Essay on "William Remington: A Study in Individualism"
by Robert W. Watson
(10 November 2001)

Even though he wrote his article for I'll Take My Stand a year after he got his Master's in English from Vanderbilt University, Henry Blue Kline is unique in that from 1934 until his death in 1951 he spend most of his life working for various departments in the government. Kline was neither an academic nor a literary author. Even though he did work for about four years for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch as an editorialist for economic issues, Kline has no claim to fame at all. This obscurity seems to be purposely planned, if his essay, "William Remington: A Study in Individualism," is any indication. Kline developed uremia and died when he was forty-six years old.

In his essay, Kline writes about a young man who must grapple with both his identity and purpose in American society. I suspect that there are some biographical elements in the essay, but even if there are not, "William Remington" can easily represent any young person who had the privilege of having a liberal arts education rather than vocational training. With college catalogues looking more like a smorgasbord of job opportunities rather than an invitation to join the human race through education, it is remarkable that anyone still desires to study the humanities. Yet, Remington chose to study the "useless" humanities instead of learning "how to earn a comfortable and morally painless living." The young student discovered that he actually enjoyed literature, philosophy, and the arts. He liked his professors, men who had a healthy disdain for "know-it-alls" and for knowledge that was today's truth, only to be supplanted by newer truth tomorrow. So, from the beginning of his college days, Remington was destined to have a tough time of it in the workaday world.

Upon graduation, the new "future leader of America" discovered that he had two severe handicaps that worked against him whenever he tried to fit into the overall scheme of things. First, Remington had acquired a taste for literature, history, and the fine arts. Second, due to his education that centred on divergent knowledge rather than learning mere processes, Remington determined that he would live his life according to his own "critical intelligence, and by nothing else." Unbeknownst to the powers that be, the college had created much more than Descartes's "thinking thing," but an actual thinking human being, which suggests that he was a free man. As a critical thinker, the free man reserves the right to reject anything that is "not founded solidly in the ethics of human worth." Yep, our young Mr. Remington is going to have a tough time of it.

With his "useless" degree in his hand, Remington had to decide where he was going to live. He chose to move to a city closer to Detroit than New Orleans. Socially, Remington quickly found other recent graduates like himself. Whenever he went out with his new friends, Remington noticed that he behaved like them except for one thing: "their behavior seemed to be instinctive and unconscious, whereas he was unable to dispel a disquieting feeling that his own was a theatrical illusion, that he was an actor impersonating William Remington as the world wished him to be, not William Remington himself." His friends did not seem to desire to pursue any of the higher tastes, but had a compulsion to fill every available moment by "doing something." This compulsiveness to be physically active excluded any leisure, which is necessary for cultivating the mind and soul.

Remington lacked a better simile when he viewed his surroundings like a stream. For his several friends, they were caught in the current and seemed to be at the point of no return before going over the falls. As for himself, Remington knew that he could not deny the existence of the stream by staying on the shore. He figures that he would be safe if he merely waded out a little into the stream, but be near enough to the shore if he had to get back. But how far out into the stream does he go before he is caught by the current as well? Remington's "compromise" with the stream did not allow him to fully participate in the stream nor on the shore. Instead of producing satisfaction, Remington increased his loneliness. It was true that he found a few other folks who thought like he did, but they tended toward a revolutionary bent or a total withdrawal from society. At this point, our hero was tempted to give into the supposedly inevitable "mood of these times." However, his earlier participation in the humanities rebelled against his despair, drawing him back to the old paths.

