“There are two lakes…situated in a wild mountain gorge…in ...



“There are two lakes…situated in a wild mountain gorge…in New Hampshire. They lie within a few hundred feet of each other, but are remarkable as having no communication…Shut in by stupendous mountains…whose rugged brows and shadowy breaks are clothed by dark and tangled woods, they have such an aspect of deep seclusion, of utter and unbroken solitude, that, when standing on their brink a lonely traveller [sic], I was overwhelmed with an emotion of the sublime, such as I have rarely felt…[O]ver all, rocks, wood, and water, brooded the spirit of repose, and the silent energy of nature stirred the soul to its inmost depths.”[i] Those words could easily have come from the 19th century thinker and writer Henry David Thoreau; the ideas of natural energy, solitude and sublimity are sentiments more often recognized as those of a New England transcendentalist than a landscape painter from New York. In fact, the passage was taken from an “Essay on American Scenery” by the artist Thomas Cole. While it is no surprise that the American Romantic painter would pay such close attention to detail and have so high a regard for the nature, the words he uses and ideas he conveys are a reflection of the influence that the transcendentalists had on the character and focus of 19th century American landscape painting.

The 19th century was one of emergence for American culture. Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his essay “The American Scholar,” asserted that it was necessary for writers, artists and thinkers to break away from European traditions and develop an art and philosophy based on unique and independent ideas. Since the inchoate nation had no grand temples or rich history to paint, no philosophical or religious traditions of its own, the obvious place to turn was to nature. It was here that America would find its “original relationship to the universe;”[ii] here the nation would discover the ideas on which to base its institutions. There was no doubt in the minds of painters, writers and philosophers that the inspiration provided by the nature of the new world could far exceed that offered by the culture of the old world.

The transcendentalists believed deeply in these ideas and could be found guilty, as Barbara Novak suggests, of “nature worship.” In it, they found the basis for a philosophy that celebrated the union of God and nature, believed in a divinity that could be realized by man through nature, and that, contrary to tradition, discerned the sublime in silence and in the ordinary. In her book Nature and Culture, Novak proposes that there was, in some way, a connection between Emerson and the landscape painters, but never sufficiently examines that notion. In fact, the transcendentalists profoundly influenced landscape painting by acting as an inspiration for two of the most important landscapists of the 19th century, Albert Bierstadt and Frederic Church, and shaping the way that audiences viewed their work.

Transcendentalism, in its modern sense, was born out of New England in the early 1830s. A group of intellectuals and writers, including Emerson, Margaret Fuller, Theodore Parker, William Channing and Bronson Alcott among others, responding to contemporary religion and traditional philosophy, discussed ideas and shared writings about God, nature and beauty. While there is not one set of beliefs common to all the transcendentalists, the fundamental principles were based on the idea of an immanent God whose divinity was present in both man and nature. Influenced by Immanuel Kant’s philosophy, the transcendentalists also focused on the concepts of the sublime and the importance of solitude and self-reliance. The term transcendentalism, however, remains difficult to define. Reading essays by writers from within the transcendentalist circle may cause one to wonder if even they understood all of its supposed implications and intricacies. Emerson devoted entire essays to the concept and goes so far as to say there is no such thing as a pure transcendentalist. A precise definition of transcendentalism in this space would be impossible and is unnecessary. Instead, the focus here will be on a few relevant principles that are important to a basic understanding of transcendentalism and its relationship to the landscape painters.

In his most famous essay, “Nature,” Emerson asserted that “the universe is composed of Nature and the Soul. Strictly speaking, therefore, all that is separate from us, all which Philosophy distinguishes as the NOT ME, that is, both nature and art, all other men and my own body, must be ranked under this name, NATURE.”[iii] Both Nature and the Soul, however, are touched by the divinity of God and His immanence is felt in two distinct and important ways. The first was explained by Channing when he wrote, "We see God around us because He dwells within us… [T]he beauty and glory of God's works are revealed to the mind by a light beaming from itself." The other significant idea is demonstrated in Emerson’s assertion that nature does not so much represent the divine as it does reflect it: to paraphrase, nature is a symbolic expression of the spiritual world that exists beyond the physical world.

