t fund of fresh, simple,
wholesome nature, and the love for real things, which unlettered humanity
possesses, he will make nothing of it either.

XII

It has been truly said that "the noblest seer is ever over-possessed."
This has been the case with nearly all original, first-class men. Carlyle
furnished a good illustration of its truth in our own time. He was
over-possessed with his idea of the hero and hero-worship. And it may be
that Whitman was over-possessed with the idea of democracy, America,
nationality, and the need of a radically new departure in poetic
literature. Yet none knew better than he that in the long run the
conditions of life and of human happiness and progress remain about the
same; that the same price must still be paid for the same things; that
character alone counts; that the same problem "how to live" ever confronts
us; and that democracy, America, nationality, are only way stations, and
by no means the end of the route. The all-leveling tendency of democracy
is certainly not in the interest of literature. The world is not saved by
the average man, but by the man much above the average, the rare and
extraordinary man,--by the "remnant," as Arnold called them.

No one knew this better than Whitman, and he said that "one main
genesis-motive" of his "Leaves" was the conviction that the crowning
growth of the United States was to be spiritual and heroic. Only "superb
persons" can finally justify him.

HIS RELATION TO SCIENCE

I

The stupendous disclosures of modern science, and what they mean when
translated into the language of man's ethical and aesthetic nature, have
not yet furnished to any considerable extent the inspiration of poems.
That all things are alike divine, that this earth is a star in the
heavens, that the celestial laws and processes are here underfoot, that
size is only relative, that good and bad are only relative, that forces
are convertible and interchangeable, that matter is indestructible, that
death is the law of life, that man is of animal origin, that the sum of
forces is constant, that the universe is a complexus of powers
inconceivably subtle and vital, that motion is the law of all things,--in
fact, that we have got rid of the notions of the absolute, the fixed, the
arbitrary, and the notion of origins and of the dualism of the world,--to
what extent will these and kindred ideas modify art and all aesthetic
production? The idea of the divine right of ki