was nearing the
summit of fame. His readers were the cultivated classes of the whole
English-speaking world, and he was not merely admired, his genial
humor had won for him universal love; his unique personality was as
dear as his writings. There is not room in the limits allowed me to
dwell on the style of the "Autocrat;" fortunately neither analysis nor
eulogy is necessary. The variety of topics, the sure, swift touches in
treatment, the frequent gleam of imagery, and the lovely vignette of
verse, altogether form an attraction for which there are few parallels
in literature.

From the gay and jaunty verse of the poet's youth to his strong and
passionate lyrics of the war there was a surpassing change, and it
will be interesting to trace it in his life, and in the course of
historic events.

In his early manhood he took the world as he found it, and did not
trouble himself about reforms or isms. He had only good-humored banter
for the Abolitionists, just as he had for non-resistants and
spirit-rappers. When progressive people were in a ferment with the new
transcendental philosophy (deduced from the preaching of Channing and
the essays of Emerson), and were fascinated by the monologues of
Alcott and the sibylline utterances of Margaret Fuller; when young
enthusiasts, in their socialistic home at Brook Farm, dreamed of the
near reign of human brotherhood; when Lowell was writing "The Present
Crisis," a poem glowing with genius as with apostolic zeal; when
feebler brethren, blown upon by new winds of doctrine, imagined
themselves spiritual and profound, and felt deep thrills in
pronouncing the words Soul and Infinite with nasal solemnity. Holmes,
fully master of himself, and holding instinctively to his _nil
admirari_, trained his light batteries on the new schools, and hit
their eccentricities and foibles with a comic fusillade.

From this bellicose time it was nearly forty years to the appearance
of Holmes' admiring and reverent life of Emerson, and in that long and
stirring period there was much for him to learn, and something to
unlearn. Who does not learn much in forty years? For one thing, the
character and mind of the poet-philosopher were at length clearly
revealed, and the uneasy swarm of imitators had shrunk out of sight.
And as to slavery, the eyes of all men had been opened. Not only
Holmes, but the majority of well-meaning men, hitherto standing aloof,
were taught by great events. Many who admitted the w