to be at large," but Emerson is not a wise author. His essay on
Prudence has nothing to do with prudence, for to be wise and
prudent he must put explanation first, and let his substance
dissolve because of it. "How carefully," says Birrell again, "a
really great author like Dr. Newman, or M. Renan, explains to you
what he is going to do, and how he is going to do it." Personally
we like the chance of having a hand in the "explaining." We
prefer to look at flowers, but not through a botany, for it seems
that if we look at them alone, we see a beauty of Nature's
poetry, a direct gift from the Divine, and if we look at botany
alone, we see the beauty of Nature's intellect, a direct gift of
the Divine--if we look at both together, we see nothing.

Thus it seems that Carlyle and Birrell would have it that courage
and humility have something to do with "explanation"--and that it
is not "a respect for all"--a faith in the power of "innate
virtue" to perceive by "relativeness rather than penetration"--
that causes Emerson to withhold explanation to a greater degree
than many writers. Carlyle asks for more utility, and Birrell for
more inspiration. But we like to believe that it is the height of
Emerson's character, evidenced especially in his courage and
humility that shades its quality, rather than that its virtue is
less--that it is his height that will make him more and more
valuable and more and more within the reach of all--whether it be
by utility, inspiration, or other needs of the human soul.

Cannot some of the most valuable kinds of utility and inspiration
come from humility in its highest and purest forms? For is not
the truest kind of humility a kind of glorified or transcendent
democracy--the practicing it rather than the talking it--the not-