The essay is mainly a series of aphoristic assertions, often memorably and vividly phrased, and certainly they have long appealed—and are always likely to appeal—to selfrespecting, self-regarding readers everywhere.

Thematically the essay is typically Emersonian: It extols individualism, it endorses both democracy and heroism, it celebrates instinct and intuition, it brims with optimism, it rejects authority, and it dispenses with traditional ideas about the inherent sinfulness and potential evil of man. Some readers will inevitably find the essay’s ideas juvenile and naive and will regard its tone as pompously bombastic—the secular sermon of a self-appointed sage, a supremely self-confi dent man intent on tossing overboard most traditional ideals of humility, selfdoubt, self-questioning, and adherence to exacting standards of reason, logic, and conventional ethical behavior. Other readers, in contrast, will find the essay exciting, liberating, and inspiring—a welcome declaration of independence from bothersome constraints imposed by past ideas, present institutions, and even other people.

Whatever the essay’s strengths or defects as a work of philosophical argument, there is no denying its power as an artistic rendering of language. It is full of lively phrasing, memorable imagery, striking sentences, and robust rhythms. Defending the virtues of inconsistency, for instance, Emerson in a single paragraph employs many of the most potent weapons in the arsenal of rhetoric. He uses a concrete analogy and metaphor: “The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks.” He directly addresses the reader he is trying to persuade: “Your genuine action will explain itself and will explain your other genuine actions.” Sometimes his phrasing is aphoristically brief: “Greatness always appeals to the future.” Sometimes it bubbles with alliteration: “The force of character is cumulative.” Other times Emerson asks questions and then immediately answers them: “What makes the majesty of the heroes of the senate and the field, which so fi lls the imagination? The consciousness of a train of great days and victories behind.” Sometimes he uses repetition and reversal: “We worship [honor] today because it is not of today.” Sometimes he employs balanced syntax: “We love [honor] and pay it homage because it is not a trap for our love and homage.” And, sometimes he indulges in paradox: Honor is “of an old immaculate pedigree, even if shown in a young person”. Reading Emerson’s individual sentences is rarely a boring experience; usually there is something striking, surprising, memorable, or even unforgettable around every turn—however abrupt those turns often seem. Emerson had a gift for coining epigrams and for inventing metaphors, similes, and maxims; he was rarely at a loss for the right word or the right rhythm. Taken as a series of startling and refreshing suggestions designed to provoke thought, “Self-Reliance” can be exhilarating. Taken as a work of literary art, it seems vital and energetic. Taken, however, as a rational argument or as a prescription for actual living, it raises far more questions (some of them quite morally troubling) than it ever actually answers.