THE CULTIVATOR. 
95 
lof my own time will not enter my obscure dwelling. If 
Ithe sacred writers will enter and take up their abode 
tinder my roof, if Milton will cross my threshold to sing 
to me of Paradise, and Shakespeare to open to me the 
worlds of imagination and the workings of the human 
b heart, and Franklin to enrich me with his practical wis- 
d dom, I shall not pine for want of intellectual compa- 
» nionship, and I may become a cultivated man though ex- 
c eluded from what is called the best society in the place 
where I live. 
To make this means of culture effectual, a man must 
select good books, such as have been written by right- 
i minded and strong-minded men, real thinkers, who in- 
: stead of diluting by repetition what others say, have 
: something to say for themselves, and write to give re¬ 
lief to full earnest souls; and these works must not be 
skimmed over for amusement, but read with fixed atten¬ 
tion and a reverential love of truth. In selecting books, 
we may be aided much by those who have studied more 
than ourselves. But, after all, it is best to be determin¬ 
ed in this particular a good deal by our own tastes.—• 
The best books for a man are not always those which 
the wise recommend, but oftener those which meet the 
peculiar wants, the natural thirst of his mind, and there¬ 
fore awaken interest and rivet thought. And here it 
may be well to observe, not only in regard to books but 
in other respects, that self-culture must vary with the 
individual. All means do not equally suit us all. A 
man must unfold himself freely, and should respect the 
peculiar gifts or biasses by which nature has distinguish¬ 
ed him from others. Self-culture does not demand the 
sacrifice of individuality. It does not regularly apply 
an established machinery, for the sake of torturing 
every man into one rigid shape called perfection. As 
the human countenance, with the same features in us 
all, is diversified without end in the race, and is never 
the same in any two individuals, so the human soul, 
with the same grand powers and laws, expands into an 
infinite variety of forms, and would be wofully stinted 
by modes of culture requiring all men to learn the same 
lesson or to bend to the same rules. 
I know how hard it is to some men, especially to those 
who spend much time in manual labor, to fix attention 
on books. Let them strive to overcome the difficulty, by 
choosing subjects of deep interest, or by reading in com¬ 
pany with those whom they love. Nothing can supply 
the place of books. They are cheering or soothingcom- 
panions in solitude, illness, affliction. The wealth of 
both continents would be no equivalent for the good 
they impart. Let every man, if possible, gather some 
good books under his roof, and obtain access for himself 
and family to some social library. Almost any luxury 
should be sacrificed to this. 
One of the very interesting features of our times, is 
the multiplication of books, and their distribution 
through all conditions of society. At a small expense, 
a man can now possess himself of the most precious 
treasures of English literature. Books, once confined 
to a few by their costliness, are now accessible to the 
multitude; and in this way a change of habits is going 
on in society, highly favorable to the culture of the peo¬ 
ple. Instead of depending on casual rumor and loose 
con versation for most of their knowledge and objects of 
thought; instead of forming their judgments in crowds, 
and receiving their chief excitement from the voice of 
neighbors, men are now learning to study and reflect 
alone, to follow out subjects continuously, to determine 
for themselves what shall engage their minds, and to 
call to their aid the knowledge, original views, and rea¬ 
sonings of men of all countries and ages ; and the re¬ 
sults must be, a deliberatenessand independence of judg¬ 
ment, and a thoroughness and extent of information, 
unknown in former times. The diffusion of these silent 
teachers, books, through the whole community, is to 
work greater effects than artillery, machinery, and le¬ 
gislation. Its peaceful agency is to supersede stormy 
revolutions. The culture, which it is to spread, whilst 
an unspeakable good to the individual, is also to become 
the stability of nations. 
