There is one man of genius who has done much for this philosophy of life, whose literary value has never yet been rightly estimated:—­I mean Emanuel Swedenborg.[91] The most imaginative of men, yet writing with the precision of a mathematician, he endeavored to engraft a purely philosophical Ethics on the popular Christianity of his time.  Such an attempt of course must have difficulty which no genius could surmount.  But he saw and showed the connexion between nature and the affections of the soul.  He pierced the emblematic or spiritual character of the visible, audible, tangible world.  Especially did his shade-loving muse hover over and interpret the lower parts of nature; he showed the mysterious bond that allies moral evil to the foul material forms, and has given in epical parables a theory of insanity, of beasts, of unclean and fearful things.

Another sign of our times, also marked by an analogous political movement, is the new importance given to the single person.  Everything that tends to insulate the individual—­to surround him with barriers of natural respect, so that each man shall feel the world is his, and man shall treat with man as a sovereign state with a sovereign state—­tends to true union as well as greatness.  “I learned,” said the melancholy Pestalozzi,[92] “that no man in God’s wide earth is either willing or able to help any other man.”  Help must come from the bosom alone.  The scholar is that man who must take up into himself all the ability of the time, all the contributions of the past, all the hopes of the future.  He must be an university of knowledges.  If there be one lesson more than another that should pierce his ear, it is—­The world is nothing, the man is all; in yourself is the law of all nature, and you know not yet how a globule of sap ascends; in yourself slumbers the whole of Reason; it is for you to know all; it is for you to dare all.  Mr. President and Gentlemen, this confidence in the unsearched might of man belongs, by all motives, by all prophecy, by all preparation, to the American Scholar.  We have listened too long to the courtly muses of Europe.  The spirit of the American freeman is already suspected to be timid, imitative, tame.  Public and private avarice make the air we breathe thick and fat.  The scholar is decent, indolent, complaisant.  See already the tragic consequence.  The mind of this country, taught to aim at low objects, eats upon itself.  There is no work for any one but the decorous and the complaisant.  Young men of the fairest promise, who begin life upon our shores, inflated by the mountain winds, shined upon by all the stars of God, find the earth below not in unison with these, but are hindered from action by the disgust which the principles on which business is managed inspire, and turn drudges, or die of disgust, some of them suicides.  What is the remedy?  They did not yet see, and thousands of young men as hopeful now crowding to the barriers for the career do not yet