Emerson: Essay on Friendship

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), aside from being the founder of the Transcendentalist movement in America, was also a noted moral philosopher and lecturer. He moved in a literary circle that included Thoreau, Hawthorne, and the Alcotts. Concord, Massachusetts served as the intellectual epicenter of the group. A font of profound moral observations, Emerson's published essays are mainstays at today's bookstores and internet websites where they plumb Nature's relationship to humankind and humankind's fickle nature.

In his lifetime, Emerson expanded his traveling lectures, covering practical issues such as self-reliance and friendship, into written essays. For the modern reader, Emerson’s prose is not easy to read. He wrote in that stilted 19th century style, full of metaphors, digressions, and scholarly references to ancient text. As far as getting straight to the point, Emerson proves as elusive, or meandering, as Henry James--the king of the circuitous prose, in my layman's opinion. 

I plodded through “Friendship” as if it resembled a swamp full of tangled roots, rusted tin cans, and discarded tires. Lest I miss a fine point, one is compelled to shift to lower gear and scrutinize every phrase for hidden witticism. 

Emerson submitted that Truth and Tenderness are the pillars on which friendship stands. In the essay, Emerson explored the rewards and inequities of a personal relationship, referring to a friend as a "delicious torment." A friend can be very knowledgeable and perceptive, but still not fully aware with all that he (Emerson) is. 

Somewhere in his laborious prose, Emerson provides several nuggets of wisdom that stand out like warts on a bald head. Here are some:

“ I will receive from them not what they have but what they are.”

“ It has seemed to me lately more possible that I knew, to carry a friendship greatly, on one side, without due correspondence on the other. Why should I cumber myself with regrets that the receiver is not capacious? It never troubles the sun that some of his rays fall wide and vain into ungrateful space, and only a small part on the reflecting planet.”

“ I do then with my friends as I do with my books. I would have them where I can find them, but I seldom use them. “

“The only way to have a friend is to be one.”

“We talk sometimes of a great talent for conversation, as if it were a permanent property in some individuals. Conversation is an evanescent relation,--no more.”

Emerson is not a favorite as Thoreau. However, I recognize his wealth of knowledge and wide breadth of understanding. We must read some of Emerson, if only to round off our cultural literacy. 

Rime of the Ancient Mariner

The thermometer read 7F at the bus stop this morning. It was the kind of weather that makes a stormdoor handle come off when you apply even a normal amount of force. This arctic condition coincides with today's brush with an old story, fully embedded in literary history, about a Captain and his crew whose trials and tribulations began in the deadly Antarctic world.

At work, I had the opportunity to assist a visiting scholar interested in Samuel Coleridge's epic poem, Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Coleridge (1772-1834) composed this poem in the late 1700s. It has henceforth been considered to be one of the pillars of English literature. 

The storyline could easily make this poem a hit movie, given our present-day fondness for Sci Fi and visitations of dangerous and inhospitable other worlds. The crew experienced life-threatening conditions in the icy, antarctic world until an albatross guided them out. When in the dead calm of a warmer climate,  out of imminent danger, the mariner shot it.  Succeeding hardships visited the crew from then on, led them to believe that the albatross' killing caused all their suffering.

" And every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root;  We could not speak, no more than if We had been choked with soot. "

In retribution, the crew forced the mariner to wear the dead albatross around his neck where it remained. Only after the mariner learned to pray did the albatross unraveled  from his neck and fell into the ocean.

" Ah! Wel-a-day! What evil looks Had I from old and young! Instead of the cross, the albatross about my neck was hung "

The entire crew eventually died, but their bodies with their eyes open continued to curse the mariner.

The deep pathos of the The Rime of the Ancient Mariner engendered many book illustrations such as the one that appears on the right. This illustration was created by, credit given to, the master illustrator Mervyn Peake in 1949. 

Symbolisms abound among the academics, including the albatross represented Christ in his martyrdom. But, my take is simply that betrayal does not pay, that killing an animal, or any being, who helped you get through hard times, one who served you well, will bring dire consequences--not only for you but also for those conniving ingrates. Hubris will cost you dearly.

The idiomatic expression of having, " an albatross around my neck," is rooted in this poem. The ancient mariner, sole survivor of the crew, was left to wander the world, like a forlorn beggar, retelling his sorrowful story to those who cared to listen . Pretty good literature.

Bryant Park. New York City. An Oasis in MidTown.

Often, tourists walk into Bryant Park expecting more than what they saw. They'd say," So this is it? I thought it was bigger." Or, " I don't know why it is so famous." Well, notoriety and fame both figure in the park's history. 

In the last few years, Bryant Park has been the venue for social events like free movie showings in the late Summer afternoons. With offices across the park, HBO showcases their new talent via stand-up comedy hours. Morning performances and interviews by Good Morning America are held at the William Cullen Bryant Memorial. They draw the biggest crowds. Authors do book readings at the open-air reading room on the North side. There are designated spaces for killer-games like chess, backgammon, ping pong, and bocce. For children,  a merry-go-round on the South end. Yoga and Tai Chi practitioners use the park all the time in massive demonstrations. The sloth-like motion of Tai Chi mesmerizes the crowd without fail. For the gastronomically inclined, the Bryant Park Grill offers full meals and a kiosk on the northwest corner serves coffee and pastries. Craft fairs arrive in the Fall with their quaint boutiques lining the walkways. And when Old Man Winter comes around, an ice skating rink takes over the green. Travel books list Bryant Park as one of the sites to see in New York. 

The park also figures in the personal history of now famous actors and singers who slept in the park during the lowest times in their lives. Nick Ashford is one, and a small plaque marks the bench on which he slept. The noted scientist Nikola Tesla walked the park while formulating his inventions. Common knowledge has it that Tesla hung out at the Southwest corner. The park was used for drills during the American Civil War (1861-1865) and some of the most violent the Anti-Draft Riots occurred here. 

Would you believe that as early as 1686 people have been coming to the park? Yes. But back then, it was only a public square. It might send chills down your spine to know that between 1823 and 1840, the area served as a Potter's Field. Thousands of people were buried in these grounds. The city re-interred the dead at Wards Island on the East River. Your "Final resting place" isn't necessarily your final resting place. Not in New York, at least.

It became a park officially in 1847 as Reservoir Park. A reservoir stood on the eastern end where the New York Public Library now stands. In fact, some of the reservoir's foundation still exists in the basement of the library.  In the 1930s, the park went into disrepair and neglect. An elevated train track ran along Sixth Avenue which made the general area noisy and grimy. By the 1970s, Bryant Park had been taken over by drug dealers and other such vermin. Many crimes were committed on its grounds. Savvy New Yorkers stayed away, preferring to cross the street rather than walk along its perimeter. The restoration began in 1979 by The Bryant Park Restoration Corporation. And now, it is a lovely 10-acre oasis for angst-ridden midtowners. The main entrance is on Sixth Avenue. I make full use of the park since I work next door. In the Summer, just before 9am, the sun rises over the roof line of the New York Public Library and drenches the park in its soft light. With a hot cup of java, I sit in one of the Adirondack chairs by the fountain and contemplate the coming work day, like generations of New Yorkers have done before me. 

(Photos by Ted Teodoro)