Another important means of self-culture, is to free 
ourselves from the power of human opinion and exam¬ 
ple', except as far as this is sanctioned by our own delibe¬ 
rate judgment. We are all prone to keep the level of 
those we live with, to repeat their words, and dress our 
minds as well as bodies after their fashion; and hence 
the spiritless tameness of our characters and lives.— 
Our greatest danger, is not from the grossly wicked 
around us, but from the worldly, unreflecting multitude, 
who are borne along as a stream by foreign impulse, 
and bear us along with them. Even the influence of su¬ 
perior minds may harm us, by bowing us to servile ac¬ 
quiescence and damping our spiritual activity. The 
great use of intercourse with other minds, is to stir up 
our own, to whet our appetite for truth, to carry our 
thoughts beyond their old tracks. We need connexions 
with greater thinkers to make us thinkers too. One of 
the chief arts of self-culture, is to unite the childlike 
teachableness, which gratefully welcomes light from 
every human being who can give it, with manly resis¬ 
tance of opinions however current, of influences how¬ 
ever generally revered, which do not approve them¬ 
selves to our deliberate judgment. You ought indeed 
patiently and conscientiously to strengthen your reason 
by other men’s intelligence, but you must not prostrate 
it before them. Especially if there springs up within 
you any view of God’s word or universe, any sentiment 
or aspiration, which seems to you of a higher order than 
what you meet abroad, give reverent heed to it; inquire 
into it earnestly, solemnly. Do not trust it blindly, for 
it may be an illusion; but it may be the Divinity moving 
within you, a new revelation, not supernatural but still 
most precious, of truth or duty ; and if after inquiry it 
so appear, then let no clamor, or scorn, or desertion turn 
you from it. Be true to your own highest convictions. 
Intimations from our own souls of something more per¬ 
fect than others teach, if faithfully followed, give us a 
consciousness of spiritual force and progress, never ex¬ 
perienced by the vulgar of high life or low life, who 
march, as they are drilled, to the step of their times. 
Some, I know, will wonder, that I should think the 
mass of the people capable of such intimations and glimp¬ 
ses of truth, as I have just supposed. These are com¬ 
monly thought to be the prerogative of men of genius, who 
seem to be born to give law to the minds of the multi¬ 
tude. Undoubtedly nature has her nobility, and sends 
forth a few to be eminently “ lights of the world.” But 
it is also true that a portion of the same divine fire is 
given to all; for the many could not receive with a lov¬ 
ing reverence the quickening influences of the few, w'ere 
there not essentially the same spiritual life in both.— 
The minds of the multitude are not masses of passive 
matter, created to receive impressions unresistingly from 
abroad. They are not wholly shaped by foreign instruc¬ 
tion; but have a native force, aspring of thought in 
themselves. Even the child’s mind outruns ifs lessons, 
and overflows in questionings which bring the wisest to 
a stand. Even the child starts the great problems, 
which philosophy has labored to solve for ages. But 
on this subject I cannot now enlarge. Let me only say, 
that the power of original thought is particularly mani¬ 
fested in those, who thirst for progress, who are bent on 
unfolding their whole nature. A man who wakes up to 
the consciousness of having been created for progress 
and perfection, looks with new eyes on himself and on 
the world in which he lives. This great truth stirs the 
soul from its depths, breaks up old associations of ideas, 
and establishes new ones, just as a mighty agent of che¬ 
mistry, brought into contact with natural substances, dis¬ 
solves the old affinities which had bound their particles 
together, and arranges them anew. This truth particu¬ 
larly aids us to penetrate the mysteries of human life. 
By revealing to us the end of our being, it helps us to 
comprehend more and more the wonderful, the infinite 
system, to which we belong. A man in the common 
walks of life, who has faith in perfection, in the unfold¬ 
ing of the human spirit, as the great purpose of God, 
possesses more the secret of the universe, perceives more 
the harmonies or mutual adaptations of the world with¬ 
out and the world within him, is a wiser interpreter of 
Providence, and reads nobler lessons of duty in the 
events which pass before him, than the profoundest phi¬ 
losopher who wants this grand central truth. Thus il¬ 
luminations, inward suggestions, are not confined to a 
favored few, but visit all who devote themselves to a 
generous self-culture. 
Another means of self-culture may be found by every 
man in his condition or occupation, be it what it may. 
