The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1886-02-06
fs,'p, Hlo'a'. Scientific. Historical.
An Original WING Feature.
THE FLIGHT OF THE EAGLE.
EI John BURROUGHS.


and assimilation by America he may
have to be first passed down through the
minds of critics and commentators and
given to the people with some of his
rank new quality taken off-a quality
like that which adheres to objects in the
open air, and makes them either forbid
ding or attractive, as ones mood is
healthful and robust or feeble and Ian
guild The processes are silently at
work. Already seen from a distance,
and from other atmospheres and sur
ronndings he assumes magnitude and
orbic conference; for in curious contrast
to the general denial of Whitman in this
country Though he has more lovers and
admirers here than is generally believed)
stands the reception accorded him in
Europe. The poets there, almost with
out exception, recognize his transcen-
dent quality, the men of science his
thorough scientific basis, the republi-
cans his Unborn democracy, and all his
towering picturesque personality and
modernness. Prof. Clifford says he is
more thoroughly in harmony with the
spirit and letter of advanced scientism
than any other living poet. Prof. Tyr
rell and Mr.. Symonds find him eminently
Greek, in the sense in which to be ma
tural and "self-reguated by the law of
perfect health,' is to be Greek. The
French "Revue DIES Doux Mondes" pro-
nounces his war poems the most vivid,
the most humanity passionate, and the
most modern of all the verse of the
nineteenth century. Freiligrath trans
lated him into German, and hailed him
as the founder of new democratic and
modern order Of poetry, greater than the
old. But | do not propose to so over the
whole list here; only wish to indicate
that the absorption is well commenced
abroad, and that probably her poet will
at last reach America, by way of those
far-off, roundabout channels. The old
mother will first masticate and moisten
the food which is still too tough for her
oiSpiin w ueu HISG lcll III Will
Leaves of Grass l was taken by iso-
lated passages scattered here and there
through the poem; these | seized upon,
and gave myself no concern about the
rest. Single lines in it often went to the
bottom of the questions that were vex-
ing me. The following, though less here
than when encountered in the frame of
mind which the poet begets in you, curl
ously settled and stratified certain
range of turbid fuctuating inquiry:
" There was never any more Inception than
there is now
Nor any more youth or age than there is
now;
Aud will never be any more perfection
than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there
is now
These lines also early had an attrac-
ton for me | could not define, and were
of great service:-
Pleasantly and well suited walk,
Whittier | walk | cannot define, but
know it is good.
The whole universe indicates that it IS
good,
The past and present indicate that it is
good"
In the following episode, too, there
was to me something far deeper than the
words StprV
The runaway slave came to my house and
stopt outside;
| heard his motions cracking the twigs
of the wood-pile;
Through the swung half-door of the
kitchen saw him lmpsy and weak,
And went where he sat on a log, and led
him in, and assured him,
And brought water and till'd tub for his
sweated body and bruis'd feet,
And gave him room that entered from
my own, and gave him some coarse
clean clothes;
And remember perfectly well his revolI-
ing eyes and his awkwardness,
And remember putting plasters on tie
SallS Oh us neck ana ankles.
! He stayed with me week before he was
| recuperated and pass'd North:
q had him sit next me at tabe-my fire
lock lean'd in the corner)"
| But of the book as whole could
form no adequate conception, and it was
not till many years, and after l had
known the poet himself, as already
stated, that | saw in it teeming, rush.
ing globe we'll worthy my best DAYS and
strength to surround and comprehend.
One thing that early took me in tt g
poems was Gas before alluded to- the
tremendous personal force back of then,
and felt through them as the sun through
sapor; not merely intellectual grasp or
push, but warm, breathing, towering,
magnetic Presence that there was no
escape from. Another fact was quick
to perceive, namely, that this man had
Almost in excess quality in which every
current poet was lacking-I mean the
faculty of being in entire sympathy with
a,tual Nature, aud the objects and shows
of Nature, and Of rude, abysmal man:
aud appalling directness CT utterance
therefrom, at first hand, without any il
termediate agency or modification. Tie
influence of books and works of ant
upon an author may be seen in all re-
spectacle writer's. If knowledge alone
made literature, or culture genius, there
would be no dearth of these things
among the moderns. But feel bound
to say that there is something higher
and deeper than the influence of perusal
Of any or all books, or all other produc-
tions of geniusa quality of intormf-
ton which the masters can never impal t
aud which all the libraries do not hold.
This is the absorption by au author, pre-
vious to becoming so, of the spirit of
Nature, through the visible objects of
the universe, and his utilization with
them subjectively and effectively. Not
more surely is the blood quickened and
PARTED by contact with the unbreathed
air, than is the spirit of man vitalized
and made strong by intercourse with the
real things of the earth. The calm, all
permitting, wordless spirit of Nature
yet so eloquent to him who hath ears to
hear, The sunrise, the heaving sea, the
woods and mountains, the storm and the
whistlng winds, the gentle summer day,