Henry Thoreau. Walden

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WALDEN. By

henry

D;

THOREAU,

AOTHOB OF "A WEEK ON THZ CONCORD AND UEBBIMACK BIVBBa''

I

do not propose to write an ode to dejection, bat to brag as Instily as chanticleer morning, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors .up. —» Pa

in

t

•«?

NINETEENTH EDITION*

.

r

o>

BOSTON:X^^^. HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPA] 1882.

C

Copyright, 1854,

By

henry

D.

THOREAU.

Copyright, 1882,

By MARY

A. T.

LOWELL

and

REBECCA

Heirs of Henry D. Thoreau.

J.

THACHER,

CONTENTS.

KCONOMlf,

WHERE

.

.

LIVED,

I

.

5

,

AND WHAT

LIVED FOB,

I

88

.

.108

READING, SOUNDS,

.

.121

.

SOLITUDE,

.

VISITORS,

.

152

.

THE BEAN-FIELD,

168

THE VILLAGE,

.

.

THE PONDS, .

HIGHER LAWS,

HOUSE-WARMING,

•

.

.

.... VISITORS,

.

WINTER ANIMALS,

.

ccvor^usioN.

240 256

.

FORMER INHABITANTS; AND WINTER

SPRING,

217

226

BRUTE NEIGHBORS

m

181 188

BAKER FARM,

THE rOND

140

275 291

.303

WINTER, .

.

.

.

.

.

....

,..,... (3)

320

aa

ECONOMY.

When

e the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had built myself, on the sliore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts,

I

and earned

fr-e

my

the labor of

by

living

my

At

I lived there two years and two months.

am

a sojourner

hands only. present

I

in civilized life again.

my

I should not obtrude

affairs

much on

so

the

very particular inquiries had

notice of

my

rot been

made by my townsmen concerning my mode

of

life,

readers

if

which some would

do not appear

to

me

call impertinent,

though they

at all impertinent, but, considering

Some the circumstances, very natural and pertinent. have asked what I got to eat if I did not feel lone;

some

;

if

I was not afraid

and the

large families,

to learn

how many poor

I will therefore ask those of particular interest in to

Others have

like.

what portion of my income I charitable purposes; and some, who have

been curious devoted to

;

me

to

children I maintained.

my

readers

pardon

me

answer some of these questions in

if

who

feel

no

I undertake

this book. (5)

Id

WALDEN.

6

most books, the

be retained

will

main

first

person,

is

omitted

We

commonly do not remember

ab.vays the first person that

all,

in this

;

it

that, in respect to egotism, is the

;

difFerence.

after

it is,

or

I^

that

speaking.

is

much about myself if there were whom I knew as weU. Unfortunately, I

I should not talk so

any body

am

else

confined to this theme by the narrowness of

Moreover,

experience.

I,

on

my

side, require of

my

every

and sincere account of his and not merely wdiat he has heard of other men's lives some such account as he would send to his for if he has lived sinkindred from a distant land writer, first or last, a simple

own

life,

;

;

must have been in a distant land to me. Perhaps these pages are more particularly addressed to cerely,

it

As

poor students. will accept

for the rest of

it

may

seams

do good service to him

whom

the Chinese and

I trust

on the

in jiutting

coat,

it fits.

much

I would fain say sometliing, not so

these pages,

readers, they

such portions as apply to them.

that none will stretch the for

my

concerning

Sandwich Islanders as you who read

who are

said

to

live

in

New

ICngland;

something about your condition, especially your outward condition or circumstances in this world, in this town,

what it is, whether it is necessary that it be as bad as it I is, whether it cannot be improved as well as not. have travelled a good deal in Concord and every where, in shops, and ofiices, and fields, the inhabitants have ;

appeared

to

me

to

What

remarloible w^ays. sitting

exposed

the sun

;

be doing penance in a thousand

to four fires

I

ha\ e heard of Bramins

and looking

in the face of

or hanging suspended, with their heads down-

ward, over flames shoulders "until

;

or looking at the heavens ov^er their it

becomes impossible

for

tliem

tc

ECONOMY. resume Ihe^r natural

7

position, while

from the twist of

the neck nothing but liquids can pass into the stomach;'*

or dwelling, chained for

measuring with

life,

at the foot of a tree

of vast empires

;

pillars,

these forms of conscious penance

— even

or

;

nr bodies, like caterpillars, the breadth

tb

or standing on one leg on the tops of

are

hardly more incredible and astonishing than the scenes

The twelve

which I daily witness.

were

comparison with those which

trifling in

bors have undertaken

had an end

labors of Hercules

;

for they

my

were only twelve, and

but I could never see that these

;

men

or captured any monster or finished any labor.

have no friend lolas

to

neigh-

slew

They

burn with a hot iron the root of

the hydra's head, but as soon as one head

is

crushed,

two spring up. I see young men,

my

townsmen, whose misfortune

it

have inherited farms, houses, barns,

cattle, and more easily acquired than Better if they had been born in the open got rid of. pasture and suckled by a wolf, that they might have seen with clearer eyes what field they were called to labor in. "Who made them serfs of the soil ? Why should they eat their sixty acres, when man is condemned to eat only his peck of dirt ? Why should IS

to

farming tools

;

for these are

they begin digging their graves as soon as they are

born

?

They have

got to live a man's

life,

pushing

all

these things before them, and get on as well as they can.

How many

a poor immortal soul have I met well nigh

crushed and smothered under the road of feet

life,

by forty,

its

Augean

hundred acres of wood-lot

!

The

its

pushing before stables

it

down

a barn seventy-five

never cleansed, and ene

land, tillage,

portionless,

load, creeping

who

mowing, pasturCj and struggle with

no suci

WALDEN.

8

unnecessary inherited encumbrances, find

subdue and cultivate a few cubic

to

man is soon ploughed

eeeming

fate,

ployed, as

it

The

better part of

By a

into the soil for compost.

commonij' called necessity, they are erasays in an old book, laying up treasures

which moth and rust through and steal. It

when they

labor enough

feet of flesh.

But men labor under a mistake. the

it

will corrupt is

a

get to the end of

that Deucalion and

and thieves b^eak

fool's life, as it,

if

they will find It is said

not before.

Pyrrha created men by throwing

stones over their heads behind thena

:

—

Inde genus durum sumus, experiensque laborum, Et documenta damus qua simus origine nati.

Or, as Raleigh rhymes

it

in his sonorous

way,

—

"From

care,

So much

for a blind obedience to a blundering oracle,

thence our kind hard-hearted is, enduring pain and Approving that our bodies of a stony nature are."

throwing the stones over their heads behind them, and not seeing where they

fell.

Most men, even in this comparatively free country, through mere ignorance and mistake, are so occupied with the factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of

life

Their

that

its

fingers,

tremble too

finer fruits cannot

from excessive

much

for that.

toil,

be plucked by them. are too clumsy and

Actually, the laboring

has not leisure for a true integrity day by day not afford to sustain the manliest relations to labor would be depreciated in the market.

time to be any thing but a machine.

remember well his ignorance quires

-

- who has

— which

so often to use his

;

man

he can-

men

his

;

He has How can

his

growth

knowledge ?

no he re-

Wc

ECONOMY. Bhould feed and

him with our

nicruit

Ihe

e

him

gratuitously sometimes, and

cordials, before Ave

judge of him.

qualities of our nature, like the

bloom on can be preserved only by the most delicate han-

finest

fruits,

clotl:

9

Yet we do not

dling.

treat ourselves nor one another

thus tenderly.

Some

of you, Ave

all

know, are poor,

are sometimes, as

find

it

hard to

gasping for breath. I have no doubt that some of you Avho read this book are unable to pay for all the dinners Avhich you have actual-

live,

it

Avere,

and shoes Avhich are fast Avearing or are already Avorn out, and have come to this page to spend borroAved or stolen time, robbing your creditors ly eaten, or for the coats

of an hour. ing lives

It is

many

very evident Avhat mean and sneak-

of you live, for

my sight

has been Avhet-

by experience ahvays on the limits, trying to get into business and trying to get out of debt, a very ancient slough, called by the Latins ces alienum, another's brass, for some of their coins Avere made of brass still living, and dying, and buried by this other's brass always promising to pay, promising to pay, to-morrow, and dying to-day, insolvent seeking to curry favor, to ted

;

;

;

;

by how many modes, only not

get custom,

state-prison

offences; lying, flattering, voting, contracting yourselves

a nutshell of

into

of thin and

civility,

or dilating into an atmosphere

vaporous generosity,

suade your neighbor

to let

you make

hat, or his coat, or his carriage, or for

him

;

that

making yourselves

you may per-

his shoes, or hig

import his groceries

sick, that

you may lay up

something against a sick day, something

awa}

in

an old

tering, or,

chest, or in

more

safely,

where, no matter

to

be tucked

a stocking behind the plas-

in the brick

how much

or

how

bank little.

;

no mattel

'

WALDEN.

10

wonder that we can be so

I sometimes

may

almost say, as to attend

to the gross

many keen and

north and south. seer

;

it is

when you divinity in

worse

hard

It is

to

have a southern over-

man

Look

!

to

but worst of

him?

his horses

!

all

Talk of a

at the teamster on the high-

market by day or night

divinity stir within

does any

;

His highest duty

What

is

How

to

his destiny to

pared with the shipping interests

?

fodder

him com-

Does not he drive

how immortal, is See how he cowers and sneaks, how vaguely all

for Squire Make-a-stir?

he

;

are the slave-driver of ycurself

way, wending

and water

subtle masters that enslave both

have a northern one

to

but somewhat

Negro Slavery, there

foreign form of servitude called

arc so

frVoloiis, 1

?

godlike,

the day he fears, not being immortal nor divine, but the slave and prisoner of his own opinion of himself, a fame won by his own deeds. Public opinion is a weak

tyrant compared with our

man

own

thinks of himself, that

the

West Indian also,

a

which determines, or

provinces of the fancy and imagina-

— what Wilberforce

Think,

it

is

Self-emancipation even in

rather indicates, his fate.

tion,

What

private opinion.

is

there to bring that about

of the ladies of the

land weaving

?

toilet

cushions against the last day, not to betray too green nn interest in their fates

!

As

if

you could

kill

time without

injuring eternity.

The mass of inen lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country,

and have

to console

minks and muskrats.

A

yourself with the bravery of

stereotyped but unconsciDua

is concealed even under what are games and amusements of mankind. There

despair

called is

the

no play

ECONOMY. in lliem, for acteristic of

When we chism,

tliis comes wisdom not

it

a char-

is

do desperate things.

consider what, to use the words of the cate

means of

necessaries and

deliberately chosen the

they preferred

it

remember

hfe,

appears as

it

common mode

any

other.

left.

But

to

no choice

is

But

after work. to

tha chief end of man, and what are the true

is

there

11

men had

if

of living because

Yet they honestly think and healthy natures

alert

that the sun rose clear.

never too

It is

late

No way of thinking or doing, to give up our prejudices. however ancient, can be trusted without proof. What every body echoes or in silence passes by as true to-day

may

turn out to be falsehood to-morrow, mere smoke of

opinion,

which some had trusted

sprinkle fertilizing rain on their

for a cloud that

What

fields.

would

old peo-

you cannot do you try and find that you can. Old deeds for old people, and new deeds for new. Old people did not know enough once, perchance, to fetch fresh

ple say

fuel to

keep the

wood under a

fire

pot,

a-going

the speed of birds, in a

phrase

Age

is.

is

no

way

better,

an instructor as youth, for it

has

has

lost.

new

;

people put a

little

dry

and are whiiied round the globe with

One may

it

to kill old people, as the

hardly so well, qualified for

almost doubt

learned any thing of

much as wisest man

has not profited so

absolute

if

the

value by living

have no very important advice to own experience has been so par-

Practically, the old

give the young, their tial,

and their

have been such miserable

lives

for private reasons, as they must believe

that they

have some

faith left

which

;

and

failures,

it

may be

belies that experi-

ence, and they are only less young than they were.

have lived some thirty years on yet to hear the

firs':

this planet,

syllable of valuable or

I

and I have

even earnes*

;

WALDEN.

12 advice from

my

and probably cannot

Here

me

;

is life,

but

it

They have

seniors.

me any

tell

me

told

i;

thing, to the purpose.

an experiment to a great extent untried by

me

does not avail

that they have tried

I have any experience which I think valuable, I to reflect that this

One farmer

my

with

it

You

am

sure

cannot live on vegeta-

make bones

furnishes nothing to

and so he religiously devotes a part of

;

If

it.

Mentors said nothing about.

says to me, "

ble food solely, for "

othiiig,

his

day to

supplying his system with the raw material of bones

walking

all

,•

the while he talks behind his oxen, which,

with vegetable-made bones, jerk him and his lumber-

Some

of every obstacle.

ing plough along in spite

things are really necessaries of

life

in

some

circles,

the

most helpless and diseased, which in others are luxuries merely, and in others

The whole ground

still

of

are entirely unknown.

human

life

seems

to

some

to

have been gone over by their predecessors, both the all things to have been

heights and the valleys, and

cared

for.

According

to

Evelyn, " the wise Solomon

prescribed ordinances for the very distances of trees

and the Roman praetors have decided how often you go into your neighbor's land to gather the acorns which fall on it without trespass, and what share belongs

may

Hippocrates has even

to that neighbor."

how we

should cut our nails

;

that

is,

left directions

even with the ends

Undoubted-

of the fingers, neither shorter nor longer. ly the very tedium

and ennui which presume

exhausted the variety and the joys of

Adam. ured

;

But man's nor

ai*e

any precedents,

we so

life

to

have

are as old as

have never been measjudge of what he can do by

capacities to

little

has been tried.

Uave been thy failures hitherto, "be not

What(>ver afflicted,

my

ECONOMY.

who

for

cliild,

13

shall assign to thet3

undone ? " We might try our

lives

as, for instance, that the

what thou hast

left

by a thousand simple tests same sun which ripens my ;

beans illumines at once a system of earths like ours. If I had remembered this

This was not the light in which I hoed

fnistakes.

The

them. angles

apexes of what wonderful

stars are the

What

!

would have prevented some

it

distant

and

tri-

different beings in the various

mansions of the universe are contemplating the same

one at the same moment

Nature and human

!

Who

as various as our several constitutions.

what prospect

are

shall say

Could a greater

another?

life offers to

life

mn-acle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant

We

?

ages of the world in an hour

;

should live in

ay, in all the worlds of

History, Poetry, Mythology

the ages.

the

all

—

!

I

know

of no

reading of another's experience so startling and inform-

mg

would be.

as this

The

my

believe in thing,

my

greater part oi what

very likely to be

is

it

soul to be bad,

demon possessed me

that I

neighbors call good I

and

my

if

I repent of

any

What You may

good behavior.

behaved so well ?

— you who have — honor of a

say the wisest thing you can old man, lived seventy years, not without

hear an

irresistible voice

One

all that.

kind,

which invites

I

me away from

generation abandons the enterprises of

another like stranded vessels. I think that

than

we

do.

we may

safely trust a good deal

We may w^aive

just so

much

^ell adapted to our

Incessant

weakness as

to

care of our-

Nature

selves as w^e honestly bestow elsewhere.

our strength.

anxiety and strain of some

is

more is

as

Tiie

a well nigh

WALDEN.

14

We

incurable form of disease. ate the importance of

much

is

live

by

done by us

not

taken sick

How

?

faith if

alert, at night

what

or,

!

we

vi2;ilant

are

we ;

compelled

determined not

!

to

So thoroughly and

sin*

reverencing our

life,

to live,

This

possibility of change.

many ways

but there are as

be drawn radii from one centre cle to

if

exaggor

to

and yet ho\^ w^e had been

;

and denying the way, we say

;

we can avoid it all the day long on the we unwillingly say our prayers and com-

mit ourselves to uncertainties. cerely are

made

are

what work we do

contemplate

;

as there can

All change

is

a mira-

it is a miracle which is taking Confucius said, " To know that we

but

place every instant.

know what we know, and io not know, that

the only

is

is

we do

that

not

know what

When

true knowledge."

one

w^e

man

has reduced a fact of the imagination to be a fact to his understanding, I foresee that establish their lives

on that

all

men

at length

will

basis.

for a moment what most of the trouand anxiety which I have referred to is about, and

Let us consider ble

now much careful. tive

and

it is

It

frontier

civilization, if ries of life

(hem

;

necessary that

we

be troubled,

would be some advantage life,

though

in the

or, at least,

to live a primi-

midst of an outward

only to learn what are the gross necessa-

and what methods have been taken

to obtain

or even to look over the old day-books of the

merchants, to see what

bought at the

it

was

had but

laws of man's

men most commonly

'influence

little

existence

is,

whai

For the improvements of

are the grossest groceries.

ages have

that

stores, wdiat tliey stored, that

:

as

our

on the essential skeletons,

proba-

ECONOMY.

not to be distinguished from those of oai

are

bly,

16

ancestors.

By all

the words, necessary of

that

man

from the

mean whatever,

of

exertions, has been

or from long use has become, so im-

first,

human

portant to

I

life,

own

obtains by his

life

whether from

that few, if any,

garageness, or poverty, or philosophy, ever attempt to

do without

To many

it.

sense but one necessary of tha praii'ie

water

to

it is

drink

;

of

life

man

None

in

thin

Clothing, and Fuel

;

tlie

of the brute creation

The

Slielter.

necessaries

may, accurately enough,

in this climate

be distributed under

we prepared

is

the bison of

a few inches of palatable grass, with

more than Food and

for

To

Food.

unless he seeks the Shelter of the forest

or the mountain's shadow. requires

there

creatures life.

several heads of Food, Shelter,

for not

till

we have secured

these are

problems of

life witi^

to entertain the true

Man

freedom and a prospect of success.

has invented,

not only houses, but clothes and cooked food; and possibly fire,

from the accidental discovery of the warmth of

and the consequent use of

arose the present necessity to cats

sit

at first a luxury,

by

We

it.

observe

By

and dogs acquiring the same second nature.

oroper Shelter and Clothing

own

it,

we

legitimately retain oui

internal heat; but with an excess of these, or of

Fuel, that internal,

is,

with an external heat greater than our

may

Darwin, the

own

not cookery properly be said to begin

?

naturalist, says of the inhabitants of Tierra

del Fuego, that while his

own

clothed and sitting close to a

party, fire,

who were

were

far

warm, these naked savages, who were farther observed, to his great surprise, " to

'">e

well

from too off,

were

streaming with

perspiration at undergoing such a roasting."

So,

we

;;

WALDEN.

16

New

are told, the

Hollander goes naked

wiili

while the European shivers in his clothes. sible to

impunity,

Is

intellectualness

of the

man

civilized

impos-

it

combine the hardiness of these savages

Aviih the

According

?

to

Liebig, man's body

is a stove, and food the fuel which keeps up the internal combustion in the lungs. In cold weather we eat more, in warm less. The animal heat

result of a slow combustion,

is tlie

take place

when

this is too rapid

and

from some defect in the draught, the course the vital heat

but so

much

the above

fire

Of

goes out.

not to be confounded with

is

for analogy.

It appears, therefore,

animal

that the expression,

list,

and death want of fuel, or

disea:-e

or for

;

fire

from

nearly

life, is

synonymous with the expression, animal heat; for while Food may be regarded as the Fuel which keeps up the fire

within us,

Food tion

— and

Fuel serves only

or to increase the

prepare that

to

warmth of our bodies by

— Shelter

from without,

addi-

and Clothing also serve only to retain the heat thus generated and absorbed. The grand necessity, then, for our boilies, is to keep

warm,

to

keep the

What

vital heat in us.

we

pains

accordingly take, not only with our Food, and Clothing,

and

Shelter, but with our beds,

clothes, robbing the nests

which are our night-

and breasts of birds

to pre-

pare this shelter within a shelter, as the mole has

bed of grass and leaves poor

and

man

is

to cold,

wont no

to

complain that

less physical

ly a great part of our ails.

mates,

makes

end of

at the

possible to

is

his fire,

cooked by

its

•

this is a cold

man

social,

ita

Tlie

!

world

refer directin

some

a sort of Elysian

is

and many of the

rays

burrow

we The summer,

than

Fuel, except to cook his Food,

sun

its

then unnecessary

clilife.

;

the

fruits are sufficiently

while Food generally

is

more

vari

ECONOMY.

17

and more easily obtained, and Clothing and Shelter

ous,

At

are wholly or half unnecessary.

and

in this country, as I find

few implements, a row,

&:c.,

knife,

the present day,

my own

by

expe.'.'ience,

a

an axe, a spade, a wheelbar-

and for the studious, lamplight, stationery, and

access to a few books, rank next to necessaries, and can

be obtained at a

ail

trifling cost.

go to the other side of the globe,

Yet some, not wise, to barbarous and un-

healthy regions, and devote themselves to trade for ten or twenty years, in order that they

keep comfortably warm, last.

The

— and

may

die in

New

—

that

is,

England

at,

live,

luxuriously rich are not simply kept comfort

ably warm, but unnaturally hot

they are cooked, of course a

Most of the

luxuries,

forts of life, are not

la

;

as I implied before,

mode.

and many of the so called com-

only not indispensable, but positive

hinderances to the elevation of mankind.

With

respect

and comforts, the wisest have ever lived a more simple and meagre life than the poor. The to luxuries

ancient philosophers, Chinese,

Hindoo, Persian, and

Greek, were a class than which none has been poorer in

outward

riches,

none so rich in inward.

much about them. much of them as we

We

not

It is

remarkable that

so

do.

The same

is

more modern reformers and bene/actors of

None can be an life

know we know

true of the their race

impartial or wise observer of

human

but from the vantage ground of what we should

Of

voluntary poverty.

a

life

call

of luxury the fruit

is

luxury, whether in agriculture, or commerce, or litera-

There are nowadays professors of philcsophy, but not philosophers. Yet it is admirable to To be a |)rofess because it was once admirable to live. philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, noi ture, or art.

2

WALDEN.

18

even

to found^

according to

a school, but so

its dictates,

ence, magnanimity, and

the problems of

The

cally.

a

wisdcm

to love

life

of

as to live

independ-

simplicit}',

It is to solve

trast.

some of

not only theoretically, but practi-

life,

and thinkers

success of great scholars

is

commonly a

courtier-like success, not kingly, not manly.

They make

shift to live

cally as their fathers did,

merely by conformity, practi-

and are

no sense the pro-

in

But why do men

genitors of a nobler race of men.

degenerate ever

What

destroys nations

own

?

lives ?

Are Ave sure that there is none of it The philosopher is in advance of his

age even in the outward form of his fed, sheltered, clothed,

How

run out ?

families

the nature of the luxury which enervates and

is

in our

What makes

?

can a

vital heat

When

man be

warmed,

He

life.

is

not

like his contemporaries.

a philosopher and not maintain his

by better methods than other men ? a man is warmed by the several modes which

I have described, what does he want next

Surely not

?

more warmth of the same kind, as more and richer food, larger and more splendid houses, finer and more abundant clothing, more numerous incessant and hotter and the

fires,

When

like.

which are necessary ture on

life

it

The

has sent its

;

another alternative

and that

shoot

its

soil, it

appears,

radicle

upward

is

to

adven-

toil

having

is,

now, his vacation from humbler

commenced. send

to life, there is

to obtain the superfluities

than

for

he has obtained those things

suited to the seed,

downward, and

also with confidence.

it

may now

Why

has

rooted himself thus firmly in the earth, but that he

man may rise

—

in the

same proportion

into the

heavens above ?

for the nobler plants are valued for the fruit they

bear at

last in the air

and

light, far

from the ground, and

;

ECONOMY.

19

are not treated like the humbler

may

though they

esculents,

Avhicl\

be biennials, are cultivated only

till

down at know them

they have perfected their root, and often cut top for this purpose, so that most would not in their flowerin": season.

mean to prescribe rules to strong and valiant who will mind their own affairs whether in

I do not natures,

heaven or

hell,

and perchance build more magnificently

and spend more lavishly than the

richest, without ever

impoverishing themselves, not knowing

—

how they

indeed, there are any such, as has been

if,

who

nor to those

find their

live,

dreamed

encouragement and inspira-

and

tion in precisely the present condition of things,

cherish

— and,

it

to

with the fondness and enthusiasm of lovers,

some

to

those

who

are well employed or not;

anergetically

lot

or of the times,

they

mass

of thft

when they might

and inconsolably of any, because they I also have in

as they say, doing their duty.

my

are,

mind

seemingly wealthy, but most terribly impoverished

class of all,

who have accumulated

how

it,

to use

their

oi

own golden

get rid of

Kpend those

it,

dross, but

know

not

and thus have forged

or silver fetters.

If I should attempt to

its

to the

There are some who complain most

imj)rove them.

(liat

know whether

— but mainly

are discontented, and idly complaining of

hardness of their

;

are well employed, in

wliatever circumstances, and tliey

men who

number

extent, I reckon myself in this

I do not speak

tell

how

I have desired to

my life in years past, it would probably surprise of my readers who are somewhat acquainted with

actual history

;

it

would certainly astonish those who

WALDEN.

20

know nothing about

I will only hint at some of

it.

tlit

enterprises which I have cherished.

In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I

have been anxious notch

on

it

eternities, the past

moment

present

some

improve the nick of time, and

to

my stick too

;

and

to stand

future,

on the meeting of two

which

to toe that line.

;

obscurities, for there are

more

precisely the

is

You

pardon

will

my

secrets in

trade

than in most men's, and yet not voluntarily kept, but inseparable from all

know about

that I

tance "

my

on

I would gladly

very nature.

its

it,

and never paint "

tell

No Admit-

gate.

I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle-

am

dove, and

still

on their

Many

trail.

are the travel-

lers I

have spoken concerning them, describing

tracks

and what calls they answered to. I have ni't who had heard the hound, and the tramp of

thei*"

one or two

the horse, and even seen the dove disappear behind a

and they seemed as anxious

cloud,

to recover

them as

them themselves. and the dawn merely, How many mornings, but, if possible. Nature herself! summer and winter, before yet any neighbor was stirring if

they had

To

lost

anticipate, not the sunrise

about his business, have I been about mine!

many this

my

of

doubt,

townsmen have met me returning from

enterprise,

farmers

starting

for

Boston in the

or woodchoppers going to their work.

It is

never assisted the sun materially in his

rising,

twilight, true, I

No

but, doubt not,

present at

it

was of the

last

importance only to be

it.

So many autumn,

ay,

and winter days, spent outside

the town, trying to hear what was in the wind, to hear

and caiTy

it

express

!

I well-nigh sunk

all

my

capita]

ECONOaiT. in

it,

and

lost

my own

breath into

21 bargain, running

tlie

had concerned either of the podepend upon it, it would have appeared If

in the face of it

it

litical

parties,

in the

Gazette with the earliest intelligence.

At

times watching from the observatory of some

other

cliff

or

any new arrival; or waiting at evening on the hill-to]3S for the sky to fall, that I might catch tree, to telegraph

something, though I never caught much, and that, mannawise,

would dissolve again

For a long time

in the sun.

was reporter

I

to

a journal, of no

very wide circulation, whose editor has never yet seen fit

to print the

common

bulk of

my

contributions, and, as

with writers, I got only ray labor for

However,

in this case

my

pains were their

my

is

too

pains.

own reward.

For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow storms and rain storms, and did my duty faithfully

;

and

surveyor,

if

not of highways, then of forest paths

all across-lot routes,

keeping them open, and ravines

bridged and passable at

all

seasons,

where the public

heel had testified to their utility.

I have looked after the wild stock of the town, which

give a faithful herdsman a good deal of trouble

ing fences

;

and I have had an eye

nooks and corners of the farm

;

by leap-

to the unfrequented

though I did not always

know whether Jonas

or Solomon worked in a particular was none of my business. I have watered the red huckleberry, the sand cherry and the nettle tree, the red pine and the black ash, the white grape and the yellow violet, which might have withered field

to-day

else in

;

that

dry seasons.

In short, I went on thus for a long time, I •without boasting, faithfully

minding

my

besame more and more evident that

may say it

business,

my

till it

townsmen

22

"WALDEN.

would not

after

admit

all

make my

nor

officers,

My

allowance.

me

of towh

into the list

place a sinecure with a moderate

accounts, which I can swear to have

kept faithfully, I have, indeed, never got audited, paid and settled.

less accepted, still less

my

have not set

Not long

a strolhng Indian went to

since,

" No,

Do you

"

we do

J

heart on that.

at the house of a

hood.

still

However,

well-known lawyer in

sell

baskets

my

neighbor-

"

he asked.

wish to buy any baskets

?

"

not want any," was the reply.

What

'* !

exclaimed the Indian as he went out the gate, " do you

mean

to starve us

?

"

neighbors so well

Having seen

—

his industrious white

had only to weave arguments, and by some magic wealth and standing followed, he had said to himself; I will go into business

I will

;

do.

off,

that the lawyer

weave baskets

it

;

is

a thing which I can

Thinking that when he had made the baskets he his part, and then it would be the white

would have done man's

to

He had

buy them.

not discovered that

it

was

make it worth the other's while least make him think that it was so,

necessary for him to

buy them, or at to make something

which

it

would be worth

or

his

had woven a kind of basket of a texture, but I had not made it worth any one's

while to buy. delicate

else

to

I too

buy them^ Yet not the less, in my case, did I think it worth my while to weave them, and instead c studying how to make it worth men's while to buy ray

( while

to

baskets, I studied rather Belling

Tho

them.

successful

is

my

me any room

to

avoid the necessity of

Why

should

we

exaggerate

expense of the others ?

at the

Finding that

how

which men praise and regard as

but one kind.

any one kmd offer

life

fellow-citizens

were not

in the court house, or

likely to

any curacy of

;

ECONOMY.

23

any where else, but I must shift for rayseli", I ^urned my face more exclusively than ever to the woods, where I was better known. I determined to go into

tiving

business at once, and not wait tr icquire the usual capi

My

using such slender means as I had already got.

tal,

purpose in going

Walden Pond was

to

not to live cheap-

ly nor to live dearly there, but to transact b^JiSiness

with the fewest obstacles

;

accomplishing which for want of a

a Httle enterprise and business

some private

be hindered from

to

common

little

sense,

appeared not so

talent,

(^ad as foohsh.

I have always endeavored to acquire habits

trade

mg

;

is

enough.

coast, in

You

pine timber and a

These

will

little

person

;

to

to read

;

;

buy and

the

all

and capsell

and

and

;

to

be upon

—

many

same time often the be discharged upon a Jersey shore ; ;

be your own telegraph, unweai'iedly sweeping the

horizon, speaking all passing vessels to

pilot

letter received,

to

parts of the coast almost at the

to

and

to superintend the dis-

charge of imports night and day

richest freight will

ice

To oversee

be at once

every

write or read every letter sent

—

much

granite, always in native bot-

and owner and underwriter ;

keep the accounts

be

will

will export such articles as the

be good ventures.

details yourself in tain,

If your

some Salem harbor,

country affords, purely native products,

toms.

business

with the Celestial Empire, then some small count

house on the

fixture

strict

they are indispensable to every man.

keep up a

st(3ady

bound coastwise

despatch of commodities, for the

supply of such a distant and exorbitant market; to keep yourself informed of the state of the markets, prospects

of war and peace every where, and anticipate the ten* dencies of trade and civilization,

— taking advantage

of

WALDEN.

24 the results of

sages and

exploring expeditions, using

all

improvements in navigation

all

;

—

be studied, the position of reefs and new buoys

to

new

pas-

charts to

lights

and

be ascertained, and ever, and ever, the loga-

by the error of some upon a rock that should

rithmic tables to be corrected, for calculator the vessel often splits

have reached a friendly of

La Perouse

;

— there

pier,

— universal

is

the untold fate

science to be kept pace

with, studying the lives of all great discoverers

and merchants, from Han-

navigators, great adventurers

no and the Phoenicians down

to

our day

;

in fine, ac-

count of stock to be taken from time- to time, to

how you

stand.

a labor

It is

man,

— such problems of

tare

and

tret,

and

and

profit

and gauging of

know

to task the faculties of

all

loss,

kinds in

a

of interest, of it,

as

demand

a universal knowledge. I have thought that Walden

Pond would be a good

place for business, not solely on account of the railroad

and the ice trade it offers advantages which it may not be good policy to divulge it is a good post and a good foundation. No Neva marshes to be filled though you ;

;

;

must every where build on It is said that

in the

a

flood-tide,

Neva, would sweep

piles of

your own driving.

with a westerly wind, and ice St.

Petersburg from the face

of the earth.

As

this business

usual capital,

it

was

may

to

be entered into without the

not be easy to conjecture wliere

those means, that will

still

be indispensable to every

such undertaking, were to be obtained. to

come

perhaps

As for

Clotliing,

at once to the practical part of the question,

we

are led oftener by the love of novelty, and

CLOTHING.

25

d regard for the opinions of men, in procuring bj-

a true

Let him who has work

utility.

lect that the object of clothing

and secondly,

heat,

in this

is, first,

to

It,

than

do recol-

to retain th;) vital

of society, to cover

state

may judge how much of any necesmay be accomplished without

nakedness, and he

sary or important work

Kings and queens who wear a

adding to his wardrobe. suit

but once, though made by some

maker

know

to their majesties, cannot

wearing a

suit that

fits.

They

tailor or dress-

the comfort of

are no better than

Every day our

horses lo hang the clean clothes on.

garments become more assimilated

to ourselves, receiv-

ing the impress of the wearer's character, until

them

tate to lay

aside, without

wooden

we

.

^

hesi-

such delay and medical

appliances and some such solemnity even as our bodies.

No man

my estimation for havI am sure that there i?

ever stood the lower in

ing a patch in his clothes

;

yet

greater anxiety, commonly, to have fashionable, or at least clean

and unpatched

conscience.

But even

if

clothes,

the rent

than to have a sound

is

not mended, perhaps

the worst vice betrayed is improvidence.

my

acquaintances by such tests as this;

I sometimes try

— who could wear

a patch, or two extra seams only, over the knee?

Most

if they beheved would be ruined if they should do it. It would be easier for them to hobble to town with a broken leg than with a broken pantaloon. Often if an accident happens to a

behave as

that their prospects for life

gt'ntleman's legs, they can be

mended

;

but

if

a similar j

accident happens

no help

for

it

;

to the legs of his pantaloons, there

for

he considers, not what

is

is

truly re-

what is respected. We know but few men, a great many coats and breeches. Dress a scarevow in you^ last shift, you standing shiftless by, who spectable, but

WALDEN.

26

would not soonest salute the scarecrow?

