'Lacking Vitality They Remain Mediocre'

A reader complains that I indulge in “hero-worship.” Specifically, she cites Dr. Johnson and Nabokov. Her accusation is about half right. I have never worshipped a human being. Something about that sounds blasphemous and swoonily embarrassing. But I’ve always had heroes. Such behavior is held in contempt today. Kneejerk cynicism reduces everyone, if examined closely enough, to a shmuck. 

So, who are my heroes? Certainly the two guys mentioned above. Abraham Lincoln, Louis Armstrong, Yvor Winters, A.J. Liebling, Whittaker Chambers. None was infallible. All had failings, weaknesses. All could be, on occasion, difficult. Johnson, Lincoln and Armstrong had unpromising origins and overcame them, suggesting the old-fashioned virtues – perseverance, fortitude, dedication, discipline, a willingness to work hard. Nabokov came from one of the wealthiest families in Russia, and lost it all. A royalist killed his father, the Nazis killed his brother. Chambers was a Communist – until he wasn’t.

 

Willa Cather was never too sophisticated to be without a hero. On this date, February 19, in 1942, she sends her brother Roscoe “a very jolly book” – I Was Winston Churchill’s Private Secretary (1941) by Phyllis Moir. In her letter she writes:

 

“You know I am by nature rather given to hero-worship, and I haven’t had a real hero for a long time until Winston came along. I have been his devout admirer ever since I read his great life of Marlborough, in five huge volumes. It is certainly the finest biography or historical work that has appeared in my lifetime. I consider him simply the best living English writer. The great writers must have great vitality. They can have nearly every other gift, but lacking vitality they remain mediocre.”