ANOTHEH -WOED ON EMEESON 193 



At the same time it is a pleasure to explore his 

 limitations and see just what he was, and what he 

 was not. He was a rare soul, probably the most 

 astral genius in English or any other literature. 

 His books are for young men and for those of 

 a religious cast of mind. His signal defect as a 

 writer, as a contributor to the world's literature, 

 arises from this same want of sympathy with the 

 world, — from the select, abridged, circumscribed 

 character of his genius. He did not and could not 

 deal with human life as Montaigne, or Bacon, or 

 Plutarch, or Cicero did. 



He was conscious of his defect in this direction, 

 and would fain have had it otherwise. Thus he 

 writes in his journal in 1839 : " We would all be 

 public men if we could afford it. I am wholly 

 private ; such is the poverty of my constitution. 

 ' Heaven betrayed me to a book and wrapped me in 

 a gown.' I have no social talent, no will, and a 

 steady appetite for insights in any or all directions, 

 to balance my manifold imbecilities." He even 

 quotes approvingly the remark of some one that he 

 " always seemed to be on stilts." " It is even so. 

 Most of the persons whom I see in my own house I 

 see across a gulf. I cannot go to them nor they 

 come to me." He lacked sympathy with men. He 

 cared nothing for persons as such, but only for the 

 genius of humanity which they embodied, and this 

 genius of humanity he did not find in any sufficiency 

 in ordinary mortals. 



He writes in his journal, " I like man, but not 



