That was when his father finally persuaded [Holmes] when he was in college, a junior, to go and see Mr. Emerson. He went to see him, and there was talk about this or that. Holmes said Emerson had a beautiful voice, and, of course, Holmes had one of the most beautiful voices the Lord ever put into a throat. Emerson said to him, “Young man, have you read Plato?” Holmes said he hadn’t. “You must. You must read Plato. But you must hold him at arm’s length and say, ‘Plato, you have delighted and edified mankind for two thousand years. What have you to say to me?’” Holmes said, “That’s the lesson of independence.” So off he went and read Plato for a few months or a year, and then wrote a piece doing in Mr. Plato in one of those ephemeral literary things at Harvard. He laid this, as it were, at the feet of Mr. Emerson and awaited the next morning’s mail, hoping to get a warm appreciation from Emerson. And the next day and the next and the next—no sign of life. No acknowledgement from Mr. Emerson. Holmes didn’t see him again for about a year. When he saw him, this, that, and the other thing was again talked about. Emerson said, “Oh, by the way, I read your piece on Plato. Holmes, when you strike at a king, you must kill him.” Holmes said, “That was the second great lesson—humility.”