It may be useful, here, to place transcendentalism in opposition to the more familiar concept of materialism. Materialism is based on experience and relies on data obtained from the senses. The foundation for transcendentalism is consciousness—it argues that the senses are not the final authority, but merely read and report on the physical representations of Truth. Transcendentalism is based on the power of thought, on will and inspiration—it promotes self-reliance and focuses on the spiritual connection of things. Finally, and significantly, nature plays a central role in the individual’s quest for beauty and divinity. Delight can be found in the simple perception of natural forms and all natural objects make a kindred impression when the mind is open to their influence.[iv] Other, more specific concepts essential to the transcendental philosophy will be more easily explained in relation to the work of Bierstadt and Church.

While the connection between landscape painting and transcendentalism seems visually apparent in their work, there is no concrete evidence that Bierstadt and Church were reading Emerson and Thoreau. Neither left behind notes on transcendentalist writings or, to my knowledge, a list of books they found influential. Amazingly, Bierstadt never even discussed his feelings about being in nature—Matthew Baigell writes that one must simply “assume he took both physical and spiritual pleasure in it.”[v] But Baigell also writes that religion was not a unifying theme or “organizing force for Bierstadt.” This argument does not take into account the writings of Fritz Hugh Ludlow, Bierstadt’s traveling partner and publicist. Ludlow kept journals from his trips with Bierstadt and his entries for their time in the Yosemite Valley are particularly revealing. He calls Yosemite the “original site of the Garden of Eden” and upon seeing the valley writes that they were not seeing a new scene on a familiar globe, but a “new heaven and a new earth into which the creative spirit had just been breathed.”[vi] He concludes by stating that there are no words that could translate the “scripture of nature.” It is not difficult to read Bierstadt’s own thoughts into these words. The two were close friends, frequent traveling companions, and seeing together, for the first time, the types of scenes painted in his Yosemite Valley series. These facts, along with the visual evidence provided by Bierstadt’s paintings from the west make Baigell’s assertion that spirituality and sublimity didn’t impact Bierstadt’s work seem unfounded. More likely, Bierstadt’s constant self-promotion and obsession with popularity on a national level led him to avoid making associations with religion or philosophy and instead focus on the much more promising strategy of associating his work with a nationalism rooted in Manifest Destiny.

Church’s inspirations reveal his connections to the transcendentalists more readily. His fascination with the philosophy of Humboldt paralleled that of Emerson, for whom Humboldt was a great influence. Church’s broad interests, including science, religion and philosophy found their way into his paintings and make him a prime candidate for induction to the transcendentalist circle. Additionally, Thomas Cole, rising to success and developing new style during the 1830s, based his philosophy of nature on transcendentalist thought and was a figure of major importance to the development of Church as an artist and a man.

While there does seem to be a connection between the transcendentalists and landscapists, there is some uncertainty to the notion that the painters themselves hoped to directly convey transcendental ideas through their paintings. In her book The Eye of the Empire, Angela Miller asserts that the 19th century landscapists were painting solely from a nationalist perspective, encouraging westward movement and promoting Manifest Destiny. She finds evidence of nationalism in almost every painting, arguing that the divine light in Lander’s Peak is symbolic of God’s calling Americans to the west and pointing to Church’s New England landscapes as evidence that, while his work suggested regionalism, it implied nationalism; the paintings illustrated feelings of inherent superiority that validated expansion. While there seems to be evidence that justifies viewing their work in a nationalistic rather than transcendental context, the two are not mutually exclusive. Expansionists also recognized a connection between nature and divinity, claiming that this country was a promised land and Americans a chosen people. While the two philosophies are not contradictory, Miller disregards any alternate interpretations and focuses on expansion with a single-mindedness that ignores the fact that transcendentalism was a major philosophical movement by mid-century.