Modern poets and writers felt as Remington did, but their solutions were not solutions at all. The modernists wanted freedom, but they had no more imagination than having an all-powerful socialist state to become the guardian of that freedom. Therefore, instead of being in control and making a difference in the surrounding madness, the contemporary artists wanted an escape. On the other hand, "William did not feel whipped; he wanted to feel strong." In other words, Remington wanted consistency, stability, and belonging. His friends suffered through a constant cycle of euphoria followed by depression. After each euphoric upswing, the depressed downswing lasted longer. The periods of inactivity were considered bad and happiness could only be had if his friends were having "fun." Remington began to find himself staying out of the stream for longer periods, and he knew that his friends would benefit immensely if they would from time to time meet with him on the shore. The whole business of pursuing happiness seemed to be alluding his friends. Remington had to admit that he was not making much headway towards happiness either, but he certainly was further along than his more "vivacious" acquaintances. True, he was not satisfied with his current lot in life, but he was spared the experience of the euphoria-depression cycle.

A more thorny problem presented itself to Remington as to what vocation he should pursue. He was taught to think and analyse. While in college, had he wanted to be an engineer or a doctor, there were the courses to teach him to make money. Even though he appreciated the humanities, his knowledge of literature, criticism, and history were not very marketable. Remington thought about a career in teaching. But whereas Socrates drank hemlock at the end of his career, the modern teacher is forced to administer the poison before he begins his career. No, a life in the ivory tower would not do for his disposition.

Well, why not be the next William Shakespeare? Of course, Remington knew that a Chaucer, a Shakespeare, or a Milton was a rarity in any age. Yet, he was strongly drawn to the idea of writing for a living. But what to write about? Remington was schooled in the classics and his heroes were of ages past, not of the twentieth century. Of those days of yore, the artist reflected the beauty of his culture. Today, the modern artist is convinced that nothing is permanent and all institutions are subject not just to change, but to radical change. To attempt to catch this constant change would be vain. Therefore, the artist had become introverted, concerned about his own self. But, for Remington, there is no profit to society if everyone becomes egoists with a self-inflicted pity party. He would want to write of honour, of duty, and of community. Yet, no one in the industrialised madness would understand what he would try to express. Thus, Remington decided to remain silent: "unable to be an artist of the old-fashioned kind, he was resolved to be no artist at all."

It seemed that all that remained for Remington to do was to head towards the factory. Since he had worked at a steel mill and a factory during the summer while in college, Remington was not all together unfamiliar with the labouring class. Overall, his experiences then were good. However, he found his work at the mill to bore him and his work at the factory to challenge him to find something better to do with his life. He did not think himself to be an especially restless soul. Indeed, he sought permanence and stability. However, he felt that there had to be more to life than merely punching a time card. Yet Remington marvelled that the vast number of workers seemed fairly contented with what they were doing except for the occasional gripe that is common no matter what one does for a living. But then the euphoria-depression cycle hit the American economy with a vengeance. Millions become unemployed overnight, and Remington watched an entire country experience a prolonged hangover, which he had only experienced with his close circle of friends.

The "leaders" were telling everyone (who would listen) that the downturn was only temporary. The way to recovery was by everyone spending his money. Fine, as long as folks had money to spend. Now Remington was certain that the protracted depression would surely repudiate the wanton industrialisation and production of unnecessary goods. But he had underestimated the staying power of the central government: "In the name of Prosperity, Patriotism, and Charity, buy--buy to the limit!" Individualism was being snuffed out as progressivism crushed human worth. But being educated in the humanities, he saw the governmental programs for what they actually were: the drive to standardise everyone to an acceptable outcome determined by the State. However, being led by his "critical intelligence," Remington chose not to become part of the "happy, obliviously blissful mob." But by choosing to do so, he became alienated in the industrialised city as he rejected the motion pictures, the cheap novels, and the tasteless music. Remington knew that he had not changed; what must change is his environment. Since he could not change the nature of industrialism, he must find a place that was more conducive to his values and beliefs.

