Ralph Waldo Emerson's Condemnation Of Traveling

“Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradicts everything you said to-day.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson (125). Is it any wonder that contradictions can be unearthed in the writing of a man who considered consistency to be a fatal flaw—the “hobgoblin of little minds” (125)? Consistency was, in Emerson’s opinion, a weakness: a sign of societal submission—the betrayal of one’s idiosyncrasies. Thus, it is only fitting that Emerson’s own work is rife with contradictions.
One such tension exists between Emerson’s stark condemnation of traveling (as noted in “Self-Reliance”) and his vehement insistence that man must flee his chamber and seek Nature in order to find himself (as
But what about a breed of travel whose sole purpose is to bring man closer to self-refection? In his sweeping critique, Emerson is overlooking an essential portion of travellers. What about the monk who flees to the mountain monastery to find God among the whipping winds of Nature? Does this act of travel not bring said man closer to Nature, wisdom, and himself than ever before?
Here, we begin to unveil the contradictions inherent to Emerson’s convictions. In his critique of travel, Emerson assumes too much—discrediting travel as an entirety when, in fact, it is an incredibly diverse entity. He fails to acknowledge that oftentimes, travel itself is the best “retire[ment] from [the] chamber”: a venture into the world during which one can discover his individuality and examine the familiar—himself—in the context of the unknown. In a foreign setting, man may uninhibitedly probe the fabric of his own individuality—the one thing that remains with him no matter where he
Not every traveler, however, is abroad simply to admire the sepulchers of his fathers. In traveling—in being alone in an unfamiliar place—is man not, in fact, abandoning the past and writing a new story all his own? It is altogether possible to travel to a place that is divorced from society: devoid of popular history, devoid of fellow travelers—a place where it is just man and Nature. Yet, Emerson’s broad condemnation of travel does not recognize this fact.
In “Nature,” Emerson argues that different landscapes produce different effects in man. Why, then, would one not travel the world to experience Nature in its totality—to be overwhelmed with each varying effect the earth has to offer? What of the urbanite, for whom Emerson’s beloved woods of Nature are inaccessible? How is he to behold Nature “face to face” (27) if he is not meant to travel away from his concrete