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Thoreau the seer rambled about all his life long with a walking-stick, but Thoreau the surveyor used it as a measuring-rod. How much can be done with a measuring-rod two feet in length depends upon the man who carries it.
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Then Thoreau will delight us anew,—not least because the gate of his Utopia was a needle's eye. A new large life of Thoreau has just been issued (Houghton, Mifflin Co., $4.00 net). It was written by his intimate friend, Frank B.
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Thoreau and Whitman were the first to shake off the dust of civilization—with them the new era begins; but Thoreau POETRY: A Magazine of Verse never went west of Walden (how he would have grown in Arizona!)
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Save for Whitman, Thoreau and Mark Twain, there has been no American literature to have a "spirit," but now that some of us are trying to write American, the breath of life is beginning to stir. We are not writing English.
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Many of these Some years ago a gentle publisher in America, by books are really charming reprints of the works of combining the art of literary piracy with seemly typosuch philosophers as Thoreau and Tolstoy and Emergraphy, created quite a fashion in dainty and pleasing son, but by far the most interesting are those newer little books.
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For instance, Thoreau is his chief favourite, and I would lay a penny that he would prefer a new essay by Thoreau to twenty by me. Jefferies, Hudson, Cunninghame Graham, etc., follow Thoreau as a matter of course.
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Exactly as Thoreau was most completely at home in the no other man’s land between the world and the wood, “ John Eglinton ” is at his easiest somewhere between England and Ireland. Emphatically, he is not Irish, nor is he English.
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He concludes that “ White is a master; Thoreau is only an artist.” But if Thoreau’s f observation was a s exact as that o Gilbert White (and -- it was), and his writing had the charms which are so pleasing in Sir Thomas Browne, John Smith o Oldf ham will be puzzled to know of what White was master, and why “ a r t i s t ” should be a term of reproach when applied to Thoreau and of approval when applied to Sir Thomas Browne.
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H e did not admire the inhuman detachment of Thoreau. “I cannot find my copy of “ M e n and Books ” ; but, unless my memory plays me false, Stevenson there censures that quality in Thoreau very severely.
