[Footnote 23:  Bibliomaniacs.  Men with a mania for collecting rare and beautiful books.  Not a bad sort of mania, though Emerson never had any sympathy for it.]

[Footnote 24:  To many readers Emerson’s own works richly fulfill this obligation.  He himself lived continually in such a lofty mental atmosphere that no one can come within the circle of his influence without being stimulated and elevated.]

[Footnote 25:  Genius, the possession of a thoroughly active soul, ought not to be the special privilege of favorites of fortune, but the right of every sound man.]

[Footnote 26:  They stunt my mental growth.  A man should not accept another man’s conclusions, but merely use them as steps on his upward path.]

[Footnote 27:  If you do not employ such talent as you have in original labor, in bearing the mental fruit of which you are capable, then you do not vindicate your claim to a share in the divine nature.]

[Footnote 28:  Disservice.  Injury.]

[Footnote 29:  In original composition of any sort our efforts naturally flow in the channels worn for us by the first dominating streams of early genius.  The conventional is the continual foe of all true art.]

[Footnote 30:  Emerson is continually stimulating us to look at things in new ways.  Here, for instance, at once the thought comes:  “Is it not perhaps possible that the transcendent genius of Shakespeare has been rather noxious than beneficent in its influence on the mind of the world?  Has not the all-pervading Shakespearian influence flooded and drowned out a great deal of original genius?”]

[Footnote 31:  That is,—­when in his clear, seeing moments he can distil some drops of truth from the world about him, let him not waste his time in studying other men’s records of what they have seen.]

[Footnote 32:  While Emerson’s verse is frequently unmusical, in his prose we often find passages like this instinct with the fairest poetry.]

[Footnote 33:  Geoffrey Chaucer (1340-1400).  The father of English poetry.  Chaucer’s chief work is the “Canterbury Tales,” a series of stories told by pilgrims traveling in company to Canterbury.  Coleridge, the poet, wrote of Chaucer:  “I take unceasing delight in Chaucer; his manly cheerfulness is especially delicious to me in my old age.  How exquisitely tender he is, yet how free from the least touch of sickly melancholy or morbid drooping.”  Chaucer’s poetry is above all things fresh.  It breathes of the morning of literature.  Like Homer he had at his command all the riches of a new language undefiled by usage from which to choose.

   “Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,
    On Fame’s eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.”

]