Had I time, I might go through all conditions of life, 
from the most conspicuous to the most obscure, and 
might show how each furnishes continual aids to im¬ 
provement. But I will take one example, and that is, 
of a man living by manual labor. This may be made 
the means of self-culture. For instance, in almost all 
labor, a man exchanges his strength for an equivalent 
in the form of wages, purchase-money, or some other 
product. In other words, labor is a system of contracts, 
bargains, imposing mutual obligations. Now the man, 
who, in working, no matter in what way, strives perpe¬ 
tually to fulfil his obligations thoroughly, to do his whole 
work faithfully, to be honest not because honesty is the 
best policy, but for the sake of justice, and that he may 
render to every man his due, such a laborer is continu¬ 
ally building up in himself one of the greatest princi¬ 
ples of morality and religion. Every blow on the anvil, 
on the earth, or whatever material he works upon, con¬ 
tributes something to the perfection of his nature. 
Nor is this all. Labor is a school of benevolence as 
well as justice. A man to support himself must serve 
others. He must do or produce something for their 
comfort or gratification. This is one of the beautiful 
ordinations of Providence, that, to get a living, a man 
must be useful. Now this usefulness ought to be an 
end in his labor as truly as to earn his living. He ought 
to think of the benefit of those he works for, as well as 
of his own; and in so doing, in desiring amidst his 
sweat and toil to serve others as well as himself, he is 
exercising and growing in benevolence, as truly as if he 
were distributing bounty with a large hand to the poor. 
Such a motive hallows and dignifies the commonest pur¬ 
suit. It is strange, that laboring men do not think more 
of the vast usefulness of their toils, and lake a benevo¬ 
lent pleasure in them on this account. This beautiful 
city, with its houses, furniture, markets, public walks, 
and numberless accommodations, has grown up under 
the hands of artizans and other laborers, and ought they 
not to take a disinterested joy in their work? One 
would think, that a carpenter or mason, on passing a 
house which he had reared, would say to himself, “ this 
work of mine is giving comfort and enjoyment every 
day and hour to a family, and will continue to be a kind¬ 
ly shelter, a domestic gathering-place, an abode of af¬ 
fection, for a century or more after I sleep in the dust;” 
and ought not a generous satisfaction lo spring up at the 
thought? It is by thus interweaving goodness with com¬ 
mon labors, that we give it strength and make it a habit 
of the soul. 
There is one circumstance attending all conditions of 
life, which may and ought to be turned to the use of self¬ 
culture. Every condition, be it what it may, has hard¬ 
ships, hazards, pains. We try to escape them; we pine 
for a sheltered lot, for a smooth path, for cheering friends, 
and unbroken success. But Providence ordains storms, 
disasters, hostilities, sufferings; and the great question, 
whether we shall live to any purpose or not, whether 
we shall grow strong in mind and heart, or be weak and 
pitiable, depends on nothing so much as on our use of 
these adverse circumstances. Outward evils are de¬ 
signed to school our passions, and to rouse our faculties 
and virtues into intenser action. Sometimes they seem 
to create new powers. Difficulty is the element, and re¬ 
sistance the true work of a man. Self-culture never 
goes on so fast, as when embarrassed circumstances, the 
opposition of men or the elements, unexpected changes 
of the times, or other forms of suffering, instead of dis¬ 
heartening, throw us on our inward resources, turn us^ 
for strength to God, clear up to us the great purpose of 
life, and inspire calm resolution. No greatness or 
goodness is worth much, unless tried in these fires.— 
Hardships are not on this account to be sought for. 
They come fast enough of themselves, and we are in 
more danger of sinking under, than of needing them. 
But when God sends them, they are noble means of 
self-culture, and as such, let us meet and bear them 
cheerfully. Thus ail parts of our condition may be 
pressed into the service of self-improvement. 
