ar to know them for what they
are. Their essence is not less beautiful than their appearance, though
it needs finer organs for its apprehension. The root of the plant is
not unsightly to science, though for chaplets and festoons we cut the
stem short. And I must hazard the production of the bald fact amid
these pleasing reveries, though it should prove an Egyptian skull at
our banquet.[291] A man who stands united with his thought, conceives
magnificently to himself. He is conscious of a universal success,[292]
even though bought by uniform particular failures. No advantages, no
powers, no gold or force can be any match for him. I cannot choose but
rely on my own poverty, more than on your wealth. I cannot make your
consciousness tantamount to mine. Only the star dazzles; the planet
has a faint, moon-like ray. I hear what you say of the admirable parts
and tried temper of the party you praise, but I see well that for all
his purple cloaks I shall not like him, unless he is at least a poor
Greek like me. I cannot deny it, O friend, that the vast shadow of the
Phenomenal includes thee, also, in its pied and painted
immensity,--thee, also, compared with whom all else is shadow. Thou
art not Being, as Truth is, as Justice is,--thou art not my soul, but
a picture and effigy of that. Thou hast come to me lately, and already
thou art seizing thy hat and cloak. It is not that the soul puts forth
friends, as the tree puts forth leaves, and presently, by the
germination of new buds, extrudes the old leaf?[293] The law of nature
is alternation forevermore. Each electrical state superinduces the
opposite. The soul environs itself with friends, that it may enter
into a grander self-acquaintance or solitude; and it goes alone, for a
season, that it may exalt its conversation or society. This method
betrays itself along the whole history of our personal relations. The
instinct of affection revives the hope of union with our mates, and
the returning sense of insulation recalls us from the chase. Thus
every man passes his life in the search after friendship, and if he
should record his true sentiment, he might write a letter like this,
to each new candidate for his love:--

DEAR FRIEND:--

If I was sure of thee, sure of thy capacity, sure to match
my mood with thine, I should never think again of trifles,
in relation to thy comings and goings. I am not very wise;
my moods are quite attainable; and I respect th