While it is important to trace Emerson’s main positions, one misses the living nature of his philosophy unless one also takes account of the motions, moods, and patterns within his essays, and the ways he dramatizes instability, spontaneity, and inconsistency. This emphasis is found in Goodman’s discussions of “History” in Chapter 1, “Friendship” in Chapter 3, “Nominalist and Realist” in Chapter 4, “Manners” in Chapter 6, “Experience” in Chapter 7, “Nature” in Chapter 9, and “Illusions” in Chapter 10. Chapter 2 distinguishes the sheer variety of skepticisms in Emerson’s thought, about the world and other minds, but also about mystical experiences that refuse “to be named” or are “ineffable.” It also attends to the differences between the “modern” tradition of skepticism as doubt, and skepticism as a form of life, with Emerson’s essay on Montaigne a key source for his idea of a “wise skepticism.”

The Declaration of Independence, usually regarded principally or even exclusively as a manifesto about certain “inalienable rights,” is better understood, especially historically, as a complex argument about popular sovereignty. Who exactly were “the people” who were entitled, as in the America of 1776, to secede from the British Empire and then claim their own rights of “self-determination”? The Declaration begins with the assertion that Americans were “one people.” But that was demonstrably false, even in 1776, and has become even more so since then. After all, James Madison, in Federalist 10, emphasizes the plurality of interests, including, religion and property, that generate “faction” and the possibility of tyranny of governing elites. Does the Declaration, even if complemented by the Constitution, supply enough of an “American creed” to supply the basis for genuine unity and political amity or does it instead plant the seeds for further division and even secession in the name of self-determination and government by consent of the governed?

The twenty-six grievances in the Declaration of Independence targeted two distinct categories of British policies: reforms and punishments. Parliamentary reforms like taxing the colonies to help pay for the 10,000 troops left in America at the end of the Seven Years’ War in 1763 (mostly as a human wall protecting colonists from Native Americans – and vice versa) angered free colonists, but not sufficiently to make them want out of the British Empire. Free Americans did, however, protest Parliament’s reforms, for example, by tarring and feathering Customs officials who cracked down on molasses smugglers, burning stamped paper, and throwing 340 chests of tea – taxed by Parliament and carried to American ports by the East India Company – into Boston Harbor. To punish the colonists for these protests, Parliament revoked Massachusetts’ charter, sent troops to reoccupy Boston, and more. Ultimately royal officials in the colonies even forged informal alliances with black Americans previously enslaved by George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and other Founders. It was these British punishments, not Parliament’s original reforms, that pushed free colonists over the edge into independence.

This chapter examines how various civil rights movements have interwoven the Declaration into their advocacy for causes to combat social and legal discrimination, including chauvinism, labor exploitation, and election plutocracy. A variety of groups, including first-wave feminists and labor advocates, effectively relied on it to promote various constitutional causes. Among suffragettes, its statement of human equality stood out, while workers’ movements favored the document’s condemnation of autocracy and oppression. As with other groups who likewise relied on the Declaration’s mandates, it represented a national commitment toward achieving a liberal equality for the common good. The Declaration of Independence remains relevant today to matters as broad in constitutional scope as federalism, campaign financing, AI advertisement, and separation of powers. Its sweeping statement of unalienable human rights and equality continues to embody core American commitments to representative democracy. That manifesto of equality and freedom has for two centuries influenced politicians, civil rights organizations, and ordinary people in the United States and abroad.

This essay examines first the understanding of sex equality by the philosophic forebears of the US Declaration of Independence, Thomas Hobbes and John Locke. Hobbes was the more thoroughgoing egalitarian of the two. He insisted that men were not inherently superior to women, either in strength or prudence. Locke by contrast wrote that in the conjugal union, even in nature, while the union by mutual compact could be limited to whatever was needed for raising children, still, because of the need to have some authority stronger and more able, men were entitled to rule the household. Despite this public claim that men are the “abler” sex, Locke’s private writings showed him to be much more gender egalitarian than Jefferson himself.

As part of the major premise of the Declaration’s syllogism and of a general theory of rightful government, it is unlikely that the main ideas in the Declaration’s second paragraph exist as separate, free-floating nuggets of indeterminate meaning. My task in this essay is to reconstruct the theory of rightful government contained in that paragraph in order to progress toward fixing meaning for those ideas – equality, rights, liberty, and others – that have been so important to the self-understanding and political aspirations of Americans from 1776 on.

That the Declaration of Independence could be considered from the perspective of rhetoric might seem rather obvious, if not downright self-evident. Even so, appreciating how Jefferson thought about language not as an abstract concept but as a lived and material practice can help us appreciate the text of the Declaration from different perspectives. The text is shot through with the histories of race, nation, empire, and belonging that characterized the ideology of American revolutionary republicanism, and with Jefferson’s thinking about these forces and his own anxious place in them. In fact, despite and perhaps even in part because of his own difficulties with public speaking, Jefferson thought about the ability to access and marshal rhetorical exemplars and put them to use in legal and political argument as an elemental part of what it meant to be an effective citizen. His thinking about material rhetoric, about the absorption of what one read through notes, commentary, and commonplace books, turns out to be a critical component of how he thought about the legitimacy of the American project and of how he framed that project in successive drafts of the Declaration itself.