While throughout the 1830s and into the ‘40s, the transcendentalists may have been viewed by some as a fringe group of intellectuals without much relevance to the national agenda, by the 1850s Americans were not only aware of transcendentalism, but turned to it as a way to relate to the major issues of the day. It was used as a basis for the abolitionist movement, the effort to advance of women’s rights and for those advocating a peaceful resolution for the conflict between the states. The ideas of Emerson and Thoreau were, by this point, widespread—their basis in religion and nature was appealing and they were applicable to many areas of life. The pervasiveness of the philosophy is significant for establishing the connection between transcendentalism and landscape painting, for even if, as mentioned previously, there is no evidence that the writers influenced the artists directly, these ideas were prevalent in American society. While Bierstadt and Church may or may not have recognized that the concepts they were attempting to convey had their roots in the writings of Emerson and Thoreau, they were no doubt aware of the principles of transcendentalism and realized its significance to their work. Additionally, the audience to whom they were directing their paintings was conscious of and in sync with many of the tenets of transcendentalism and viewed the work in this context. The average viewer would not have overlooked the philosophical and religious connections presented in the work of Bierstadt and Church, perhaps recognizing the transcendental influence even when not explicitly intended by the artist.

While trained as an artist in Germany, Albert Bierstadt had New England roots and was as intent on developing a uniquely American art as Emerson was on creating an American literary tradition. Bierstadt recognized that there was nothing more American than the west and in the tradition of Margaret Fuller, who, at a crossroads in her writing career went to the (then) frontier to obtain a “poetic impression” of the country, he set out on a journey to the west that would prove pivotal to his success as a landscapist. Just as the scenery would “provide [Fuller] the inspiration for passages of meditation and description”[vii] that would give rise to her book Summer on the Lakes, in 1843, Bierstadt’s trip to the Rocky Mountains “provided critical visual and emotional experiences that launched his career as an ‘artist-explorer.’”[viii] He returned with the material to paint one of his most famous works, the ambitious Rocky Mountains, Lander’s Peak, 1863 (Fig. 1). The large-scale work, a pay-per-view known as a “Great Picture,” presented in dramatic fashion a mountain scene on par with those of the European Alps. While it found an audience in the eastern part of the country and achieved popular success, it received what can only be described as a “chilly” reception from critics. It remains open to question, however, whether the critics were rejecting Bierstadt or “contemporary mainstream American landscape painting” in general.[ix] Perhaps the two most emphatic voices of disapproval were those of respected critics James Jackson Jarves and Clarence Cook. In his assessment, Cook, the “ardent Ruskinian,”[x] complained that Bierstadt was not attentive enough to detail and that his mountain paintings showed too little geology. He said the work was “immature, and on too pretentious a scale.”[xi] But his most significant criticism of the work came veiled in what has often been viewed as praise for Lander’s Peak. As Nancy Anderson notes, “[Cook] recognized that the primary experience for the viewer of The Rocky Mountains, Lander’s Peak was theatrical rather than aesthetic: a vicarious journey through space and time, recapitulating the difficult and risky artist’s pilgrimage.”[xii] Emphasis should be placed on the term “pilgrimage” and attention paid to its connotation. Rather than merely theatrical, as Anderson argues, Bierstadt intended for the painting to offer a spiritual experience as well.

The two focal points of the painting are the imposing, snow-capped Lander’s Peak and the glowing light that surrounds the waterfall and spring. (An argument could be made for a third—the Indian camp—but as Anderson argues, that aspect of the painting is present for purely narrative reasons.)[xiii] With this peak, a claim could finally be made to the Swiss Alps; there was now “an American equivalent for the European sublime.”[xiv] This was a prime example of the idea Emerson had advanced—here was an American original that could compare with or even surpass the traditions of the old world. But more important than the nationalistic agenda suggested by Angela Miller was Bierstadt’s illustration of the transcendental. Theodore Winthrop described the snow covered peak “‘the sublimest of natural objects’ and extolled the ‘great white thrones of the Almighty’ that ‘demand our worship.”[xv] The obvious connection is made by asserting that the grand mountain, in all its majesty, is simply a representation of God: As Emerson writes, Nature can be read and interpreted as a Biblical text without the middleman of symbolism: Mountains don’t just “represent the divine, they are the divine.”[xvi] Lander’s Peak dos not astound its audience simply because of its sheer scale but also because of the intense spiritual feeling one has when viewing it. Through art and nature one has come into contact with God.

