Compare a paragraph or two of the
early Burroughs on his birch-clad lake country, or Thoreau upon
Concord pines, with the "natural history paragraph" that English
magazines used to publish, and you will feel it.
Compare any of the lesser nature books of the mid-nineteenth
century--Clarence King's "Mountaineering in the Sierras," for
example--with the current novel writing of the period and you will
feel the greater sincerity. A passion for nature! Except the New
England passion for ideals, Whitman's passion for democracy, and
Poe's lonely devotion to beauty, I sometimes think that this is
the only great passion that has found its way into American
literature.
Hence the "nature fakers." The passion of one generation becomes
the sentiment of the next. And sentiment is easily capitalized.
The individual can be stirred by nature as she is. A hermit thrush
singing in moonlight above a Catskill clove will move him. But the
populace will require something more sensational. To the sparkling
water of truth must be added the syrup of sentiment and the cream
of romance. Mr. Kipling, following ancient traditions of the
Orient, gave personalities to his animals so that stories might be
made from them.
Pages:
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137