Passing a

by a hat and coat on a owner of the farm. He was only a little n>ore weather-beaten than when I saw him last. I have heard of a dog that barked at evay cornfield the other day, close

stake, I recognized the

stranger

who approached

clothes on, but is

was

an interesting question how rank

relative

they were

if

Could you, in such a

premises with

his master's

by a naked

easily quieted fnr

men would

It

thief.

retain tlieir

of their clothes.

di\ csted

any company

case, tell surely of

of civilized men, which belonged to the most respected

When Madam Pfeiffer, in her adventurous travels

class ?

round the world, from east

to west,

had got

so near

home

as Asiatic Russia, she says that she felt the necessity of

wearing other than a travelling dress, when she went

meet the

Even

in our democratic

New

the accidental possession of wealth, and in dress

and equipage alone, obtain

almost universal respect. spect,

to

numerous as they

in a civihzed

England towns

its

manifestation

for the possessor

But they who

yield such re-

are, are so far heathen,

have a missionary sent

to them.

;

a woman's

A man who has not need to get a will do, that

dress, at least, is

call

at length found something to do will

new

suit to

Old shoes

they have served his valet,

d^.

may

never done.

do

it

in

;

for

him the

old

has lain dusty in the garret for an indeter-

minate period.

— bare

and need

Beside, clothes in-

troduced sewing, a kind of work which you endless

to

people are judged of by their

country, where clothes."

was now

authorities, for she "

will serve

—

if

feet are older than shoes,

Only they who go

must have new

valet,

and he can make them

to soirees

coats, coats to

a hero longer than

a hero ever has a

and

legislative hallg

change as often as thÂŤ

CLOTHI^G.

man changes

my do

in them.

hat and shc3S, are

fit

Who

will they not ?

;

But

his old coat, actually

worn

tive elements, so that

it

stow

my jacket

if

to

27

worship

and

God

in,

trousers,

they will

ever saw his old clothes,

—

out, resolved into its primi-

Avas not

a deed of charity to be-

on some poor boy, by him perchance to be be-

it

stowed on some poorer could do with less

new

require

If there

clothes.

made

clothes be

fore you, try

I say,

?

clothes,

it

is

to

in

we say

richer,

who

beware of all enterprises

that

still,

or shall

and not rather a new wearer of not a

fit ?

new man, how can

the

new

If you have any enterprise be-

your old

clothes.

men

All

want, not

something to do withy but sometliing to da^ or rather

Perhaps we should never procure a however ragged or dirty the old, until we have

something

new

suit,

to he.

some way,

Bo conducted, so enterprised or sailed in

we

feel like

would be

new men

like

and that

in the old,

keeping new wine in old

lives.

it.

Thus

The

crisis in

loon retires to solitary ponds to spend

also the snake casts

its

slough,

and the caterand ex-

pillar its

wormy

pansion

for clothes are but our outmost cuticle

mortal

;

coil.

false colors,

it

Our

bottles.

moulting season, like that of the fowls, must be a

our

that

to retain

coat,

by an

internal industry

and

Otherwise Ave shall be found sailing under

and be inevitably cashiered

at last

by our

OAvn opinion, as well as that of mankind.

We

don garment after garment, as

exogenous plants often thin skin, oft'

and

by

addition without.

fanciful clothes are

which partakes not of our

here and there without

if we grew like Our outside and

our epidermis or false

life,

and may be stripped

fatal injury;

our thicker gar-

ments, constantly worn, are our cellular integument, or cortex

;

but our shirts are our liber or true bark, which

WALDEN.

28

cannot be removed without girdling and so destroying the man.

I belie\ e that

something equivalent

man

all

races at

to the shirt.

some seasons wear

It is desirable that a

be clad so simply that he can lay his hands on him"

self in tlie dark,

and that he

live in all respects so

pactly and preparedly, that^ if an

enemy take

com-

the town,

he can, like the old philosopher, walk out the gate empty-

While one

handed without anxiety.

thick garment

for most purposes, as good as three thin ones,

is,

and cheap

clothing can be obtained at prices really to suit custom.crs

;

Avhile

which

a thick coat can be bought for five dollars,

many

will last as

years, thick pantaloons for two

cowhide boots for a dollar and a half a

dollars,

pair, a

hat for a quarter of a dollar, and a winter cap

summer

and a half cents, or a better be made at where is he so poor that, clad such a suit, of his oivn earning, there will not be

for sixty-two

home in

at a nominal cost,

found wise

When

men

do him reverence

to

?

I ask for a garment of a particular form,

tailoi-ess tells

me

my

They do not make them so " They" at all, as if she quoted

gravely, "

now," not emphasizing the

an authority as impersonal as the Fates, and I

find

it

dif-

made what I want, simply because she cannot believe that I mean what I say, that I am so rash. When I hear this oracular sentence, I am for a moment absorbed in thought, emphasizing to myself each word separately that I may come at the meaning of it, that I may find out by what degree of consanguinity 2'hcy ficult to

get

aro related to me, and what authority they in

I

an

am

afliiir

which

inclined to

affects

me

so

nearly; and,

finally,

answer her with equal mysteiy, and

without any more emphasis of the " they," true, they dii not

may have

make them

—

" It

U

so recently, but they dc

CLOTHING.

Of what

uov."

not measure

my

shoulders, as

it

29

use this measuring of

me

sho does

if

character, but only the breadth of

were a peg

my

We

hang the coat on ?

to

Avorship not the Graces, nor the Parcoe, but Fashion.

She

spins

and weaves and cuts with fuU authority.

The head monkey all

the

monkeys

on a

at Paris puts

in

traveller's cap,

America do the same.

and

I sometimes

despair of getting any thing quite simple and honest

done

in this

have

to

They would

world by the help of men.

be passed through a powerful press

first,

to

squeeze their old notions out of them, so that they would not soon get upon their legs again, and then there would

be some one in the company with a maggot in his head,

hatched from an egg deposited there nobody knows

when,

have that

for not

even

fjre kills

these things, and you would

Nevertheless, we will not forget lost your labor. some Egyptian wheat was handed down to us by a

mummy. On the

whole, I think that

that dressing has in this or

At

nity of an art.

what they can

it

cannot be maintained

any country risen

present

men make

Like shipwrecked

get.

sailors,

on what they can find on the beach, and tance,

whether of space or time, laugh

masquerade.

Every generation laughs

ions, but follows religiously the

at beholding the

Elizabeth, as

Queen of is pitiful

ing

ir

to

wear

they put

at a little dis-

at

each other's

at the old fash-

We

are amused

costume of Henry VIIT., or Queen

much

as if

it

was that of the King and

the Cannibal Islands.

or grotesque.

It is

m\ and the sincere

life

All costume off a

man

only the serious eye peer-

passed witliin

it,

whicli i6-

and consecrate the costume of any peoLet Harlequin be taken with a fit of the cohc and

strain laughter ple.

new.

to the dig-

shift

WALDEN.

30 have

his trappings >7ill

the soldier

to serve that

by a cuiinon

is hit

mood

When

too.

becoming

ball rags are as

as iÂťurple.

The childish and savage taste of men and women foi new patterns keeps how many shaking and squinting through kaleidoscopes that they may discover the parwhich

figure

ticular

this

generation requires to-day.

The manufacturers have learned that this taste is merely whimsical. Of two patterns which differ only by a few threads more or will

less of

a particular

be sold readily, the other

lie

on the

color, the shelf,

one

though

it

frequently happens that after the lapse of a season the latter

becomes the most fashionable.

tattooing

is

Comparatively,

not the hideous custom which

It is not barbarous

it

is

merely because the printing

called. is

skin-

deep and unalterable. I cannot believe that our factory system

mode by which men may of the operatives of the ILnglish far as I

is

and

get clothing.

cannot be wondered

as

it

may

be well and honestly clad, but,

men

what they aim

be enriched. at.

There.-

immediately, they had bet-

for a Shelter, I will not life,

deny that

this is nor? a

tliough there are instances of

having done without

it

ncn

for long periods in colder counÂŤ

Samuel Laing says that " The Laplandel skin dress, and in a skin bag which he puts ovef

than

>c liis

fail

may

at somethinsr hijTh.

necessary of

tries

hit only

though they should

As

like that

is,

In the long run

aim

condition

at, since,

;

unquestionably, that the corporations

ter

The

becoming every day more

the best

have heard or observed, the principal object

not that mankind

fore,

is

this.

;

SHELTER. his

head and shoulders, snow

the

in

tinguish the

adds, "

life

He

clothing."

They

probably,

81

of one exposed to it had seen them asleep

any woollen

Yet he

thus.

But,

did not live long on the earth without dis-

covering the convenience which there

domestic comforts, which phrase signified the satisfactions of the

family

in

are not hardier than other people."

man

on

will sleep night after night

a degree of cold which would ex-

is

in a house, the

may have

originally

house more than of the

though these must be extremely partial and oc-

;

casional in those climates

where the house

is

associated

in our thoughts with winter or the rainy season chiefly,

and two thirds of the year, except

for a parasol,

In our climate, in the summer,

necessary.

merly almost solely a covering at night. gazettes a

wigwam was

it

is

was

unfor-

In the Indian

the symbol of a day's march, and

a row of them cut or painted on the bark of a tree signified that so

many

was not made must seek to narrow

times they had camped.

Man

so large limbed and robust but that he

as fitted him.

He

his world,

was

and wall

at first bare

in

a space such

and out of doors

but though this was pleasant enough in serene and Avarm weather, by daylight, the rainy season and the winter, to

say nothing of the torrid sun, would perhaps have

nipped his race in the bud to clothe l*^ve,

if

he had not made haste

himself with the shelter of a house.

Adam and

according to the fable, wore the bower before

oiher clothes. or comfort,

Man

first

wanted a home, a place of warmth,

of physical wai'mth, then the

warmth

of the affections.

We human low

'n

may

imagine a time when, in the infancy of the

some enterprising mortal crept into a hola rock for shelter. Every child begins the world race,

WALDEN.

S2

some

again, to in

wet and

and loves

extent,

e^ea

to stay out doors,

It plays house, as well as horse, Slav-

cold.

ing an instinct for

Who

it.

does not remember the

which when young he looked at shelvin/Âť any approach to a cave ? It was the rÂťatural yearning of that portion of our most primitive ancestor which still survived in us. From the cave we have ad-

interest with

rocks, or

vanced

to roofs of

woven and

ihien

palm

leaves, of bark

stretched,

of

grass

and boughs, of

and

boards and shingles, of stones and

tiles.

know

open

not what

it

to live in the

is

lives are domestic in

more senses than we

the hearth to the field

is

a great distance.

stravv,

At

last,

we

and our

air,

From

think. It

of

would bo

we were to spend more of our days and any obstruction between us and tlie nights without celestial bodies, if the poet did not speak so much from well perhaps

\mder a

if

roof, or the saint

Birds

dwell there so long.

do not sing in caves, nor do doves cherish their innocence in dovecots.

However, house,

it

if

one designs to construct a dAve^ing

behooves him to exercise a

ness, lest after all

little

Yankee shrewd-

he find himself in a workhouse, a

museum, an almshouse, a mausoleum instead. Consider first

labyrinth without a clew, a prison, or a splendid

how

slight

a shelter

is

absolutely necessary.

seen Penobscot Indians, in

this

thin cotton cloth, while the

snow was nearly a

I

have

town, living in tents of foot

deep

around them, and I thought that they would be glad to

have

how

it

deeper to keep out the wind.

to get

my

Formerly, when

living honestly, with freedom left for ray

me even am become

proper pursuits, was a question which vexed

more than it does now, for unfortunately I somewhat callous, 1 used to see a large box by the

rail

SHELTER.

33

by three wide, in which the laboi'ers locked up their tools at night, and it suggested to mo that ev?ry man who was hard pushed might get such a road, six feet long

one for a dollar, and, having bored a few auger holes in

it,

and

to

admit the air at

at night,

in his love,

least, get into it

and hook down the

and

in his soul

be

lid,

when

rained

it

and so have freedom This did not ap

free.

pear the worst, nor by any means a despicable alterna*

You

tive.

could

sit

up as

late as

you pleased, and, when-

ever you got up, go abroad without any landlord or house-lord dogging you for rent.

Many

a

man

is

luxurious box

who would

such a box as

this.

is

I

not have frozen to death in

am

far

from

jesting.

Economy

a subject which admits of being treated with

but

it

har-

more

assed to death to pay the rent of a larger and

cannot so be disposed

of.

A

levity,

comfortable house

a rude and hardy race, that lived mostly out of doors,

for

was once made here almost entirely of such materials as

Nature furnished ready

to their

Gookin, who

hands.

was superintendent of the Indians subject chusetts Colony, writing in 1674, says, their houses are covered

to the

"The

Massabest of

very neatly, tight and warm,

with barks of trees, slipped from their bodies at those seasons

when

the sap

is

up,

and made

with pressure of weighty timber,

into great flakes,

when they

are green.

The meaner sort are covered with mats which they make of a kind of bulrush, and are also indifferently Some tiglit and warm, but not so good as the former

.

.

.

I have seen, sixty or a hundred feet long and thirty feet

broad

I

found them as

have often lodged in

warm

wigwams, and

as the best English houses."

He

were commonly carpeted and lined withwith well-wrought embroidered mats, and were fur-

adds, that they in

their

3

WALDEN.

84

The

nisb-ÂŤd with various utensils.

Indians liad advanced

wind by a mat the roof and moved by

80 far as to regulate the effect of the

suspended over the hole in

Such a lod2:e was in the first instance conitructed in a day or two at most, and taken do^vn and put up in a few hours; 'and every family owned one, or a

string^.

its

apartment

in one.

In the savage state every family owns a shelter as

good as the pler wants

best,

and

I

nests,

and the foxes

and sim-

speak within bounds

but I think that I

;

when

say that, though the birds of the air have their

wigwams,

in

modern

half the families cities,

sufficient for its coarser

where

and the savages

their holes,

civilized society not

own a

shelter.

their

more than one

In the large towns and

civilization especially prevails, the

number

who own a shelter is a very small fraction of The rest pay dn annual tax for this outside garment of all, become indispensable summer and win-

of those

the whole.

ter,

which would buy a village of Indian wigwams, but

now

helps to keep

not

mean

them poor

to insist

as long as they live.

I do

here on the disadvantage of hiring

compared with owning, but it is evident that the savage owns his shelter because it costs so little, while the civilized man hires his commonly because he cannot afford to

own

it

to hire.

;

nor can he, in the long run, any better afford But, answers one, by merely paying this tax

the poor civilized

man

secures an abode which

ace compared with the savage's.

from tAventy-five to a hundred

An

is

a pal-

annual rent of

dollars,

these are the

country rates, entitles him to the benefit of the improve-

ments of paper, olinds,

centui-ies, spacious

apartments, clean paint and

Rumford fireplace, back plastering, Venetian copper pump, spring lock, a commodious cellar

SHELTER.

35

But how happens it that he is so commonly a poor man, while the savage, who has them not, is

Ard many other things.

who

is

said to enjoy these things

civilized

rich as a savage

?

If

it is

asserted that civilization

rea:

advance in the condition of man,

that

it

—

which

is

a

I think

though only the wise improve their advan-

is,

tages,

— and

is

must be shown that it has produced better dwellings without making them more costly; and the cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life it

required to be exchanged for

An

or in the long run.

hood

costs

sum

this

er's life,

it,

average house in

perhaps eight liundred

immediately

this neighbor-

dollars,

and

to lay

up

will take from ten to fifteen years of the labor-

even

if

he

is

not encumbered with a family

;

—

estimating the pecuniary value of every man's labor at

one dollar a day, for ceive less

;

—

so that

some receive more, others rehe must have spent more than half if

commonly before his wigwam will be earned. his If we suppose him to pay a I'ent instead, this is but a life

Would the savage have been wigwam for a palace on these

doubtful choice of evils.

wise to exchange his

terms It

?

may be

guessed that I reduce almost the whole ad-

vantage of holding this superfluous property as a fund

m

store against the future, so far as the individual

is

concerned, mainly to the defraying of funeral expenses.

3ut perhaps a man

is

not required to bury himself.

ertlieless this points to

the civilized

man and

an important the savage

;

distinction

Nev-

between

and, no doubt, they

have designs on us for our benefit, in making the life of a civilized people an instimtion, in which the life of the mdividual

is

to

a great extent absorbed, in order to pre-

serve and perfect that of the race.

But

1

wish

to

show

WA.LDEN.

SQ

what a

at

and

sacrifice this

advantage

we may

to suggest that

is

at present obtained,

possibly so live as to securft

the advantage without suffering any of the disadvan-

all

What mean ye by

tage.

saying that the poor ye have

always with you, or that the fathers have eaten sou* grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge

"As

I hve, saith the ],ord

God ye

shall not

?

have oo

casion any more to use this proverb in Israel." " Behold all souls are mine as the soul of the father, so also the soul of the son is mine the soul that sinneth ;

:

it

shall die."

When cord,

I consider

who

my

neighbors, the farmers of Con-

are at least as well

find that for the

oflf

as the other classes, I

most part they have been

thirty, or forty years, that

they

toiling twenty,

may become

the real

owners of their farms, which commonly they have inherited with encumbrances, or else bought with hired

money,

— and we

the cost of their

may

regard one third of that

as

toil

houses, — but commonly they have not

paid for them yet.

It

is

true, the

encumbrances some-

times outAveigh the value of the farm, so that the farm Itself becomes

one great encumbrance, and

found to inherit says.

On

it,

being well acquainted with

applying to the assessors, I

learn that they cannot at once

town who own

know

still

their farms free

am

a

clear.

is

as

he

it,

surprised to

name a dozen

and

man

in the

If you would

the history of these homesteads, inquire at the

bank where they are mortgaged. The man who has actually paid for his farm with labor on it is so rare that I doubt

every neighbor can point to him.

if therf;

What has been

are

three such

men

in Concord.

merchants,

thftt

a very large majority, even ninety-seven

in

a hundred, are sure to

fail,

is

said of the

equally true of the

SHELTER.

With regard

farmers.

of

that

i

But

down.

a great part of their

that

genuine pecuniary

to fulfil their

failure,'*

venient

it is

is,

this puts

howevei one

to the merchants,

them says pertinently

failures are not

37

failures,

engagements, because

but merely it is

incon-

the moral chai-acter that breaka

an

worse face on the

infinitely

matter, and suggests, beside, that probably not even the

other three succeed in saving their souls, but are per-

chance bankrupt in a worse sense than they who

fail

hon-

Bankruptcy and repudiation are the spring-boards

estly.

from which much of our

and turns

civilization vaults

its

somersets, but the savage stands on the unelastic plank

Yet the Middlesex

of famine.

here with eclat annually, as cultural

Cattle

if all

Show

goes oif

the joints of the agri-

machine were suent.

The farmer

is endeavoring to solve the problem of a by a formula more complicated than the problem itself. To get his shoestrings he speculates in

livelihood

herds of

With consummate

cattle.

skill

he has

set his

trap with a hair springe to catch comfort and independ-

own

ence, and then, as he turned away, got his it.

This

reason

we

the reason he

is

are

all

comforts, though surrounded sings,

—

*•

is

I'he false society of

—

by

and for a similar a thousand savage

As Chapman

luxuries.

men

for earthly

;

to

poor

poor in respect

leg into

—

greatness

All heavenly comforts rarefies to air."

And when be

tlie

the farmer has got his house,

richer but the poorer for

it,

and

it

1:

l

may

not

be the house

As I understand it, that was a valid by Momus against the house which Mi

that has got him.

objection urged

Borva made, that she " had not made

it

movable, b^

WALDEN.

88

;

which means a bad neighborhood might be avoided " ana it may still be urged, for our houses are such unwieldy property that we are often imprisoned rather than housed in

them

;

and the bad neighborhood

own scurvy been wishing

move plish

who,

be avoided

houses in the outskirts and

but have not been able to accom-

and only death

or hire the

While

will set

them

modern house with

civilization

free.

all its

last either to

improvements.

has been improving our houses,

not equally improved the

men who

It has created palaces, but

noblemen and kings.

ou.

a generation, have

Granted that the majority are able at

own

is

or two families, at

for nearly

to sell their

into the village, it,

know one

I

selves.

in this town,

least,

to

And

it

it

has

are to inhabit them.

was not so easy

if the civilized

to create

man^s pur-

no worthier than the savage's^ if he is employed greater part of his life in obtaining gross necessaries

suits are the

and comforts merely, why should he have a better dwell' tng than the former ? But how do the poor minority fare? Perhaps it will be found, that just in proportion as some have been placed in outward circumstances above the savage, others have been degraded below him.

one

On

class is

the one side

house and

pyramids garlic,

selves.

The luxury

of

counterbalanced by the indigence of another. is

the palace, on the other are

" silent poor."

to

The myriads who

tlie

alms-

built the

be the tombs of the Pharaohs were fed on

it may be were not decently buried themThe mason who finishes the cornice of the

and

palace returns at night perchance to a hut not so good as a wigAvam.

try

It is a

mistake to suppose that, in a coun-

where the usual evidences of civiUzation

condition of a very large

body

exist, the

of the inhabitants

may

SHELTER.

89

not be as de^^raded as that of savages.

degraded poor, not this I

now to

I refer to tho

To know

the degraded rich.

should not need to look farther than to the shan-

which every where border our railroads, that last improvement in civilization where I see in my daily ties

;

walks human beings living in

sties,

and

an open door, for the sake of

light,

without any visible,

wood

all

winter with

and the forms of both old and young are permanently contracted by the long habit of shrinking from cold and misery, and the de-

often imaginable,

velopment of certainly

ail their

distinguish

Such

plished.

limbs and faculties

to look at that class

is fair

works which

pile,

too, to

is

checked.

by whose labor the accom-

generation are

this

It

a greater or less extent,

the

is

condition of the operatives of every denomination in

England, which

Or

I could refer

is

the great workhouse of the world.

you

to Ireland,

which

is

marked

of the white or enlightened spots on the map. the physical condition of the Irish with

as one

Contrast

that of the

North American Indian, or the South Sea Islander, or any other savage race before it was degraded by contact with the civilized man. Yet I have no doubt that that people's rulers are as wise as the average of civilized

Their condition only proves what squalidnes3

rulers.

may

consist with civilization.

laborers in our Southern States

to the tl:e

I hardly need refer

staple exports of this country,

a staple production of the South. self to those

who

are said to

now

who produce

and are themselv^cs

But

be in

to confine

lyioderate

my-

circum-

stanoes.

Most men appear never house

is,

^lieu' lives

to

have considered what a

and are actually though needlessly poor

all

because they think that they must have sucb

WALDEN.

40

As

a one as their neighbors have.

any or,

sort of coat

which the

tailor

if

one were to wear

might cut out for him,

gradually leaving off palmleaf hat or cap of wood-

chuck

complain of hard times because he could

skin,

not afford to buy him a crown

a house

still

pay

It is possible to invent

more convenient and luxurious than we

have, which yet ford to

!

for.

all

would admit that man could not

Shall

we always

af-

study to obtain more

of these things, and not sometimes to be content with Shall the respectable citizen thus gravely teach,

less ?

by precept and example, the necessity of the young man's providing a certain number of superfluous glowshoes, and umbrellas, and empty guest chambers for

empty

guests, before

he dies?

Why

should not our

furniture be as simple as the Arab's or the Indian's

When

I think of the benefactors of the race,

?

whom we

have apotheosized as messengers from heaven, bearers of divine gifts to man, I do not see in my mind any reti-

any car-load of fashionable furniture. would it not be a singuOr what if I were to allow furniture should be more that our lar allowance ?

nue

at their heels,

—

—

complex than the Arab's, ly

and

intellectually

we are moralAt present our

in proportion as

his

s'^neriors!

houses are cluttered and uenlcd with

it,

and a good house-

wife would sweep out the greater part into the dust hole,

and not leave her morning's work undone. Morning work By the blushes of Aurora and the music of Memnon, what should be man's morning work in this !

world but I daily, Btill,

How,

?

was

I

when

my

had three pieces of limestone on

terrified to find that

the furniture of

desk,

they required to be dusted

my mind

undusted

v/as all

and I threw them out the window in

disgust.

then, could I have a furnished house

I would

?

SHELTER, rather

4^

open air, for no dust gathers on the where man has broken giound. the hixurious and dissipated who set the fashions

sit

in the

grass, unless It is

which the

hei*d so dihgently follow.

The

traveller

who

stops at the best houses, so called, soon discovers this, for the publicans

presume him

to

be a Sardanapalus,

and if he resigned himself to their tender mercies he would soon be completely emasculated. I think that in the railroad car

we

are inclined to spend more on lux-

ury than on safety and convenience, and

it

threatena

without attaining these to become no better than a

modern drawing room, with its divans, and ottomans, and sunshades, and a hundred other oriental thiiio-s, which we are taking west with us, invented for the ladies of the harem and the effeminate natives of the Empire, which Jonathan should be ashamea to know the names of. I would rather sit on a pumpkin Celestial

and have

it all

cushion.

I

than be crowded on a velvet

to myself,

would rather ride on earth

in

an ox cart

with a free circulation, than go to heaven in the fancy car of an excursion train and breathe a malaria

all

the way.

The very

and nakedness of man's life in the primitive ages imply this advantage at least, that they

left

simplicity

him

still

but a sojourner in nature.

When

hft

was refreshed with food and sleep he contemplated journey again.

He

dwelt, as

it

his

were, in a tent in this

worlds and was either threading the valleys, or crossing the plains, or

But

climbing the mountain tops.

men have become

the tools of their tools.

Ij

f

The man

who mdependently plucked gry

is

become a farmer

;

the fruits when he was hunand he who stood under a treo

for shelter, a housekeeper.

We

now no

longer

camp

as

WALDEN.

i2

for a night, but liave settled

down on

earth and forgot-

Wc

have adopted Christianity merely as an improved method of agri^culiure. We have built for this world a family mansion, and for the next a famiten heaven.

The

ly tomb.

best works of art are the expression of

man's struggle to free himself from this condition, but the effect of our art

comfortable and

merely

is

to

make

is

actually no place in this village for a

if

any had come down

houses and

There

low

this

that higher state to be forgotten.

work o^fine

to us, to stand, for

streets, furnish

state

There

our

art,

our

lives,

no proper pedestal for

it.

not a nail to hang a picture on, nor a shelf to

is

When

receive the bust of a hero or a saint.

how our houses are their internal

I consider

and paid for, or not paid

built

economy managed and

sustained, I

for,

and

wonder

way under the visitor while gewgaws upon the mantel-piece, and

that the floor does not give

admiring the

he

is

let

him through

some

into the cellar, to

solid

and honest

though earthy foundation. I cannot but perceive that this and refined life is a thing jumped at, and I

BO called rich

do not get on

adorn

jump

my

it, ;

for I

in the

enjoyment of the fine arts which

attention being wholly occupied with the

remember

that the greatest genuine leap,

due to human muscles alone, on wandering Arabs, who are said five feet

man The

is

record, to

factitious support,

sure to come to eai-th again beyond that distance.

first

question which I

am

tempted to put to tho

proprietor of such great impropriety

you the

that of certain

have cleared twenty-

Without

on level ground.

is

Are you one of three who succeed ?

?

The

Who

the ninety-seven

Answer me

and then perhaps I may look

rbem ornament al.

is.

at

who

bolstcra fail,

or

these questions,

your bawbles and

find

cart before the horse is neither

SHE^TEK.

48

we

can adorn our houses

Before

beautiful nor useful.

with beautiful objects the walls must be stripped, and our lives rau.rt be stripped, and beautiful housekeeping and beautiful living be laid for a foundation

is

now, a taste

most cultivated out of doors, whero

for the beautiful is

there

:

no house and no housekeeper. in his "

Old Johnson, Gpeaking of the

Wonder-Working Providence/'

first settlers

was contemporary,

tells

of this town, with

whom he

us that " they burrow themselves

in llie earth for their first shelter

under some

hillside,

and,

make a smoky casting the soil aloft They did fire against the earth, at the highest side." " earth, by th*' till not " provide them houses," says he, upon timber, they

the Lord's blessing, brought forth bread to feed them,'* and the first year's crop was so light that " they were

forced to cut their bread very thin ibr a long season."

The

secretary of the Province of

New

Netherland,

writing in Dutch, in 1G50, for the information of those who wislied ^o take up kind there, states more particularly, that ".those in

New at

England, who

first

according to

New

Netherland, and especially in have no means to build farm houses their wishes, dig a square pit in the

ground, cellar fashion, six or seven feet deep, as long and as broad as they think proper, case the earth inside with

wood

all

round the

wall,

and

line the

wood with the bark

of trees or something else to prevent the caving in of the earth; floor this cellar with plank, and wainscot it

a roof of spars clear up, and cover the spars with bark or green sods, so that they can live dry and warm in these houses with their

overhead for a

".ntire

ceiling, raise

families for two, three,

and four years,

it

being

those cellars

understood that partitions arc run through which are adapted to the size of the family.

The

44

WALDEN.

wealthy and principal

men

New

in

England, in the be-

ginning of the colonies, commenced their

houses in this fashion for two reasons

;

first

dwelling

firstly, in

order

not to waste time in building, and not to want food

next season

;

tlie

secondly, in order not to discourage poor

whom they brought over in numbers from

laboring people

In the course of three or four years, when became adapted to agriculture, they built themselves handsome houses, spending on them several Fatherland.

Uie countiy

thousands."

In

this

course w^hich our ancestors took there was a

show of prudence at least, as if their principle were to satisfy the more pressing wants first. But are the more pressing Avants satisfied

When

now ?

I think of acquir-

ing for myself one of our luxurious dwellings, I terred, for, so to speak, the country to

human

culture,

and we are

still

is

am

de-

not yet adapted

forced to cut our

spiritual bread far thinner than our forefathers did their

wheaten.

Not

that all

architectural

ornament

be neglected even in the rudest periods houses

first

but

;

is

to

our

let

be lined with beauty, where they come

in

contact with our lives, like the tenement of the shellfish,

and not overlaid with

inside one or

But, alas

it.

!

I

have been

two of them, and know what they are

Imed with.

Though we

are not so degenerate but that

possibly live in a cave or a

day,

it

certainly

is

wigwam

better to

we might

or wear skins to-

accept the

advantages,

though so dearly bought, which the invention and uidustiy of

mankind

offer.

In such a neighborhood as

this,

boards and shingles, lime and bricks, are cheaper and

more

easily obtained than suitable caves, or whole logs,

or bark in suffcient quantities, or even well-tempered

BUILDING THE HOUSE. or

vjlay

flat

45

I speak understandlngly on

stones.

Bubject, for 1

have made myself acquainted with

theoretically

and

we

practically.

With a

now

The

blessing.

man is make

civilized

But

and wiser savage.

and make our

are,

to

both

it

more wit become richer

little

mijrht use these materials so as to

than the richest

tliig

civilization a

a more experienced haste to

my own

ex-

periment.

Near the end of

1845, I borrowed an axe

INIarch,

woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house, and began to cut down some tall arrowy white pines, still in their youth,

and went down

for timber.

but perhaps

to the

It is difficult to begin without borrowing, it

is

the most generous course thus to per-

mit your fellow-men to have an interest in your enter-

The owner

prise.

on it

it,

said that

it

of the axe, as he released his hold

was the apple of

sharper than I received

where

I worked,

it.

It

woods

eye

;

but I returned

was a pleasant

hillside

covered with pine woods, through

wh.ich I looked out on the pond, in the

his

and a small open

field

Avhere pines and hickories were springing

pond was not yet dissolved, though tliere were some open spaces, and it was all dark colored and saturated with water. There were some slight flurbut ries of snow during the days that I worked there

up.

The

ice in the

;

for Ihc

most part when

my way home,

its

I

came out on

yelloAV

to the railroad,

sand heap stretched away

glo.amii.g in the hazy atmosphere, and the

the spring sun,

rails

shone

in

and I heard the lark and pewee and

other bu'ds already

with us.

on

come

to

commence another year

Tliey were pleasant spring days, in which the

;

;

WALDEN.

46

winter of man's discontent was thawing as well as the sarth,

and the

One

itself.

had

that

life

day,

lain torpid

began

when my axe had come

cut a gi-een hickory for a wedge, driving

and had placed the whole

it

in a

to soalv

to stretch

and

off

I

had

with a stone,

pond hole

order to swell the wood, I saw a striped snake run

in

i:\to

the water, and he lay on the bottom, apparently witliout

inconvenience, as long as I staid there, or more than a

quarier of an hour; perhaps because he had not yet fairly

come out of the

torpid state.

It

men remain

that for a like reason

and primitive condition

;

but

if

appeared

to

in their present

they should

me low

m-

feel the

fluence of the spring of springs arousing them, they

would of necessity

rise to

a higher and more ethereal

life.

I had previously seen the snakes in frosty mornings in

my

path with portions of their bodies

still

flexible,

waiting for the sun to thaw them.

April

rained and melted

it

tlie ice,

and

numb and in^ On the 1st of

in the early pai't

of the day, whicli was very foggy, I heard a stray goose

groping about over the pond and cackling as

if lost,

or

like the spirit of the fog.

So I went on for some days cutting and hewing timber, and also studs and rafters, all with my narrow axe, not having

many communicable

singJhg to myself,

Men But The

And

—

say they lo

!

arts

know many

the

^

and

sciences,

a thousand appliances that blows

Is all that any

hewed

things

they have taken wings, —

The wind

1

or scholar-like thoughts,

main timbers

body knows. six inches square,

most of the

Btuds on two sides only, and the rafters and floor timÂť

BtriLDING THE HOUSE.

47

bers on one side, leaving the rest of the bark en, so that

much

they were just as straight and

Each

ones.

was

stick

stronger than sawed

carefully mortised or tenoned l)y

stump, for I had borrowed other tools by this lime.

its

My

days in the Avoods were not very long on3s

my

usually carried

yet I

;

dinner of bread and butter, ami

read the newspaper in which

was wrapped,

it

at noon,

sitting

amid the green pine boughs which I had cut

and

my

for

to

my

off,

bread was imparled some of their fragrance,

hands were covered with a thick coat of

pitch.

Before I had done I was more the friend than the foe of the pine tree, though I had cut

down some

having become better acquainted with

of them,

Sometimes

it.

a rambler in the wood was attracted by the sound of axe, and

we

my

chatted pleasantly over the chips which I

had made.

By

the middle of April, for I

made no

work, but rather made the most of

framed and ready

for the raising.

it,

haste in

my

my

house was

I had already bought

the shanty of James Collins, an Irishman

who worked on

the Fitchburg Railroad, for boards.

James

Collins'

shanty was considered an uncommonly fine one.

When

I called to see

it

he was not

the outside, at first

at

home.

I walked about

unobserved from within, the window

was so deep and high. It was of small dimensions, with a peaked cottage roof, and not much else to be seen, the dirt being raised five feet all around as if it were a compost heap. The roof was the soundest part, though a good deal warped and made brittle by the sun. Doorsill there was none, but a perennial passage for Ihe hens under the door board. Mrs. C. came to the door and asked

me

wci*e driven in

to

view

by

my

it

from the

approach.

