Representative Men collects seven lectures: an opening essay on the uses of great men, followed by studies of Plato, Swedenborg, Montaigne, Shakespeare, Napoleon, and Goethe. The book is not biography. Each portrait is an inquiry into a permanent power of the human mind that the chosen figure happens to display in a high degree.
The first lecture sets the terms. Emerson says it is natural to believe in great men, but argues that their real benefit is indirect. They are lenses through which we read our own minds; they raise the credit of the whole race; and at last they teach us to look past the individual to the qualities that abide while particular men pass away. He even claims that great men exist so that there may be greater men.
The figure studies test this idea. Plato is the philosopher who absorbed the learning of his times and became the source-book of later thought, proof that the greatest genius is the most indebted man. Montaigne is the skeptic, but Emerson defines skepticism not as denial or scoffing but as honest consideration, the prudent middle ground of a mind that refuses to pretend to certainties it does not have.
Shakespeare is the poet, and the lecture argues that his power lies in receptivity rather than invention. He found his materials gathered by his age and gave perfect expression to common human life, leaving such complete characters that biography sheds no light on the genius behind them. Napoleon is the man of the world, the representative of the practical middle class and its appetite for material success; Emerson grants him modern energy and condemns him as an experiment in intellect without conscience that came to no result.
Goethe closes the book as the writer, the secretary of nature whose office is to report experience and replace each isolated obsession in its right relations. Emerson honors Goethe's devotion to culture and truth while noting its limits, that this is truth for the sake of culture rather than self-surrender to the highest moral sentiment. Across all seven lectures the steady lesson is that we should use great men as exhibitions of human possibility and then return to our own work.