The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1855-07-21

In writing upon Nature, or anything which
involves an appreciation Of the Beautiful,
there are very few who can confne them
selves strictly to what they do really feel :.
who will not at every turn, almost inlperccp-
tibly to themselves it NAV be, slide off into a
description of the emotions which they only
imagine pigM be called forth by the objects
or scenes witnessed Since it has become
the fashion to paint every thing in the most
glarng colors, our skctchy Iimners describe
not SO much what they see, as what they tap-
rp. not what Nature paints for them, but
what they can paint 70: Others They get up
cheap magical shows in imitation of crander
subllmty than they can compass; and hope
to make up in terrific energy and exclama
ton points, what they lack in simple force
and dignity. They undertake vovag~of
discovery, with the expectation of finding a
passage through the intellect into the heart ::
whereas it has ever been acknowledged by
the most experienced navigators in the Ocean
of Metaphysics, that no bark slightly put to-
@cthcr with any kind of aSthcticaI cement.
can hope to pass in safety through the danee-
rous fN@S and iceberes of that fricid sea-
Hence these craft seldom reach their destined
port: but with all their cargo of fchoiccy-sclcct-
ed phrases, become the sport of the guardian
critics who sit cnthronci on iceberg cra9s-
the stern Geni of that Borcal Realm.
Foremost among the few who have genius
enough to conceive, and ability enough to
pursue, voyage Of discovery in the opposite
direction through the heart towards TIE in
tellcct, stands the author mentioned at the
head of this article HENRY WARD Brrcn-
rE. Here at last is man who comes out
from the great Babel of the city. and looks
upon the trees The brooks, the fields, the
mountains, the glorious old woods, the clear,
fresh rivers, and the whole face and form Of
nature. with heart as fresh and JOYOUS. as
elastic and vigorous, as We can imagine Ap-
ANS was when his eve first drank in the oh
how wonlrous delights of the First Garden
Here is a man with not trace of affccta.ion
or mannerism; in whose soul every shade of
beauty finds its lodcin. place secure: who
writes from the heart ouirurN, not from the
intellect do'rnwdrI and who reaches. for
that very reason, the hearts Of multitudcS who
believe with him and MEATS. that
a thing OF hc?utv is iov forever
The y:n us writing wei and understanding
lv upon rural scenes is rare one Such
scenes come nearer the universal heart than
most others, and hence one would imagine
could be more really translated into words
Yet the fact is not So Their very common
ness puts them above the reach of the ordi-
nary mind. Such person can only repeat
the common phrases the stercotypcd forms
Of expression that convey no definite meaning
to one who is not beforehand familiar with
them. 1t is the peculiar province of the man
OF genus-the poetic pick up the subtle
analogies that run all through the worlds of
matter and spirit, and weave them together
so as best to set off and adorn each other. The
person who can do this is poet, whether his
thoughts find rvthmical expression or not
No one can read this book without feeling that
It's author. in every essential particular posses
Sos these qualifications. To the freshness and
mirthtuncss of the boy, he adds the enthus-
asm and 0ban.lon of the lover, the prophetic
vision and keen lnsi ght Of the poet and the
camcr energy and carncstness of the mature
man. There is no halfway work with him.
Ills first conceptions are rot refined away till
all strength has DEPARTED. They are left to
stand as or riginallv struck ont from the quar-
ry by a YrodlSious blow, without the mark of
a achiscl on any part rough it may be. bu,
never unshapelv. There is perfect svmmc-
try throughout: yet to the touch it NAV not
be perfectly smooth, Granite can never re.
ccive the polish of alabastcr, and neither is
II so fragile.
1t is like the breath of June morning to
read these ardent outpourincs of a mind 50
entirely IN harmony with the scenes in which
: 1t rcvels. They flow ont of his full heart
: naturally. and with so musical a curcle, tina,
even lNpINE might pause enchanted. They
. are not forced up from some previously sup
pied c'>terN, by any hydraulic torcinq 1,onp
but rather from some never -tailinc sprino
within. flow like the mountain brook that
$ gusheS from out some crystal alembic HIGH
, up the mountan-Sle, and then sings in clee-
some cadence As i: leaps from rock to rock
The truth is, it is Nature and not its sem
dfdnce that he spreads before YOU; and in
such manner, too, that it seems to be, nc,
Mn BrECHEE, but the objects themsclve:
that speak to you. You fancy him to he no
thing more than sOund,nq-ioo,N that cchoc:
the voices that speak from his pages. Ever,
t'utter of the countless leaves every curry,
OF the swaylng branches-cvcrv biIlowv wave
OF the tall grass-everv bird-song - every
breath of wind-even the chrp of the crick.
ct, the long jump of the grasshopper, and
the buzz Of the insect al! the countless
modes and manifestations of the tcemins life,
both OF motion and of rest, that fills up this
world of ours, speak through his sentences
with their own tuneful voices.
Thus, allowing every thing to speak for
itself, ME. BEECHFR does not dilute the pure
things of nature into an unhealthy sentiment