It

inside.

The

hens

was dark, and had

WALDEN.

48

a dirt floor for the most part, dank, clammy, and aguish, only here a board and there a board which would not

She

bear removal.

lighted a

side of the roof and the walls,

lamp

to

show me the

and also that the board

extended under the bed, warning

me

not to step into

the cellar, a sort of dust hole two feet deep.

own

in-

floor

In her

words, they were "good boards overhead, good

boards

all

around, and a good window,"

— of two whole

squares originally, only the cat had passed out that w^ay

There was a

stove, a bed, and a place to sit, nn where it was born, a silk parasol, gilt-framed looking-glass, and a patent new coffee mill The bargain was nailed to an oak sapling, all told. soon concluded, for James had in the mean while reI to pay four dollars and twenty-five cents toturned. lately.

infant in the house

night,

he

nobody It

were

to-morrow morning, selling to

to vacate at five

else

meanwhile

well,

he

I to take possession at six.

:

said, to

be there early, and anticipate

certain indistinct but wholly unjust claims on the score

of ground rent

and

only encumbrance.

One

on the road.

This he assured

fuel.

At

six I passed

him and

large bundle held their

coffee-mill, looking-glass, hens,

took to

me was

—

all

his family all,

but the

the woods and became a wild

cat,

the

— bed,

cat,

she

and, as I

learned afterward, trod in a trap set for woodchucks,

and so became a dead cat I took

down

the nails, and

at last.

removed

it

to

loads, spreading the boards BJid

same morning, drawing pond side by small cartthe

this dwelling the

warp back again

on the grass there

in the sun.

One

to bleach

early thrush

a note or two as I drove along the woodland I was informed treacherously by a young Patrick path. that neighbor Seel«»y, an Irishman, in the intervals of gave

me

BUILDING THE HOUSE. the carting, transferred the

49

tolerable, straight,

still

and

drivable nails, staples, and spikes to his pocket, and then

when

etood

I

came back

time of day, and

to pass the

look freshly up, unconcerned, with spring thoughts, at

he

the devastation; there being a dearth of work, as

He was

â‚Źaid.

make

help

there

to represent spectatordom,

and

seemingly insignificant event one with

this

the removal of the gods of Troy.

I dug

my

cellar in the side of a hill sloping to the

south, where a woodchuck had formerly dug his burrow, down through sumach and blackberry roots, and the stain of vegetation, six

lowest

square by seven

feet

deep, to a fine sand where potatoes would not freeze in

any winter.

The

were

sides

left

shelving,

and not

stoned; but the sun having never shone on them, the

sand

keeps

still

its

place.

It

was but two hours' work.

I took particular pleasure in this breaking of ground, for in almost all latitudes

equable temperature. in the city

to

is still

men

dig into the earth for an

Under the most splendid house

be found the cellar where they store

their roots as of old,

and long

after the superstructure

has disappeared posterity remark

The house

is still

its

dent in the earth.

but a sort of porch at the entrance of

a burrow.

At

length, in the beginning of

of some of

my

May, with

up the frame of

was ever more honored than

I.

They

house.

in the character

I began to occupy

house on the 4th of July, as soon as

and roofed,

No man

of his raisers

are destined, I trust, to assist at the rais-

ing of loftier structures one day.

my

my

so

than from any

good an occasion for neighborliness necessity, I set

the help

acquaintances, rather to improve

for the boards

4

it

was boarded

were carefully feather-edged

*

WALDEN.

50 and lapped, so thai but

was

perfectly impervious to rain

boarding I laid the foundation of a cliimney

be.'bre

up the

3nd, bringing two cartloads of stones

at one

hill fi'om

my

after

it

my

the pond in

I built the chimnejr

before a

fire

my cooking in

the

hoeing in the

saiy for warmth, doing

arms.

fall,

became

of doors on the ground, early in the morning

mudc

I

think

still

is

in

neci'.s-

mean while

out

whiiih

:

some respects more convenient

and agreeable than the usual one. When it stormed before my bread was baked, I fixed a few boards over the fire, and sat under them to watch ray loaf, and passed some pleasant hours in that way. In those days, when

my

hands were much employed, I read but

but

little,

the least scraps of paper which lay on the ground,

me

holder, or tablecloth, afforded

much

as

ment, in fact answered the same purpose as the

would be worth the while

It

to build

liberately than I did, considering, for

still

my

entertainIliad.

more dewhat

instance,

foundation a door, a window, a cellar, a garret, Jiave in

the nature of man, and perchance never raising any Buperstructure until

we found a

better reason for

There

our temporal necessities even.

same

fitness in

there

is

but

if

a

in

men

a man's building

bird's building its

his

own

is

it

own house

Who

nest.

that

knows

constructed their dwellings with their

hands, and provided food for

than

some of the

own

themselves and families

simply and honestly enough, the poetic faculty would

be universally developed,

when they

are so engaged

as ?

birds

But

universally sing alas

!

we do

like

cowbirds and cuckoos, which lay their eggs in nesta

vhidb other birds have

built,

and cheer no travello

ARCHITECTURB.

51

chaffering and unmusical notes.

witli llieit

Shall \re

forever resign the pleasure of construction to the car-

penter?

does architecture amount to in

What

experience of the mass of m.en?

walks came across a

I never in

man engaged

^Ve belong

It is not the tailor alone

community.

man

ninth part of a

;

it is

as

the merchant, and the farmer.

of labor to end

?

who

is

tho

much the preacher, and Where is this division

and what object does

it

finally serve ?

doubt another ma?/ also think for me; but

No

my and

in so simple

natural an occupation as building his house. to the

the

all

it

is

not

therefore desirable that he should do so to the exclusion

of

my

thinking for myself.

True, there are architects so called in

and

1

this country,

have heard of one at least possessed with the idea architectural ornaments have a core of truth,

of making

a necessity, and hence a beauty, as if it Avere a revelaAll very well perhaps from his point of tion to him. view, but only a tism.

little

A sentimental

better than the

reformer

common

dilettan-

in architecture,

he be-

gan at the cornice, not at the foundation. It was only Aow to put a core of truth within the ornaments, that

3very sugar plum in fact might have an almond or caraway seed in it, though I hold that almonds are most

—

—

and not how the inhabitwholesome without the sugar, ant, the indweller, might build truly within and without,

and

let

the ornaments take care of themselves.

reasonable

man

ever supposed that

What

ornaments were

—

that the

tortoise got his spotted shell, or the shellfish its

mother-

something outward and in the skin merely,

such a contract as the inhabitants of

by Broadway their Trinity Ch-irch? But a man has no more to do with the style of architecture of his house

o'-pearl tints,

WALDEN.

52

than a tortoise with that of

shell

its

nor need the

:

soldier be so idle as to try to paint the precise color of

on

his virtue

He may seemed

iiis

The enemy

standard.

turn pale wlien the

will find

and timidly

^yhisper his half truth to the rude occupants

knnv it better than I now see, I kno\v

he.

What

man

This

comes.

trial

nie to lean over the cornice,

to

out.

it

who

really

of architectural beauty

has gradually grown from within

out ward, out of the necessities and character of the indweller,

who

is

the only builder,

— out

of some un-

conscious truthfulness, and

nobleness, without ever a

thought for the appearance

;

beauty of

this

kind

is

and whatever additional

destined to be produced will be

preceded by a like unconscious beauty of

most interesting dwellings

The

life.

in this country, as the painter

knows, are the most unpretending, humble log huts and cottages of the poor

commonly

;

is

it

the

of the in-

life

habitants whose shells they are, and not any peculiarity

their surfaces

in

merely, which makes them pic'

turcsque; and equally interesting will be the citizen's

suburban box, when his r^ ascreeable tie

to

the

life

shall

be as

.

imple and

and there

ima2;ination,

is

as

straining after effect in the style of his dwelling.

lit-

A

great proportion of architectural ornaments are literally hollow, and a September gale would strip

them

off,

like

borrowed plumes, without injury to the substantials.

They can do nor wines

without architecture

in the cellar.

made about

What

who have no

if

the ornaments of style in literature, and the

architects of our bibles spent as

much

time about their

cornices as the architects of our churches do

made

olivea

an equal ado were

?

So are

the belles-lettres and the beaux-arts and their pro-

cessors.

Much

it

concerns a man, forsooth,

how a

feiv

;

ARCHITECTURE. over him or under

sticky aie slanted

are daubed upon his box.

any earnest

in

if,

It

53

liim,

would

and what colore somewhat,

signify

them and daubed

sense, he slanted

but the spirit having dt;«arted out of the tenant,

own

a piece with constructing his tecture of the grave,

or indifference to

your

and

One man

for " coffin-maker."

name

feet,

life,

What

as weU.

Why

but another

says, in his despair

Is he think-

color.

will

;

Better paint

dirt ? let

!

turn pale or

it

enterprise to improve the style of

cottage architecture!

ments ready I

the archi-

Toss up a copper for

?

own complexion

An

blush for you.

is

of

an abundance of leisure he must have

do you take up a handful of

.your house your

—

it

take up a handful of the earth at

and paint your house that

ing of his last and narrow house it

coffin,

" carpenter,"

it is

When

you have got

my

orna-

wear them.

Before winter I built a chimney, and shingled the sides of

my

house, which were already impervious to rain, with

imperfect and sappy shingles the log,

whose edges I was

made

of the

slice

first

of

obliged to straighten with a

plane. 1 have thus a tight shingled feet

wide by

ret

and a

fifteen long,

closet,

a

and plastered house, ten

and eight-feet

lai'ge

posts, with a gar-

window on each

side,

two trap

and a brick fireplace oppo* of my house, paying the usual

doors, one door at the end,

The

site.

exact cost

price for such materials as I used, but not counting the

work,

and

all

of which was done by myself, was as follows;

I give the details

because

.'cry

few are able

exactly what laeir houses cost, and fewer

still,

to lelj if

any

the separate cost of the various materials which com-

pose them

—

WALDEN.

64

$8

Boards,

RefuM sbin(

es fe: roof

and

sides,

.

Laths

Two second-liand windows One tlioiisand

old brick,

with glav,

•

.

.... ...

Hair,

•

•

•

1

25

2 43 (K)

That was bigb. More tk in 1 need«A

2 40

•

Mantle-tree iron,

0(1

4

•

Two casks of lime,

03^, mostly shanty josvAk

4

31

.

.

15

.

3 90

Nails,

Hinges and screws, Latch, Challr,

•

•

•

•

•

•

.

.

.

.

14

.

10

.

ni

.

.^ ) T carried

,

.Tansportatioii.

In

all,

•

....

40 >

1

.

.

a «>od part en

a$

.

$28 12^

These are all the materials excepting the timber, i.:ones and sand, which I claimed by squatter's right I

have

chi'ifly

also

a

wood-shed

small

of the stuff which was

adjoining,

made

building the

left after

ivousc.

1 intend to build

me

a house which

will surpass

any

un the main street in Concord in grandeur and luxuiy, as soon as

it

no more than

pleases

my

me

much and

as

cost

will

me

present one.

I thus found that the student

who wishes

for

a shelter

can obtain one for a lifetime at an expense not greater than the rent which he to boast

now pays

If 1 seem

annually.

more than is becoming, my excuse humanity rather than for myself; and

is

that I

my short-

brag for comings and inconsistencies do not affect the truth of my statement. Notwithstanding much cant and hypocrisy,

from man,

—

my

—

respect,

chaff whicli I find

it

wheat, but for which I

I will Dreathe frvely it is

difficult

am

to

separate

as sorry as

and stretch myself

an/

in thi?

such a relief to both the moral and phys-

55

ECOXOMT. rtial

system

;

and I

resolved that I will not through

am

I will eideavor

humility become the devil's attorney. to

speak a good word

for the truth.

At Cambridge

College the mere rent of a student's room, which is only a little larger than my own, is thirty dollars each year,

though the corporation had the advantage of building thirty-two side by side and under one roof, and the occupant suffers the inconvenience of many and noisy neighbors, and perhaps a residence in the fourth story in I cannot but think that if we had more true wisdom these respects, not only less education would be needed, because, forsooth, more would already have been acquired, but the pecuniary expense of getting an educaThose contion would in a great measure vanish.

veniences which the student requires at Cambridge or elsewhere cost him or somebody else ten times as great

a

on both is

they would with proper management Those things for which the most money

sacrifice of life as sides.

demanded are never the

most wants. in the term

things which the student

Tuition, for instance,

is

an important item

while for the far more valuable educacultition which he gets by associating with the most The made. is vated of his contemporaries no charge

mode

bill,

of founding a college

is,

commonly,

to get

up a sub-

blindly scription of dollars and cents, and then following extreme, a the principles of a division of labor to its

which should never be followed but with cirto call in a contractor who makes this a cumspection, Iiishmen or subject of speculation, and he employs

principle

—

while ether operatives actually to lay the foundations, tliemfitting the students that are to be are said to be gonersuccessive oversights and for these selves for it; *lions

have

to pay.

1 think that

it

would be

letter

than

WALDEN.

56

the students, or those

this, for

fited

by

it,

desire to be bene-

The

even to lay the foundation themselves.

who

student

by

who

secures his coveted leisure and retirement

any labor necessary

systematically shirking

man

to

obtains but an ignoble and unprofitable leisure, defraud-

ing himself of the experience which alone can

ure

fruitful.

"But," says one, "you do not

make mean

work with their hands I do not mean that exactly, bu*.

leis-

that

the students should go to

instead

of their heads ? "

I

mean

something which he might think a good deal like that

mean

that they should not pla^

life,

or stud^

;

I

merely,

it

while the community supports them at this expensive,

game, but earnestly

from beginning

live it

could youths better learn to live than

Methinks

the experiment of living?

by

to end.

How

at once trying

this

would exer-

minds as much as mathematics. If I V7ished know something about the arts and sciences,, instance, I would not pursue the common course,

cise their

a boy to for

which

some

is

merely

professor,

to send

him

into the neigliborhood of

where any thing

tised but the art of life

;

—

to

is

professed and prac-

survey the world through r

telescope or a microscope, and never with his natrr?!

eye

;

to study chemistry,

and not learn how

his bread is

made, or mechanics, and not learn how it is earned to discover new satellites to Neptune, and not detect the ;

motes in his eyes, or to what vagabond he himself all

;

or to be devoured

ttiost

at the

satellite

the monsters that

swarm

own

Which would have advanced the the boy who had made

end of a month,

—

jackknife from the ore which he had dug and

smelted, reading as '

a

around him, while contemplating the monsters in a

drop of vinegar.

nis

by

is

much

as

would be necessary

for this,

— o^ the boy who had attended the lectures on metallurgy

EC0N03HT. at the Institute in the

mean

and had received a father? Wliich would be

>Thile,

Rogers' penknife from his

most I

like]}' to

cut his fingers

57

?

.

.

.

To my

was informed on leaving college that

navigation

!

— why,

I liad studied

had taken one turn down the

if I

harbor I should have known more about

poor student studies and

my, while

that

with philoso|

Adam

is

economy of

\.y is

Even

it.

tlie

taught only political econoliving

which

synonymous

is

not even sincerely professed in our

The consequence

colleges.

astonisliincnt

is,

that while he

is

reading

Smith, Ricardo, and Say, he runs his father in

debt irretrievably.

As

with our colleges, so with a hundred " modern im-

provements;" there

an

is

illusion

not always a positive advance.

about them; there

The

is

devil goes on ex-

compound interest to the last for his early share and numerous succeeding investments in them. Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our

acting

attention from serious things.

means to an unimproved

New

York.

We

are but improved

end, an end which

but too easy to arrive at or

They

;

it

are in great haste to consti-uct a

magnetic telegraph from Maine to Texas

may

and Texas,

it

municate.

Either

who was

was already

as railroads lead to Boston

be, is

;

but JNIaine

have nothing important

in such

to

a predicament as the

com-

man

earnest to be introduced to a distinguished

deaf woman, but when he was presented, and one end of her ear trumpet was put into his hand, had nothing to

As

say.

if

the main object were to talk fast and not to

talk sensibly. lantic llie

We

are eager to tunnel under the At-

and bring the old world some weeks nearer

new; but perchance the

first

news that

will

to

leak

through into the broad, flapping American ear will be

WALDEN.

&8

whooping

that the Princess Adelaide has the

After

all,

man whose

the

cougli.

horse trots a mile in a minute

does noi carry the most important messages

he

;

is

not

an evangelist, nor does he come round eating locusts

and wild honey.

I doubt

if"

Flying Childers ever car-

ried a peck of corn to mill.

says to me, " I wonder that you do not lay up

One money; and go I

am

to

wiser than that.

have learned that the swift-

I

he that goes

is

Suppose we try who

friend,

distance

thirty miles

is

start

I

now on

will in the

there

arrive

evening,

if

my

say to

The

will get there first.

I

That

remember when wages

for laborers

on

this

very road.

and get there before night;

foot,

rate by the week mean while have earned your

I have travelled

You

I

afoot.

the fare ninety cents.

;

almost a day's wages.

were sixty cents a day Well,

But

Fitchburg to-day and see the country."

traveller

est

is

love to travel; you might take the cars

yo'i

at that

together. fare,

some time to-morrow, or possibly

you are lucky enough

and this

to get a job in season.

Instead of going to Fitchburg, you

will

And

here the greater part of the day.

be working

so, if

the rail-

road reached round the world, I think that I should

keep ahead of you

;

and as

for seeing the country

and

getting experience of that kind, I should have to cut

your acquaintance altogether.

Such outwit,

^ay

it

is

the universal law, which no

and with regard is

as broad as

it

to the is

round the world available 10

we may

To make a

railroad

mankind

grading the whole surface of the

Rn indistinct notion that joint stocks

if

can ever

railroad even

long. to all

man

},lanet.

is

equivalent

Men

iiave

they keep up this activity of

and spades Icng enough

all will at

length

;

ECONOMY. somewhere,

ride

59

next to no time, and for nothinor

in

but though a crowd rushes to the depot, and the conductor shouts " All aboard " when the smoke is blown away !

and the vapor condensed, are

it

be perceived that a few

will

—

but the rest are run over, and it will be called, and will be, " melancholy accident." No riding,

A

doubt they can ride their

fixre,

that

is,

probably have

by that

time.

who

at last

shall

have earned

they survive so long, but they will

lost their elasticity

and desire

to travel

This spending of the best part of one's

money

earning

if

life

a questionable liberty

in order to enjoy

during the least valuable part of

it,

reminds

me

of the

Englishman who went to India to make a fortune first, in order that he might return to England and live the life of a poet. He should have gone up garret at once. "What!" exclaim a million Irishmen starting up from all

the

shanties

which we have

the land,

in

"is

a good thing

built

comparatively good, that

?

not this "

railroad

Yes, I answer,

you might have done worse but I wish, as you are brothers of mine, that you could have spent your time better than diggmg in this dirt.

Before I finished

my

is,

house, wishing to earn ten or

twelve dollars by some honest and agreeable method, in order to meet

my unusual

expenses, I planted about two

acres and a half of light and sandy soil near

it

chiefly

with beans, but also a small part with potatoes, corn, peas,

and

turnips.

The whole

lot

contains eleven acres>

mostly growing up to pines and hickories, and was sold the preceding season for eight dollars and eight cents

an acre. but to

One farmer

r^iise

said that

it

was " good

cheeping squirrels on."

for nothing

I put no manure

WALDEK.

60

whatevi^r on this land, not being the owner, but merelj

a squatter, and not expecting to cultivate so much again, and I did not quite hoe

I got out

once.

it all

several cords of stumps in ploughing, which supplied

with fuel for a long time, and

me

small circles of virgin

left

summer by the The dead and

mould, easily distinguishable through the greater luxuriance of the beans there.

most part unmerchantable wood behind my house, and the driftwood from the pond, have supplied the remainder of my fuel. I was obliged to hire a team and a for the

man

My

for the ploughing,

farm outgoes

though I held the plough myself.

for the first season were, for imple-

The

ments, seed, work, &c., $14 72^.

given me.

seed corn was

This never costs any thing to speak

you plant more than enough.

of,

unless

I got twelve bushels of

some

beans, and eighteen bushels of potatoes, beside

The yellow

peas and sweet corn.

come from the farm was were too

late to

to

any

corn and turnips

My

thing.

whole income

$23 Deducting the outgoes,

There are

•

•

•

44.

14 72^

.

$8 71^,

left,

beside produce consumed and on

hand

made of the value of $4 on hand much more than balancing a estimate was-

at the time this

50,

— the amount

little

grass which

All things considered, that

I did not raise.

is,

con-

sidering the importance of a man's soul and of to-day.

notwithstanding the short time occupied by

ment, nay, partly even because of I believe that that

its

my

experi-

transient character,

was doing better than any farmer

in

Concord did that year.

The next year

I did better

still,

for I spaded

up

all

the land which I required, about a third of an acre, and

ECONOMY. I

6J

learned from tb3 experience of both years, not being

awed by many bandly, Ai'thur Young among in the least

live

the rest, that if one would

simply and eat only the crop which he raised, and

no more than he

raise

and not exchange it for an quantity of more hixurious and expensive

insufficient

ate,

he would need to cultivate only a few rods of

things,

ground, and that

it

would be cheaper

than to use oxen to plough

from time do

celebrated works on hus-

hand

at

odd hours

and

farm work as

in the

to

spade up that

to select

manure the

to time than to

his necessary

all

it,

it

old,

a fresh spot

and he could

were with

his left

summer; and thus he would

not be tied to an ox, or horse, or cow, or pig, as at I desire to speak impartially on this

present.

and as one not interested

point,

in the success or failure of the

present economical and social arrangements.

I was more

independent than any farmer in Concord, for I was not

anchored of

my

ment.

to

a house or farm, but could follow the bent

genius,

which

is

a very crooked one, every mo-

Beside being better

house had been burned or

off

than they already,

my crops

had

failed,

if

my

I should

have been nearly as well off as before. I am wont to think that men are not so much the keepers of herds as herds are the keepers of men, the

Men

and oxen exchange work only, the oxen will be seen to have greatly the advantage, their farm is so much the larger. Man does some of his part of the exchange work in his six weeks of haying, and it is no former are so mucii the

work

;

but

if

boy's play.

respects, that

we

freer.

consider necessary

Certainly no nation that lived simply in is,

all

no nation of philosophers, would com-

mit so great a blunder as to use the labor of animals.

True, there never was and

is

not likely soon to be a

WALDEX.

32

nation of philosophers, nor

am

I certain

it is

desirable that

However, /should never have broken and taken him to board for any work he

there should be.

a horse or bull miglit do for

me, for fear I should become a horse-man

or a herds-man merely

;

and

gainer by so doing, are

man's gain

is

if society

we

not another's

seems

certain that

loss,

to

what

be the is

one

and that the stable-boy

has equal cause with his master to be satisfied?

Granted

some public works would not have been constructed without this aid, and let man share the glory of such with the ox and horse ; does it follow that he could not have accomplished works yet more worthy of himWhen men begin to do, not merely self in that case ? that

unnecessary or artistic, but luxurious and I

heir assistance,

it is

idle

work, with

inevitable that a few do all the ex-

change work with the oxen, the slaves of the strongest.

or, in

Man

other words, become

thus not only works for

the animal wuthin him, but, for a symbol of for the animal without him.

this,

he works

Though we have many

substantial houses of brick or stone, the prosperity of

the farmer

measured by the degree to which the This town is said to have

is still

barn overshadows the house.

the largest houses for oxen, cows, and horses hereabouts,

and

it

is

not behindhand in

its

public buildings; but

there are very few halls for free worship or free speech in this county.

but

why

It should not

be by their architecture,

power of abstract thought, that commemorate themselves? How

not even by their

nations should seek to

much more admirable

the Bhagvat-Geeta than all the

Towers and temples are the luxury of princ'?s. A simple and independent mind does not Genius is not a retoil ^t the bidding of any prince. tainer to any emperor, nor is its material silver, or goU„ ruins of the East

!

ARCHITECTURE.

To what end, pray

or marble, cxc ipi to a trifling extent. is

much

so

6

hammered ? In Arcadia, when I waÂť any hammering stone. Nations are

stone

there, I did not see

possessed with an insane ambition to perpetuate the

memory

amount of hammered What if equal pains were taken tD stone they leave. smooth and polish their manners ? One piece of good sense would be more memorabh than a monument as of themselves by the

higli as the

moon.

I love better to see stones in phice.

The grandeur of Thebes was a vulgar grandeur. is

a rod of stone wall that bounds an honest

field

than a hundred-gated Tliebes that has wan-

sensible

man's

dered farther from the true end of

and

civilization

The

religion

;

but wha:t you might

call Christianity

Most of the stone a nation hammers goes

does not. its

life.

which are barbaric and heathenisli build

splendid temples

ward

JMore

tomb

only.

Pyramids, there

is

It buries itself alive.

As

to-

for the

nothing to wonder at in them so

many men

ijiuch as the fact that so

could be found de-

graded enough to spend their lives constructing a tomb

some ambitious booby, whom it would have been wiser and manlier to have drowned in the Nile, and then given his body to the dogs. I might possibly invent some excuse for them and him, but I have no time for it. As for the religion and love of art of the builders, it is much the same all the world over, whether the

for

building be an Egyptian temple or the United States

Bank. is

It costs

more than

vanity, assisted

it

comes

to.

The mainspring

by the love of garlic and bread and

butter.

Mr. Balcom, a promising young

signs

on the back of

and

it

ruler,

and the job

etonecuttei's.

When

architect, de-

his Vitruvius, with let

is

the

hard pencil

out to Dobson

tliirty

&

Sons,

centuries begin to iook

WALDEN.

64

down on it, mankind begin to look up at it. As for your high towers and monuments, there was a crazy fellow once in this town who undertook to dig through to China, and he got so far that, as he

Chinese pots and kettles

my way to

not go out of JNIany

West

my

concerned

and the East,

not build

but I think that I shall

admire the hole which he made.

—

about to

—

pioceed with

By

;

he heard the

the monuments of the know who built them. For I should like to know who in those days did who were above such trifling. But to them,

are

part,

rattle

said,

my

statistics.

surveying, carpentry,

and day-labor of various mean while, for I have

other kinds in the village in the as

many

trades as lingers, I had earned

$13 34.

The

expense of food for eight months, namely, from July 4th to March 1st, the time when these estimates were made, though I lived there more than two years, ing potatoes, a

had

hand

little

green corn, and some peas, which I

nor considering the value of what was on

raised,

at the last date, Rice,

— not count-

.

•

was

ECONOMY

my

anblusliingly publish

65 I did not

guilt, if

know

that

most of my readers were equally guilty with myself, and that their deeds would look no better in print. I'he next year I sometimes caught a mess of dinner,

and once

went so

I

chuck which ravaged gration, as a Tartar

fish

for

far as to slaughter a

my bean-field,

would say,

—

my

wood-

effect his transmi-

— and devour him,

ly for experiment's sake; but though

it

afforded

part-

me

a

momentary enjoyment, notwithstanding a musky flavor, I saw that the longest use would not make that a good practice, however it might seem to have your woi^dchucks ready dressed by the village butcher. Clothing and some incidental expenses within the same dates, though little can be inferred from this item, amounted to

Oil and

So

some household

utensils,

•

•

•

$8 40| 2 00

that all the pecuniary outgoes, excepting for

wash

ing and mending, which for the most part were done out of the house, and their

have not yet been received,

bills

— and these are and more than which money necessarily goes out world, — were all

all

the

ways by

in this pait of the

House, Farm one year, Food ight months, Clothing,

&.C., eiglit

Oil, &c., eight

In

I

all,

.

address myself

.

...

. .

months,

months,

•

.

•

, •

•

.

.

5

8

40.^

S 00 $G1 992

.

now

,

•

14 72^

8 74

• .

$S8 12^

to those of

my

readers

who have

WALDEN.

66 a livirg to

And

get.

meet

to

I hare for farm

this

produce sold $3n 44 Earned by day-labor, In

•

•

•

•

13 34

•

$36 78)

all,

which subtracted from the sum of the outgoes leaves a this being very balance of $25 21f on the one side,

—

nearly the means with which I

stiirted,

ure of expenses to be incurred,

and the meas-

— and on

the other,

beside the leisure and independence and health thus secured, a comfortable house for to

occupy

it.

These

statistics,

me

as long as I choose

however accidental and therefore appear, as they have a certain completeness, have a certain value also. Nothing was given me of which I have not rendered some account. uninstructive they

It appears

cost

me

in

may

from the above estimate, that

money about twenty-seven

was, for nearly two years after

my

food alone

cents a week.

this,

It

rye and Indian

meal without yeast, potatoes, rice, a very molasses, and salt, and my drink water.

little salt

It

was

pork,

iit

that

who loved so well the To meet the objections of some may as well state, that if I dined

I should live on rice, mainly,

philosophy of India. inveterate cavillers, I

out occasionally, as I always had done, and I trust shall

have opportunities detriment of

my

to

do again,

it

was frequently

domestic arrangements.

uig out, being, as I have stated, a

to the

But the

constant

din-

element,

does not in the lerst affect a comparative statement

lilie

thie:.

I learned from Hos*^

incredibly

my two years' experience

little

that

it

would

trouble to obtain one's necessary food.

BREAD. even in

ihi

}

latitude

;

that a

67

man may use as simple a diet

as the animals, and yet retain health and strength.

have made a

satisfactory dinner, satisfactory

I

on several

accounts, simply off a dish of purslane {Portulaca olera' cea) which I gathered in

my cornfield, boiled

and

salted.

1 give the Latin on account of the savoriness of the trivial

man

And

name.

pray what more can a reasonable

desire, in peaceful times, in ordinary noons, than

sufluiont

number of

with the addition of

ears of green sweet-corn

salt ?

Even

the

a

boiled,

variety which

little

I u*ed was a yielding to the demands of appetite, and

Yet men have come to such a pass that they frequently starve, not for want of necessaries, but for want of luxuries and I know a good woman who

not nf liealth.

;

thinks that her son lost hi'

life

because he took to drink-

ing water only.

The

am

treating the sub-

from an economic than a

dietetic point cf

reader will

ie?t rather

j^iTJjp.jVij

that I

view, and he will nut venture to put to the test unless

Bread

I at

my

abstemiousness

he has a well-stocked larder.

made of pure Indian meal and

first

my

genuine hoe-cakes, which I baked before

fire

salt,

out of

doors on a shingle or the end of a stick of timber sawed off in building

and

to

at last

my

house; but

have a piny Ha\ or.

amusement

suc(;ession,

Egyptian fruit

was wont

to get ;

smoked

but have

found a nixture of rye and Indian meal most

convenient and agreeable. little

it

I tried flour also

to

In cold weather

it

bake several small loaves of

was no this in

tending and turning them as carefully as an his liatching f^ggs.

\dnch I ripened, and

They were a tliey

fragrance hke that of other noble as long as possible

had fruits,

by wrapping them

to

real cereal

my

senses a

which I kept

m cloths.

I

in

made

AALDEN.

68

a study of the ancient and indispensable art of bread-

making, consulting such authorities as ofFeied, going

back

days and

to the primitive

lirst

invention of the un-

leavened kind, when from the wildness of nuts and

men

meats

first

and

this diet,

reached the mildness and refinement of

travelling gradually

down

in

m)

studies

through that accidental souring of the dough which, is

it

supposed, taught the leavening process, and through

the various fermentations thereafter, sweet,

wholesome bread," the

till

staff

I

of

came

to "good,

life.

Leaven

which some deem the soul of bread, the spiritus which its

fills

cellular tissue,

like the vestal fire,

pose,

first

iness for

which

— some

religiously preserve?'

brought over in the Mayflower, did the bus

America, and

its

influence

is still

rising, swell-

billows over the land,

ing, spreading, in cerealian this

is

precious bottle-full, I sup-

—

seed I regularly and faithfully procured from the

village,

at length

till

and scalded

my

yeast

one morning I forgot the rules ;

by which accident I discovered

—

for my discovwas not indispensable, eries were not by the synthetic but analytic process, and I have gladly omitted it since, though most housewives earnestly assured me that safe and wholesome bread without yeast might not be, and elderly people

that even this

—

prophesied a speedy decay of the vital forces. find

it no'^y

without

and I

it

am

to be

for

an essential ingredient, and

a year

am

still

Yet

I

after going

in the land of the living;

glad to escape the trivialness of carrying a

my pocket, which would sometimes po|> and It is simj>ler discharge its contents to my discomfiture. Man is an animal and more respectable to omit bottle-full in

it.

who more than any

other can adapt himself to

mates and circumstances.

jill

Neither did I put any

cli-

sal

BREAD.

69

loda, 01 other acid or alkali, into

my bread.

It

would

Beem that I made it according to the recipe which Marcus Porcius Cato gave about two centuries before Christ.

"

Panem

riumque bene

depsticium

lavato.

sic facito.

Farinam

in

Manus moita-

mortarium

Ubi bene

aquce paulatim addito, subigitoque pulchre. subegeris, defingito, coquitoque

take to

mean

—

"

add.

Put

well.

"Which I

sub testu."

Wash your

Make kneaded bread thus.

hands and trough

the meal into the trough,

water gradually, and knead

it

thoroughly.

mould

it,

and bake

you have kneaded

it

well,

indito,

it

When under a

Not a word about leaven. But I did not always use this staff of life. At one time, owing to the emptiness of my purse, I saw none of it for more than a month. Every New Englander might easily raise all his cover," that

own

is,

in a baking-kettle.

breadstuffs in this land of rye

not depend

Yet

them.

pendence

on distant and so far

that, in

are

and Indian

fluctuating

we from

corn,

and

markets for

simplicity

and inde-

Concord, fresh and sweet meal

is

hominy and corn in a still For the most coarser form are hardly used by any. part the farmer gives to his cattle and hogs the grain of his own producing, and buys flour, which is at least no more wholesome, at a greater cost, at the store. I saw that I could easily raise my bushel or two of rye and Indian corn, for the former will grow on the poorest land, and the latter does not require the best, and grind iheo in a hand-mill, and so do without rice and pork and if I must have some concentrated sweet, I

rarely sold in the shops, and

;

make a very good pumpkins or beets, and I knew that

lound by experiment that I could molasse.s cither of I

needed only

to set out

a few maples

to obtain

it

more

WALDEIT.

70

and while these were growing I could use various substitutes beside those which I have named.

easily

**

still,

For," as the Forefathers sang,

—

" we can make liquor to svreeten our lips Of pumpkins and parsnips and walnut-tree chips."

Finally, as for salt, that grossest of groceries, to obtain

might be a

this

fit

did without

if I

the less water.

