THOREAU. 



WHAT contemporary, if he was in the fighting 

 period of his life, (since Nature sets limits about 

 her conscription for spiritual fields, as the state does in 

 physical warfare,) will ever forget what was somewhat 

 vaguely called the " Transcendental Movement " of thirty 

 years ago 1 Apparently set astirring by Carlyle's essays 

 on the " Signs of the Times," and on "History," the final 

 and more immediate impulse seemed to be given by 

 " Sartor Resartus." At least the republication in Boston 

 of that wonderful Abraham a Sancta Clara sermon on 

 Lear's text of the miserable forked radish gave the signal 

 for a sudden mental and moral mutiny. Ecce mine tern- 

 pus accpptabile ! was shouted on all hands with every 

 variety of emphasis, and by voices of every conceivable 

 pitch, representing the three sexes of men, women, and 

 Lady Mary Wortley Montagues. The nameless eagle of 

 the tree Ygdrasil was about to sit at last, and wild-eyed 

 enthusiasts rushed from all sides, each eager to thrust 

 under the mystic bird that chalk egg from which the new 

 and fairer Creation was to be hatched in due time. Re- 

 deunt Saturnia regna, so far was certain, though in 

 what shape, or by what methods, was still a matter of 

 debate. Every possible form of intellectual and physical 

 dyspepsia brought forth its gospel. Bran had its proph- 

 ets, and the presartorial simplicity of Adam its mar- 

 tyrs, tailored impromptu from the tar-pot by incensed 

 9 M 