The spring, as the other point of focus, also implies transcendence. The spring and waterfall illustrate rebirth and purification, and in this instance are surrounded by a divine glow. The iconography of such light is also well established—it is usually reserved by artists and poets for the divine; for God, Christ, the Holy Spirit or Saints. But light also serves another purpose in transcendentalism—through it passes not only the divine, but also beauty—it is the spirit and it makes other things sublime. Emerson wrote that “light is the first painter—light makes things beautiful.”[xvii] And in “The Over Soul,” “From within or from behind, a light shines through us upon things, and makes us aware that we are nothing, but the light is all.”[xviii]

Light was extremely important to Bierstadt as well, and this became more apparent as his career progressed, most obviously in his series of paintings of the Yosemite Valley. In Valley of the Yosemite, 1864 (Fig. 2), Looking Down Yosemite Valley, California, 1865 (Fig. 3) and Sunset in Yosemite Valley, 1868 (Fig. 4) Bierstadt illustrates the divine presence by making a dramatic light effect central to the image. In these paintings Bierstadt also makes use of another of Emerson’s credos: “To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field, it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again.”[xix] These three pictures are of the same scene, from the same perspective, but with different lighting (representing the time of day), cloud cover and at a different time of year. Bierstadt not only strikes the viewer into a feeling of awe, but uses subtle effects to extract a spiritual reverence for the scene and demonstrate the inherent connection between God and Nature.

Surprisingly, the contemporary critics remarked on none of this. A review of their comments perhaps reveals why it was that they found Bierstadt’s work sub par. One reviewer, who was perhaps sympathetic to (but not necessarily in tune with) Bierstadt’s project said of his paintings, “they do not appeal to the highest faculties of the mind; that is, they do not confront one’s spiritual moods.”[xx] He continued, “Much ability was needed…in such a task; but not much genius.” In one of the many scathing reviews Cook wrote, he maintained that “[Bierstadt] paints with ashes, with clay, with brimstone, but never with light.”[xxi] The critics seemed to overlook the ideas Bierstadt was trying to convey and the methods through which he attempted to express them.

Perhaps the greatest objection to Bierstadt’s landscapes is that he was sometimes not true to nature, both embellishing effects and, through his titles, claiming as actual locations what were in fact composites of several scenes. While these facts are easily explained by evidence of Bierstadt’s financial agenda, they can also be attributed to a philosophy towards nature based in transcendentalism. In “Nature,” Emerson maintains that it is the responsibility of the artist and the poet to integrate all of the parts into the whole. Praising idealism and the work of the poet/artist, Emerson could have been referring to Bierstadt when he wrote:

“The sensual man conforms thoughts to things; the poet conforms things to his thoughts. The one esteems nature as rooted and fast; the other, as fluid, and impresses his being thereon. To him, the refractory world is ductile and flexible; he invests dust and stones with humanity, and makes them the words of the Reason. The Imagination may be defined to be, the use which the Reason makes of the material world...[the poet/artist] possesses the power of subordinating nature for the purposes of expression… The remotest spaces of nature are visited, and the farthest sundered things are brought together, by a subtle spiritual connection. We are made aware that the magnitude of material things is relative, and all objects shrink and expand to serve the passion of the poet.”[xxii]

The problem was, perhaps, that critics were viewing Bierstadt and his works solely in the context of nationalism, separate from an alternate interpretation that the artist may have intended. His exaggerations demonstrate something beyond literal depiction. As Emerson writes in “Nature,” one must discover “that there are far more excellent qualities in the student than preciseness and infallibility…that a dream may let us deeper into the secret of nature than a hundred concerted experiments.”[xxiii] But, as tastes in American landscape painting shifted towards a realism that turned away from landscapes with religious connotations, there was no longer room for Bierstadt’s transcendental unification of the real and the ideal. That is not to say that transcendentalism in landscape painting did not survive—instead it found a different message of transcendence in the earlier works of Frederic Church.