Thus it

altogether, I should probably drink

I do not learn that the Indians ever

themselves to go after

ti'oubled

my

occasion for a visit to the seashore, or,

it

it.

and

I could avoid all trade

barter, so far as

food was concerned, and having a shelter already,

would only remain

pantaloons which I

;

and

The

fuel.

now wear were woven in a farmer's there is so much virtue still in

— thank Heaven

family,

man

to get clotiiing

for I think the fall

from the farmer

to the oper-

ative as great and memorable as that from the

— and

man

to

is an encumpermitted not were brance. As for a stiH to squat, I might purchase one acre at the same price namely, for which the land I cultivated was sold

the farmer ;

in

a new country fuel

habitat,

if

I

—

But

eight dollars and eight cents.

as

was, I con-

it

sidered that I enhanced the value of the land by squatting on

it.

There ask

me

is

a certain class of unbelievers

such questions

vegetable food alone

matter at once,

tomed

to

—

;

as, if I

and

who sometimes

think that I can live on

to strike at the root of tho

for the root is faith,

answer such, that I can

live

—

am

I

on board

accus

nails.

If

they cannot understand that, they cannot understand

much

that I have to say.

For

my part,

I

am

glad to

FURNITUKE. hear of experimenty of

this

71

kind being tried

j-oung

man

on the

ear, using his teeth for all mortar.

tri^d

as that a

;

a fortnight to live on hard, raw corn

same and succeeded.

tribe tried the is intei

i'oi-

The squirrel The human race

ested in these experiments, though a few old wo-

men who

are incapacitated for them, or

thirds in mills,

may

My furniture, rest cost

me

who own

Ihcir

be alarmed.

part of which I

made

myself, and

tlie

nothing of wiiich I have not rendered an

account, consisted of a bed, a table, a desk, three chairs,

a looking-glass three inches

and andirons, a

kettle,

a

panned lamp.

None

is

diameter, a pair of tongs

in

and a frying-pan, a dipper, a wash-bowl, two knives and forks, three plates, one cup, one spoon, a jug for oil, a jug for molasses, and a ja-

pumpkin.

skillet,

so poor that he need

sit

on a

That

is shiftlessness. There is a plenty of such chairs as I like best in the village garrets to be had for taking them away. Furniture Thank God, I can sit !

and I can stand without the aid of a furniture warehouse. What man but a philosopher would not be ashamed to see his furniture packed in a cart and going up country exposed to the light of heaven and the eyes of men, a beggarly account of empty boxes ? That is Spaulding's furniture.

I could

load whether

poor one

it

never

belonged

tell

to

from inspecting such a

a so called rich

man

or n

owner always seemed poverty-stricken. Indeed, the more you have of such things the [joorer you are. Each load looks as if it contained the contents of is

;

the

a dozen shanties

;

a dozen times as poor.

and

if

one shanty

is

poor, this

Pray, for what do we move

ever but to get rid of our furniture, our exuviis

;

at last

WALDEN.

72 to

go from

this

world to another newly furnished, and

leave this to be burned

It

?

is

same as

the

if all

these

were buckled to a man's belt, and he could not move over the rough country where our lines are cast without traps

dragging them, fox that

— dragging

his trap.

his tail in the trap.

left

gnaTv his third leg oiF to be free.

has

lost his elasticity.

may

" Sir, if I

man you

is

at a dead set

see all that he owns, ay,

will

1

will not burn,

and much

disown, behind him, even to his

to

kitchen furniture and

it

he

be so bold, what do you mean by a

that he pretends

and

was a lucky The muskrat will No wonder man

If you are a seer, whenever you meet

dead set?" a

How often

He

all

and he

the trumpery which he saves will

appear to be harnessed to

and making what headway he can. I think that the is at a dead set who has got through a knot hole

man

or gateway where his sledge load of furniture cannot follow him.

some

trig,

I cannot but feel compassion

when

I hear

compact-looking man, seemingly free, all girded

and ready, speak of sured or not.

his " furniture," as

whether

" But what shall I do with

in-

it is

my furniture ?"

^^y g^y butterfly is entangled in a spider's web then. Even those who seem for a long while not to have any, if

you inquire more narrowly you

will find

have some

stored in somebody's barn.

I look upon England to-

day as an old gentleman who

is

travelling with a great

deal of baggage, trumpery which has accumulated from

long housekeeping, which he has not the courage to

burn

;

great trunk,

Throw away tl.e

the

first

powers of a well

little

trunk, bandbox and bundle.

three at least.

man nowadays

It

would surpass

to take

up

his

bed

and walk, and I should certainly advise a sick one lay

down

his

bed and run.

When

tc

I have met an im>

73

FURNITUIIE.

migrant tottering under a bundle wticli contained nla

— looking

an enormous wen which had grown out I have pitied him, not because of the nape of his neck that was his all, but because he had all that to carry.

all

liise

—

If I have got to drag

be a

light

perchance intc

my

trap, I will take care that

one and do not nip it

me

would be wisest never

to

it

But paw

in a vital part.

put one's

It.

I w:)uld observe,

it

costs

me

nothing

to shut out but the

sun

wiUing that they should look m. moon will not sour milk nor tamt meat of mine,

am

and moon, and I

nor will the sun injure

and

that

have no gazers

for curtains, for I

The

by the way,

if

better

he

is

my

sometimes too

economy

to retreat

furniture or fade

warm

my

a friend, I find

carpet, it still

behind some curtain which

nature has provided, than to add a single item to the delady once offered me a mat, tails of housekeeping.

A

but as

I had no room

to spare within the house, nor time

to spare within or without

preferring to wipe It

is

my

shake

it,

I dechned

on the sod before

my

it,

door.

best to avoid the beghinings of evih

Not long

since I

con's effects, for his

"

As

feet

to

was present at the auction of a dealife had not been ineffectual:

Tlie evil that

—

men

do

usual, a great proportion

lives after

them."

was trumpery which had

bcgim to accumulate in his father's day. Among the And now, after lying half rest was a dried tapeworm. these things a century in his garret and other dust holes, were not burned

;

instead of a honjire, or purifying de-

Btruction of them, there

tf them.

The

was an

auction, or increasmg

neighbors eagerly collected to view them,

"

WALDEN.

7'i

bought tlicm garrets and

all,

dust holes, to lie there

when they will

settled,

he kicks the

stai-t

When

again.

to their

their estatea are

till

a man

of some savage nations might, perchance,

by

i)rofitably imitated

they at least go throujh

us, for

the semblance of casting their slough annually

Lave the idea of the ity or

Would

not.

dies

dust.

The customs be

and carefully transported them

thing, it

;

they

whether they have the

real-

we were

to cele-

first fruits,"

as Bar-

not be well

brate such a " busk," or " feast of

if

tram describes to have been the custom of the Muc(;lasse Indians

"

?

When

a town celebrates the busk," says

new

he, " having previously provided themselves with clothes,

and

new

pans, and other household utensils

pots,

furniture, they collect all their

worn out

clothes

and other despicable things, sweep and cleanse

and the whole town, of

houses, squares,

which wnth

all

consume

with

fire.

During

ification of

common

one

is

turn to their town.

On

heap, and

this fast

town

is

extin^

they abstain from the grat-

A

every appetite and passion whatever.

general amnesty "

filth,

After having taken medicine, and

fasted for three days, all the fire in the

guished.

their

the remaining grain and other old pro-

visions they cast together into it

their

proclaimed j

—

all

malefactors

the fourth morning, the high priest,

dry wood together, produces new square, from

fire

whence every habitation new and pure flame."

in

may

re-

by rubbing the

in the

public

town

is

6ui>plied with the

They

then feast on the

new

corn and fruits and

dance and sing for three days, " and the four following days they receive

visits

and

rejoice with their friends

from neighboring towns who have rifled

and Dreuared

themselves.*'

in lilvC

manner

pik

ECONOMY.

The Mexicans fiie

also practisctl a similar purification at

enJ of evciy

was time

75

fifty

two years,

for the world to

come

to

in the belief that

I have scarcely heard of a truer sacrament, that

as the dictionary defines

it,

it

an end. is,

" outward and visible sign

of an inward and spiritual grace," than

this,

no doubt that they were originally inspired

and I have

directly from

Ileavon to do thus, though they have no biblical rccoid of the revelation.

For more than solely

five

by the labor of

working about expenses of

six

years I maintained myself thus

my

weeks

hands, anl I found, that by

in a year, I could

The whole

living.

of

my

meet

all

the

winters, as well

as most of ray summers, I bad free and clear for study.

I have thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that

my

expenses were in proportion, or rather out of pro-

my

portion, to

train, not to lost

my

say think and believe, accordingly, and

time into the bargain.

the good of this

income, for I was obliged to dress and

was a

my

As

I did not teach foi

fellow-men, but simply for a livelihood,

failure.

I

have

tried trade

;

but I found that

it would take ten years to get under way that then I should probably be on my way

I was actually afraid that I

what

is

]

in that,

and

to the devil.

might by that time be doin^

called a good business.

When

formerly I was;

looking about to see what I could do for a living, some sad experience in conforming to the wishes of fiiendi

being fresh in

my

mind

to tax

my

ingenuity,

I

thought

and seriously of picking huckleberries; that surefoi ly I could do, and its small profits might sufiice, mv 'greatest skill has been ti want but little, so little

often

—

—

76

VTALDEN.

capital

it

required, so

moods, I

fooii^lily

distraction

little

"Wliile

tliou;:lit.

my

from

my

wonled

acquaintances

we]it nnhesitahngly into ti-ade or tlie profession.^, I conleinj)lated

ll'is

occupation as most

summer

lii^e tlieirs

ranging

;

to pick tlie berries Avhich

came

the

liilh all

my

waj, and thereafter carelessly dispose of tliem;

to

keep the flocks of Admetus.

mi^iit feather tlie Avild herbs,

dreamed

I also

or carry evergreens

viUagers as loved to be reminded of the

But

the city, by Iiay-cart loads. tiiat

trade curses every tiling

it

"vvoods,

in so,

that I to sucli

even

to

I have since learned

handles; and though you

trade in messages from heaven, the whole curse of ti'adc attaches to the business.

As

some thing?

1 ])referred

valued

my

to others,

and especially

freedom, as I could fare hard and yet suc-

ceed well, I did not wish to spend

my

time in earning

rich cai'pets or other fine furniture, or delicate cookery,

or a house in the Grecian or the Gothic style just yet. If there are

any

to Avliom

these things, and quired, I

it is

no interruption

who know how

relinquish to

them the

to acquire

use them when ac-

to

Some

pursuit.

" industrious," and appear to love labor for sake, or perhaps because

it

its

are

own

keeps them out of worse

mischief; to such I have at present nothing to say.

Those who would not know what to do with more leisure than they now enjoy, I might advise to woik twice as hard as they do,

— work

and get their free papers. oÂŤ;ci;palion

of

an}-,

days

in

till

they pay for themselve?,

For myself

I found that the

of a day-laborer was the most independent

especially as

it

required ordy thirty or forty

a year to support one.

with the going

down

The

laborer

of the sun, and he

is

s

day ends

then free to

devote himself to his chosen pursuit, independent of his

ECONOMY.

who

labor; but his employer,

77

specuhites from

month, has no respite from one end

oi'

month

to

ihe year lo the

other.

am

In short, I

convinced, both by faith and ex])eri-

ence, that to maintain one's self on this earth

but a pastime,

hard:jhip

if

we

will

not a

is

simply and

live

wisely; as the pursuits of the simpler nations are

the L-ports of the

man

that a

more

should eai*n his living by the sweat of his

brow, unless he sweats easier than

One young man some

herited

my

of

acres, told

live as I did, if he

any one adopt beside

still

It is not necessary

artificial.

had

me the

my mode

I do.

in-

that he thought he should I would not have

means.

any account

of living on

before he has fairly learned

tliat

who has

acquaintance,

may have may be

I

it

for,

;

found out another for myself, I desire that there as

ditferent persons in the world as possible

many

but

;

and

careful to iind out

have each one be very pursue his own way, and not his father's or his motlier's The youth may build or or his neighbor's instead.

I would

plant or that

sail,

only

which he

tells

let

me

him not be hindered from doing he would like to do.

It is

by a

mathematical point only that we are wise, as the sailor or the fugitive slave keeps the polestar in his eye but ;

that is suthcient guidance for all our

AVe may not

life.

we

arrive at our port within a calculable period, but

would preserve the true course. Undoubtedly, in this case, what truer

still

portionally

roof

may

arate ferred

is

true for one

for a thousand, as a large house

more expensive than a small

cover, one cellar

several tlie

apartments.

is

13

not )?ro-

one, since one

underlie, and one wall sep-

But

solitary dwelling.

for

my

Moreover,

I

pre-

will

com-

i)art, it

;

WALDEN.

78

monly be

%'^lieaper

whole yourself than to

to build the

convince another of the advantage of the coramon wall

and wlien you have done

much

be

may

The

sible is

only cooperation which

commonly

is

exceedingly partial and superficial

true cooperation there

a harmony inaudible

as

is, is

men.

to

if it

If a

;

were

man

he

faitii,

will continue to

company he

world, whatever

is

joined

to.

together.

I

young men should

heard

it

faiti:

if

he

he has

To co;')i)erate,

in the highest as well as the lowest sense,

our I wing

not, being

rest of the

like the

live

ros-

and what

has

cooperate with equal faith everywhere;

will

not

partition, to

prove a bad neighbor, and also not keep his side in

repair.

little

common

the

this,

cheaper, must be a thin one, and that other

means

to get

proposed lately that two

travel together over the world, the

one without money, earning

his

means

as he went, before

the mast and behind the plough, the other carrying a bill

of exchange

in his

pocket.

It

was easy

to see that

they could not long be companions or cooperate, since

one would not operate at first

They would

to-day

;

but he

that other

they get

But

is

who

man who

travels

ready, and

it

part at the

Above

interesting crisis in their adventures.

as I have implied, the

with another must wait

may

all,

goes alone can start till

be a long time before

off.

all this is

t.'wnsmen say.

v^iy

all.

little

in

very

selfish,

I have heard some of

philanthropic enterprises.

S'Âťme sacrifices to a sense of duty, and I'tive sacrificed this

>^ve used

my

I confess that I have hitherto indulged

jdeasure also.

all their arts to

I

have made

among

others

There are those who

persuade

me

to undertake

PHILANTHROPY. some poor family

the support of

had the

notliing to do, idle,

—

—

in the to^\m

for the devil finds

I might try

However, when

that.

79 and

;

if

employment

my hand at some such pastime I

have thought

to indulge

1

for

as

myself

and lay their Hcavon under an obliga-

in this respect,

by maintaining certain poor peraons in all respects as comfortably as I maintain myself, and have even ventiired so far as to make them the offer, they have tion

one and

all

unhesitatingly preferred to remain

poor.

While my townsmen and women are devoted in so many ways to the good of tlieir fellows, I trust that one at least may be spared to other and less humane pursuits. You must have a genius

As

else.

for charity as well as for

for Doing-good, that

which are

Moreover, I have tried

full.

may

strange as

it

agree with

my

seem,

am

constitution.

any thing

one of the professions

is

it

that

satisfied

fairly,

and,

does not

it

Probably I should not con-

my

sciously and deliberately forsake

particular calling

do the good which society demands of me, to save the universe from annihilation and I believe that a like but

to

;

infinitely greater steadfastness elsewhere is all that preserves it. But I would not stand betw^een any

and

his genius

and

;

to

him who does

this

now man

work, which

would I decline, with his whole heart and soul and life, I doing evil, as it say, Persevere, even if the world call it is m«)st likely

am

I

one

;

far

they wiU.

no doubt many of

my

my

readers

At doing something,

liar defence.

dvdt

my

from supposing that

neighbors shall i)ronounce

hesitate to say that I should be a

but wluvt that Vi'hsii

good 1

is,

do,

it

is

for

my

m the common

case

is

a peculiar

would make a

— it

sim-

I will not

engage

good,—

do no!

cai)itJil

1

fellow to hire;

employer

to

find

out.

sense of that word, must

WALDEN,

80

my

be aside from

main

path,

and

for the

most

pai"?

wholly unintended. Men say, practically, Begin where you are and such as you are, without aiming mainly to become of more worth, and with kindness aforethought go about doing good. If I were to preach at all in this strain, I should say rather, Set

As

about being good.

if

when he had kindled his fires up to splendor of a moon or a star of the sixth magnitude,

the sun should stop the

and go about

a Robin Goodfellow, peeping in at

like

every cottage window, inspiring lunatics, and tainting meats, jmd making darkness visible, instead of steadily increasing his genial heat and beneficence

till

he

of

is

such brightness that no mortal can look him in the face,

and then, and

in the

world in his own

mean

orbit,

while too, going about the

doing

it

good, or rather, as a

truer philosophy has discovered, the world going about

him his

getting good.

When

Phaeton, wishing to prove

heavenly birth by his beneficence, had the sun's

chariot but one day, and drove out of the beaten track,

he burned several blocks of houses

in the

lower streets

of heaven, and scorched the surface of the earth, and dried

up every

Sahara,

till

spring,

and made the great desert of

at length Jupiter hurled

him headlong

to

the earth with a thunderbolt, and the sun, through grief at his death, did not shine for a year.

There

is

no odor so bad as that which

goodness tainted. I

knew

It is

human,

for a certainty that a

it is

divine, carrion.

man was coming

house with ths conscious design of doing should run for

my

life,

from

arises

me

to

If

my

good, I

as from that dry and parching

wind of the African deserts called the simoom, which 611s the mouth and nose and ears and eyes with dust till you are

suffocated, for fear that I should get s(ime of

;

PHILANTHROPY. his

good (lone

my

blood.

to

No,

me,

—

because he will feed

me

of

its virus mingled with would rather sulTer evil

in this case I

natural way.

the

— some

A

man me if I

not a good

is

ever

fall

man

into one.

me

out of a dileh

can lind you a

I

me waim

to

should be starving, or

should be freezing, or pull

if I

I should

81

if

New-

foundland dog that will do as much.

Philanthropy

not love for one's fellow-man in the

broadest sense

is

Howard was no doubt an exceedingly kind and worlliy man in his way, and has his reward but, comparatively ;

speaking, what are a hundred

philanthropy do not help us

in

Howards our best

are most worthy to be helped

posed

to

The

do any good

to

me, or the

like of

suffering,

it

me.

by those Indians who,

being burned at the stake, suggested ture to their tormentors.

when we

was sincerely pro-

it

Jesuits were quite balked

estate,

I never heard of a

?

philanthropic meeting in which

to vs, if their

new modes

of tor-

Being superior to physical

sometimes chanced that they were superior

any consolation which the missionaries could offer and the law to do as you would be done by fell with to

less jDersuasiveness )art,

their

on the ears of those, who, for their

how they were done by, who loved enemies after a new fashion, and came very near

did not care

them all they did. Be sure that you give the poor

freely forgiving

be your exami)le which leaves them far If you give money, spend yourself with it, and

need, though

behind.

it

do not merely abandon mistakes sometimes. cold It

If

is

the aid they most

it

to

them.

Often the

and hungry as he

is

dirty

We

make poor man is

curious

and ragged and

not sc gross.

partly his taste, and not merely his misfortune.

vou give him money, he 6

will

perhaps buy more rags

WALDEN.

82

I was wont to pity the clumsy Irish latwrers

witli

it.

who

cut ice on the pond, in such

clothes, Avhile I shivered in

mean and ragged

my more

more fashionable garments,

till,

tidy

and somewhat

one biUer

day, one

;rold

win had clipped into the water came to my iiouse to warm iiim, and I saw him strip off three pairs of pants and two pairs of stockings ere he got down to the skin, though they were dirty and ragged enough,

and that he could which

This ducking was

began

and I saw that

to pity myself,

me

money on

of

a flannel shirt than a wliole

who

is

at the

striking at the root,

and

the needy

is

doing the most by hi?

produce that misery whicii he strives

life to

vain to reheve.

It is the pious slave-breeder

the proceeds of every tenth slave to

Some show

erty for the rest.

poor by employing them in be kinder

lot

I

would be a greatei

be that he who bestows the largest amount of

time and

mode

it

ones.

Then

There are a thousand hacking

slop-shop on him.

branches of evil to one

may

intra

very thing he needed.

tlie

charity to bestow on

it

many

true,

garments

afford to refuse the extra

him, he had so

offered

I

is

it

if

tlieir

in

devoting

buy a Sunday's

lib-

their kindness to the

kitchens.

Would they ? You

they employed themselves there

boast of spending a tenth part of your income in charity

;

may

be you sliould spend the nine tenths

done with

it.

Is this

whose possession

the officers of justice

Philanthropy

is

A.

;

and

robust poor

it

it

owing is

to the generosity of liim

ibund, or to the remissness of

?

almost the only virtue which

ficiently appreciated

overrated

and

Society recovers only a tenth part of the

property then. in

so,

is

is

suf-

by mankind.

Nay,

our

which overrates

seltisl.ness

man, one sunny day here

it

in

is

greatly it.

Conc!ord,

PHILANTHROPT.

$3

praised a fellow-townsman to me, because, as he said, he was kind to the poor ; meaning himself. The kind uncles and aunts of the race are more esteemed than its

true spiritual fathers

and mothers.

reverend lecturer on England, a intelligence, after

and

man

enumerating her

political worthies,

I once heard a of learning

and

scientific, literary,

Shakspeare, Bacon, Cromwell,

Milton, Newton, and others, speak next of her Christian heroes, whom, as if his profession required it of him,

he

elevated to a place far above

all

the rest, as the great-

They were Penn, Howard, and Mrs.

est of the great.

Fry.

Every one must

feel the falsehood

this.

The

not England's

women

;

last

were

and cant of

best

men and

only, perhaps, her best philanthropists.

I would not subtract any thing from the praise that is due to philanthropy, but merely demand justice for all

who by

and works are a blessing to mankind. I do not value chiefly a man's uprightness and benevolence, which are, as it were, his stem and leaves. Those plants of whose greenness witliered we make their lives

lierb tea for the sick, serve but

a humble use, and are most employed by quacks. I want the flower and /i-uit of a man; that some fragrance be wafted over from him to me, and some ripeness flavor our inter-

His goodness must not be a partial and trana constant superfluity, which costs him nothing and of which he is unconscious. This is a course.

sitory act, but

enarity that hides a multitude of sins.

The

philan-

mankind with the rememgriefs as an atmosphere, and

thropist too often surrounds

brance of ?ÂŁd\s

it

liis

own

cast-off

sympathy.

"VYe should

not our despair, our health

and take care that

and

impart our courage, and ease,

this does not

and not our

disease,

spread by contagiort

WALDEN.

84

From

wliat southern plains

ing?

Under

comes up the voice of wail-

-what latitudes reside the heathen to whonr

we would send light? Who is that brutal man whom we would redeem ?

intemperate and

any thing

ail

a man, so that he does not perform his functions,

if

he have a pain in of sympathy,

for that

a true discovery, and he

is

the

man to make

the world has been eating green apples fact, the globe itself is

is

the seat

forthwith sets about reforming

—

Being a microcosm himself, he discovers, and

the world. it is

his

— he

bowels even, —

If

is

it,

—

that

to his eyes, in

;

a great green apple, which there

danger awful to think of that the children of men will

nibble before

it

is

ripe

and straightway

;

his drastic

philanthropy seeks out the Esquimaux and the Patagonian, and embraces the populous Indian and Chinese villages tivity,

own

and thus, by a few years of philanthropic ac-

;

the powers in the

mean

while using him for their

no doubt, he cures himself of his dyspepsia, the globe acquires a faint blush on one or both of its cheeks, as if it were beginning to be ripe, and life loses its ends,

crudity and I

is

once more sweet and wholesome to

live.

never dreamed of any enormity greater than I have I never knew, and never shall know, a

committed.

worse

man

than myself.

I believe that what so saddens the reformer

sympathy with

his fellows in distress, but,

be the holiest son of God, be righted,

over his

let

the spring

couch, and he

is

his private

come

to

My

not his

though he

Let

this

him, the morning rise

will forsake his

panions without apology.

ail.

is

generous com-

excuse for not lecturing

chewed it that is a penalty which reformed tobacco-chew ers have to pay; though there are things enough I have chewed

against the use of tobacco

is,

that I never

;;

PHII A NTH RO IT.

85

which I could lecture against. If you should eve.' be betrayed into any- of these philanthropies, do not let your left hand know what your right hand does, for it is not worth knowing. shoe-strings.

Rescue the drowning and tie your Take your time, and set about some free

labor.

Our manners have been corrupted by communication Our hymn-books resound with a melodious cursing of God and enduring him forever. One

with the saints.

would say that even the prophets and redeemers had rather consoled the fears than confirmed the hopes of

There

man.

nowhere recorded a simple and irrepressible satisfaction with the gift of life, any memorable praise of God. All health and success does me good, however far off and withdrawn it may appear all disease and failure helps to make me sad and does

me

is

however much sympathy it may have with me with it. If, then, we would indeed restore man-

evil,

or I

kind by truly Indian, botanic, magnetic, or natural means, let

us

first

be as simple and well as Nature ourselves,

dispel the clouds which

hang over our own brows, and

Do not stay to be take up a little life into our pores. an overseer of the poor, but endeavor to become one of the worthies of the world. I read in the Gulistan, or Flower Garden, of Sheik

Sadi of Shiraz, that " They asked a wise man, saying Of the many celebrated trees which the Most High God has created lofty and umbrageous, they

call

none azad,

or free, excepting the cypress, which bears no fruit;

what mystery

is

there in this

?

He

replied

;

Each has

its appropriate produce, and appointed season, during the coi tinuance of which it is fresh and blooming, an^ during their absence dry and withered ; to neither o^

:

WALDEN.

86 ivhicli states is

Isliing;

and of

the cypress exposed, being always flourtliis

hidependents. — Fix transitory

;

flow through if

nature are the azads, or religious not thy heart on that which

Bagdad

after the race of caliphs

is

extinct

thy hand has plenty, be liberal as the date tree

if it affords

man,

is

tor the Dijhih, or Tigris, will continue to

;

but

nothing to give away, be an azad, or free

like the cypress."

COMPLEMEXTATi VERSES. THE PRETEXSIOXS OF POVERTY. *Thou dost presume too much, poor needy To claim a station in the firmament,

'wretch*

Because thj humble cottage, or thy tub. Nurses some lazy or pedantic virtue In the cheap sunshine or by shady springs, ^^"ith roots and pot-herbs ; where thy right hand. Tearing those humane passions from tlic mind, Upon whose stocks fair blooming virtues flourish, Degradeth nature, and benumbcth sense,

And, Gorgon-like, turns active men to stone "We not require the dull society Of your necessitated temperance. Or that unnatural stupidity That knows nor joy nor sorrow; nor your forc'd Falsely exalted passive fortitude

Above the active. This low abject brood, That fix their seats in mediocrity, Become your servile minds but we advance Such virtues only as admit excess, ;

Brave, bounteous acts, regal magnificence. All-seeing prudence, magnanimity That knows no bound, and that heroic virtue

For which antiquity hath left no name. But patterns only, such as Hercules, Achilles, Theseus. Back to thy loath'd cell And when thou seest the new enliglitened sphere. Study to know but what those worthies were." ;

T. CAHKir

(m

WHERE

At

I

LIVED,

AND WHAT

a certain season of our

life

I

LIVED FOR.

we

are accustomed

every spot as the possible

to consider

of a house.

site

I have thus surveyed the country on every side Avithin

a dozen miles of where I

bought

all

live.

In imagination I have

the farms in succession, for

bought, and I

knew

all

were to be

I walked over each

their price.

farmer's premises, tasted his wild apples, discoursed on

husbandry with him, took his farm at price,

mortgaging

higher price on it,

— took —

his

to

him

— took

word

cultivated

talk,

it

it,

in

my

his price, at

mind

;

any

even put a

every thing but a deed of

for his deed, for I dearly love to

it,

and him too

to

some

extent, I trust,

and withdrew when I had enjoyed it Ipng enough, leavThis experience entitled me to ing him to carry it on. be regarded as a sort of real-estate broker by my friends. Wherever I sat, there I might live, and the landscaite radiated from sedes,

a seat

many a

?

me

accordingly.

— better

site for

if

What

a country

is

a house but a

seat.

I discovered

a house not likely to be scon im-

proved, which some might have thought too far from the village,

but to

my

eyes the village was too far from

it

;

WHERE

LIVED,

I

89

Well, there I might live, T said; and there I did for

an hour, a summer and a winter

life

;

live,

saw how I

could

let the years run off, butTet the winter through, and see the spring come in. The future inhabitants of this region, wherever they may place their houses, may

An

be sure that they have been anticipated.

afternoon

Bufficed to lay out the land into orchard, woodlot,

and

pasture,

what

to decide

and

oaks or pines should be

fine

stand before the door, and whence each blasted

left to

tree could be seen to the best advantage

man

and then

;

I let

it lie,

fallow perchance, for a

is

rich in proportion

to the

number of things which he can

afford to let alone.

My imagination

me

carried

the refusal of several farms,

wanted,

— but

I

so far that I even had

—

my

never got

the refusal was all I

fingers

burned by actual

The nearest that I came to actual posseswas when I bought the Hollowell place, and had

possession. sion

begun which

my

to sort to

seeds,

make a wheelbarrow

but before the owner gave

every wished

man to

keep

it,

Now,

and

I

was

that

on or off with

it

a deed of

— changed

he offered

me

it,

his wife

—

her mind and

ten dollars to re-

to speak the truth, I

had but ten

my

arithmetic to

cents in the world, and tell, if

to carry

me

has such a wife

lease him.

collected materials with

and

it

surpassed

man who had

farm, or ten dollars, or

all

ten cents, or

together.

who had

However,

a

I let

him keep the ten dollars and the farm too, for I had carried it far enough or rather, to be generous, I sold him the farm for just what I gave for it, and, as he vjas not a rich man, made him a present of ten d( -liars, and ;

my

and materials for a wheelbarrow left. I found thus that I had been a But I rich man without any damage to my poverty. still

had

tori

cents,

and

seeds,

WALDEN.

•0

retained the landscape, and I have since annually car* ried off

what

it

"I

With

yielded without a wheelbarrow.

respect to landscapes,

—

am monarch

My right

there

of all I surtey. is

none

to dispute.'*

1 have frequently seen a poet withdraw, having enjoyed the most valuable part of a farm, while the crusty

farmer supposed that he had got a few wild

Why,

ap[)les only.

owner does not know it for many years when a poet has put his farm in rhyme, the most admirable kind of invisible fence, has fairly impounded it, milked it, skimmed it, and got all the cream, and left the farmer only the skimmed milk. The real attractions of the Hollowell fjirm, to me, were its complete retirement, being about two miles tlie

;

from the

village, half

a mile from the nearest neighbor,

and separated from the highway by a broad field ; its bounding on the river, which the owner said protected .t by its fogs from frosts in the spring, though that was nothing to

me;

the gray color and ruinous state of the

house and barn, and the dilapidated fences, which put such an interval between

me and

the last occupant

;

the

hollow and lichen-covered apple trees, gnawed by rabbits,

showing what kind of neighbors I should have;

but above liest

all,

the recollection I had of

it

from

my

ear-

voyages up the river, when the house was concealed

b(jhind

heard

a dense grove of red maples, through which I th-^

'

ouse-rlog bark.

I

was

in haste to

buy

it,

irietor finished getting out some rocks, down the hollow apple trees, and grubbing up some young birches which had sprung up in the pasture, vr, in short, had made any more of his improvements.

before the [. cutting

;

WHERE To enjoy

LIVED.

I

91

these advantages I was ready to carry

like Atlas, to take the

my shoulders, — I

world on

heard what compensation he received for all

—

that,

U on never

do

jjnd

those things which had no other motive or cxoiiso

but that I might pay for possession of

it

and be unmolested

knew

for 1

it;

all

the while that

it

would

yield the most abundant crop of the kind I wanted

could only afford to

have

let it alone.

But

my

in

if I

turned out as I

it

said.

All that I could say, then, with respect to farming on rt

large scale, (I have always cultivated a garden,) wasÂť

that

my

had had

I

seeds ready.

improve with age.

Many

have no doubt that time discrim

I

mates between the good and the bad shall

But

plant, I shall

be

woulil say to

my

I

possible live free

think that seeds

less

and when

;

at last i

likely to be disappointed.

fellows,

once for

and uncommitted.

As

all.

long as

makes but

It

little

difference whether you are committed to a farm or the

county

jail.

Old Cato, whose " tor," says,

De Re

Rustica "

and the only translation

sheer nonsense of the i)assage, " getting a far^i, turn

nc

;

ihink

enougu

go there the more think I shall not it

it

When you

it

once.

please

The

the

more

preser.t

was

it

oflener you

is

greedily, but go round

as long as I live, anJ bo buried in

me

at Ik

my

think of

and do not

it,

The

will please you, if

buy

" CultiTa-

thus in your mind, not to buy

go round

to

my

have seen makes

spare your pains to look at

crreedily it

it

I

is

it first,

good."

I

and round

that

it

may

t.

nex.

.

xperim nt

which I purpose to describe more

at

ol

'tm^lli

this kind, j

for con-

WALDEN.

92

venienco, putting the experience of two years into one.

As

I have said, I do not propose to write an ode to de-

jection, but to

brag as

ing, standing

on his

lustily as chanticleer in the

roost,

only to

if

wake

my

mornueigli-

bors up.

When began

first

I took

spend

to

my

up

my

abode in the woods, that

is,

nights as well as days there, which,

by accident, was on Independence day, or the fourth of July, 1845,

my

house was not finished for winter, but

was merely a defence against the

rain, without jjlaster-

ing or chimney, the walls being of rough weather-stained boards, "with wide chinks, which

The

upright white

hewn

made

it

cool at night.

studs and freshly planed door

and window casings gave

it

a clean and airy look, espe-

cially in the morning, when

its

timbers were saturated

with dew, so that I fancied that by noon some sweet

gum would exude

from them.

retained throughout the day ral

character, reminding

mountain which

was an

I

had

me

To my

more or

imagination

less of this

it

auro-

of a certain liouse on a

year before.

visited the

airy and unplastered cabin,

fit

to

and where a goddess miglit The winds which passed over

Tiiis

entertain

a

travelling god,

trail

her gar-

ments.

my

dwelling

were such as sweep over the ridges of mountains, bearing the broken strains, or celestial parts only, of terThe morning wind forever blows, the restrial music. pocra of creation tint hear

is

uninterrupted

Olympus

it.

is

;

but few are the ears

but the outside of the earth

every whore.

The

only house I had been the owner of before,

if I

except u boat, was a tent, which I used occasionally

when making roll'jd

up

in

excursions in the summer, and this

my

garret

;

is still

but the boat, after passing from

WHERE hana

I

LIVED.