In the West, liberty and equality emerged as individual rights from theological speculations about the nature of God and human beings, and the relationship of human beings to each other and to God. It was a natural theology in which God is beneficent and glorifies in what God has created, having made a world in which it is possible for human beings to pursue happiness. Derived primarily from the writings of John Locke, that natural theology was embraced and expanded upon by Thomas Jefferson and articulated in the Declaration of Independence. The Declaration’s natural theology foundation holds that liberty serves God’s purpose: preservation of creation and flourishing in the pursuit of happiness. And liberty is equal liberty because, as Locke’s philosophy and Jefferson’s Declaration proclaim, human beings’ equality is more than a right; it is a fact of creation. For Locke and Jefferson, and for the “American mind” of the founding era, the theology underlying the Declaration implies duties to one another. Without such obligations beyond the self, egoism would lead to confusion as everyone would assert their own interests, and God’s purpose would not be realized.

As unprecedented as the Declaration was, it was not without intellectual antecedents. The Declaration interacted with and built upon recent expressions of European Enlightenment political philosophy in its focus on “Nature and Nature’s God,” and in its reliance upon the normative principles of “laws of Nature” as well as natural or “unalienable” rights. European Enlightenment political philosophers themselves stood in complex and varied relationships with their ancient and medieval predecessors; sometimes adding to, sometimes transforming, and sometimes rejecting these preceding ideas. The Declaration brilliantly navigates this complex web of intellectual antecedents by treating the ideas of laws of nature, natural rights, the social contract, and republicanism in such a way that the points of tension between their different interpretations are minimized and subsumed within a shared understanding of the importance of nature for political life. In so doing, the Declaration provides an intriguing hint of how the deep fault lines between these political philosophical traditions might ultimately be bridged. The Declaration’s succinct statement of political principles may be viewed as a transformative distillation of a few of its most important European antecedents.

Chapter 2 begins with Emerson’s responses to the ineffable character of mystical experience: one of silence and listening, the other of a profusion of terms from a multitude of cultures. Writings on mystical experience by William James and Ludwig Wittgenstein are part of the discussion. This chapter considers Emerson’s skepticism about the “external world” and “other minds” and about both freedom and fate, which form a “knot of nature.” The following section concerns skepticism as an existential condition, as when Emerson writes in “Experience”: “So it is with us, now skeptical, or without unity.” The chapter concludes by considering skepticism as a positive way of life, what Emerson calls a “wise skepticism.” This form of skepticism has roots in the ancient Greek and Roman worlds and, in a particularly important form for Emerson, in the Essays of Montaigne.

Simultaneously an assertion of universal natural rights and the unique story of a particular peoplehood, the Declaration of Independence has from the beginning played a central role in the ongoing struggle over the ever-contested meaning of American identity. Though its ringing phrases have at times become occasions for smug self-congratulation, more often, the Declaration has presented an opportunity for self-evaluation, offering an internal critique of American practices that fall short of the claims the Declaration makes about American values and character. In this sense, the Declaration has become a capacious and evolving civic myth that in its best moments has invoked – and cultivated – a pluralistic solidarity out of volitional adherence to civic ideals and participation in democratic rituals that has substituted for the “natural” ascriptive allegiances characteristic of ethnonationalisms. The essay also suggests that this story of peoplehood was within the scope of Jefferson’s own intention. Through common commitment to the principles of the Declaration, Americans might unite as a nation.

This essay explores the deep and longstanding relationship between African Americans and the Declaration of Independence. From the 1770s to the present, black activists and thinkers have consistently excoriated the paradox of an American democracy that proclaims inalienable rights while systematically denying black citizens’ rights. Drawing on figures such as Frederick Douglass, Sojourner Truth, Frances E. W. Harper, Anna Julia Haywood Cooper, and Shirley Chisholm, the text illustrates how African Americans have employed the Declaration as a foundation for their demands for the abolition of slavery, civil rights, and equality. It examines black protest rhetoric’s critique of white supremacy, hypocrisy, and the failure of the United States to live up to its foundational principles. And it emphasizes the crucial role black women have played in advancing black liberation and expanding the scope of equality to include gender and race. Through the centuries, African Americans have called for the United States of America to reconcile its practices with its founding document’s principles of equality and justice for all.

“The Poet” is what Adorno calls a “carpet essay,” which weaves its announced topics of the poet and poetry into a host of other subjects: character and expression; reception and abandonment; beauty and love; the present, new, and near; the Neoplatonic One or “whole”; and a fundamental “flowing” or “metamorphosis.” Chapter 8 focuses on Emerson’s romantic and proto-existentialist pronouncement that “the man is only half himself, the other half is his expression”; his theory that language “is fossil poetry”; and the proto-pragmatic picture of language in his statement that “all language is vehicular and transitive, and is good, as ferries and horses are, for conveyance, not as farms and houses are, for homestead.” Other topics treated are the place of what Kant calls “unbounded” ideas in Emerson’s account of poetry, thinking as a mixture of reception and activity, and the connections and differences of “Experience” and “The Poet.”

The essays in this volume resemble the dialogue with the four children that takes place at the Passover Seder. The wise child is prepared to honor the commitments and aspirations made in 1776 but needs instruction on how to do so. The wicked child refuses to identify with the commitments made in 1776, either because the child identifies with some status hierarchy or, more likely, the child refuses to take seriously the pleas of faux revolutionaries who were committed to illegitimate status hierarchies during the late eighteenth century. The simple child does not understand the significance of the Declaration of Independence in 1776 or in 2026. The fourth child cannot figure out how to frame a question in the twenty-first century about a document written in the eighteenth century. The wise child assumes without adequate reflection a commitment to the Passover story and the Declaration of Independence. American independence was forged on a foundation of soldiers who died for lower taxes and, arguably, more secure rights to hold others in bondage. These problems require retelling both the Passover and the Declaration stories, so that the simple child can determine intelligently whether commitment to either (the same?) tradition is warranted.