“With joy the stars perform their shining,
And the sea its long, moon-silvered roll;
Why? self-poised they live, nor pine with noting
All the fever of some differing soul.
Bounded by themselves and unregarding
In what state God’s other works may be
In their own tasks all their powers pouring,
These attain the mighty life you see.”
In the “hopeless tangle of our age,” to which he is keenly alive, and to explore which is a task of misery and distress, “alone, self-poised, henceforward man must labor.” “No man can save his brother’s soul, nor pay his brother’s debt.” As man is thus set apart from his fellow, “self-culture,” “self-perfecting” are his duty and his chief concern. By culture Mr. Arnold means the development of every capacity and power enfolded within us, and the adapting of ourselves perfectly to the island, larger or smaller, of our Crusoe life. This culture is gained not by unions, coöperations, or harangues “with tremendous cheers.” It is of one’s self and for one’s self, save as the wind may waft the odors of one “islet” to another. Culture must come by patient personal effort. Here Mr. Arnold looks back longingly to feudal times, and even beyond. The evil communications of the present corrupt good manners. He seems to say “any former times are better than these,” and to
“Pine for force