C|3

has gone down the stream of time. With more sabstantial shelter about me, I had made some progress toward setthnn; in the world. This to l:nnd,

this

frame, so

slightly clad, Avas

a sort of crystallization around me,

and reacted on the

builder.

as a picture in outhnes. to take the air, for the

of

its

freshness.

It

It

atmosphere within had

was not

behind a door where I

sat,

The Harivansa

ÂŤ

says,

was suggestive somewhat

I did not need to go out doors

even

An

much

so

lost

in the rainiest weather.

abode without birds

a meat without seasoning."

none

within doors as

Such was not

my

is

like

abode,

for I found myself suddenly neighbor to the birds; not by having im[)risoned one, but having caged myself near

them.

I was not only nearer to

commonly frequent the those wilder and more

gai-den

some of those which and the orchard, but to

thrilling songsters of the forest

which never, or rarely, serenade a villager, 7— the woodthrush, the veery, the scarlet tanager, the field-sparrow, the whippoorwill, and

many

others.

I was seated by the shore of a small pond, about a mile and a half south of the village of Concord and some-

what higher than it, in the midst of an extensive wood between that town and Lincoln, and about two miles fioutli

of thai our only field

Battle

Ground; but I was

opposite shore, half a mile

wood, was

my most

known

to fame,

off,

like the rest,

pond

it

(

saw

hei*e

:

it

nd

rtjllecting

first

impressed

a tarn high up on the side of a mountain, llie

covered with

For the

distant horizon.

\^henevrn* I looked out on the

ihove

Concord

so low in the woods that the

its

week,

me

like

bottom far

surface of other lakes, and, as the sun arose,

throwing off

its

nightly clothing of mist, and

by degrees, its soft ripples or its smooth jurface was revealed, while the mists, lika

there,

WALDEN.

94 ghosts,

were

stealthily

withdrawing in every directitm

up of some nocturnal The very dew seemed to hang upon the conventicle. trees later into the day than usual, as on the sides of into the woods, as at the breaking

mountains.

This small lake was of most value as a neighbor

in

the intervals of a gentle rain storm in August, when,

both air and water being perfectly cast,

mid-afternoon had

all

still,

but the sky over-

the serenity of evening, and

the wood-thrush sang around, and was heard from shore

A

to shore.

such a time

lake like this

never smoother than at

is

and the clear portion of the

;

air

above

being shallow and darkened by clouds, the water, light

and

reflections,

becomes a lower heaven

it

full

of

itself

so

From a hill top near by, the more important. where the wood had been recently cut off, there was a

much

pleasing vista southward across the pond, through a wide indentation

where

in

the

hills

which form the shore there, sloping toward each other

their opposite sides

suggested a stream flowing out in that direction through a

wooded

valley, but stream there

I looked between and over the near green distant

and higher ones

That way

was none.

hills to

some

in the horizon, tinged with blue.

Indeed, by standing on tiptoe I could catch a glimpse of

some of the peaks of the mountain ranges

still

bluer and more distant

in the north-west, those true-blue coins

from heaven's own mint, and also of some portion of the village.

But

in other directions, even

from

this point, 1

could not see over or beyond the woods which sur-

rounded me.

It is well to

have some water

neighborhood, to give buoyancy to and

One

value even of the smallest well

.ook into

it

you see that earth

is

is,

in

float the

that

your earth

when you

not continent but insu

WHERE This

lar.

When

LIVED.

I

as important as that

is

95

it

keeps butter cool

I looked across the pond from this pi\ik toward

the Sudbury meadows, which in time of flood I distinguished elevated perhaps by a mirage in their seething valley, like a coin in a basin, all the earth

beyond the

pond appeared

and

e\ en

by

like a thin crust insulated

this small slieet of intervening water,

reminded that

this

on which

Tliougli the view from tracted, I did not feel

my

stretched

away toward

dwelt was but

door was

still

crowded or confined

There was pasture enough low shrub-oak plateau

I

to

my

and I waa

drt/ land,

more

con-

in the lea:jt.

imagination.

The

which the opposite shore

arose,

for

the prairies of the

West and

steppes of Tartary, affording ample room for ing families of men.

floated

all

the

the rov-

" There are none happy in the

—

who enjoy freely a vast horizon," Damodara, when his herds required new and larger

world but beings paid

pastures.

Both place and time were changed, and I dwelt nearer to those parts of the universe

and

tory which had most attracted me. as fai off as

omers.

We

places in

many a

to tliose eras in his-

Where

I lived

was

region viewed nightly by astron-

are wont to imagine rare and delectable

some remote and more

celestial corner of the

system, behind the constellation of Cassiopeia's Chair, far

from noise and disturbance.

house actually had

its site

I discovered that ray

in such a withdrawn, but for

ever new and unprofaned, part of the universe.

were

If

it

worth the while to settle in tliose parts near to the

Pleiades or the Ilyades, to Aldebaran or Altair, then I

was

really there, or at

an equal remoteness from the

life

which I had

left

behind, dwindled and twinkling with as

Ime a ray

my

nearest neighbor, and to be seen only

tc

;

WALDEN.

96 in

Such was

moonless nights by him.

where I had squatted

tion

;

—

" There was a shepherd that did

And

that part of crea

live,

hold his thoughts as high

As were

the mounts whereon Did hourly feed hun by."

we

his flocks

"What

should

flocks

nlways wandered to higher pastures than his

thoughts

think of the shepherd*s

cheerful invitation to

of equal simplicity, and I

Nature

if

his

?

Every morning was a life

life

of Aurora as the Greeks. the pond; that

make my

say innocence, with

have been as sincere a worshipper

I

herself.

may

was a

I got up early and bathed in

and one of the

religious exercise,

They say

best things which I did.

that characters

were

engraven on the bathing tub of king Tching-thang to this effect

do

"

:

Renew

thyself completely each day

again, and again, and forever again."

it

derstand that.

much

I was as

making

its

Morning bi'ings back the heroic ages. by the faint hum of a mosquito

affected

invisible

apartment at

I can un-

and unimaginable tour through

earliest

dawn, when I was

sitting

my

with door

and windows open, as I could be by any trumpet that ever sang of fame. It was Homer's requiem itself an ;

Iliad

and Odyssey

wanderings.

in the air, singing its

a standing advertisement, ing \igor and

which

is

fertility

for

all

Then

there

it;

forbidden, of the everlast-

The morning,

is least

is

the

somnolence in us

some part of us awakes which the rest of the day and night. Little is to be

an hour, at

Blumbers

till

of the world.

the most memorable season of the day,

awakening hour.

and

own wrath and

There was something cosmical about

least,

WHAT expected of that day,

I

LIVED FOR.

97

can be called a day, to which are not awakened by our Genius, but by the mechanical nudgings of some servitor, are not awakened by our if it

we

own

newly-acquired force and aspirations from within, accompanied by the undulations of celestial music, instead of factory bells, and a fragrance fiUing the air to a higher

darkness bear less

than

life

than the

we

—

fell asleep from and thus the and prove itself to be good, no That man who does not believe ;

its fruit,

light.

that each day contains an earlier, more sacred, and auroral hour than he has yet profaned, has despaired of life, and is pursuing a descending and darkening way. After a partial cessation of his sensuous life, the soul of man, or its organs rather, are reinvigorated each day,

and

Genius tries again what noble life it can make. All memorable events, I should say, transpire in morning time and in a morning atmosphere. The Vehis

das say, "All intelligences awake with the morning."

Poetry and

art,

and the

fairest

and most memorable of

the actions of men, date from such an hour.

and heroes, and emit

like

Memnon,

All poets

are the children of Aurora,

their music at sunrise.

To him whose

elastic

and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun, the day is a perpetual morning. It matters not what the clocks eay or the attitudes and labors of men. Morning is wlien I am awake and there is a dawn in me. Moral reform

men

is

the effort to throw off sleep.

not been slumbering tors.

?

They

is

it

that

are not such poor calcula-

If they had not been overcome with drowsiness

they would have performed something. *kre

Why

give so poor an account of their day if they have

The

millions

awake enough for physical labor but only one in a

million

;

is

awake enough 7

for effective intellectual exer-

;

98

WALDEI?.

tion,

only one

ma

hundred millions

to a poetic or div ine

To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face ? We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expeclife.

tation of the

dawn, which does not forsake us in our

soundest sleep.

I

know

of no more encouraging fact

man

than the unquestionable abiUty of

by

life

a conscious endeavor.

It is

to paint a particular picture, or to carve

to

make a few

objects beautiful

;

to elevate his

something to be able

a

statue,

and so

but it is far more glori-

ous to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look, which morally we can do.

To

affect the quality

Every man

arts.

details,

and

of the day, that

make

tasked to

is

his

worthy of the contemplation of

critical hour.

If

we

how

this

even in

life,

his

its

most elevated

refused, or rather used up,

we

such paltry information as tinctly inform us

the highest of

is

would

get, the oracles

dis-

might be done.

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of

see

if

I could not learn what

when I came

to teach,

and

had not

lived.

life,

living

life,

put to rout

all

its

to live so sturdily

that

was not

life,

close, to drive life into

lowest terms, and,

to get the

is it

if it

so dear

all

the

and Spartan-like as

to cut a

a corner,

proved

I

was quite

I wanted to live deep and suck out

marrow of

its

not,

had

it

did not wish to live what was not

shave

and

to die, discover that I

nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless necessary.

life,

to

to

broad swath and

and reduce

be mean,

why

it

to

then

whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish

meanness

to the

world

;

or

if it

were sublime,

to

WUAT know

99

experience, and be able to give a tnu; acin VAj next excursion. For most men, il

it hjr

count of

LIVED FOR.

I

it

appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about ii, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have ioyne-

what

hastily concluded that

here to "glorify

God and

the chief end of

it is

man

enjoy him forever."

we live meanly, like ants though the fable tells we were long ago ^hanged into men like pygmies we fight with cranes it is error upon error, and Still

;

us that

;

,

upon

clout

clout,

and our best virtue has

for

a superfluous and evitable wretchedness.

its

occasion

Our life

is frit-

away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity,

tered

simplicity, simplicity

!

I say, let your affairs be as two

or three, and not a hundred or a thousand

instead of a

;

railhon count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on

your thumb civilized

nail.

life,

In the midst of

has to

live, if

jmd he must be a great Simplify, simplify.

lik3

be allowed

at all,

for, that

who

succeeds.

Instead of three meals a day, ;

a

to the

by dead reckoning,

calculator indeed

be necessary eat but one

if it

instead of a hundred dishes,

and reduce other things

;

to

he would not founder and go

bottom and not make his port

five

chopping sea of

such are the clouds and storms and quick-

sands and thousand-and-one items

man

this

in proportion.

Our

a German Confederacy, made up of petty

life is

states,

with its boundary forevjr fluctuating, so that even a German cainiot tell you how it is bounded at any moment.

The

nation

itself,

with

all

its

improvements, which, by the way, are

so called internal all

external and

superficial, is just such an unwieldy and overgrown establishment, cluttered with furniture and tripped up by

WALDEN.

iOO

own

its

and a worthy aim, as the million the land and the only cure for it as for

calculation

households in

them

is

a

in

;

rigid

tan simplicity of too

iy luxury and heedless expense,

traps, ruined

by want of

Men

fast.

economy, a stern and more than Sparand elevation of purpose. It Uvea

life

think that

it is

have commerce, and export

essential that the

ice,

and

Nation

through a

talk

tele-

graph, and ride thirty miles an hour, without a doubt,

whether they do or not baboons or like men,

;

is

but whether

a

little

get out sleepei-s, and forge

we

should live like

uncertain.

we do

If

not

and devote days and tinkering upon our lives to

rails,

nighrs to the work, but go to

And if railroads

improve them^ who will build railroads ?

how shall we get to heaven in season ? But at home and mind our business, who will want

are not built, if

we

stay

railroads

"VVe

?

do not ride on the railroad

;

it

rides

upon

Did you ever think what those sleepers are that Each one is a man, an Irishman, or a Yankee man. The rails are laid on them, and us.

underlie the railroad 1

they are covered with sand, and the cars run smoothly

They

over them.

And over rail,

are sound sleepers, I assure

you.

every few years a new

lot is laid down and run some have the pleasure of riding on a others have the misfortune to be ridden upon.

;

so that, if

And when sleep,

they run over a

man

that

is

walking in his

a supernumerary sleeper in the wi-ong position,

and wake him up, they suddenly stop the cars, and make a hue and cry about it, as if this were an exception. I

am

glad to

five miles to

beds as get

up

know

that

it

takes a gang of

men

for every

keep the sleepers down and level in

it is,

for this is a sign that they

their

may sometime

again.

Why

should

we

live with si^eh

hurry and waste

>f

;;

WHAT

LIVED FOR.

I

101

We are

determined to be starved before we are Men say tliat a stitch in time saves nine, and so they take a thousand stitclies to-day to save nine tolife ?

hungry.

morrow.

As

quenee.

We

wo haven't any of any consehave the Saint Vitus' dance, and cannoi possibly keep our heads still. If I should only give a few pulls at the parish bell-rope, as for a fire, that is, without

for icork,

the

.^.etting

])ell,

there

hardly a

is

man on

farm

his

in tne outskirts of Concord, notwithstanding that press

of engagements which was his excuse so

many

times

morning, nor a boy, nor a woman, I might almost say, but would forsake all and follow that sound, ncl this

mainly

to save property

confess

burn

it

— or

the truth,

much more

must, and we, be

to see

but, if

it

known, did not

it

we

burn, set it,

it

if

will

since

on

fire,

that

is

;

itself.

asks, "

What's the news

had stood his

waked every and then,

to

sentinels.

?

Some

give directions to be

pay for

it,

they

tell

what they have dreamed. is

as indispensable as the

Pray tell me any thing new that has hapman anywhere on this globe," and he over his coffee and rolls, that a man has had his

—

a

to it

mankind

"

breakfast.

pened

" as if the rest of

half hour, doubtless for no other purpose

After a night's sleep the news

reads

see

yes, even if it were the parish Hardly a man takes a half hour's nap dinner, but when he wakes he holds up his head

church after

to

put out, and have a hand in

it

done as handsomely

and

from the flames,

eyes gouged out this morning on the Wachito River

never dreaming the while that he

fathomed

mammoth

cave of

lives in the

this world,

dark un-

and has but the

rudiment of an eye himself.

For I

my

part, I could easily

do without the

post-ofiice.

think thai there are very few important communica*

TTALDEN.

102

made through it. To speak critically, I never received more than one or two letters in my life I wrote lions

this

The penny-post

I

am

tliat

were worth the postage.

commonly, an

is,

which you seriously thoughts which

—

—

some years ago

offer

man

a

institution tliroigh

penny

that

for his

And

so often safely offered in jest.

is

sure that I never read any memorable news in a

newspaper.

If

we by

dered, or killed

read of one

man

robbed, or mur-

accident, or one house burned, or one

vessel wrecked, or one steamboat blown up, or one

cow

run over on the Western Railroad, or one mad do2 or one lot of grasshoppers in the winter,

.

killed,

\

never need read of another.

One

is

— we

If you

enough.

\ire acquainted with the principle, wliat do you care for

To

a myriad instances and applications?

pher edit

all

neivs, as

and read

it

not a few are

it

and they who

called, is gossip,

is

are old

women 6ver

greedy after

such a rush, as I hear, the

this otiier

a ])hiloso-

gossip.

Yet There was

day

one of the

their tea.

at

offices to learn

the foreign news by the last arrival, that

several

squares of plate glass belonging to the

large

establishment were

— news

broken by the pressure,

which I seriously think a ready wit might write a twelvemonth or twelve years beforehand with sufficient

accuracy.

know how

to

As

throw

Don Pedro and

in

for Spain, for

Don

and Granada, from time

Seville

in the right proportions,

names a

little

a bull-fight

since I

you

instance, if

Carlos and the Infanta, and to

time

— they may have changed the

saw the papers,

when other entertainments

— and fail,

serve up it

will

be

true to the letter, and :^ive us as good an idea of the

exact state or ruin of things in Spain as the most succinct

and lucid reports under

this

head

in the

news-

!

WHAT papers

:

LIVED FOR.

1

103

and as for England, almost the

last s'gnifirant

news from that quarter was the revolution of and if you have learned the history of her crops

scrap, of

1G4.9 for

;

an avei'age year, you never need attend

to that thing

again, unless your speculations are of a merely pecu-

may

If one

niary character.

into the newspapers, nothing

judge who rarely looks

new does ever happen

m

French revolution not excepted.

foreign parts, a

What news how much more important to know " Kieou-he-yu what that is which was never old (gi-eat dignitary of the state of Wei) sent a man to !

!

Khoung-tseu

to

know

Khoung-tseu caused

his news.

the messenger to be seated near him, and questioned liim in these terms

:

What

is

your master doing ? The

My

master desires

faults,

but he cannot

messenger answered with respect to

diminish the number

come

to the

of his

The messenger

end of them.

the philosopher remarked

:

:

What

being gone,

a worthy messenger

a worthy messenger " The preacher, instead of vexing the ears of drowsy farmers on their day of rest !

What

— — with

for Sunday is the fit concluend of the week, sion of an ill-spent week, and not the fresh and brave

at the

new

beginning of a

one,

this

one other draggle-

—

voice, tail of a sermon, should shout with thundering "Pause! Avast! Why so seeming fast, but deadly

slow?" are esteemed for soundest truths, If men would steadily obfabulous.

Shams and delusions while reality

is

to be deserve realities only, and not allow themselves know, we as luded; life, to compare it with such things

and the Arabian Nights' EnIf we respected only what is inevitable tertainments. would resound P^'l has a right to be, music and poetry

would be

like

a fairy

tale

WALDEN.

104 along the

we

When we

streets.

are unhurried and wise,

perceive that only great and worthy things have any

—

permanent and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow cf the reality. This

is

always exhilarating and sublime.

By

closing

the eyes and slumbering, and consenting to be deceived

by shows, men

establish

and confirm

their daily hfe of

routine and habit every where, which p-irely illusory foundations.

discern

who

Children,

true law and relations

its

fail to

hve

it

worthily, but

wiser by experience, that

more

who

still

is

who

built

play

clearly than

on

life,

men,

think that they are

by failure. I h^ve read was a king's son, who, being expelled in infancy from his native city, was brought up by a forester, and, growing up to maturity in a

Hindoo book,

is,

that " there

in that state, imagined himself to belong to the bar-

One

barous race with which he lived.

of his father's

ministers having discovered him, revealed to

him what he was, and the misconception of his character was removed, and he knew himself to be a prince. So soul," continues the Hindoo philosopher, " from the circumstances in which it is placed, mistakes its own character, until

teacher,

ceive that

mean

the truth

and then

life

we

that

it

is

revealed to

knows

itself to

inhabitants

we do

New

it

by some holy

Brahmen England

I perlive this

because our vision does not pene-

trate the surface of things.

appears to be.

of

be

We think that that is whi<!h

man

should walk through this town and see only the reality, where, think you, would the "Mill-dam" go to? If he should give us an acIf a

count of the realities he beheld there, we should not recognize the place in his description. Look at a ÂŤQeeting-house, or a court-house, or a jail, or a shop, oi

WHAT

LIVED FOR.

I

105

a dAvelling-house, and say what that thing really

a true gaze, and they would

fore

account of them. skirts

of the

Adam

and

Men

esteem

all

go

man.

be-

your

remote, in the out-

tinith

system, behind the farthest

after the last

is

to pieces in

before

star,

In eternity there

is in-

deed something true and sublime. But all these times and places and occasions are now and here. God himself culminates in the present

moment, and

be more divine in the lapse of are enabled to apprehend at

all

what

never

will

And we

the ages.

all

sublime and

is

noble only by the perpetual instilling and drenching of

The

the reality that surrounds us.

and obediently answers

to our conceptions

travel fast or slow, the track

is

fair

;

The

whether we Let us spend

laid for us.

our lives in conceiving then.

never yet had so

universe constantly

poet or the artist

and noble a design but some of

his posterity at least could accomplish

it.

Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off the track by every nutshell and mosquito's

and let

wing that

fast,

or break

fast,

gently and without perturbation

company come and it.

stream

Why

rise early

on the

let

should

rails.

company

—

go,

let

Let us not be upset and overwhelmed

?

;

the bells

determined to make a day we knock under and go with the

ring and the children cry,

of

Let us

falls

in that

terrible rapid and whirlpool called a dinner, situated in Weather this danger and you the meridian shallows.

are safe, for the rest of the

way

is

down

unrelaxed nerves, with morning vigor, sail by ing another way, tied to the mast like Ulysses. eno-ine whistles, let

pains.

If

it

whistle

the bell rings,

will consider

why

till

it

is

it,

lookIf the

hoarse for

should m'C run

what kind of music they are

With

hill.

like.

?

its

We

Let ua

WALDEN.

106 ourselves,

settle

and vrork and

v/ard through the judice,

and

allu\ ion

^^

tradition,

hicli

and pre-

and Boston

that

Lon

and Concord,

through poetry and philoso-

state,

we come which we can call

religion,

rocks in place,

down-

feet

and delusion, and appearance,

through church and

phy and

wedg(Âť. oui

slush of opinion,

covers the globe, through Paris and

New York

through

don,

mud and

till

to

a hard bottom and

reality^

and say, This

is,

and no mistake and then begin, having a point cVappui, below freshet and frost and fire, a place where you might found a wall or a state, or set a lamp-post safely, ;

or perhaps a gauge, not a Nilometer, but a Realometer, that future ages might

know how deep a

shams and appearances had gathered

of

freshet

fi-om time to time.

If you stand right fronting and face to face to a fact,

you will see the sun glimmer on both its surfiices, as if it were a cimeter, and feel its sweet edge dividing you through the heart and marrow, and so you will happily conclude your mortal career. crave only reality.

If

we

the rattle in our throats ties

;

if

Time it

;

we is

Be

it

we

or death,

life

are really dying, let us hear

and

feel cold in the

extremi-

are alive, let us go about our business.

but the stream I go a-fishing

in.

I drink at

but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect

how

shallow

it

Its thin current

is.

eternity remains.

sky, whose bottom one.

I

know

slides

I would drink deeper

pebbly with

is

not the

first

stars.

letter

;

away, but the

fish in

I cannot count

of the alphabet.

I

have always been regretting that I was not as wise as

The intellect is a cleaver way into the secret of things.

the day I

was born.

cerns and

rifts its

not wish to be any necessary.

;

more busy with

My head

is

hands and

my

feet.

it

dis-

I do

hands than I feel all

is

my

"WHAT

LIVED FOB.

I

best faculties concentrated in that

my

head

is

an<i

My

instinci tells

me

an organ for burrowing, as some crea-

tures use their snout

mine

it.

107

burrow

and fore-paws, and with

my way

that the richest vein

is

through these

it

hitls.

somewhere hereabouts

I weald

I think ;

the divining rod and thin rising vapors I judge

here 1 will begin to

mu6.

so ;

by and

;

ABADIIfG.

With

a

oursuits,

more

little

all

deliberation

and observers,

students

iÂť-.

choice of theii

k\'.

men would perhaps oejome

essentially

and

for certainij their nature

destiny are interesting to all alike.

In accumulating

property for ourselves or our posterity, in founding a family or a state, or acquiring fame even,

we

but in dealing with truth

we

are mortal

are immortal, and need

no change nor accident, liie oldest Egyptian or Hindoo philosopher raised a corner of the veil from the

fear

statue of the divinity

;

and

still

the trembling robe re-

mains raised, and I gaze upon as fresh a glory as he did, since

he in tled

it

was I

in

him

that

me that now reviews

on that robe

was revealed. \<hich

is

My

was then so

the vision.

bold,

No

and

it is

dust has set-

no time has elapsed since that divinity That time which we really improve, oi ;

improvable, residence

is

was

neither past, present, nor future.

more

favorable,

not only

the jght, but to serious reading, than a university

though I was beyond the

ran^^'e

;

to

and

of the ordinary circu-

had more than ever come within the influence of those books which iiirculate round the worl^

lating library, I

(108)

READING. wbost sonkinces were

first

merely copied from time

109

written on bark, and are to

now

time on to linen paper.

Says the poet Mir Camar Uddin Mast, "Being seated to run through the region of the spiritual world I have had this advantage in books. To be intoxicated by a ;

single glass of

when

I

1 kept

wine

I have experienced this pleasure

;

have drunk the liquor of the

Homer's

Iliad on

my

esoteric doctrines.'*

summer,

table through the

though I looked at his page only now and then.

my hands, my beans to

sant labor with to finish

and

more study impossible.

Inces-

my

house

hoc at the same time,

made

at

first,

for I

had

Yet I sustained myself by the

prospect of such reading in future.

I read one or two

shallow books of travel in the intervals of

my

work,

till that employment made me ashamed of myself, and I asked where it was then that / lived. The student may read Homer or ^schylus in the

Greek without danger of

dissipation or luxuriousness,

some measure emulate their heroes, and consecrate morning hours to their pages. The heroic books, even if printed in the character of

for it implies that

he

in

our mother tongue, will always be in a language dead to degenerate times

;

and we must laboriously seek the

meaning of each word and sense than

common

line,

use permits out of what wisdom

and valor and generosity we have. and

fertile press,

with

conjecturing a larger

The modern cheap

all its translations,

has done

little

bring us nearer to the heroic writers of antiquity. They seem as solitary, and the letter in which they are to

printed as rare and curious, as ever. It expense of youthful days and costly hours,

is

worth the

if

you learn

only some words of an ancient language, which are perraised out of /he trivialness of the street, to be

WALDEN.

110

petual suggestions and provocations.

remembers and repeats the few Latin words

the flu'nier

which he

It is not in vain tha

lias

Men

heard.

sometimes speak as

study oi the classics would at length

modern and dent

"\\

pr^ictical studies

always study

ill

what are the of

man ?

classics

They

make way for more

whatever language they

ancient they

may be.

are the only oracles which are not de-

inquiry in them as Delphi

"We might as well omit

To

For

but the noblest recorded thoughta

cayed, and there are such answers to the most

old.

the

but the adventurous stu-

;

classics, in

may be written and however

if*

modern

and Dodona never gave. Nature because she is

to study

read well, that

is,

to read true

books in a true

a noble exercise, and one that will task the

spirit, is

reader more than any exercise which the customs of the

day esteem.

It requires

a training such as the athletes

undenvent, the steady intention almost of the whole

Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written. It is not enough even to be able to speak the language of that nation by which they are written, for there is a memorable life to this object.

between the spoken

interval

guage, the language heard

The one

is

commonly

and

transitory,

other

is

like

the

we

learn

of our mothers.

it

un-

The

the maturity and experience of that; if that

our mother tongue, this

and

brutes,

lan-

a sound, a tongue,

a dialect merely, almost brutish, and consciously,

the written

and the language read.

is

is

our father tongue, a reserved

select expression, too significant to be heard by the which we must be born again in order to speak. The crowds of men who merely spoJce the Greek and Latin tongues in the middle ages were not entitled by the accident of birth to read the works of genius written in

ear,

READING. languages

those

Greek or Latin guage of

were not written

for these

;

Ill in

that

whicli they knew, but in the select lan-

They had

literature.

not learned the ncbler

Greece and Rome, but the very materials on which they were written were waste paper to them, dialects of

and they prized instead a cheap contemporary

But when distinct

the several nations of

though rude written

sufficient for

then

literature.

Europe had acquired

lanjjuaGres

of their own,

purposes of their rising literatures,

the

learning revived, and scholars were enabled

first

tc

discern from that remoteness the treasures of antiquity.

What

Roman and

the

Grecian multitude could not hear,

after the lapse of ages a

scholars only are

still

few scholars read, and a few

reading

it.

However much we may admire

the orator's occasional

bursts of eloquence, the noblest Avritten words are com-

monly

as far behind or above the fleeting spoken lan-

suajie as the clouds.

firmament with

There are the

The observe them. They quence

in the study.

forum

The

behind the

comment on and

are not exhalations like our daily

What

is

called elo-

commonly found

to

be rhetoric

and vaporous breath.

in the

is

and they who can may

astronomers forever

read them.

colloquies

stars,

stars

its

is

orator yields to the inspiration of a

transient occasion, and speaks to the io those

who can hear him

equable

life is his

occasion,

;

mob

before him,

but the writer, whose more

and who would be

by the event and the crowd which

distracted

inspire the orator,

speaks to the intellect and heart of mankind, to

any age who can understand liim. No wonder that Alexander carried the

all

Iliad with

A

on his expeditions in a precious casket. It is something •vord is the choicest of relics.

m

him

written at oncfÂť

WALDEN.

112

more intimate with us and more universal than any other work of art. It is the work of art nearest to life It may be translated into every language, and not itself. only be read but actually breathed from lips

— not be represented on canvas

;

but be carved cut of the breath of bol

human

or in marble only,

The sym-

life itself.

of an ancient man's thought becomes a modern

Two

man's speech. to the

thousand summers have imparted

monuments of Grecian

literature, as to

only a maturer golden and autumnal

bles,

have carried their own serene and into

all

aU lands

to protect

Books

time.

and the

fit

her mar-

tint, for

celestial

they

atmosphere

them against the corrosion of

are the treasured wealth of the world

of

inheritance

generations

and nations.

Books, the oldest and the best, stand naturally and rightfully

on the shelves of every

no cause of their own and sustain the reader

cottage.

to plead, but while they enlighten his

common

sense will not refuse

Their authors are a natural and

them.

They have

aristocracy in every society, and,

irresistible

more than

emperors, exert an influence on mankind.

lyings or

When

the

illiterate

and perhaps scornful trader has earned by en-

terprise

and industry his coveted leisure and independ-

ence, ion,

and

is

admitted to the circles of wealth and fash-

he turns inevitably at

last to those still

higher but

yet inaccessible circles of intellect and genius, and sensible only of the imperfection of his culture

vanity and insufficiency of

all

his riches,

is

and the

and further

proves his good sense by the pains which he takes to secure for his children that intellectual culture whose

want he so keenly

feels

;

and thus

it is

that he becomes

the founder of a family.

Those who have not learned

to read the ancient

READINO.

113

language in which they were written must have a very imperfect knowledge of the history in

classics

tlie

human

of the

script of

race

;

for

it

is

remarkable that no tran-

them has ever been made

tongue, unless our civilization itself

Homer

such a transcript. in English, nor

itself;

their genius,

may

be regarded as

—

woi'ks as

and as beautiful almost

for later writers, say

have

any modern

has never yet been printed

^schylus, nor Virgil even,

refined, as solidly done,

morning

into

what we

as the

will

of

rarely, if ever, equalled the elaborate

beauty and finish and the lifelong and heroic literary labors of the ancients.

They

only talk of forgetting

them who never knew them. It will be soon enough to forget them when we have the learning and the genius which will enable us to attend to and appreciate

That age

them.

which we classic

shall

will

call Classics,

be rich indeed when those

and the

but even less known

have

still

still

older and

relics

more than

Scriptures of the nations,

further accumulated,

when

the Vaticans

with Vedas and Zendavestas and Bibles,

be filled with Homers and Dantes and Shakspeares, and shall

centuries to

come

all

the

shall have successively deposited their

By

trophies in the forum of the world.

may hope to scale heaven at last. The works of the great poets have

such a pile

we

never yet been

read by mankind, for only great poets can read them. They have only been read as the multitude read the stars, at

most

astrologically, not astronomically.

Most

men have learned to read to serve a paltry convenience, as they have learned to cipher in order to keep accounts and not be cheated in trade

;

but of reading as

a noble intellectual exercise they know little or nothing; which yet this only is reading, in a high sense, not that

8

WALDEN.

114

US as a luxury and suffers the nobler faculties to

lulls

the while,

sleep toe

we have

stand on tip-

to

read and devote our most alert and wakeful

to

hours

but what

to.

I think that having learned our letters

the best that

is

in literature,

we

should read

and not be forever repeat-

ing our a b.abs, and words of one syllable, in the fourth or all

on the lowest and foremost form

fifth classes, sitting

our

Most men are

lives.

satisfied

if

they read or

hear read, and perchance have been convicted by

the.

wisdom of one good book, the Bible, and for the rest of their lives vegetate and dissipate their faculties in what is called easy reading. There is a work in several volumes in our Circulating Library entitled Little Reading, which I thought referred to a town of that name which I had not been to. There are those who, like tcrmorants and ostriches, can digest

even after the

for they suffer nothing to

machines to provide chines to read

it.

all

sorts of this,

dinner of meats and vegetables,

fullest

this

be wasted.

If others are the

provender, they are the ma-

They read

the nine thousandth tale

how they loved

about Zebulon and Sephronia, and

as

none had ever loved before, and neither did the course of their true love run smooth,

—

at

any

how

rate,

run and stumble, and get up again and go on

it

did

how

!

some poor unfortunate got up on to a steeple, who had better never have gone up as far as the belfry and then, I aving needlessly got him up there, the happy nov;

elist

come together and down again For my

rings the bell for all the world to

hear,

O

dear

!

how he

part, I think that tliey

did get

!

had better metamorphose

aspiring heroes of universal noveldom into oo'^ks, as

they used to put heroes

among

man

all

such

weather-

the constella*

BEADING.

115

and let them swing round there till they -are rusty, and not come down at all to bother honest men with tlteir pranks. The next time the novelist rings the bell t(on?,

I will not stir

"The Skip

though

tlie

meeting-house

of the Tip-Toe-Hop, a

burn down

Romance

IMiddle Ages, by the celebrated author of

'

of the

Tittle-Tol-

Tan,' to appear in monthly parts; a great rush; don't

come and

all

eyes,

together."

All

this

they read with saucer

erect and primitive curiosity,

and with unwearied gizzard, whose corrugations even yet need no

some

shai-pening, just as

little

four-year-old bencher his

two-cent gilt-covered edition of Cinderella,

any improvement,

— without

that I can see, in the pronunciation,

or accent, or emphasis, or any more

The

or inserting the moi-al.

in extracting

skill

result is dulness of sight,

a stagnation of the vital circulations, and a general deliquium and sloughing off of ties.

all

This sort of gingerbread

is

the intellectual facul-

baked daily and more

sedulously than pure wheat or rye-and-Indian in almost

every oven, and

The

good amount to? called

ceptions, in

finds

a surer market.

best books are not read even

What

readers.

There

no taste

is

does our Concord culture

in this town, with a

for the best or for

very few ex-

very good books even

English literature, whose words

spell.

by those who are

all

can read and

Even the college-bred and so called liberall}men here and elsewhere have really little or

educated

no acquaintance with the English

classics

;

and as for

the recorded wisdom of mankind, the ancient classics and Bibles, which are accessible to all who will know of them, there are the feeblest efforts any Avhere made to

become acquainted with them.

per, of

middle age,

who

I

know a woodchop-

takes a French paper, not for

WALDEN.