I have time to consider but one more means of self¬ 
culture. We find it in our Free Government, in our Po¬ 
litical relations and duties. It is a great benefit of free 
institutions, that they do much to awaken and keep in 
action a nation’s mimd. We are told, that the educa¬ 
tion of the multitude is necessary to the support of a re¬ 
public; but it is equally true, that a republic is a power¬ 
ful means of educating the multitude. It is the people’s 
University. In a free state, solemn responsibilities are 
imposed on every citizen; great subjects are to be dis¬ 
cussed ; great interests to be decided. The individual 
is called lo determine measures affecting the well-being 
of millions and the destinies of posterity.. He must con¬ 
sider not only the internal relations of his native land, 
but its connexion with foreign states, and judge of a 
policy which touches the whole civilized world. He is 
called by his participation in the national sovereignty, 
to cherish public spirit, a regard to the general weal. 
A man who purposes to discharge faithfully these obli¬ 
gations, is carrying on a generous self-culture. The 
great public questions, which divide opinion around him 
and provoke earnest discussion, of necessity invigorate 
his intellect, and accustom him to look beyond himself. 
He grows up lo a robustness, force, enlargement of 
mind, unknown under despotic rule. 
It may be said that I am describing what free insti¬ 
tutions ought to do for the character of the individual, 
not their actual effects; and the objection, I must own, 
is too true. Our institutions do not cultivate us, as they 
might and should; and the chief cause of the failure is 
plain. It is the strength of party spirit; and so blight¬ 
ing is its influence, so fatal to self-culture, that I feel 
myself bound to warn every man against it, who has 
any desire of improvement. I do not tell you it will de¬ 
stroy your country. It wages a worse war against 
yourselves. Truth, justice, candor, fair dealing, sound 
judgment, self-control, and kind affections are its natu¬ 
ral and perpetual prey. 
I do not say, that you must take no side in politics. 
The parties which prevail around you differ in charac¬ 
ter, principles, and spirit, though far less than the ex¬ 
aggeration of passion affirms ; and, as far as conscience 
allows, a man should support that, which he thinks 
best. \In one respect, however, all parties agree. They 
all foster that pestilent spirit, which I now condemn. 
In all of them, party spirit rages. Associate men toge¬ 
ther for a common cause, be it good or bad, and array 
against them a body resolutely pledged to an opposite 
interest, and a new passion, quite distinct from the ori¬ 
ginal sentiment which brought them together, a fierce 
fiery zeal, consisting chiefly of aversion to those who dif¬ 
fer from them, is roused within them into fearful acti¬ 
vity. Human nature seems incapable of a stronger, 
more unrelenting passion. It is hard enough for an in¬ 
dividual, when contending all alone for an interest or an 
opinion, to keep down his pride, wilfulness, love of vic¬ 
tory, anger and other personal feelings. But let him 
join a multitude in the same warfare, and, without sin¬ 
gular self-control, he receives into his single breast the 
vehemence, obstinacy and vindictivenessof all. The 
triumph of his party becomes immeasurably dearer to 
him than the principle, true or false, which was the ori¬ 
ginal ground of division. The conflict becomes a strug¬ 
gle not for principle but for power, for victory; and the 
desperateness, the wickedness of such struggles, is the 
great burden of history. In truth, it matters little what 
men divide about, whether it be a foot of land or prece¬ 
dence in a procession. Let them but begin to fight for it, 
and self-will, ill-will, the rage for victory, the dread of mor¬ 
tification and defeat, make the trifle as weighty as a mat¬ 
ter of life and death. The Greek or Eastern empire 
was shaken to its foundation by parties, which differed 
only about the merits of charioteers at the amphithea¬ 
tre. Party spirit is singularly hostile to moral inde¬ 
pendence. A man, in proportion as he drinks into it 
sees, hears, judges by the senses and understandings of 
his party. He surrenders the freedom of a man, the 
right of using and speaking his own mind, and echoes 
the applauses or maledictions, with which the leaders 
or passionate partizans see fit that the country should 
ring. On all points parties are to be distrusted ; but on 
no one so much as on the character of opponents. These, 
if you may trust what you hear, are always men with¬ 
out principle or truth, devoured by selfishness, and 
thirsting for their own elevation, though on their coun- 