Life somewhere had to be simpler, or so he reasoned. Remington turned his back on Detroit and set his face towards New Orleans. He did not have to go too far South before he came to a small community "where the social balance of progress and culture was for all practical purposes equivalent to his own eutectic balance." Here he belonged. He was delighted to find a people who, even though they may disagree with him on occasion, respected his ways and traditions. Even labour took on a different meaning. In the city, it seemed that he worked disagreeably for strangers. Here he worked happily as part of a family. Remington no longer had to remain silent, because he was among fellow pilgrims, taking an active role in the preservation of their community. Not only did the man as neighbour begin to emerge, but the man as artist also sought life as well. His community provided him an audience, a small one it must be admitted, but an audience nonetheless. Like Prince Rasselas who discovered that happiness could not be achieved in the outside world, but only back in the surrounds of Happy Valley, Remington began to grow more happy each day in his own Happy Valley. He had indeed discovered like Rasselas that happiness is reserved for givers and not for takers.

But in order to preserve their Happy Valley, Remington and his neighbours will have to fight in order to maintain the peace and tranquillity of their community. According to Kline, "With a central paternalistic government tending to reduce every metropolis and hamlet of the nation to a cultural common denominator,...any ideal of provincialism can be kept in force only by fighting for it." But Remington does not offer an allegiance to any particular cause, "but only to a pleasant place to live in." After all, this is the sum of the good life. Granted, Remington and his neighbours are a staggering minority. But history is made by dedicated minorities. The "happy, obliviously blissful mob" will always be contended with bread and circuses. But for the critical thinker, life must have greater purpose other than mindless entertainment. Thus, those that refuse to follow the mood of these times will become counter-revolutionaries against wanton materialism.

We counter-revolutionaries must become very selective buyers. We must not be taken in by slick salesmen that try to convince us to buy unnecessary stuff. If we want to be the first person on the block to have the latest widget, then this is a sure indication of our being part of the "happy, obliviously blissful mob." We all need to distinguish between need and want. No one needs a new car from Detroit this year. It is fine to purchase something, but ensure that it is your decision to buy, not your neighbour's or the salesman's. In addition to being a careful buyer, we counter-revolutionaries must become involved in our community's civic and political functions in order to check the excesses of potential alien exploiters. Using the central government's own tools--education and advertising--we must get the message out that not only will the few folks in our community by better off without rampant industrialism, but that everyone, including factory workers and professionals will be better off when they begin to live the good life, instead of chasing the elusive "good living." The result would be to their "being something and less to a perpetual becoming something else, more to the social arts and graces and less to going places and doing things, more to such strenuous activity as writing verses--no matter how bad ones--and less to such passive business as globe-trotting with one's sensations."

But for any society that idolises the industrialised city and the messianic, central government, the "happy, obliviously blissful mob" always has the potential to become a bewildered herd, and this herd of bovines can be transformed into Minotaurs who will demand the sacrifice of many boys and girls. The nonconformist and individualist, who has rejected the mood of these times, must have the fortitude and courage of a Theseus if he is to face these beasts. Henry David Thoreau states in his "Civil Disobedience" concerning the mob, "The mass of men serve the State, thus, not as men mainly, but as machines, with their bodies. They are the standing army, and the militia, jailers, constables, posse comitatus &c. In most cases there is no free exercise whatever of the judgment or of the moral sense; but they put themselves on the level with wood and earth and stones; and wooden men can perhaps be manufactured that will serve the purpose as well. Such command no more respect than men of straw, or a lump of dirt. They have the same sort of worth only as horses and dogs. Yet such as these even are commonly esteemed good citizens. Others, as most legislators, politicians, lawyers, ministers, and office-holders, serve the State chiefly with their heads; and, as they rarely make any moral distinctions, they are as likely to serve the devil, without intending it, as God. A very few, as heroes, patriots, martyrs, reformers in the great sense, and men, serve the State with their consciences also, and so necessarily resist it for the most part; and they are commonly treated by it as enemies."

Being an individualist is an honourable way of life. Of course, do not expect the applause of the central planners or of the bewilder herd. The mood of the world is towards decentralisation, while the mood of the United States of America, which is always behind the times, is ever one of moving towards greater consolidation and centralisation. One day, the mass of concentrated power will explode, and those established in the smaller communities will find that they will weather the storm much better than their counterparts in the cities. In that day, let us pray that we will have heroes like Theseus who are ready to face the Minotaurs.