116

news as he

says, for

he

above

is

but to "ke^p

that,

himself in practice," he being a Canadian by birth

when I ask him what he do in

add

this,

;

and

considers the best tiling he can

world, he says, beside this, to keep up and

to his English.

This

much

about as

is

as the col-

lege bred generally do or aspire to do, and they take an

One who has

English paper for the purpose.

just

come from reading perhaps one of the best Enolish books will find how about

many

with

whom

he can converse

Or suppose he comes from reading a Greek

it ?

or Latin classic in the original, Avhose praises are miliar even to the so called illiterate

body

at all to

Indeed, there

who,

if

speak

to,

he

;

fa-

will find no-

but must keep silence about

it.

hardly the professor in our colleges,

is

he has mastered the

and poetry of a Greek

of the lanjruajje,

difficulties

has proportionally mastered the poet,

difficulties

of the wit

and has any sympathy

impart to the alert and heroic reader

to

and as for the

;

who in this even their titles ? Most men do not any nation but the Hebrews have had a

sacred Scriptures, or Bibles of mankind,

town can

know

tell

that

A

scripture.

of his

way

me

man, any man,

to pick

up a

will

go considerably out

silver dollar

;

but here

are

men of antiquity have and whose worth the wise of every succeeding age have assured us of; and yet we learn to read only golden words, which the wisest

uttered,

as far as

—

Easy Reading, the primers and

and when we

class-books,

leave school, the " Little Reading," and

story books, which are for boys

and beginners and our ;

reading, our conversatitn and thinking, are all on a very

worthy only of pygmies and manikins. I aspire to be acquainted with wiser men than

low

level,

our Concord

soil

tnis

has produced, whose names are hardly

READING.

known

Or

here.

117

hear the name of Plato and As if Plato were my townsman

sKall I

never r^ad his book ?

and I never saw him,

—

my next neighbor and I never heard him speak or attended to the wisdom of his words. But how

actually

is

it?

His Dialogues, which contain

what was immortal in him, yet I never read them.

and

lived

not

illiterate

;

and

make any very broad

ateness of

lie

We

on the next

shelf,

and

are under-bred and low-

in this respect I confess I

distinction

between the

do

illiior-

my

townsman who cannot read at all, and him who has learned to read only children and feeble intellects. We should

the illiterateness of

what

for

is

be as good as the worthies of antiquity, but partly by first

knowing how good they were. and soar but

tit-men, flights

little

We

are a race of

higher in our intellectual

than the columns of the daily paper.

It is not all

books that are as dull as their readers.

There are probably words addressed

our condition

to

we could really hear and undersalutary than the morning or more stand, would be the spring to our lives, and possibly put a new aspect exactly, which, if

on the face of things for

us.

new era The book

life

dated a

in

book.

exists for

his

How many

a

man

has

from the reading of a us perchance which will

and reveal new ones. The at present unutterable things we may find somewhere utThese same questions that disturb and puzzle tered. explain our miracles

and confound us have in their turn occurred to all the wise men not one has been omitted and each has answered them, according to his abihty, by his words ;

;

Moreover, with wisdom we shall learn The solitary hired man jn a farm in the liberality. outskirts of Concord, who has had his second birth and

and

his

life.

WALDEN.

118

peculiar religious experience, and lieves into silent gravity

may

think

not true

is

it

driven as he be

is

and exclusiveness by ;

liis

faith

but Zoroaster, thousands of

years ago, travelled the same road and had the saxnn

experience

and treated to

knew

but he, being wise,

;

it

hi* neighbors accordingly,

to be universal,

and

even s^id

is

have invented and established worship among Jian

Let him humbly commune with Zoroaster tnui, and through the liberalizing influence of

the woichies

all

with Jesus Christ himself, and

let " our church '^ go

b;^

the board.

"We boast that we belong to the nuieteenth century and are making the most rapid strides ot any nation

But

consider

ture.

by them,

need

to

common

for that will not

be provoked,

We

into a trot.

of

cul-

goactea like oxen, as

Lyceum

for

tjchools, that

begin to

were

we be

It

m

We

of their lives.

by the

state,

aliment or ailment than on our

uncommon when

time that Ave had

is

did not leave off our education

men and women.

universities,

indeed so well off

—

and

It

is

time that

their elder inhabitants

to pursu'j liberal

—

if

they are

studies

the rest

Shall ihe world be confined tc one Paris

or one Oxford forever

Concord ?

are,

spend more on almost

the fellows of universities, with leisure

here and

we

bts

us.

the winter, and latterly

library suggested

ourselves.

article of bodily

villages

advance either of

schools, schools for infants only ; but except-

mental aliment.

we

—

puny beginning of a

no school

any

own

have a comparatively decent system

ing the half-starved the

this village does tor its

I do not wish to flatter njy townsmen, nor to

flattered

We

how little

get a

r*

liberal,

Can we not

Cannot student? be boarded educacion under the skies of hire

some Abelar d

to lectui e tc

READINvJ. OS

?

Alas

what with

!

the store,

we

education

is

fodderinsj the cattle

sadly neglected.

tendincr

In this country, the

vil-

some respects take the place of the

nobleman of Europe. It

and

are kept from school too long, anvl our

lage should in

fine arts.

119

is

It

should be the patron of the

rich enough.

It

wants only the mag-

nanimity and refinement.

It can spend money enough on such things as farmers and traders value, but it is

thought Utopian to propose spending

which more

men know

intelligent

to

money

for tilings

be of far more

This town has spent seventeen thousand dol-

worth.

on a town-house, thank fortune or politics, but probably it will not spend so much on living wit, the lars

true meat to put into that shell, in a hundred years.

The one hundred and twenty-five dollars annually subscribed for a Lyceum in the winter is better spent than any other equal sum raised in the town. If we live in the nineteenth century, why should we not enjoy the advantages which the nineteenth century offers should our

be in any respect provincial

life

why

will read newspapers,

Why

?

If

?

we

not skip the gossip of Bos-

ton and take the best newspaper in the world at once

— not be sucking

New

or browsing " Olive-Branches" here in

Let the reports of and we

we

the learned societies

all

will see if they

leave

to select

it

to

Harper

our reading?

know any

&

thing.

England.

come

Why

Brothers and Redding

As

to us.

should &: Co.

the nobleman of cultivaleft

taste surrounds himself with

whatever conduces

to hi*

— genius — learning — — books — — statuary — music — philosophical instruments, — not short the the like

painting'^

wit

cultiire,

;

so let

?

the pap of "neutral family" papers,

village do,

pedagogue, a parson, a sexton, a

stop

pai'ish library,

and at a

and

WALDEN.

120

three selectmen, because our pilgrim forefathers

get

through a cold winter once on a bleak rock with these.

To

act collectively

stitutions

;

and I

am

is

according to the spirit of our in-

confident that, as our circumstances

are more flourishing, our means are greater than the

New

England can hire all the wise men come and teach her, and board them round the while, and not be provincial at all. That is Instead of noblemen, the uncommon school we want.

nobleman's.

in the world to

let

us have noble villages of men.

If

it is

omit one bridge over the river, go round a

necessary,

little

there,

and throw one arch at least over the darker gulf of ignorance which surrounds us.

\

SOUNDS.

But eelect

while

and

we

are confined to books, though the most

classic,

and read only

particula-* written lan-

guages, which are themselves but dialects and provincial,

we

are in danger of forgetting the language which

thmgs and events speak without metaphor, which alone is copious and standard. Much is published, but The rays which stream througl| the little printed. shutter will be no longer remembered wV-^en the shutNo method nor discipline ter is wholly removed.

all

can supersede the necessity of being forever on the What is a course of history or philosophy, or alert. poetry, no matter

how

well selected, or the best society,

the or the most admirable routine of life, compared with seen? be to is what at discipline of looking always ? Will you be a reader, a student merely, or a seer into on walk and you, before Eead your fate, see what is

futurity.

hoed beans. I did not read books the first summer; I There were times Nay, I often did better than this. of the could not afibrd to sacrifice the bloom

when

1

Dresent ^

moment

to

any work, whether of the head or (121)

;

WALDEN.

122

I love a broad margin to

hands. in a

my

Somelimus,

life.

summer morning, having taken my accustomed

bath, I sat in

my

sunny doorway from sunrise

noon,

till

rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and

sumachs, in undisturbed solitude and

while

stillness,

the birds sang around or flitted noiseless through the

house, until by the sun

falling; in

or the noise of some traveller's

my

at

west window,

wagon on

the distant

highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time.

grew and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. I realized what the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. For the most part, I minded I

in those seasons like corn in the night,

how

not

light it is

the hours went. The day advanced as if to some work of mine it was morning, and lo, now evening, and nothing memorable is accomplished. ;

Instead of singing like the birds, I silently smiled at incessant good fortune. sitting

chuckle of

my

As

the sparrow had

on the hickory before o;'

my

its

had

door, so

my

trill,

I

my

suppressed warble which he might heai' out

nest.

My

days were not days of the week,

bearing the stamp of any heathen deity, nor were they

minced

into hours

and

for I lived like the

fretted

by the

ticking of a clock

Puri Indians, of

whom

it

is

said

that " for yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow they have

only one word, and they express the variety of mean-

ing by pointing backward for yesterday, forward for to-

morrow, and overhead sheer idleness to the

birds

my

This was

for the passing day."

fellow-townsmen, no doubt; but

and flowers had

tried

me by

their

dard, I should not have been found wanting.

A

if

stan-

mas

SOUNDS must

find

lib

natural day

is

occasions

himself,

in

very calm, and

indolence.

123

-svill

is

it

true.

The

hardly reprove his

.ÂŤ>

I had this advantage, at least, in

my mode of hf'^, ot ot*

those Avho Avere obliged to look abroad for an-ÂŤurement,

and the theatre, that my life itself was tie come my amusement and never ceased to be novel. I^ was a drama of many scenes and without an end. II we were always indeed getting our living, and regulal to so'5iety

ing our

according to the

li'^^es

learned,

we

last

and best mode we haf

should never be troubled with ennui.

low your gerius closely enough, and

it

Fol

will not fail to

Housework show you a fresh prospect every hour. was a pleasant pastime. When my floor was dirty, I rose early, and, setting

all

my

the grass, bed and bedstead

dashed water on the

from the pond on it

it,

clean and white

;

floor,

furniture out of doors or

making but one budget

and sprinkled white sand

and then with a broom scrubbed

and by the time the

villagers had

morning sun had dried my house sufficiently to allow me to move in again, and my mediIt was pleasant t( tations were almost uninterrupted.

broken their

see

my

ing a

fast the

whole household

little

pile

effects out

like a gypsy's

on the grass, mak-

pack, and

my

three

legged table, from which I did not remove the book?

amid the pines and hi( koi'ies They seemed glad to get out themselves, and as if unI was sometimes tempted tt willing to be brought in. and pen and

ttretch an

ink, standing

awning over them and take

my

seat there

It was worth the while to see the sun shine on tluso

and hear the free wind blow on them so much more intere.sting most familiar objects look out of bird sits on the next bough doors than in the house.

things,

;

A

WALDEN.

124

grows under

life-everlasting

vines run round

its

legs

;

tlie

table,

and blackberry

pine cones, chestnut burs, and

etra\Yberrj leaves are strewn about.

It looked as if

was the way these forms came to be transferred to our furniture, to tables, chairs, and bedsteads, because this

—

thev once stood in their midst.

My

house was on the side of a

hill,

immediately on

the edge of the larger wood, in the midst of a fDrest of pitch pines

young

and hickories, and half a dozen

rods from the pond, to which a narrow footpath led

down

the

hill.

my

In

front yard

grew the strawberry,

blackberry, and life-everlasting, jolmswort and goldenrod, shrub-oaks

Near

nut.

and sand-cherry, blueberry and ground-

the end of

May,

the sand-cherry, (cerasus

pumila,) adorned the sides of the path with

its

flowers arranged in umbels cylindrically about stems, which sized and

last,

in the

handsome

rays on every side. to

fall,

weighed down

delicate its

short

Avith

good

cherries, fell over in wreaths like I tasted

them out of compliment

The

Nature, though they were scarcely palatable.

Bumacli, {I'hus glabra,) grcAV luxuriantly about the house,

pushing up through the embankment which I had made,

and growing

five or six feet the first season.

Its

broad

pinnate tropical leaf was j)leasant though strange to look on. the

The

large buds, suddenly pushing out late in

spring from dry sticks which had seemed to bo

dead, developed themselves as by magic into graceful

green and tender boughs, an inch in diameter sometimes, as I sat at they grow and tax their

my

weak

and tender bough suddenly

when by

;

and

window, so heedlessly did joints, I

fall like

heard a fresh

a fan to the ground,

there was not a breath of air stirring, broken off

its

own

weight.

In August, the large masses of

;

SOUNDS.

when

berries, which,

in flower,

assumed

bees, gradually

125

had attracted many wild

their bright velvety crimson

hue, and by their weight again bent

down ard broke

the

tender limbs.

my window this summer afternoon, hawka are circling about my clearing; the tantivy of wild pigeons, flying by twos and threes athwart my view, or As

I

sit

at

perching restless on the Avhite-pine boughs behind house, gives a voice to the air

;

a fishhawk dimples the

glassy ^urface of the pond and brings up a fish

frog

by the shore

of the reed-birds last

my

marsh before

steals out of the ;

the sedge

flitting

is

country.

For

a mink

door and seizes a

hither and thither; and for the

now dying away and then conveying

;

bending under the weight rattle of railroad cars,

half hour I have heard the

partridge,

my

reviving like the beat of a

from Boston

travellers

the

to

I did not live so out of the world as that

boy, who, as I hear, was put out to a farmer in the east part of the town, but ere long ran away and came home again,

quite

down

at

the

heel

He

and homesick.

aad never seen such a dull and out-of-the-way place even heai the folks were all gone off; why, you couldn't I doubt if there is such a place in Masthe whistle !

sachusetts *«

now

:

—

In truth; cur village has become a butt For one of those fleet railroad sliafts, and o'er Concord " Our peaceful plain its soothing sound is

—

The Fitchburg

Railroad touches the pond about a

uundied rods south of where U>

the village along

its

1 dwell.

I usually go

causeway, and am, as

it

wer?,

WALDEN.

126 related to society

me

The men on

this link.

go over the wliole length of

trains, wlio to

hy

the freight road,

tlie

me

as to an old acquaintance, they pass

bow

so often,

and apparently they take -me for an employee and so I am. I too would fain be a track-repairer somewhere ;

in the orbit of the earth.

The whistle of the locomotive penetrates my wocda summer and winter, sounding like the scream of a over some farmer's yard, informing ine

liasvk sailing

many

that

merchants are arriving within

restless city

the circle of the town, or adventurous country traders

from the other

As

side.

zon, they shout their

they come under one hori-

warning

to get off the track to

the other, heard sometimes through the circles of

Here come your

towns. tions,

countrymen

Nor

!

groceries, country

tle

;

;

so independ-

And

them nay.

ent on his farm that he can say

your pay for them

man

there any

is

two

your rahere's

screams the countryman's whis-

!

timber like long battering rams going twenty miles

an hour against the to seat all the

walls,

city's

and chairs enough

weary and heavy laden

that dwell within

With such huge and lumbering

them.

country hands a chair to the

huckleberry

hills

are stripped,

are raked into the city.

goes the

woven

the woollen

;

cloth

up come

;

all

Up

All

city.

civility

the

Indian

the

meadows down down goes

the cranberry

comes the

up comes the

cotton,

silk,

down goes

the wit

train of cars

moving

the books, but

that writes them.

"When off

"-A'ith

I

meet the engine with

planetary motion,

the beholder that direction orbit

knows not it

will

—

if

its

or, ratlier, like

a comet, for

with that velocity and with

ever revisit this system, since

does not look like a returning curve,

— with

its Jta

SOUNDS.

127

steam cloud like a banner streaming behind in golden

and

silver wreaths, like

have seen, high the light,

—

many

a downy cloud which I

in the lieavens, unfolding its

masses

to

as if this ti-avelling demigod, this cloud-

compeller, would ere long take the sunset sky for the livery of his train

the

hills

when

;

I hear the iron horse

echo with his snort like thunder, shaking the

earth with his

feet,

and breathing

Lis nostrils, (what kind of

fire

and smoke from

winged horse or

fiery

dragon

they will put into the

new

stems as

had got a race now worthy

habit

it.

make

if the earth

If

all

were as

Mythology I don't know,)

it

elements their servants for noble ends

to in-

men made

seems, and !

it

the

If the cloud

engine were the perspiration of

that hangs over the

heroic deeds, or as beneficent as that which floats over

the farmer's self

fields,

then the elements and Nature her-

would cheerfully accompany men on

and be

their errands

their escort.

I watch the passage of the morning cars with the same feeling that I do the rising of the sun, which is

Their train of clouds stretching far behind and rising higher and higher, going to heaven while the cars are going to Boston, conceals the sun for a minute and casts my distant field into the shade, a

hardly more regular.

celestial train beside

which the petty train of cars which

but the barb of the spear. The stamorning by bler of the iron horse was up early this winter fodder and the light of the stars amid the mountains, to

hugs the earth

is

was awakened thus early If the enput the vital heat in him and get him off. the snow If were as innocent as it is early!

harness his steed. to

Fire, too,

terprise

with the deep, they strap jn his snow-shoes, and to the mountains giant plougi; plough a furrow from the

lies

J

WALDEN.

28

seaboard, in vrhich the cars,

barrow, sprinkle

all

a following

like

the restless

men and

drill-

mer-

floating

All day the fire-steed

chandise in the country for seed. flies

over the country, stopping only that his master

rest,

and I

am awakened by when

at midnight,

in

his

some remote glen

reach his

stall

woods

in the

he fronts the elements incased in ice and snow will

may

tramp and defiant snort

only with the morning

;

and he

star, to start

Or

once more on his travels without rest or slumber.

perchance, at evening, I hear him in his stable blowing off the superfluous energy of the day, that he

may

calm his nerves and cool his liver and brain

a few hours of iron slumber. heroic and

wearied

commanding

as

for

If the enterprise were as it

is

protracted

and un-

!

Far through unfrequented woods on the

confines of

towns, where once only the hunter penetrated by day, in the darkest night dart these bright saloons without

the knowledge of their inhabitants

;

this

moment

stop-

ping at some brilliant station-house in town or city, where a social crowd is gathered, the next in the Dismal Swamp, scaring the owl and fox. The startings and arrivals of the cars are now the epochs in the vilThey go and come with such regularity and lage day. precision, and their whistle can be heard so far, that the farmers set their clocks by them, and thus one well con-

ducted institution regulates a whole country. not

Have

men improved somewhat

in punctuality since the

Do

they not talk and think

railroad

was invented

?

faster in the depot than they did in the stage-officer

There

is

something electrifying in the atmosphere of the

formei place. it

has wrought

I have been astonished at the miraclea ;

that

some of

my

neighbors, who, I

SOUNDS. prophesi3d, once for

ihoiilcl hu^viL

129 all,

would never

gel. to

Boston by so prompt a conveyance, are on hand wlicn

To do

the bell nnj^s. the by-word

;

and

tilings " railroad fashion" is

worth the while

is

it

to

now

be warned so

and so sincerely by any power to get off its trackThere is no stopping to read the riot act, no firing over

often

the heads of the mob, in this case.

a

an Atropos, that never turns

fate,

\)e

the

name

at a certain

ward "with

of your engine.)

Men

hour and minute these

are advertised that

bolts will

yet

;

no man's business, and the children go

We

(Let that

aside.

particular points of the compass

the other track. all

have constructed

"VVe

live the steadier for

be shot

interferes

it

Every path but

bolts.

of

Keep on your own

fate.

We

it.

The air your own is

to

me

It does not clasp its

Jupiter.

I see these

ness with

more or

of

is full

the path

is

its

enterprise

hands and

men every day go

less

are

track, then.

What recommends commerce and bravery.

on

to school

educated thus to be sons of Tell.

invisible

to-

i)iay to

about their busi-

courage and content, doing more

even than they suspect, and perchance better employed than they could have consciously devised.

I

am

less

who Buena Vista, than by the steady and cheerful valor of the men who inhabit the snow-plough who have not merely the for their winter quarters affected

by

stood up for half an hour

their heroism

in the front line at

;

morning courage, which Bonaparte thought was the rarest, but whose courage does not

three-o'-clock in the

go

to rest so early,

who go

to sleep only

when

the storm

sleeps or the sinews of their iron steed are frozen. this Btill

On

morning of the Great Snow, perchance, which raging and

ia

chilling men's blood, I hear the muffled

lono of their engine bell from out the fog bank of theii 9

'- ^-

WALDEN.

130

which announces that the cars are coru

chilled breath,

hig, wiLhout long delay, notwithstanding the veto of a

New

England north-east snow storm, and 1 behold the ploughmen covered with snow and rime, their licads p(iering above the mould-board which is turning do^M") other tlian daisies and the nests of field-mice, like bowlders of the Sierra Nevada, that occupy an outside place in the universe.

Commerce

is

unexpectedly confident and serene,

adventurous, and unwearied.

methods withal, prises

far

more

It is

so than

very natural in

many

I

am

freight train rattles

its

fantastic enter-

and sentimental experiments, and hence

gular success.

alert,

refreshed and expanded

sin-

its

when

the

past me, and I smell the stores

which go dispensing their odors all the way from Long Wharf to Lake Champlain, reminding me of foreign

and Indian oceans, and tropical I feel more like a climes, and the extent of the globe. citizen of the world at tlie sight of the palm-leaf which

parts, of coral

will cover so

summer, the

reefs,

many ^axen New England heads the next Manilla hemp and cocoa-nut husks, the

gunny bags, scrap iron, and rusty nails. This is more legible and interesting now they should be wrought into paper and printed

old junk,

ear-load of torn sails

than

if

Who

books.

can write so graphically the history of the

storms they have weathered as these rents have done

They

i'

Here

are proof-sheets which need no correction.

goes lumber from the Maine woods, which did not go out to sea in the last freshet, risen four dollars

sand because of what did go out or was spruce, cedar, io lately

moose,

all

and

—

first,

split

up

;

pinc>

second, third and fourth qualities,

wave over the bear, and Next rolls Thomaston lime, a

of one quality, to cai-ibou.

on the thou-

SOUNDS. prime

^ijt,

which

among

will get far

These rags

gets slack<id.

131

to

which cotton and linen

descend, the final result of dress, are

now no

— of patterns which

longer cried up, unless

it

be in Milwaukie,

as those splendid articles, English, French, or

gathered from

prints, gingliams, muslins, &c.,

ters

and poverty, going

both of fashion

American all

quar-

become

to

paper of one color or a few shades only, on which sooth will be written tales of real

and founded on fish,

the strong

me

minding

Who

fact!

New

of the

England and commercial Grand Banks and the fish,

for-

high and low,

life,

This closed car smells of

has not seen a salt

it

hues and

bales, of all

in

qualities, the lowest condition

the hills before

salt

scent, refisheries.

thoroughly cured for this

and putting the perseverance of the saints to the blush ? with which you may sweep or pave the streets, and split your kindlings,

world, so that nothing can

spoil

it,

and the teamster shelter liimself and his lading against and the trader, as a sun wind and rain behind it,

—

Concord trader once did, hang it up by his door for a sign when he commences business, until at last his oldest customer cannot tell surely whether it l^x, animal, vegetable, or mineral, and yet it shall be as pure as a snowflake, and

if it

be put into a pot and

boiled, will

out an excellent dun fish for a Saturday's dinner.

come Next Spanish

hides, with the tails

still

preserving their

twist and the angle of elevation they had when the oxen that wore them were careering over the pampas

of the Spanish main,

evincing

how

I

type of

all

obstinacy, and

almost hopeless and incurable

stitutional vices.

when

—a

ai-e all

con-

I confess, that practically speaking,

have learned a man's real

disposition, 1

hopes of changing it for the betier or worse

have no

in this state of

WALDEN.

132

As

existence.

the Orientals say, "

A cur's tail

warmed, and pressed, and bound round with and

after a twelve years' labor

will retain its natural form."

bestowed upon

The only

may be

ligaturi^s, it,

stiU

effectual cure

for such inveteracies as these tails exhibit is to

glue of them, which I believe

is

what

is

with them, and then they will stay put and is

it

make

usually done

Here

stick.

a hogshead of molasses or of brandy directed

Smith, Cuttingsville, Vermont, some trader

to

John

among

the

Green Mountains, who imports for the farmers near his and now perchance stands over his bulk-head and thinks of the last arrivals on the coast, how they

clearing,

may

affect the price for

him, telling his customers this

them twenty times before this morning, that he expects some by the next train of moment,

as he has told

prime quality.

It is

advertised in

the Cuttingsville

Times.

While these things go up other things come down. Warned by the whizzing sound, I look up from my book and see some tall pine, hewn on far northern hills, which has winged its way over the Green Mountains and the Connecticut, shot like an arrow through the township within ten minutes,

and scarce another eye be-

holds it; going ** to be the mast Of some great ammiral."

And hark cattle

!

here comes the cattle-train bearing the

of a thousand

yards in the

air,

hills,

sheepcots, stables, and cow-

drovers with their

herd boys in the midst of their

sticks,

and shep-

flocks, all

but the

mountain pastures, whirled along like leaves blown

from the mountains by the September gales.

Th^

;

SOUNDS. aJr

with the bleating of calves and sheep,

filled

is

and the hustling of oxen,

When

going by.

little

as if a pastoral valley

were

the old bell-weather at the head rat-

the mountain^ Jo indeed skip like rams and

tles his bell,

the

133

A

like lambs.

hills

car-load of drovers, too,

on a level with their droves now,

in the midst,

cation gone, but

still

their vo-

clinging to their useless sticks as

But their dogs, where are they? It is a stampede to them they are quite thrown out they have lost the scent. Methinks I hear them bark-

their

badge of

office.

;

ing behind the Peterboro' Hills, or panting up the west-

They

ern slope of the Green Mountains.

Their vocation,

in at the death.

fidehty slink

will not

too, is gone.

and sagacity are below par now.

back

to their kennels in disgrace, or

be

Their

They

will

perchance

run wild and strike a league with the wolf and the fox.

So

is

your pastoral

by

whirled past and away.

and I must get

the bell rings, the cars go

life

;

—

What's the railroad I

Where fills

it

And

my

for

the swallows,

sand a-blowing,

the blackberries a-growing,

like

a cart-path in the woods.

eyes put out and

smoke and steam and

Now

me ?

ends.

It sets the

have

let

a few hollows,

And makes banks

it

the track and

never go to see

It

but I cross

to

oflf

But

my

I will not

ears spoiled by

ita

hissing.

that the cars are gone b^

and

all

the restless

iForld with them, and the fishes in the pond no longef

134

WALDEN. their rumbling, I

feel the,

am more

For

alone than ever.

my

rest of the long afternoon, perhaps,

meditations

are interrupted only by the faint rattle of a carriage or team along the distant highway.

Sometimes, on Sundays, I heard the Acton, Bedford, or Concord

coin,

WIS favorable, a

faint, sweet,

bells,

when

bell,

and, as

it

the wind

were, natural

melody, worth importing into the wilderness. ficient

the Lin

At a

suf-

distance over the woods this sound acquires a

certain vibratory

hum, as

if

the pine needles in the hori

zon were the strings of a harp which

it

swept.

All

sound heard at the greatest possible distance produces^

one and the same

effect,

a vibration of the universal lyre,

makes a distant ridge of earth interesting to our eyes by the azure tint There came to me m this case a melody it imparts to it. which the air had strained, and which had conversed

just

as the

intervening atmosphere

with every leaf and needle of the wood, that portion of the sound which the elements had taken lated and echoed from vale to vale.

up and modu-

The echo

is,

to

some extent, an original sound, and therein is the magic and charm of it. It is not merely a repetition of what was worth repeating in the bell, but partly the voice of the wood the same trivial words and notes sung by a wood-nymph. At evening, the distant lowing of some cow in the hoVizon beyond the woods sounded sweet and melodious, and at first I would mistake it for the voices of certain minstrels by whom I was sometimes serenaded, who might be straying over hill and dale but soon I was not unpleasantly disappointed when it was prolonged into the cheap and natural music of the cow. I do not mean ;

;

CO

be

satirical,

but to express

my

appreciation of those

SOUNDS. jroulhs' singing,

that

it

was akin

when

135

I state that I perceived clearly

music of the cow, and they were

to the

at lengtli one articulation of Nature.

Regularly at half past seven,

one part of the sum-

in

had gone by, the Avhippoor-

iiJ3r,

after the evening train

Tr'ills

chanted their vespers for half an hour,

my door,

by

BtuiDj)

TLey would

sitting

on a

or upon the ridge pole of the house.

begin to sing almost with as

much

pre-

a clock, within five minutes of a particular

cision as

time, referred to the setting of the sun, every evening. I

had a rare opportunity

Sometimes

habits.

to

become acquainted with

their

1 heard four or five at once in dif-

ferent parts of the wood, by accident one a bar behind

me

another, and so near

that I distinguished not only

the cluck after each note, but often that singular buzzing

sound

a spider's web, only proportionally Sometimes one would circle round and round

like a fly in

louder.

me

in the

string,

woods a few

when probably

feet distant as if tethered

was near

I

its

at intervals throughout the night,

eggs.

by a

They sang

and were again as

musical as ever just before and about dawn. '

When

other birds are

Their dismal scream

midnight hags

still

the screech owls take

mourning women

the strain, like

!

It

is

is

truly

up

their ancient u-lu-lu.

Ben

Jonsonian.

Wise

no honest and blunt tu-whit

tu-who of the poets, but, without jesting, a most solemn graveyard ditty, the mutual consolations of suicide lov-

remembering the pangs and the delights of supernal Yet I love to hear their love in the infernal groves. wailing, their doleful responses, trilled along the wooders

side

reminding

;

birds

;

as if

die regrets

it

me

sometimes of music and singing

were the

thirk

and

and sighs that would

tearful side of music,

fain

be sung.

They

!

WALDEN.

136

are the spirits, the low spirits and melanchol}^ for^* bodings, of fallen souls that once in

human shape

night

walked the earth and did the deeds of darkness, nov

hymns or thren transgressions. They givf

expiating their sins with their wailing odies in the scenery of their

me

a

new

sense of the variety and capacity of that na-

ture which

had

never

is

our

common

dwelling.

Oh-o-o-o-o that j

been bor-r-r-r-n! sighs one on this side of

the pond, and circles with the restlessness of despair co

—

some new perch on the gray oaks. Then that [ never had been bor-r-r-r-n ! echoes another on the farther side with tremidous sincerity, and bor-r-r-r-i

—

comes I

faintly

was

from

far in the Lincoln woods.

also serenaded

you could fancy as if she

it

by a hooting owL

Near

at

hand

the most melancholy sound in Nature,

meant by

this to stereotype

and make perma-

—

human being, some poor weak relic of mortality who has left hope behind, and howls like an animal, yet with human sobs, on entering the dark valley, made more awful by a cer

nent in her choir the dying moans of a

tain gurgling melodiousness,

—

I find myself beginning

with the letters gl when I try to imitate

it,

— expressive

of a mind which has reached the gelatinous mildewy stage in the mortification of all healthy and courageous

thought.

reminded

It

me

of ghouls and idiots and in-

But now one answers from far woods Hoo made really melodious by distance,

sane bowlings. in a strain

—

hoo hoo, hoorer hoo

;

and indeed for the most part

it

suggested only pleasing associations, whether heard by

day or I

night,

rejoice

idiotic

summer that

or winter.

there

are

Let them do the men. It is a sound

owls.

and maniacal hooting for

admirably suited to swamps and twilight woods which

SOUNDS. day

ni>

illustrates,

nature which the

137

suggesting a vast and undeveloped

men have

not recognized.

and

stark twilight

unsatisfied thoughts

All day the sun has shone

have.

They represent which

all

on the surface of

some savage swamp, where the single spruce stands hung with usnea lichens, and small hawks circulate above, and the chicadee lisps amid the evergreens, and tho partridge and rabbit skulk beneath but now a more dismal and fitting day dawns, and a different race ;

of creatures awakes to express the meaning of Nature there.

Late in the evening I heard the distant rumbling of wagons over bridges,-*- a sound heard farther than ahnost

any other

at night,

—

the baying of dogs, and sometimes

again the lowing of some disconsolate cow in a distant

In the mean while

barn-yard.

all

the shore rang with

the trump of bullfrogs, the sturdy spirits of ancient winebibbers and wassailers,

still

unrepentant, trying to sing

a catch in their Stygian lake, will

no weeds, there are frogs

up

— the Walden nymphs — who would keep if

pardon the comparison, for though there are almost fain

there,

the hilarious rules of their old festal tables, though

have waxed hoarse and solemnly grave, mocking at mirth, and the wine has lost its flavor, and become only liquor to distend their paunches, and sweet their voices

intoxication never past,

comes

to

drown the memory of the

but mere saturation and waterloggedness and dis-

tention. heart-leaf,

The most

aldermanic, with his chin upon a

which serves for a napkin

to his drooling

chaps, under this northern shore quaffs a deep drau.:jht of the once scorned water, and passes round the cup

with

the

ejaculation

tr-r-r-oonk,

tr-r-r-tonk,

tr-r-r-

oonk! and straightway comes over the water from some

WALDEN.

133

cove the same password repeated, where the

distant

next

m

mark

;

and girth has gulped down

seniority

and when

observance has

this

mad i

to his

the circuit

of the shores, then ejaculates the master of ceremonies,

with satisfaction, tr-r-r-oonh ! and each in his turn repeats the

same down

to the least distended, leakiest,

paunched, that there be no mistake

flabbiest

and

and then

;

the bowl goes round again and again, until the sun disperses the morning mist, and only the patriarch

under the pond, but vainly bellowing to time,

I

am

my

clearing, to

and I thought that

keep a cockerel for

The

merely, as a singing bird.

Indian pheasant

and

if

in

certainly the

is

might music

note of this once wild

most remarkable of any

it

would soon become the most famous

our woods, surpassing the clangor of the goose

and the hooting of the owl kling of the hens to clarions rested

fill

;

—

To walk

in

to

and then imagine the cac-

when their lords* man added this bird

the pauses

No wonder

!

stock,

tame

sticks.

it

his

they could be naturalized without being

domesticated,

to his

not

and pausing for a reply.

crowing from

sound

is

from time

not sure that I ever heard the sound of cock-

be worth the while

bird's,

trooiik

that

say nothing of the eggs and drum-

a winter morning in a wood where

these birds abounded, their native woods, and hear the

wild cockerels crow on the trees, clear and

shrill for

miles over the resounding earth, drowning the feebler notes of other birds, tions

and

on the

ifRC earlier

life, till

wise?

