ishments was as strong as was Thoreau's passion
for the wild and for the religion of Nature. When Lowell went to
Nature for a theme, as in his "Good Word for Winter," his "My Garden
Acquaintance," and the "Moosehead Journal," his use of it was mainly
to unlock the treasures of his literary and scholarly attainments; he
bedecked and be jeweled Nature with gems from all the literatures of
the world. In the "Journal" we get more of the flavor of libraries
than of the Maine woods and waters. No reader of Lowell can doubt that
he was a nature-lover, nor can he doubt that he loved books and
libraries more. In all his nature writings the poverty of the
substance and the wealth of the treatment are striking. The final
truth about Lowell's contributions is that his mind was essentially a
prose mind, even when he writes poetry. Emerson said justly that his
tone was always that of prose. What is his "Cathedral" but versified
prose? Like so many cultivated men, he showed a talent for poetry, but
not genius; as, on the other hand, one may say of Emerson that he
showed more genius for poetry than talent, his inspiration surpassed
his technical skill.

One is not surprised when he finds that John Brown was one of
Thoreau's heroes; he was a sort of John Brown himself in another
sphere; but one is surprised when one finds him so heartily approving
of Walt Whitman and traveling to Brooklyn to look upon him and hear
his voice. He recognized at once the tremendous significance of
Whitman and the power of his poetry. He called him the greatest
democrat which the world had yet seen. With all his asceticism and his
idealism, he was not troubled at all with those things in Whitman that
are a stumbling-block to so many persons. Evidently his long
intercourse with Nature had prepared him for the primitive and
elemental character of Whitman's work. No doubt also his familiarity
with the great poems and sacred books of the East helped him. At any
rate, in this respect, his endorsement of Whitman adds greatly to our
conception of the mental and spiritual stature of Thoreau.

* * * * *

I can hold my criticism in the back of my head while I say with my
forehead that all our other nature writers seem tame and insipid
beside Thoreau. He was so much more than a mere student and observer
of nature; and it is this surplusage which gives the extra weight and
value to his nature writing. He was a critic of life, he was a