An artist famous in his own time and known for his tireless work ethic, Frederic Church moved to the Catskills when he was eighteen, to study under Thomas Cole. He was Cole’s first and only student and his early work was greatly influenced by the American Romantic/transcendentalist. In many cases, Church painted scenes that had once appealed to Cole using his teacher’s techniques, and there is no doubt that Church’s view of nature was to a great extent influenced by the attitudes of his mentor. While his 1859 painting The Heart of the Andes fits with the Emersonian philosophy of the sublime that Bierstadt employed, it was not the work on that best illustrated his transcendentalist credentials. Instead, Church built his philosophy, as well as his career, on a series of small-scale New England landscapes that he painted in the late 1840s and early ‘50s. He experimented with different approaches in order to create a higher style of landscape painting that would not simply portray aesthetic delight, but extend a specific philosophy and challenge the viewer to think differently about the commonplace. As Franklin Kelly writes, “His goal was always the same: to make landscape painting rise above the merely descriptive and do far more than simply record the basic facts of the external world. He wanted his art, through landscape, to address issues of profound significance and, in doing so, to convey complex ideas about the world and mankind.”[xxiv] Truly in the mode of his teacher, he sought a deeper meaning in landscape painting and hoped to raise it from its traditionally low rank among genres. As Cole wrote in an 1844 letter directly before Church came to study under him, “[There] are subjects of a moral and religious nature on such I think it the duty of the artist to turn…his works ought not to be mere dead imitations of things—without the power to impress a Sentiment or enforce a moral or religious truth.”[xxv] It is clear that, as much as may be said about Church’s talent for self-promotion and quest for a unique style, the most important thing to him about landscape painting was its ability to involve the viewer in a philosophic and religious questioning that could only be addressed by a venture into self-discovery.

This attitude of self-reliance and personal exploration is reminiscent of another New England transcendentalist, who wrote, famously,

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life…and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it…”[xxvi]

Appropriately, Thoreau’s Walden will appear visually, as well as philosophically in Church’s work. While Home by the Lake, 1852 (Fig. 5) was a scene from the Catskills, it could easily have been Thoreau’s cabin on Walden Pond in Concord. Church’s focus on the lake reflects the influence of Cole, who thought that a lake was the landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. The water can also be seen as the transcendental symbol of reflection that it was for Thoreau. Its seclusion tells of the solitude and self-reliance that the transcendentalists promoted. The stumps shown in the bottom-center of the painting are evocative of Thoreau’s first chapter in which he describes the felling of trees that is necessary for building and future planting. He discusses the first steps of settlement and his experience with nature:

“Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and went down to the woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house, and began to cut down some tall arrowy white pines…for timber… So I went on for some days cutting and hewing timber, and also studs and rafters, all with my narrow axe…Each stick was carefully mortised...by its stump. Before I had done I was more the friend than the foe of the pine tree, though I had cut down some of them, having become better acquainted with it. Sometimes a rambler in the wood was attracted by the sound of my axe, and we chatted pleasantly over the chips which I had made.”[xxvii]

The solitary journey into nature was important for both the writer and the painter. About it Emerson remarked, we must “retire from the chamber as well as society…[I]n the woods we return to reason and faith.”[xxviii] The transcendentalists in general, and Thoreau and Emerson in particular, believed that by going into to nature and writing about it, one could create an original experience with it, and through it, with God. Church believed implicitly in the immanence of God in nature, and for good measure he usually included some aspect of the traditional sublime to represent the spiritual presence. In the case of Home by the Lake, as well as New England Scenery (Fig. 6), he does so with the inclusion of grand and billowing cloud formations that resemble snow-capped mountain peaks.

But Church, like Thoreau, had a unique ability to find the sublime in the ordinary, and more importantly in silence. Traditionally, the sublime was associated with huge and impressive images—Kant felt that it reflected natural energies and he applied the term to “natural cataclysms,” like lightning, storms, mountains and waterfalls. Church and Thoreau took a different approach to sublimity. By going into nature, specifically the woods, one could find it in the gentle spirit of solitude. Church painted quiet images in hopes of portraying a solitary vision from a single, primal encounter with an undefiled nature. In these New England scenes, Church found in reality the sublime that he previously thought possible only in his imaginary works; he realized the union between real and ideal. It was this mainstay of transcendentalism that encouraged both the westward exploration of Bierstadt and the New England journeys of Church.

