Here goes nothing...
Everything I Know About Romanticism, Transcendentalism, Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman (in a more creative format than what I have to do tonight on my test because otherwise I will fall asleep right now)
By Brooke McDonald
Imagine we're at a dinner party in the mid to late 1800s in Concord, Massachusetts. Fancy napkins, champagne glasses, appetizers by the plateful. And three distinguished guests. Who are they? Let me introduce you.
Ralph Waldo Emerson is the one sitting by himself in the corner, smiling at the crowd and wearing a slightly bemused expression. He doesn't really like parties; solitude is more up his alley. (He's all about simplicity, too, so the fact that this house is all decked out for the party and everyone is wearing their Sunday best rubs him the wrong way.) Ask him about his opinions, and he'll clearly tell you everything you want to know. One word: transcendentalism. It's his creation, his baby. Emerson used to be a Unitarian minister. Not anymore. His church is the sanctuary of the wheat field, the altar of smooth rocks at the base of a waterfall, the cathedral lit up by the setting sun and the light of the moon. Harvard Divinity School had him speak to their students a while back and what he said made them so angry that they refused to ever let him come back. Historical Christianity? Out the window. If you want to feel good about yourself, need a little pick-me-up, talk to Emerson. He'll tell you you're a god, you can be completely self-reliant, your soul is the most important thing about you and not your intellect. Everything is understandable when viewed through the lens of nature.
Emerson's a nice guy, but he doesn't get out much. You might find him slightly antisocial and even more contemplative and reflective. He's considered pretty radical, even in this Romantic era with the rejection of reason and the embrace of emotions, spirituality, and spontaneity. America is starting to embrace nationalism and individualism, and Emerson's stepping up to the plate with a lot to say about all that.
Next big guest at this party: Henry David Thoreau. Do you have any pencils that you love because they write so smoothly? Probably a Thoreau pencil. Yep, he's from that family - in fact, he's made some pretty advanced developments in the pencil that you've benefited from. A Harvard education will make that sort of grand accomplishment possible! Yet Thoreau's done more than just go to Harvard and make pencils. He's a disciple of Emerson. Yep, he worships the guy. He loves his philosophy so much that he tries to put it into practice as much as possible. Do you see how Thoreau is sitting with a group of abolitionists and politicians, laughing and talking, but he's dressed simply, and he's one of the few who didn't complement the hostess on her elaborate decorations and place settings? Thoreau is just like Emerson: practical, simple, and focused on the soul and nature. He's incredibly frugal, too, and keeps detailed records of every penny that leaves his wallet. You might have read in the newspaper how Thoreau moved to Walden Pond a few years ago in order to build a little house, grow his own food, and retreat from society for two years. Yes, the legend is true! Ask Thoreau about the environment; he's known as one of the first American environmental writers. Nature astounds him and captures his closest attention. He's not as much of a hermit as Emerson, but Myers-Briggs would definitely label him as an introvert. Although watch out because the guy believes in his convictions; he's spent a night in jail for not paying his taxes and has spoken out adamantly against slavery.
Thoreau's an interesting fellow. I personally didn't finish his book Walden because I found it hard to get into and different than anything else I've read. Not strictly an autobiography, nor a devotional, nor a how-to-manual or poetry or an essay, but it's a bit of all of those genres. You can skim through it sometime perhaps, and visit the house where he lived at Walden. I've heard it's a beautiful place.
Whitman's the eccentric guy in the top hat surrounded by women, men, and children. The guy has charisma! His picture's in the paper every other day because the man loves to play dress-up... first he's all rugged, Daniel Boone-like and then he's donning a frilly shirt and wearing a corset. You'll find Whitman down by the river, walking the streets of New York City, and at the opera. Much of his inspiration for his writings comes from politics, the opera, the Bible, and Emerson and Thoreau. Have you read his book Leaves of Grass? It's a collection of transcendental poetry glorifying the self, nature, and common people. Whitman differs from his mentors Emerson and Thoreau in that he shifts his focus from isolated people searching within themselves for the truth to a collective group of people commonly sharing life and a soul. Equality, love, rights, and similarities between everybody are his main messages. One might call him a precursor of the beat poets.
The main problem with Whitman is his subject matter and his style. Whitman will write about anything, and I mean anything. That's why Emerson and Thoreau don't entirely endorse all of his writings. Also, he is the champion of what's called "free verse"; he employs long sentences, anaphora, repetition, antithesis, and more to create a conversion experience for the reader. By the end you're swept away in a spinning dervish of lights, sounds, situations, and feelings. What Whitman does best is plunk you down in someone else's shoes and let you realize you're just like them, even if they're completely different from you in race, job, or social status.
Personally, I hope I'm sitting by Whitman at dinner. He's a little cuckoo, but at the same time no one else writes descriptions of nature, American life, and the common person's experiences like he does. He has a way with words, that's for sure (sometimes he even makes them up...)
You had no idea the three main voices of transcendentalism were coming to this party, did you? Well, here they are. Now you can go introduce yourself. Just avoid Herman Melville... he's in the other room with a scowl on his face signing autographs in a super thick book called Moby-Dick. Melville's not sold on transcendentalism. Obviously, because the main symbol in his book - the great white whale - stands for evil, the one element transcendentalism doesn't explain. Maybe we can rile them up and get them debating tonight, because I'd like to hear what Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman would say in response to Melville's questions. He certainly makes veiled references to these guys in that huge book he's signing right now.
Okay, now you know enough to enjoy yourself. Go sit by Emerson. Maybe he'll come out of his solitude and chat with you for a little bit, and who knows, perhaps you'll leave tonight a converted transcendentalist....
