180 BIRDS AND POETS 
thy. The world makes no inroads upon him through 
this channel. He is not distracted by the throng 
or maybe the mob of emotions that find entrance 
here. He shines like a star undimmed by current 
events. He spzaks as from out the interstellar 
spaces. ’T is vulgar sympathy makes mortals of us 
all, and I think Emerson’s poetry finally lacks just 
that human coloring and tone, that flesh tint of the 
heart that vulgar sympathy with human life as such 
imparts. 
But after we have made all possible deductions 
from Emerson, there remains the fact that he is a 
living force, and, tried by home standards, a mas- 
ter. Wherein does the secret of his power lie? 
He is the prophet and philosopher of young men. 
The old man and the man of the world make little 
of him, but of the youth who is ripe for him he 
takes almost an unfair advantage. One secret of his 
charm I take to be the instant success with which 
he transfers our interest in the romantic, the chival- 
rous, the heroic, to the sphere of morals and the 
intellect. We are let into another realm unlooked 
for, where daring and imagination also lead. The 
secret and suppressed heart finds a champion. To 
the young man fed upon the penny precepts and 
staple Johnsonianism of English literature, and of 
what is generally doled out in the schools and col- 
leges, it is a surprise; it is a revelation. A new 
world opens before him. The nebule of his spirit 
are resolved or shown to be irresolvable. The fixed 
stars of his inner firmament are brought immeasur- 