Church’s tours of New England were vital to his early work and because the two traveled to many of the same places it is not difficult to imagine that his paintings represented scenes described by Thoreau, presenting the philosopher’s travels and ideas visually. In the Spring of 1850, for example, Church left for a sketching tour of Maine, hoping to see dramatic scenery and a sublime landscape not knowable in other parts of New England. In Maine, still wild and poised on the brink of civilization, Church could see the New World as the settlers saw it. Thoreau had departed for the first of three Maine trips in 1846 with the goal of deriving “a new understanding of the American wilderness and an increased appreciation for its power.”[xxix] Church’s painting of the pure wilderness, Mt. Ktaadn, 1853 (Fig. 7) showed the exact peak that Thoreau had seen seven years earlier and that stirred the writer to acknowledge how much he appreciated civilization. Apparently the two shared similar temperaments as well. Church eventually became reclusive, choosing the solitude of his Hudson River property called Olana from which he could look into his own backyard and see incomparable scenes of nature. Olana was Church’s Walden.

The connections between Church and Thoreau neither begin nor end with shared experiences but are based in a common philosophy. Thoreau valued the simple and the ordinary, and in Walden he provides the reader with minute details of observation. The ordinary was important to the inspiration of Church as well—his work is full of everyday reality that by others went unpainted—for him, too, details were the prize. As Kelly states, “For both Church and Thoreau, the precise description of the world they observed led to deeper, more profound truths, for in the particular they were able to find the universal.”[xxx] For example, Church’s 1851 painting New England Scenery uses individual aspects from several different scenes to portray a typical New England landscape. Using specific details from exact locations in his composite, the painting becomes a representation of the region’s landscape as a whole. Church’s attitude towards nature reflected an emerging awareness by Americans of their surroundings and of the power of nature. It was no longer necessary to follow Cole’s tradition of allegory and imaginary—great concepts and lofty ideals could be portrayed by a simple New England landscape. And these scenes, while less dramatic visually, required a more active viewer to get to the depths of their meaning. As Emerson maintained, “The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.”[xxxi]

Whether using images of grand mountain peaks or simple New England scenes, solitude and simplicity or the traditional sublime, the two painters were illustrating transcendental concepts through landscape art. If there existed a philosophical roadmap of the 19th century one could easily see that Emerson, Thoreau, Bierstadt and Church met at a crossroads of ideas—the intersection of nature’s significance, the immanence of the divine, the importance of the American landscape and the impending destruction of the wilderness. Landscape painting provided an outlet and a forum for the ideas and concerns of this period and reached a large and diverse audience. The concepts, the union of nature, culture and religion; the quest for the sublime; the importance of solitude and self-reliance; and the concern for a disappearing natural landscape were driving forces for the artists. As Barbara Novak writes of Church, “He is a paradigm of the artist who becomes the public voice of a culture, summarizing its beliefs, embodying its ideas, and confirming its assumptions” and offering “an ideal worldview of the 19th century.”[xxxii]

Finally, the two landscape painters embodied Emerson’s concept of the “transparent eyeball”—“I am nothing but see all.” Their work demonstrates an awareness of the transcendental philosophy and gives it direct application. The audience to whom they were appealing understood the tenets of transcendentalism and saw those ideas manifested in the work of both Bierstadt and Church. Nowhere more than in their landscapes—where the divine, nature and beauty meet—is transcendentalism so alive and compelling.

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[i] Cole, 11.

[ii] Emerson, Nature, 190.

[iii] Emerson, 191.

[iv] Emerson, 196.

[v] Baigell, page 11.

[vi] Anderson, 81.

[vii] Smith, xvii.

[viii] Anderson, 23.

[ix] Anderson, 30.

[x] Anderson, 28.

[xi] Anderson, 29.

[xii] Ibid.

[xiii] Anderson, 88.

[xiv] Anderson, 77.

[xv] Anderson, 76.

[xvi] Emerson, 206.

[xvii] Emerson, 196.

[xviii] Emerson, 288.

[xix] Emerson, 196.

[xx] Anderson, 29.

[xxi] Anderson, 30.

[xxii] Emerson, 214.

[xxiii] Emerson, 222.

[xxiv] Kelly, 32.

[xxv] Kelly, 35.

[xxvi] Thoreau, 66.

[xxvii] Thoreau, 32.

[xxviii] Emerson, 191.

[xxix] Kelly, 58.

[xxx] Kelly, 51.

[xxxi] Emerson, 226.

[xxxii] Novak, 67.

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