— think of

it

!

It

would put na-

Who

would not be early to rise, and earlier every successive day of his

alert.

he became unspeakably healthy, wealthy, and This foreign bird's note is celebrated by the

poets of all countries along with the notes of their na*

a

SOUNDS.

All climates agree with brave Chan-

iive songsters. ticleer.

He

His health never flag. is

more indigenous even than

is

is

ever good,

Even

awakened by

roused

me

139

the sailor on the Atlantic and Pacilic

voice

iiis

my

from

the natives.

lungs are sound, his spirits

liis

;

but

slumbers.

shrill

its

sound never

I kept neither dog, cat,

cow, pig, nor hens, so that you would have said there

was a

deticiency of domestic sounds

neither the churn,

;

nor the spinning wheel, nor even the singing of the kettle,

nor the hissing of the urn, ncr children crying,

comfort one.

An

old-fashioned

man would have

lost

Not even

rats

his senses or died of ennui before this. in the wall, for they

never baited

in,

were starved

— only

to

out, or rather

squirrels on the roof

were

and under

the floor, a whippoorwill on the ridge pole, a blue-jay

screaming beneath the window, a hare or woodchuck under the house, a screech-owl or a cat-owl behind it, a fiock of wild geese or a laughing loon

a fox to bark in the night.

on the pond, and lark or an

Not even a

oriole, those mild plantation birds, ever visited in"-.

yard.

No cockerels to No yard but

your very

!

sills.

A

crow nor hens

my clear-

to cackle in tlie

unfenced Nature reaching up to young forest growing up under

your windows, and wild sumachs and blackberry vines sturdy pitch-pines breaking through into your cellar for want of shingles rubbing and creaking against the ;

Inroom, their roots reaching quite under the house. gale,— the in off stead of a scuttle or a blind blown behind tree snappid off or torn up by the roots

pine

vour hous3 for

fuel.

Instead of no path to the front-

—

no gate yard gate in the Great Snow, and no path to the civilized world yrard,

— no

!

front-

SOLITUDE.

Tms

\\s. delicious evening,

when

the whole beily

one sense, and imbibes delight through every pore.

i§

I

go and come with a strange liberty in Nature, a part of herself.

in

my

As

I walk along the stony shore of the pond

though

shirt sleeves,

it

and windy, and I see nothing

is

cool as well as cloudy

special to attract me, aU

The

the elements are unusually congenial to me. frogs

trump

to usher in

the whippoorwill

is

borne on the rippling wind from

Sympathy with the and poplar leaves almost takes away over the water. like the lake,

my

bull

the night, and the note of

serenity

is

fluttering

my

breath

aldei ;

yet,

rippled but not ruffled.

These small waves raised by the evening wind are as remote from storm as the smooth reflecting surface. Though it is now dark, the wind still blows and roars in the wood, the waves still dash, and some creatures lull the rest with their notes. The repose is never com-

The wildest animals do not repose, but seek now the fox, and skunk, and rabtit, now roam the fields and woods without fear. They are Naplete.

their prey

ture's

;

watchmen,

anunated

life.

—

linki

which connect the

da;* s

(1^0)

of

SOLITUDE.

When

I return to

been there and ers, or

my

I4i

house I find that

left their cards, either

visitors

have

a bunch of flow-

name in pencil on a They who come rarely

a "^vreath of evergreen, or a

yellow walnut leaf or a chip.

woods take some little piece of the forest into hands to play with by the way, which they leave,

to the

their

One has

either intentionally or accidentally.

willow wand, woven table.

my

it

into a ring,

could always

I

tell

if

and dropped

had

visitors

peeled a

on

my

called

in

it

by the bended twigs or grass, or the print of their shoes, and generally of what sex or age or quality they were by some slight trace left, as a flower dropped, or a bunch of grass plucked and absence, either

thrown away, even as

far off as the railroad, half a mile

by the lingering odor of a

distant, or

cigar or pipe.

Nay, I was frequently notified of the passage of a traveller along the highway sixty rods off by the scent of his pipe.

Our wood horizon is not just at our door, nor the pond, but somewhat is always clearing, familiar and worn by us, appropriated There

is

is

commonly

sufficient space

never quite at our elbows.

about

The

us.

thick

some way, and reclaimed from Nature. For what reason have I this vast range and circuit,

and fenced

in

some square miles of unfrequented forest, for my privacy, abandoned to me by men ? My nearest neighbor a mile distant, and no house is visible from any place have but the hill-tops within half a mile of my own. I distant horizon bounded by woods all to myself; a IS

my

one view of the railroad where it touches the pond on the road woodland hand, and of the fence which skirts the is as solitary it part But for the most the other.

m

where I

live as on the prairies.

It

is

as

much Asia

>

WALDEN.

42

or Africa as

New England.

sun and moon and

At

man

my

unless

;

and a

little

it

were,

world

my own

all to mv-self.

never a traveller passed

night there was

or knocked at last

stars,

I have, as

my

house,

more than if I were the first or were in the spring, when at long in-

door,

it

—

some came from the village to fish for pouts, they plainly fished much more in the Walden Pond of their own natures, and baited their hooks with darktervals

ness,

— but they soon and

kets,

retreated, usually with light bas-

left " the world to darkness

the black kernel of the night

any human neighborhood. erally

are

a

still

little

and

to

me," and

was never profaned by

I believe that

men

are gen-

afraid of the dark, though the witches

hung, and Christianity and candles have been

all

introduced.

Yet I experienced sometimes that the most sweet and tender, the most innocent and encouraging society may any natural object, even for the poor misanthrope and most melancholy man. There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst of There was never yet .Nature and has his senses stiU. Buch a storm but it was -^olian music to a healthy and

be found

in

mnocent

ear.

bravo

man

Nothing can -rightly compel a simple and

to

a vulgar sadness.

While I enjoy the

friendship of the seasons I trust that nothing can life

a burden to me.

beans and keeps

me

The

in the

and melancholy, but good for vents

my

hoeing.

hoeing them, If

it

make

gentle rain which waters

it is

house to-day

me

too.

is

my

not dreai

Though

it

of far more worth than

pre-

my

should continue so long as to cause the

seeds to rot in the ground and destroy the potatoes in 'he

low lands,

it

would

still

be good for the grass on the

upbndsj and, being good for the grass,

it

would be good

SOLITUDE. for me.

men,

it

Sometimes, when I compare mj self with other if I were more favored by the gods than

seems as

they, beyond

any deserts

that I

had a warrant and surety

if I

fellows

have

guarded.

they

am

at their

and were

not,

me.

least oppressed

conscious or

;

guided

if it

as

my

hands which

especially

I do not flatter myself, but

flatter

and

be possible

I have never felt lonesome, or in the

by a sense of

that Avas a few weeks after I for

143

an hour, I doubted

if

solitude, but once,

came

and

woods, when,

to the

the near neighborhood of

man

was not essential to a serene and healthy life. To be alone was something unjjleasant. But I Avas at the same time conscious of a slight insanity in my mood, and

my

seemed

to foresee

tle rain

while these thoughts prevailed, I was suddenly

In the midst of a gen-

recovery.

sensible of such sweet and benelicent society in Nature, in the very pattering of the drops,

sight

around

my

and

in

every sound and

house, an infinite and unaccountable

friendliness all at once like an atmosphere sustaining

me, as made the fancied advantages of human neighborhood insignificant, and I have never thought of them

Every little pine needle expanded and swelled with sympathy and befriended me. I was so distinctly made aware of the presence of something kindred to since.

me, even

in

scenes which

we

are accustomed to call

wild and dreary, and also that the nearest of blood

me and

huraanest was not a person nor

to

a villager, that

I thought no place could ever be strange to " Mourning untimely f^onsumcs the sad

me again.—

;

Feu- are their clays in the hind of the living, Beautiful dauglitcr of Toscar."

Some

of

my

pleasantest hours were during the long

WALDEN.

14 i

rain storms in the spring or the house for the afternoon

me

which confined

fall,

to

as well as the forenoon,

soothed by their ceaseless roar and pelting

;

when an

early twilight ushered in a long evening in which

many

thoughts had time to take root and unfold themselves.

In those driving north-east rains which houses

so,

when

the maids stood ready with

pail in front entries to

my

door in

my

little

thoroughly enjoyed

der

tried the village

its

keep the deluge

mop and

out, I sat

house, which was

behind

entry,

all

and

In one heavy thun-

protection.

shower the lightning struck a large pitch-pine

making a very conspicuous and perfectfrom top to bottom, an inch or more deep, and four or five inches wide, as you would across the pond,

ly regular spiral groove

groove a walking-stick.

I passed

it

again the other

awe on looking up and beholdmore distinct than ever, where a ing that mark, now terrific and resistless bolt came down out of the harmday, and was struck with

less

Men

sky eight years ago.

" I should think

and want

to

you would

be nearer to

nights especially."

I

frequently say to me,

feel

lonesome down there,

folks, rainy

am

tempted

and snowy days and to reply to such,

This whole earth which we inhabit space.

How

yonder

disk cannot be appreciated

should I feel lonely?

is

solitary?

other.

Why

What

man from

to

me

not to be the

sort of space is that

his fellows

and makes

I have found that no exertion of the

bring two minds

What

the breadth of whose

by our instruments ?

This which you put seems

which separates a legs can

star,

two most

not our planet in the Milky

most important question.

him

but a point in

far apart, think you, dwell the

distant inhabitants of

Way ?

is

—

much nearer

do we want most

to

to

dwell

one annear to

SOLITUDE.

Not

to

many men

surely, the

145 depot,

the post-office,

the bar-room, the meeting-house, the school-house, the

Beacon

grocery,

whence

to the perennial source of our hfe,

in all our experience

issue, as the its

Five Points, where men

Hill, or the

most congregate, but

we have found

that to

willow stands near the water and sends cut

This

roots in that direction.

natures, but this

is

will

vary with

difFercnt

man

the place where a wise

will dig

his cellar. ... I one evening overtook one of

my towns-

men, who has accumulated what

handsome

property,"

— though

called " a

is

I never got a fair view of

on the Walden road, driving a pair of

who

inquired of

me how

I could bring

it,

-^•

cattle to

market,

my mind

to give

up so many of the comforts of life. I answered that I was very sure I liked it passably well I was not joking. And so I went home to my bed, and left him to pick ;

his

way through

the darkness and the

mud

to Brighton,

— or Bright-town, — which place he would reach some time in the morning.

Any prospect dead man makes Hace where 1

that

of awakening or coming to indifferent all times

may occur is

and

life to

places.

a

The

always the same, and indethe most part

For

.ribably pleasant to all our senses.

we allow only outlying and transient circumstances to make our occasions. They are, in fact, the cause of our distraction.

Nearest to

all

Next

fashions their being.

continually being executed.

man wliom we have to talk, but the

"

How

things

is

that

to us the grandest

to us is

whom we

love so well

workman whose work we is

laws are

not the work-

Next

hired, with

vast and profound

power which

are.

the influence of the sub-

!'' powers of Heaven and of Earth « We seek to perceive them, and we do not see them

tile

10

j

;

WALBEN.

146

we seek tified

\\

1o

ith

we do

hear them, and

not hear them

iden-

;

the substance of things, they cannot be sepa-

rated from them." " They cause that in

all

the universe

men

purify and

and clothe themselves in offer sacrifices and oblations to

thcii

sanctify their hearts,

holiday garments to It is

ancestors.

an ocean of

arc every where, above us, on our

environ us on

llicy

We n

left,

on our right

all sides."

are the subjects of an experiment which

Can we

interesting to me.

little

their

They

subtile intelligences.

not

is

not do without the

society of our gossips a httle while under these cir-

cumstances,

— have

our

own

thoughts to cheer us

?

Confucius says truly, "

Virtue does not remain as an

abandoned orphan

must of necessity have neigh

;

it

bors."

With thinking we may be

beside ourselves in a sano

By a conscious effort of the mind we can stand actions and their consequences; and all things, from aloof sense.

good and bad, go by us

wood on

in the stream, or

it.

I

may be

a torrent.

like

wholly involved in Nature.

I

may be

We

are not

either the drift-

Indra in the sky looking down

affected

by a

theatrical exhibition

;

on

the other hand, I mai/ not be affected by an actual event

which appears to concern me much more. I only know myself as a human entity ; the scene, so to speak, cf thoughts and affections and am sensible of a certain doubleness by which I can stand as remote from myself ;

as from another.

However

intense

my

experience, I

am ctmscious of the presence and criticism of a part of me, which, as it were, is not a part of me, but spectator,

sharing no experience, but taking note of

*hati ia

no more I than

it

is

you.

When

it

;

and

the play,

it

147

80LITUDE.

may his

bo

tragedy, of

tlic

life is

way.

may

us poor neiglibors and friends

make

easily

This double-

wis concerned.

nation only, so far as he

ness

over, the spectator goes

It was a kind of fiction, a work of the imagi*

sometimes. 1 find

wholesome

it

To be

the time.

in

be alone the greater part of company, even with the best, is to

Boon wearisome and dissipating.

I love to be alone.

I

never found the companion that was so companionable are for the most part more Lmely as solitude.

We

when we go abroad among men than when wo

A man

our chambers. alone, let iiim

thinking or woiking

be where he

will.

Solitude

is

stay in

always

is

not meas-

a ured by the miles of space that intervene between

man and

his fellows.

The

really diligent student in

is as one of the crowded hives of Cambridge College The farmer can solitary as a dervis in the desert. hoeing or work alone in the field or the woods all day, is emhe because and not feel lonesome,

chopping,

ployed

down

;

in

but

when he comes home

a room

at night

he cannot

sit

alone, at the mercy of his thoughts,

folks," and but must be where he can "see the for his day's soliand as he thinks remunerate, himself how the student can sit tude and hence he wonders

recreate,

;

most of the day withAlone in the house all night and ;" but he does not realize that out ennui and ÂŤ the blues house, is still at work the student, though in the the farmer and chopping in Ids woods, as

m his m his,

field,

and

same recreation and society that torm though it may be a more condensed

in turn seeks the

the latter does, "^

Society

is

commonly

tihort intervals,

too -heap.

We

not having had time to

meet

at very

acquire any new

WALDEN.

148

We meet at meals three times a other a new taste of that old musty and give each day, cheese that wf-. are. We have had to agree on a certain value for each other.

set of rules, cnlled etiquette

and

fiequent meeting tolerable and that

^Ve meet

open war.

to

(hick

and are

in

for

sider

not come

and at the

niglit;

we

live

we

thus lose some respect for

frequency would

sutfioe

important and hearty communications.

Con-

tlie girls

dreams.

It

in

— never

a factory,

would be better

if

alone, liardiy in their

there were but one in-

habitant to a square mile, as where

of a

this

each other's way, and stumble over one

Certainly less

anotlier. all

every

fireside

another, and I think that

one

we need

at the post-office,

and about the

sociable,

make

politeness, to

man

is

not in his skin, that

I have heard of a man

The value

I live.

we should touch him, woods and dying

lost in the

of famine and exhaustion at the foot of a tree, whose

was relieved by the grotesque visions with which, owing to bodily weakness, his diseased imagination surrounded him, and which he beheved to be real. So also, owing to bodily and mental health and strength, we may be continually cheered by a like but more norloneliness

mal and natural never

society,

and come

to

know

that

we

are

al jne.

I have a great deal of company in pecially in the morning,

when nobody

my

house

calls.

;

I^et

es-

me

some one may convey am no more lonely than the

suggest a few comparisons, that

an idea of

my

loon in the

Pond pray

?

itself.

And

angels in

it,

situation.

I

pond that laughs so loud, or than Walden AVhat company has that lonely lake, I yet

it

in the

has not the blue devils, but the blue

azure

tint

of

jdone, except in thick weather,

its

waters.

when

The sun

is

there somstimea

SOLITUDE. appear to alone,

two, but one

b*^

— but

tlie devil,

ture, or

a bean I

ble-bee.

am

is

;

God

a mock sun.

far

is

company

sees a great deal of

more lonely than a

he

119

from being alone

he

is

legion.

I

;

is

he

am no

single mullein or dandelion in a pas-

or sorrel, or a horse-Hy, or a

leaf,

no more lonely than the

]Mill

hum-

Brook, or a

weathercock, or the north star, or the south wind, oi an

April shower, or a January thaw, or the

a

new I

spider in

house.

have occasional

when

first

the snow

visits in

falls

wood, from an old

fast

settler

the long winter evenings,

and the wind howls

in the

and original proprietor, who

Walden Pond, and stoned it, and fringed it with pine woods; who tells me stories of old time and of new eternity and between us we manage to pass a cheerful evening with social mirth

is

reported to have dug

;

and pleasant views of things, even without apples or a most wise and humorous friend, wliom I love cider, much, who keeps himself more secret than ever did

—

Gotfe or Whalley

;

and though he

none can show where he

is

is

buried.

thought to be dead,

An

elderly dame,

neighborhood, invisible to most persomesons, in whose odorous herb garden I love to stroll times, gathering simples and listening to her fables;

too, dwells

in

my

has a genius of unequalled fertility, and her mcn;ory runs back farther than mythology, and she what can tell me the original of every fable, and on every one is founded, for the incidents occurred

for she

fact

when she was young. A ruddy and lur^ty who deliglits in all weathers aud seasons, and

old <lam(;, is

likely to

lutlive all her children yet.

The

indescribable innocence and beneficence of Na-

!

WALDEN.

150

— of sun and wind and — such such

rain, of

ture, ter,

summer and win-

cheer, they afford

health,

forever

and such sympathy have they ever with our race, that all Nature would be affected, and the sun's brightness fade,

and the winds would sigh humanely, and the clouds

rain tears, and the

mourning

in

woods shed

midsummer,

Am

earth?

and put ou

any man should ever

for

a

Shall I not have intelligence with

just cause grieve.

the

if

their leaves

not partly leaves

I

and vegetable

mould myself?

What tented

is

Not

?

pill

which

my

or thy great-grandfather's, but our

the

great-grandmother

will

Nature's

keep us

well, serene, con-

universal, vegetable, bo-

by which she has kept herself young many old Parrs in her day, and fed her health with their decaying fatness. For my pana* tanic medicines,

always, outlived so

cea, instead of

one of those quack

of a mixture

.vials

dipped from Acheron and the Dead Sea, which come/ out of those lono^ shallow black-schooner lookino' wa":ons

which we sometimes see made

to carry bottles, let

have a draunrht of undiluted mornin^j

men

If

air!

will not

it

we must even

\o?t their subscription

But remember,

day even I

ticket to it

up some and

am

who

liavf

morning time in this keep quite till noon-

will not

in the coolest cellar,

ples long ere that rora.

bottle

in the shops, for the benefit of those

world.

JMoniins

drink of this at the fountain-head

of the day, why, then, sell

air.

but drive out the stop-

and follow westward the steps of Au-

no worshipper of Ilygeia, who was the

daughter of that old herb-doctor ^sculapius, and is

me

represented on

monuments holding a serpent

in

who one

hand, and in the other a cup out of which the serpent

SOLITUDE. joraetimes drinks;

but rather of Hebe, cupbearer to

who was the daughter and who had the power

Jupiter, tuce,

men

151

of Juno and

Avild let-

of restoring gods and

She was probably the only thoroughly sound-conditioned, healthv, and robust young lady that ever walkod the globe, a.id wherever she camo it

to the vigor of youth.

was spring.

VISITORS.

I THINK that I love society as much as most, and am ready enough to fasten myself like a bloodsucker for the time to any full-blooded man that comes in my

way.

I

am

naturally no hermit, but might possibly

out the sturdiest frequenter of the bar-room, if ness called

me

my

sit

busi-

thither.

I had three chairs in

my

house

;

for friendship, three for society.

one for

When

solitude, visitors

two

came

and unexpected numbers there M'as but the third chair for them all, but they generally economized the room by standing up. It is surprising how many I great men and women a small house will contain.

in larger

have had twenty-five or thirty souls, with their bodies, at once under my roof, and yet we often parted without being aware that we had come very near to one another. Many of our houses, both public and private, with their almost innumerable apartments, their huge halls and their cellars for the storage of wines

of peace, appear to

They

inhabitants. matter

seem

to

me

and other munitions

extravagantly large for their

are so vast and magnificent that the

be only vermin which infest them. (152)

I anc

VISITORS. 8111

prised

when

153

the herald blows his

summons

before

some Trcmont or Astor or Middlesex ilousc, to see come creeping out over the piazza for all inhabitants a ridiculous mouse, wliich soon again slinks into in the

some h dIo

pavement.

One inconvenience

I sometimes

experienced in so

small a house, the difficulty of getting to a sufficient dis-

my

tance from

thoughts

guest

when we began

to utter the big

You want room

big words.

in

your

for

thoughts to get into sailing trim and run a course or

two before they make their thought must have overcome

motion and fallen into

DO

it

its

The

port. its

lateral

last

and ricochet

may

it

room

the interval.

Individuals, like nations,

and form

plough out

Also, our sen-

of his head.

tuices wanted

to unfold

your

and steady course before

reaches the ear of the hearer, else

rgain throu2:h the side

bullet of

'

their

must

columns

in

liave suit-

able broad and natural boundaries, even a considerable neutral ground, between them.

I

have found

it

a sin-

gular luxury to talk across the i)ond to a comi)anion on the opposite side.

In

we could not begin enough

to

my

house we were so near that

to hear,

— we

could not speak low

be heard; as wlien you throw two stones

calm water so near that they break each other's If we are merely loquacious and loud undulations.

into

talkers, then

we

can afford to stand very near

cheek by jowl, and

we speak

feel

each other's breatii

reservedly and thoughtfully,

fai-ther apart, that all

animal heat and

have a chance to evaporate. most intimate society with that without, or above, being spoken Bilent,

togetlier, ;

we want

but

if

to

b'-'

moisture ina'

If

we woukl enjoy

in

each of us which

to,

we must

not only

tl'^ > '^

but commonly so far apart bodily that we can^ÂŽ

'

WALDEN.

154

any

possibly hear each other's voice in to this standard,

who

tilings

speech

is

we have

if

assume a

we gradually shoved our

they touched

many

fine

to shout.

As

are

but there

;

which we cannot say

the conversation began to tone,

for the convenience of those

hard of hearing

are

Referred

case.

and grander

loftier

uU

chairs farther apart

the wall in opposite

and

corners,

thtii

commonly there was not room enough.

My

" best" room, however,

my withdrawing

room,

al-

ways ready for company, on whose carpet the sun rareTliitlier in ly fell, was the pine wood behind my house.

summer

days,

when

distinguished guests came, I took

thpm, and a priceless domestic swept

floor

tlie

and

dusted the furniture and kept the things in order.

came he sometimes partook of my frugal was no interruption to conversation to be a hasty-pudding, or watching tiie rising and ma-

If one guest

meal, and stirring

it

turing of a loaf of bread in the ashes, in the

But

if

my

twenty came and sat in

mean

while.

house there was

nothing said about dinner, though there might be bread

enough habit

;

for two,

we

but

more than

if

eating were a forsaken

naturally practised abstinence

was never

felt to

the most

proper and considerate course.

and decay of physical

life,

this

its

The waste

which so often needs

seemed miraculously retarded dtal vigor stood

and

;

be an offence against hospitality, but

in

repair,

such a case, and the

I could entertain thus a

ground.

housand as well as twenty and if any ever went away isappointed or hungry from my house when they found ;

e at home, they ized with

them

usekoepers doubt \s in

may depend upon

at least. it,

So easy

to establish

the place of the old.

is

it

that I

it,

new and

You

sympa-

though many better ens-

need not

rest

youi

—

;:

155

VISITORS. reputation on

tlie

was never so

I

dinners you give.

effectually deterred

For

my own

pai1,

from frequenting a

man's house, by any kind of Cerberus whatever, as by the parade one made about dining me, which I toolv to bo

a very polite and roundabout hint never I think

so again.

Spenser which one of

a yellow walnut leaf «•

for

my

a card

him

revisit those scenes.

have for the motto of

should be proud to lines of

never

I shall

to trouble

:

my cabin

visitors inscribed

—

I

those

on

little house they fill, entertainment where none was

Arrived there, the

No looke Kest

their feast,

is

The

for

and

all

mind the

noblest

things at their will

best contentment has."

afterward governor of the Plymouih

When Winslow,

Colony, went with a companion on a visit of ceremony to Massassoit on foot through the woods, and arrived tired

and hungry

at his lodge, they

were well received

by the king, but nothing was said about eating that day.

When the night arrived, to quote their own words, He laid us on the bed with himself and his wife, they **

one end and we at the other, it being only plank, laid a foot from the ground, and a thin mat upon them. Two more of his chief men, for want of room,

at the

pressed by and upon us of our lodging than of

we were worse weary our journey." At one o'clock ;

so that

lie had the next day Massassoit " brought two fishes that "these behig shot," about thrice as big as a bream;

boiled, there

them.

were

The most

at least forty looked for a share in

ate of them.

This meal only we had

two nights and a day and had not one of us bought' Fear' a pnrtridge, we had taken our journey fasting." foo of want for ing that they would be light -headed

i'l

;

/ ^

AVAL DEN.

156

and also

sleep,

owing

to

"the savages' barbarous singing asleep,) "

(for they used to sing themselves

thej might get

home

they departed.

As

and

while they had strength to

for lodging,

it is

that

trav(;l,

true they were but

poorly entertained, though what they found an incon

venience was no doubt inter ied for an honor

was concerned,

as eating

could have done better. selves,

I

;

but as far

do not see how the Indians

They had nothing

and they were wiser than

to eat

them-

to think that apolo-

gies could supply the place of food to their guests

;

so

they drew their belts tighter and said nothing about it. Another time when Winslow visited them, it being a season of plenty with them, there was no deficiency in this respect.

As

for

men, they

had more

will hardly fail

one any where.

I

woods than

at

visitors while I lived in the

any other period of

my

life

I

;

mean

that I

had some.

met several there under more favorable circumstances But fewer came to see else.

1

than I could any where

trivial business. In this respect, my company was winnowed by my mere distance from town. I had withdrawn so far within the great ocean of solitude, into which the rivers of society empty, that for the most part, so far as my needs were concerned, only the Beside, there finest sediment was deposited around me.

me upon

were wafted

to

me

evidences

of unexplored and un-

cultivated continents on the other side.

Who true

should come to

lodge this morning but a

Homeric or Paphlagonian man,

able and poetic a it

my

here,

name

that I

am

— he had

so suit-

sorry I cannot print

— a Canadian, a wood-chopper and post-maker

vho can hole

fifty

posts in a day,

who made

upper on a woodchuck which his dog caught.

his last

He,

toes

VISITORS.

Hom^,

has heard of

and, " if

would ''not know what

it

157

were not

for books,"

dj rainy days," though per-

to

haps he has not read one wdiolly through for

Some

rainy seasons.

priest

who

many

could pronounce the

Greek itself taught him to read his verse in the testament in his native parish far away and now I must ;

translate to him, wdiile

he holds the book, Achilles' re-

proof to Patroclus for his sad countenance. are

}

ou in

tears, Patroclus, like

a young

They say

And

He

"

?

that Mencetius lives yet, son of Actor,

Peleus

Either of

''

girl ?

" Or have you alone heard some news from Phthia

— Why —

son of ^acus, among the Myrmidons, having died, we should greatly grieve."

lives,

whom

He has a great bundle

says, " That's good."

oak bark under

his

Sunday morning.

arm

for a sick

of w' hite-

man, gathered

this

harm in going To him Homer

" I suppose there's no

after such a thing to-day," says he.

was a great writer, though what his writing was about he did not know. A more simple and natural man it would be hard to find. Vice and disease, which cast such a sombre moral hue over the world, seemed to

have hardly any existence for him. He was about twenty-eight years old, and had left Canada and his father's

States,

to work in the buy a farm with at last, pe) He was cast in the coarse native country.

house a dozen years before

and earn money

haps in his

to

mould; a stout but sluggish body, yet gracefully carrie 5\'ith

a thick sunburnt neck, dark bushy hair, and d

•olecpy

blue eyes, which were occasionally

expression.

He

wore a

fiat

up

gray cloth cap, a

wool-colored greatcoat, and cowhide boots. ^reat

lit

consumer of meat, usually carrying

I

v^'^

dii^

He wa his dinnf

WALDEN.

I5i5

his

a couple of miles

vN'^ork

chopped

all

summer,

cold woodchucks,

and

—

a

in

tin pail

a drink.

He came

He

which dan-

along early, crossing

He

my

bean-

get to his

to

wasn't a-going to

he only earned

didn't care if

when

his

dog had caught a woodchuck by the

his

way, and go back a mile and a half in tlie cellar of the

in the

it

pond

safely

"

it

and leave

an hour whether he could not nightfall,

till

long upon these themes. the morning,

to dress

house where he boarded, afler de-

liberating first for half

in

he

Frequently he would leave his dinner in the

board.

bushes,

sink

for

and sometimes he offered

;

work, such as Yankees exhibit. hurt himself.

—

cold meats, often

though without anxiety or haste

field,

it

;

house,

coffee in a stone bottle

gled by a string from his belt

me

my

past

How

He

thick

working every day were not

— loving

to dwell

would say, as he went by the

my

pigeons are

!

If

trade, I could get all

—

meat I should want by hunting, pigeons, woodchucks, rabbits, partridges, by gosh I could get all I should want for a week in one day." He was a skilful chopper, and indulged in some flourishes and ornaments in his art. He cut his trees level and close to the ground, that the sprouts which the

—

!

came up afterward might be more vigorous and a sled night slide over the stumps and instead of leaving a ;

hole tree to support his corded wood, he Avould j)are

away

to

a slender stake or splinter which you could

with your hand at

eak

off

He

interested

'f

me

last.

because he was so quiet and

and so happy withal

;

a well of good humor and

tentment which overflowed at his eyes. without alloy. e woods,

Sometimes I saw him

felling trees,

soli-

His mirth at his

work

and he would greet me with

t

i.OX

1.

v^i\o<

Ivif

laugh of inexpressible satisfection, and a salutation in Canadian French, though he spoke English as welL When I approached him he would suspend his work, B

and with half-suppressed mirth lie along the trunk of a pine which he had felled, and, peeling off the inner bark, roll it up into a ball and chew it while he laughed and talked. Such an exuberance of animal spirit* had he that he sometimes tumbled down and rolled on the ground with laughter

any thing which made him think and tickled him. Looking round upon the trees " By George he would exclaim, I can enjoy myself well enough here chopping; I want no better sport." at

—

Sometimes, when at in the

!

leisure,

woods with a pocket

he amused himself

pistol, firing salutas to

he walked.

self at regular intervals as

he had a a

kettle

;

fire

by which

and as he

at

sat

all

him-

In the winter

noon he warmed

on a log

day

his coffee in

to eat his

dinner the

chicadees would sometimes come round and alight on his

arm and peck

said that

at the potato in his fingers

he " liked

to

have the

little

and he

;

fellers

about

him."

man

was developed. In physical endurance and contentment he was cousin to I asked him once if he was not the pine and the rock. Rometimes tired at night, after working all day and ho In him the animal

chiefly

;

answered, with a sincere and serious look, " Gorrappit, I never was tired in

what

is

my

called spiritual

life."

man

in

But the intellectual andi him were slumbering aaf

He

had been instructed only in that in I nojent and ineffectual way in which the Catholic priests teach the aborigines, by which the pupil is never edi

hi

an

infant.

cated to the degree of consciousness, but only to the d gree of trust and reverence, and a child is not mad

WALDKN.

160

man, but kept a child. When Nature made him. she gave him a strong body and contentment for his portion,

and propped him on every side with reverence and reliance, that he might Hve out his threescore years and

He was

ten a child. that

so genuine

no introduction would serve

and unsophisticated

to introduce him,

more

you introduced a woodchuck to your neighbor. had got to find him out as you did. He would not play any part. Men paid him wages for Avork, and so than

if

He

helped to feed and clothe him; but he never exchanged

He was

opinions with them.

— —

humble pires

if

that humility

was no

and naturally

gods to him.

If

he did as

you

if

distinct

quality in him,

Wiser men were demiwas comhe thought that any thing so grand

nor could he conceive of

ing,

so simply

he can be called humble who never as-

told

it.

him

that such a one

would expect nothing of himself, but take all the sponsibility on itself, and let him be forgotten still.

He

never heard the sound of praise.

erenced the writer and the preacher. ances were miracles. considerably, he

When

He

particularly rev-

Their perform-

him

I told

re-

that I wrote

thought for a long time that

it

was

"

merely the handwriting which I meant, for he could

^^

write a remarkably good hand

can

found the

^'o

in the

"^ t

accent,

name of his native parish handsomely written snow by the highway, with the proper French and knew that he had j^assed. I asked him if

^^

he ever wished

'^^

had read and written

"*-{\e

never tried

He

to write his thoughts. letters for those

to write thoughts,

what

—

who

he

said that

could not, but

no, he 'jould not, he

him, and then same time withx heard that a distinguished wise man and reformer

would

'^'ould

not

tell

tentiere

was

spelling to be attended to at the

'^

I somctimef;

himself.

e wo«

to put

first, it

kill

!

161

VISITORS. a-^ked

him

if

he did not want the world

be changed;

to

but he answered with a chuckle of surprise in his Canadian accent, not knowing that the question had ever been entertained before, " No, I like it well enough." It

would have

pher

to

suggested

many

have dealings with him.

peared to know

a philoso-

things to

To a

stranger he ap-

nothing of things in general

;

yet I some-

man whom I had not seen before, know whether he was as wise as Shak-

times saw in him a

and I did not

speare or as simply ignorant as a child, whether to sus-

him of a fine poetic consciousness or of stupidity. townsman told me that when he met him sauntering

pect

A

through the village in his small whisfiing to himself,

close-fitting cap,

and

he reminded him of a prince in

disguise.

His only books were an almanac and an arithmetic, he was considerably expert. The former was a sort of cyclopoidia to him, which he supposed to contain an abstract of human knowledge, as indeed it I loved to sound him on does to a considerable extent.

in

which

last

the various reforms of the day, and he never failed to

most simple and practical light. He had never heard of such things before. Could he do without factories? I asked. He had worn the home-

look at

them

in the

made Vermont

gray, he said,

and that was good.

Could

he dispense with tea and coffee ? Did this country afibrd any beverage beside water ? He had soaked h(;mlock leaves in water and drank it, and thought that was better

than water in

warm

weather.

When

I asked

liira

he could do without money, he showed the convenience of money in such a way as to suggest and

if

coincide with origin of

tliis

most philosophical accounts of the mstitution, and the very derivation of tlw the

11

WALDEN.

