foreboded an outbreak in some form. If the abolition excitement had not
drafted off the rising forces, there might have been a Merry Mount, an
epidemic of crime or insanity, or a mob of some sort. The abolition
movement afforded the purest form of an indulgence in human feeling that
was ever offered to men. It was intoxicating. It made the agitators
perfectly happy. They sang at their work and bubbled over with
exhilaration. They were the only people in the United States, at this
time, who were enjoying an exalted, glorifying, practical activity.

But Emerson at first lacked the touchstone, whether of intellect or of
heart, to see the difference between this particular movement and the
other movements then in progress. Indeed, in so far as he sees any
difference between the Abolitionists and the rest, it is that the
Abolitionists were more objectionable and distasteful to him. "Those,"
he said, "who are urging with most ardor what are called the greatest
benefits to mankind are narrow, conceited, self-pleasing men, and affect
us as the insane do." And again: "By the side of these men [the
idealists] the hot agitators have a certain cheap and ridiculous air;
they even look smaller than others. Of the two, I own I like the
speculators the best. They have some piety which looks with faith to a
fair future unprofaned by rash and unequal attempts to realize it." He
was drawn into the abolition cause by having the truth brought home to
him that these people were fighting for the Moral Law. He was slow in
seeing this, because in their methods they represented everything he
most condemned. As soon, however, as he was convinced, he was ready to
lecture for them and to give them the weight of his approval. In 1844 he
was already practically an Abolitionist, and his feelings upon the
matter deepened steadily in intensity ever after.

The most interesting page of Emerson's published journal is the