162

word pecunia.

ox were

If an

property, and he

his

wished to get needles and thread at the it

store,

he thought

would be inconvenient and impossible soon

to

go on

mortgaging some portion of the creature each time

He

that amount.

many

could defend

to

institutions better

than any philosopher, because, in describing them as they concerned him, he gave the true reason for their prevalence, and speculation had not suggested to liim

any

other.

of a man,

At another

time, hearing Plato's definition

— a biped without

thought the

it

— and

feathers,

and called

hibited a cock plucked

it

that one ex-

Plato's

man, he

an important difference that the knees bent He would sometimes exclaim, " How

wrong way.

I love to talk

By

!

George, I could talk

all

day

asked him once, when I had not seen him for months,

if

he had got a new idea

Lord," said he, " a

man

this

summer.

"

!

"

I

many Good

that has to Avork as I do, if he

does not forget the ideas he has had, he will do well.

May

be the man you hoe with is inclined to race ; then, by gorry, your mind must be there you think of weeds." He would sometimes ask me first on such occasions, if ;

I had

him

made any improvement.

if

he was always

One

satisfied

winter day I asked

with himself, wishing to

suggest a substitute within him for the priest without,

and some higher motive he

;

"

some men are

satisfied

One man,

with another.

with one thing, and some

perhaps,

will

be

and

his belly to the table,

satisfied

" Satisfied!" said

for living.

to sit all

he has got enough,

if

day with

his

back

to the lire

by George " Yet I never, by any manoeuvring, could get him to take the spiritual view of things the highest that he appeared to con!

;

ceive of was a simple expediency, such as you might

expect an animal to appreciate

;

and

this, practically, ia

VISITORS.

men.

true of mos;t

mode

his

of

If I suggested any improvement in he merely answered, without express

life,

ing any regret, that

was too

it

ly bilieved in honesty

There was a slight, to

was thinking

that he

re-origination

Yet

in his

for himself

and

it,

it

life,

that,

rarely ripened to any thing

it

He

suggested that there might

illiterate,

view always, or do not pretend as bottomless even as

may

who

my

life,

however

own

take their

to see at all

;

who

Walden Pond was thought

are

to be,

be dark and muddy.

a traveller came out of his

ihe inside of

to tlic

was so primitive and immersed though more promising than a

permanently humble and

Many

any day

amounted

of genius in the lowest grades of

though they

own

his

of the institutions of society.

which can be reported.

men

and expressing

failed to express himhe always had a presentable thought be-

merely learned man's, be

however

originality,

and perhaps

his thinking

animal

thoroufrh-

so rare that I would

many

hesitated,

self distinctly,

hind.

positive

to observe

of

Yet he

late.

like virtues.

him, and I occasionally observed

in

phenomenon

walk ten miles

Though he

and the

certain

be detected

opinion, a

163

house, and, as an

usked for a glass of water.

1 told

way

to see

me and

excuse for calling,

them

that I drank at

the pond, and pointed thither, offering to lend them a dipper.

Far

off as I

lived, I

was not exempted from

first

annual visitation which occurs, methinks, about the of April, when every body is on the move and I

had

share of good luck, though there were some

tliat

;

my

curious specimens

among my

visitors.

Half-witted

from the almshouse and elsewhere came to see

me

men ;

bu;

WALDEN.

164 I endeavored io

make

had, and

make them

exercise all the wit they

then' confessions to

me;

in such casea

making wit the theme of our conversation and so was compensated. Indeed, I found some of them to be wiser than the so called overseers of the poor and selectmen ;

of the town, and thought

With

were turned.

it

was time that the

respect

to

wit,

I

tables

learned

that

much difference between the half and One daj, in particular, an inoffensive,

there was not

whole.

the

whom

simple-minded pauper, seen used as fencing

stuff,

with others I had often

standing or sitting on a bushel

in the fields to keep cattle

and himself from

visited me, and expressed a wish

me, with the utmost simplicity and

told

superior, or rather inferior, to

sti-aying,

truth,

any thing that

is

" deficient in intellect."

humility, that he

was

were

The Lord had made him so, cared as much for him

his words.

supposed the Lord "I

another.

childhood

I

;

have

He

to live as I did.

quite called

These yet he as

always been so," said he, " from

never had much mind

;

I

was not

for

my

like other

am weak in the head. It was the Lord's And there he was to prove the truth will, I suppose." I of his words. He was a metaphysical puzzle to me. children

;

I

have rarely met a fellow-man on such promising ground,

—

was so simple and sincere and so true all that he And, true enough, in proportion as he appeared said. I did not know at to humble himself was he exalted. it

first

but

it

was the

result of a wise policy.

It

seemed

that from such a basis of truth

and frankness as the poor

weak-headed pauper had

our intercourse might go

forward

to

laid,

something better than the intercourse of sages

I had some guests from those not reckoned commonly

among

the town's poor

but

who should be; who

are

—

;;

VISITORS. uniong

IQH

world's poor, at any rate

tlie

;

guests

who

appeal,

not to your hospitality, but to your 1w$pitalality ;

who

earnestly wish to be helped, and preface their appeal

with the information that they are resolved, for one thing, never to help themselves.

I require of a visitor

that he be not actually starving, though he

the very best appetite in the world,

Objects of charity are not guests.

know when

my

about

their visit

Men who

it.

did net

had terminated, though I went

business again, answering them from greater

and greater remoteness. of wit called on

who had more

me

wits

Men

of almost every degree

from time

Some

migrating season.

in the

than they knew what

slaves with plantation manners,

runaway

may have

however he got

to

who

do with listened

to time, like the fox in the fable, as if they

heard the hounds a-baying on their track, and looked at

me

beseechingly, as

"

One

real

much

Christian, will

runaway

slave,

as to say,

you send

me back ? '*

among

the rest,

whom

I

helped to forward toward the northstar. Men of one idea, like a hen with one chicken, and that a duckling

men

of a thousand ideas, and unkempt heads, like those

hens which are made to take charge of a hundred cliickens, all in pursuit of one bug, a score of them lost

every morning's dew,

in

— and

men

become

frizzled

of ideas instead of

in consequence a sort of intellectual centipede that made you erawl all over. One man proposed a book in which

and mangy

;

legs,

visitoi-s

tains

;

should write their names, as at the White

but, alas

necessaiy.

!

I

Moun-

have too good a memory to make

that

"WALDEN.

166

I could not but notice some of the peculiarities of

my

seemed glad

erally in

Girls

visitors.

the pond and

Men

time.

and boys and young women genbe in the woods.

to

They looked

and improved

at the flowers,

their

of business, even farmers, thought only of

and emjjloyment, and of the great distance

solitude

at

which I dwelt from something or other; and though they said that they loved a ramble in the woods occca-

was obvious that they did not. committed men, whose time was all taken up sionally,

a living or keeping if

it

ministers

;

who spoke

they enjoyed a monopoly of the subject,

not bear

kinds of opinions

all

who

housekeepers

when

I

Restless

it

was

out,

pried

;

into

— how came

in getting

of God as who could

doctors, lawyers, uneasy

my

cupboard and bed

Mrs.

to

—

know

that

my sheets were not as clean as hers? young men who had ceased to be young, and had concluded that it

was

sions,

to

safest to follow the beaten track of the profes-

—

all

these generally said that

do so much good

the rub.

The

in

my

old and infirm

it

was not possible

Ay

position.

and the

!

there was

timid, of Avhatever

age or sex, thought most of sickness, and sudden accident and death to them life seemed full of danger,

—

;

what danger

is

there if you don't think of any

they thought that a prudent

man would

?

— and

carefully select

where Dr. B. might be on hand at a moment's warning. To them the village was literally a com-munity, a league for mutual defence, and you would suppose that they would not go a-huckleberrying without a medicine chest. The amount of it is, if a the safest position,

man

is alive,

there

is

always danger that he

though the danger must be allowed poj'tion as

he

is

to

be

may

die,

less in pro-

dead-and-alive to begin with.

A man

;

\ISITORS. Sits

as

many

self-styled

risks as

he runs.

reformers,

tlie

167 Finally, there were the

greatest

thought that I was forever singing, This

is

the house that I built;

This

is

the

out they did not

man

know

bores of

—

all,

who

that lives in the house that I built

that

tlie

third

Ime was,

—

These arc the folks that worn' the man That lives in the house that 1 built.

I did not fear the hen-harriers, for I kept no chickens but I feared the men-harriei's rather. I had

more cheering

visitors than the last.

men

come

a-berrying, railroad

walk

in clean shirts, fishermen

philosophers, in short,

all

Children

taking a Sunday morning

and hunters, poets and

honest pilgrims,

who came

out to the woods for freedom's sake, and really village behind, I

was ready

to

gi-eet with,

left

the

— " Wel-

come, Englishmen! welcome. Englishmen!" for Iliad

had oornmunicatior with that

race.

THE BEAN-FIELD-

Meanwhile my

beans, the length of whose rows,

was seven miles ah-eady plauted, were impatient to be hoed, for the earliest had grown considerably before the latest were in the ground indeed they added

togetlier,

;

were not

easily to be put

Wliat was

off.

tlie

meaning

of this so steady and self-respecting, this small Herculean labor, I

knew

me

tached

came

I

not.

many more

Deans, though so

to tlie earth,

But why should

to love

my

rows,

my

They atstrength like Au-

than I wanted.

and so I got

Only Heaven summer, to make this portion of the earth's surface, which had yielded only cinquefoil, blackberries, johnswort, and the like, before, sweet wild fruits and pleasant flowers, pro-

tieus.

knows.

This Avas

duce instead or beans of late I It is

this

me ?

fine

I raise

pulse.

What

to

them

broad leaf

fertility is in

lean

and

the soil

effete.

—

all

shall I learn of

;

and

My

this is

itself,

this

which

my

My

to look on.

dews and rains which water

the

them ?

curious labor

beans

I cherish them, I hoe them, early and

have an eye a

my

day's work.

auxiliaries are

dry

for the

soil,

and what

most

pai't is

enemies are worms, cool days, and (168)

THE BEAN-FIELD.

169

most of all fioodchucks. Tlie last ha\e nibbled for me a quarter of an acre clean. But what right had I to oust johnswort and the rest, and break up their ancient herb garden? Soon, however, the remaining beans will

be too tough for them, and go forward

meet new

to

f)es.

When

T was

four years old, as I well remember,

1 was brought from Boston to this

through these very woods and It

is

one of the oldest scenes stamped on

And now ;

my

to-night

The

that very water.

I

my

flute

pines

still

stand here older than

some have fallen, I have cooked stumps, and a new growth is rising

paring another aspect for

pond.

my memory

has waked the echoes over

or, if

their

native town,

this field, to the

my supper with around, pre-

all

new

infant eyes. Almost the same johnswort springs from the same perennial root in this pasture, and even I have at length helped to clothe

that fabulous landscape of

of the results of

my

my

and one

infant dreams,

presence and influence

is

seen in

these bean leaves, corn blades, and potato vines. I planted about two acres and a half of upland

and was only about fifteen years since the land was cleared, and I myself had got out two or three cords of stumps, I did not give it any manure but in th course of the summer it appeared by the arrow-heads which I turned up in hoeing, that an extinct nation had as

;

it

;

anciently dwelt here and planted corn and beans ere

white

men came

to clear the land,

and

so, to

some ex

had exhausted the soil for this very crop. Befox"e yet any woodchuck or squirrel had run across the road, or the sun had got above the shrub ttnt,

oaks, while

all

the

warned me against

dew was it,

on,

though the fai-m^ra

— I would advise you

to

do aU

WALDEN.

170 your work

if possible

to level the ranks of

and throw dust upon

while the

dew

on,

is

haughty weeds

in

— I began

my

bcan-ficld

Early in the morning

their heads.

I worked barefooted, dabbling like a plastic artist

dewy and crumbling

my

sand, but later in

tiie

in the

day the sun

There the sun lightâ‚Źd me to hoe beans, pacing slowly backward and forward over that yellow gravelly upland, between the long green i\ ws, llftcen rods, tlie one end terminating in a slirub oak copse where I could rest in the shade, tlie other in a blackberry field where the green berries deepened their tints by the time 1 had made another bout. Removing the weeds, putting fresh soil about the bean stems, and blistered

feet.

weed which I had sown, makinnj the yellow soil express its summer thought in bean leaves and blossoms rather than in wormwood and piper and millet grass, making the earth say beans instead of grass, this was my daily work. As I had little aid from encoura"rin"j this

—

horses or cattle, or hired

men

or boys, or improved im-

plements of husbandry, I was much slower, and became

much more

labor of the hands, even

drudgery, It

my

intimate with

is

beans than usual.

when pursued

to the verge of

perhaps never the worst form of idleness.

has a constant and imperishable moral, and to

scholar

it

But

A

yields a classic result.

tlie

very agricola labo'

was I to travellers bound westward through liincoin and Wayland to nobody knows where; they sitting riosus

at their ease in gigs, with elbows

loosely hanging in festoons

native of the their sight

soil.

;

1 the home-staying, laborious

But soon

and thought.

on knees, and reins

my

homestead was out of

It Avas the

only open and

tivaled field for a great distance on either side of rcaJi

so they

made

the most of

it

;

c^ul-

tlie

and sometimes the

THE BEAN-FIELD. in

aaaii

he

heard more of

field

comment than was meant peas so late!"

had began

— the

"Does he

bonnet of the gray coat er reins up

travellers' gossip

husbandman

my

boy, for fodder;

and recommends a or

it

may

little

chip

and two hands

draw

to

and horses,

sion to other carts

plaster.

to

fields

know how

was one

field

were hoc

it,

— there being an aver-

— and

chip dirt far away.

which they had passed, so

I stoo:l in

waste

only a

Fellow-travellers as they ntttled by compared

with the

furrow,

little

IVjt here

and

fin-rows,

what yon

ihe

or any

dirt,

be ashes or

two acres and a half of for cart

corn

and the hard-featured farm-

;

grateful dobbin to inquire

his

liiid

there?" asks the black

live

are doing where he sees no manure in

stuff,

and

ear: " Beans so late!

ministerial

"Corn,

it.

fodder."

Iiis

for I continued to plant Avhen others

hoe,

to

not suspected for

—

for

171

it

aloud

tliat I

came This

the agricultural world.

not in Mv. Coleman's report.

And, by the

way, who estimates the value of the crop which Nature yields in the

The

crop

still

wilder fields unimproved by

of English

moisture calculated, the dells

and pond holes

hay

is

silicates

in the

man?

carefully weighed,

and the potash; but

woods and

the in all

))astures

and

swamps grows a rich and various ci'op only unreaped by man. Mine was, as it were, the connecting link between wild and cultivated

fields

;

as

some

states

are

civihzed, and othei's half-civilized, and others savage cr

barbarous, so «l

my

half-cultivated

field field.

was, though not in a bad sense,

They were beans

cheerl'uUy

returning to their wild and primitive state that rated, and

my

hoe played the

Rans

I

cuhi-

des Vaches for them

upon the topmost spray of a birch, or red mavis, as some love t<h «ing3 the brown-thrasher

Near

at hand,

—

WAT.DEN.

172 call

him

—

would here.

V/liile

"Drop

it,

up, pull it

another farmer's

— cover

it,

up, pull

it

field

yours were

it'

you are planting the seed, he

drop

it

it

up, cover

But

up."

this

his rigmarole, his

it

up,

r.ot

cries,

—

—

pull

was not corn, and

from such enemies as he.

wa.) safe

what

the morning, glad of your locioty, that

all

tind ou<

You may

it

so

M'onder

amateur Paganini performances

g or on twenty, have to do with your planting, and yet prefer it to leached ashes or plaster. It was a

on one

strii

cheap sort of top dressing

As

I

drew a

still

in

which I had entire

fresljer soil

faith.

who

hoe, I disturbed the aslies of unchronicled nations in primeval years lived

small implements of

my

about the rows with

under these heavens, and their

war and hunting were brought

to

modern day. They lay mingled with other natural stones some of which bore the marks of having been burned by Indian fires, and some by \he sun, and also bits of jjottery and glass brought hither by the recent cultivators of the soiL "When my hoe the light of this

tinkled

the

against

woods and

sky, and

tl:e

music echoed

stones, that

to

was an accompaniment and immeasurable

labor whiL-h yielded an instant It

was no longer beans that I hoed, nor I

that

my

ci'op.

hoed

remembered with as much pity as pride, remembered at all, my acquaintances who had gone

beans if I

tlie

to

;

and

I

to the city to attend the oratorios.

clod overhead in the

made a day of en's eye, falling

sound as rags and

if

sunny afternoons like

a mote

—

for

cij-

Isometimea

in the eye, or in

heav-

from time to time with a swoop and a were rent, torn at last to very

the heavens

tatters,

small imps that

ground on

—

it

The night-hawk

bai*e

and yet a seamless cope remained the air and lay their eggs on the

fill

sand or rocks on the tops of

hills,

where

THE BEAN-FIELD.

173

few Ila^> found them; graceful and slender ilU ripup from tlie, pond, as leaves arc raised bv the wind 10 float in the heavens such pies cai.ght

kindredship

;

N<Mlure.

The hawk

is

i„

aerial brother of

is

tlie wave which over mid surveys, tliose his perfect air-infiated wirgs answering to the elemental unriedged

he

saiis

the sea.

Or sometimes

pinions of I watched a pair of hen-hawks

cu-.ling high in the sky, alternately soaring

and descendmg, ai)proaching and leaving one another, as if they were the imbodiment of my own thoughts. Or I was attracted by the passage of wild pigeons fi-om this

wood

to that, with

a

sliglit

quivering winnowing sound and

carrier haste or from under a rotten stump my hoe turned up a sluggish portentous and outlandish spotted salamander, a trace ol* Egypt and tlie Nile, yet our contemporary. When I paused to lean on my hoe, tliese sounds and sights I heard and saw any wiiere ;

in

the

row, a part of the inexhaustible entertainment which the country offers.

On

gala days the toAvn

fires

its

great guns, "wljich

echo like popguns to mai-tial

away

tliesc woods, and some waifs of music occasionally penetrate thus far. To me,

tlici-e

in

my

bean-lield at the other end of the

town, the big guns sounded as

if

a puff ball had burst;

and when there

Avas a military turnout of Avhich I was igucrant, I have sometimes had a vague sense all the day of some sort of itching and disease in the horizon,

as if

some eruption would break out there

scarlatina or canker-i-ash, until at

length

soon, either

some more

favorable puff of wind, making haste over the

up the Wayland road, brought " trainers."

me

fields

information of

and tiie

seemed by the distant hum as if somebody's bees had swarmed, and that the neighbors, It

;

WALDEN.

174

nccording to Virgirs advice, by a faint tintinnabulum

upon

mwt

tlic

endeavoring

sonorous of their domestic utensils, wen*,

to

down

tiiem

call

hive again.

into the

And when

the sound died quite away, and the

hum

h:id ceased,

and the most favorable breezes

tale,

I

knew

no

told

that they had got the last drone of tlicm all

now

JMiddlesex hive, and that

safely into the

minds were bent on the honey with which

their

it

t\'as

smeared. I

felt

setts

proud to know that the

liberties of

and of our fatherland were

and as

I

my

turned to

in

hoeing again I was

inexpressible confidence, and pursued fully with a

When

calm trust

filled

my

with an

labor cheer-

in the future.

were

there

Massachu

such safe keeping

bands of musicians,

several

it

was a vast bellows, and the buildings expanded and collapsed alternately

sounded as all

with a

But sometimes

di]!.

inspiring

the village

if all

that

strain

it

was a

reached

these

trumpet that sings of fame, and

1

Mexican with a good

—

s\ni a

always stand for

trifles?

chuck or a skunk

—

relish,

really noble

woods, and the

felt

for

as

I could

if

why

should

:ind looked I'ound for

to exercise

my

and

we

a wood-

These

chivalry upon.

away as Palestine, and march of crusaders in the horizon,

martial strains seemed as far

reminded

me

of a

with a slight tantivy and tremulous motion of the elmtree tops Avhich ")f

the (/real days

;

thongh

tlie tlie

village.

\lail}',

and

I

saw no

This was one

sky had from

the same everlastingl}' great look

'^nly

It

overhang

diflereiK-e in

my

that

clearing it

wears

it.

was a singular exjierienee that long acquaintance

which I cultivated with beans, what with planting, and hoeh]g, and harvesting, and threshing, ard picking over,

— THE BEAN-FIELD. them,

arid selling

—

last

tlic

I migiit add eating, tor I

mined

know

to

five o'elock in the

and commonly spent the affairs.

was the hardest of all,— I was detertaste.

did

Wlien they were growing, 1 morning till noon,

beans.

used to hoe from

175

rest of the

day about other

Consider the intimate and curious acquaintance

one makes with various kinds of weeds,

Gomc

—

it

will

bear

no

little

iteration in the account, for there Avas

iteration in the labor,

—

disturbing their dehcate organi-

and making such invidious dishoe, levelling whole ranks of one

zations so ruthlessly, tin2tions with

Bpicies,

and

his

sedulously

Eoman wormv.'ood, — — have

cultivating

that's

that's piper-grass,

roots

upward

the shade,

if

at him,

that's sorrel,

chop him up, turn his

to the sun, don't let

you do

him have a

fibre in

turn himself t'other side up

he'll

and be as green as a leek

in

A long war

two days.

not with cranes, but with weeds, those Trojans

sun and rain and dews on their

saw me

Tiiat's

another.

pigweed, —

side.

who had

Daily the beans

come to their rescue armed with a hoe, and

thin the ranks of their enemies, fiUing up the trenches

with weedy dead. ihat towered a

Many

a lusty crest-waving Hector,

whole foot above his crowding comrades,

my

weapon and rolled in the Those summer days which some of before

fell

ries

dust.

my

contempora-

devoted to the fine arts in Boston or Rome, and

ethers to contemplation in India, and others to trade in

London or of

New

New

York, I thus,

England, devoted

wanted boans

to eat, for I

to

Avith the

other farmers

husbandry.

am by

Not

tliat

I

nature a Pythagorean,

60 far as beans are concerned, whether they

mean

por*

ridge or voting, and exchanged them perchance, as some must work in fields

rice

but,

for if

;

only for the

WALDEN.

176

sake of tropes and expression, to serve a parabk-makei

one day.

was on the whole a rare amusement,

It

which, continued too long, might have become a dissipa-

Though

tion.

them

all once,

them no manure, and did not lice I hoed them unusually well as far as I I gave

it in the end, " there being in " truth," as Evelyn says, no compost or lastation v/hat-

went, and was paid for

soever comparable to this continual motion, repastina-

and turning of the mould with the spade." " The earth," he adds elsewhere, " especially if fresh, has a certain magnetism in it, by which it attracts the salt, tion,

power, or virtue is

the logic of

to sustain us

;

(call it either)

which gives

it life,

we keep

and

all

the labor and stir

all

dungings and other sordid temperings

being but the vicars succedaneous to

about

it,

improvement."

this

Moreover, this being one of those " worn-out and exhausted

lay

fields

perchance, as Sir

which enjoy

Kenelm Digby

" vital spirits " from the air.

sabbath,"

their

liad

thinks likely, attracted

I harvested twelve bushels

of beans.

But to be more particular, for it is complained that Mr. Coleman has reported chiefly the expensive ex-

my

periments of gentlemen farmers, For a hoe,

"...

Peas

ÂŤ

.

Too mucb

3 12^ 1

line for

crow

fence,

.... ... ....

Horse cultivator and boy three hours, Horse and cart to get crop, In

54 7 50,

,

—

33

40

Turnip sssd,

My

.

for seed,

Potatoes

White

$

,

Ploughing, harrowing, and furrowing,

Beans

outgoes were,

all,

06

02 1

00 75

$14

72j

income was, (patrem familias vendacem^ noa

emacem

esse oportet,)

from

THE BEAN-FIELD, Pn.ie bushels

" "

Five

Nine

177

and twelve quarts of beans sola,

,

$16 94

.

large potatoes,

2 50

small,

2 25

Grass,

In

$23

.ill,

profit, as I

my

tha result of

is

common

Plant the

experience in raising beans.

small white bush bean abou^

aparr, being careful to select fresh

iic-hes

round and unmixed

Then

an exposed

is

place,

look out for woodchucks, if

for

they will nibble off the

earliest tender leaves almost clean as

when

young

the

have notice of

tendrils

and

it,

But above

all

make sitting

harvest as early as

they go

tliem

erect

save

much

loss

by

this

further experience

with both

oti*

like

])ossibIe, if

escape frosts and have a fair and salable

Tliis

and again,

;

their appearance, they

will shear

buds and young pods,

a squirrel.

you would crop; you

means. also

I

gained.

I said to

myself, I will not plant beans and corn with so

industry another summer, but such seeds, not

tlie

First look out for worms, and supply vacancies

Bced.

by planting anew.

may

-i-l

have elsewhere saM, of ยง3 71 \.

of June, in rows three feet by eighteen

first

it

75

.

Leaving a pecuniary

This

00

1

Stalks,

lost,

and the

it

the seed

is

as sincerity, truth, simplicity, faith, innocence, like,

even with surely

if

much

and see

less toil

if they will not grow in this soil, and manurance, and sustain me, for

has not been exhausted for these crops.

I said this to myself; but

now another summer

and another, and another, and I

am

Alas! is

gone,

obliged to say to

you, Reader, that the seeds which I j^lanted,

if indeed they we7'e the seeds of those virtues, were wormeaten oi

had

and so did not come up. Com only be brave as their fathers wera

lo>t their vitality,

tnonly

men

will

12

-

WALDEN.

178

This generation

braTC, or timid.

com and

new year

beans eacli

is

if tlicre

were a

my

fate in

astonishment, making

time ut

for llie seventietli

least,

down in But why try new adventures, and not lie

liis

man

old

and not

lay so

the other

for himself to

New

much

Englander

stress

on Lis

potato and grass crop, and his orchard;->,

Why

raise other crops than these?

as

holes with a hoe

tlie

should not the

!

grain,

first settlers to do.

saw an

I

it.

to plant

precisely is th(; Indians

did centuries au;o and tauirlit the

day, to

very sure

—

concern ourselves

much about our beans for seed, and not ])e concerned a new generation of men ? We should realbe led and cheered if when we met a man we were

so

at all about ly

sure to see that some of the qualities wliich I have

named, which we

more than those other pro-

prize

all

ductions, but which are for the most part broadcast floating in the air, liad taken root

Here comes such a

and

subtile

stance, as truth or justice,

new

or

variety of

it,

We We

siiould

along the road.

him.

home such

to distribute

amount

Our ambassadors seeds as these,

them over

all

the land.

witli sincerity.

should never cheat and insult and banish one an-

worth and

haste.

not to

if

We

should not meet thus in

Most men have time they are busy about I do not meet at

;

would not deal with a

mushroom, but

thing

there were present the kernel

friendliness.

man

on a hoe or a spade as a a

slightest

never stand upon ceremony

other by our meanness, ^f

in

ineffable quality, for in-

though the

should be instructed to send

and Congress help

and grown

and

more than

for they

seem

their beans.

We

all,

thus plodding ever,

staff

l!:\aning

between his work, not as

partially risen out of the earth, some* erect, like

ing on the ground

:

—

swallows alighted and walk

THE BEAN-FIELD. "Ami]

.is

he spake, his wings would now and then

Spread, as he meant to

60 that

we

then close again,"

fly,

should suspect that

-vve

might be conversing

Bread may not always nourish us

with an angel.

always does us good,

it

179

it

even takes

stiffness

but

;

out of our

and makes us supple and buoyant, when we knew noi what ailed us, to recognize any generosity in man joints,

or Nature, to share any

unmixed and heroic joy.

Ancient poetry and mythology suggest, at least, that husbandry was once a sacred art but it is pursued with ;

ii-reverent haste

and heedlessness by

us,

our object being

have large farms and large crops merely.

to

no

festival,

We

have

nor procession, nor ceremony, not except-

ing our Cattle-shows and so called Thanksgivings, by which the farmer expresses a sense of the sacredness

of his calling, or the

reminded of

is

premium and the

rifices

its

sacred origin.

which tempt him.

feast

sac-

not to Ceres and the Terrestrial Jove, but to the

infernal

Plutus rather.

and a groveUing regarding the

habit,

soil as

By

avarice and selfishness,

from which none of us

property, or the

ing property chiefly, the landscape

bandry

He

It i3

is

degraded with

meanest of

lives.

Cato says that the

us,

is free,

of

means of acquiris

deformed, hus-

and the farmer leads the

He knows

Nature but as a robber.

profits of agriculture are particularly

pious or just, (maximeque pius qucBstus,) and according

Varro the old Romans " called the same earth INIothcr and Ceres, and thought that they who cultivated it 'ed a pious and useful life, and that they alone were to

itifr

of the race of

AV^e are

wont

tivated fields

King Saturn."

to forget that the

and on the

sun looks on our cul-

prairies

and

forests without

WALDEN.

180

They all reflect and ?.ht30r'b his rays alike, former make but a small part of the glorious

distinction.

and the

picture which he beholds in his daily course.

view the earth Therefore

we

is

all

should receive the benefit of his light

and heat with a corresponding

What though hav3 looked

trust

and magnanimity.

I value the seed of these beans, and har-

vest that in the I

In his

equally cultivated like a garden.

fall

of the year ?

This broad

at so long looks not to

away from me which water and make it

cultivator, but

me

field

which

as tne principal

to influences

more

genial to

These beans have results which are not harvested by me. Do they not grow for woodchucks partly ? The ear of wheat, (in it,

green.

Latin spica, obsoletely speca, from spe, hope,) should not be the only hope of the husbandman grain (gra7ium, from gerendo^ bearing,) it

bears.

How,

.''

paratively whether the fields

husbandman

squirrels manifest

and

all

that

Shall I not

com-

It matters little fill

the

farmer's

barns.

cease from anxiety, as the

will

every day, relinquishing

xiot,

all

sacrificing in his

his last fruits also.

not

no concrn whether the woods

bear chestnuts this year or

fields,

?

kernel or

abundance of the weeds whose seeds

are the granary of the birds

true

is

then, can our harvest fail

rejoice also at the

The

its

;

and

finish his labor

will

with

claim to the produce of Ids

mind not only

his first buk

THE VILLAGE.

After

hoeing, or perhaps reading and writing, in the

swimming and washed the dust

forenoon, I usually bathed again in the pond, across one of

its

of labor from

my

coves for a

stint,

person, or smoothed out the last wrin-

kle which study had made, and for the afternoon was ab-

Every day or two I strolled to the village to hear some of the gossip which is incessantly going on there, circulating either from mouth to mouth, solutely free.

or from ne\vspaper to newspaper, and which, taken in

homoeopathic doses, was really as refreshing in its way As I as the rustle of leaves and the peeping of frogs.

woods

to see the birds

walked

in the

walked

in the village to see the

of the wind

among

squirrels, so I

boys

;

instead

the pines I heard the carts rattle.

In one direction from rauskrats in

and

men and

the river

my

house there was a colony of

meadows

;

under the grove of

elms and buttonwoods in the other horizon w^as a village of busy men, as curious to me as if they had been prairie dogs, each sitting at the

mouth of

its

running over to a neighbor's to gossip. frequently to

observe their habits.

The

burrow, or

I went there village ap* (181)

— WALDEN.

f82 pearcd

me

tc

support

it,

a great news room

Street, they Icept nuts

and

rhe former commodity, that

organs,

avenues without througli ether, pain,

is, tlie

that tlicy can

stliring,

Company's on State and meal and

and

vast appetite lor

news, and such sound forever in public

sit

let it

simmer and whisper

ihem

like the P^tesian winds, or as if inhaling

oiily

producing numbness and insensibility to

it

— otherwise

it

would often be painful

without atfecting the consciousness. failed,

side, to

raisins, or salt

Some have such a

otiier grocei'ies.

digestive

and on one

;

&

Redding

as once at

Avhen

1

rambled through the

I

toÂť

hear,

hardly ever

village, to see

a row

of sucii worthies, either sitting on a ladder sunning themselves, with their bodies

inchned forward and their eyes

glancing along the line this time,

way and

that,

from time

to

with a voluptuous expression, or else leaning

against a barn with their hands in their pockets, like caryatides, as if to prop t)ut

They, being commonly

up.

it

of doors, heard whatever was in the wind.

dre the coarsest mills, in which all gossip digested or cracked

and more

up before

it

is

is first

These rudely

emptied into finer

delicate hoppers within doors.

I

observed that

the vitals of the village were the grocery, the bar-room,

the post-office, and the bank of

tlie

;

machinery, they kept a

engine, at convenient places

;

and, as a necessary part

bell,

a big gun, and a

fire-

and the houses were so

ar-

ranged as to make the most of mankind, in lanes and fronting one another, so that every traveller had to run

the gantlet, and eveiy man, lick at him. est to the

Of

woman, and

who were statioiied nearwhere they could most see

course, those

head of the

line,

and be seen, and have the Lighe'^t prices

child might get a

first

for their places

;

blow at him, paid the

and the few straggling

THE VILLAGE. inhabitants in the outskirts,

began

to occur,

183

where long gaps

."n

the line

traveller could get over walls

and the

cow paths, and so escape, paid a very Signs were liung out slight ground or window tax. some to catch him by the on all sides to allure him some by appetite, as the tavern and victualling cellar the fancy, as the dry goods store and the jeweller's and or turn aside into

;

;

:

others by the hair or the feet or the skirts, as the barber, the still

shoemaker, or the

more

tailor.

Besides, there Avas a

terrible standing invitation to call at

every

one of these houses, and company expected about these For the most part I escaped wonderfully from times. these dangers, either by proceeding at once boldly and

without deliberation to the goal, as those

who

is

recommended

run the gantlet, or by keeping

on high things,

like

my

to

thoughts

Orpheus, who, " loudly singing the

drowned the voices of Sometimes I the Sirens, and kept out of danger." bolted suddenly, and nobody could tell my wliereabouts, for I did not stand much about gracefulness, and never

praises of the gods to his lyre,

I was even accustomed some houses, where I was well learning the kernels and very last

hesitated at a gap in a fence. to

make

an irrufjtion into

entertained, and after

had subsided, the prospects of

sieve-ful of news, wliat

war and

peace, and whether the world

together

much

was

longer, I

let

was

likely to hold

out through the real

avenues, and so escaped to the woods again. It

was very

i)leasant,

Avhen I staid late in town, to

launch myself into the night, especially

and temfjestuous, and

set

sp.il

parlor or lecture room, with a

upon

my

shoulder, for

having made

all

my

if it

was dark

from some bright viUage bag of rye or Indian meal

snug harbor in the woods,

tight without

and withdrawn under

184

WALDEN.

.

hatches with a merry crew of thoughts, leaving only

man

outer it

was

at the hehn, or

I had

many

a genial thought by was never cast away any weather, though I encountered

plain sailing.

the cabin fire " as I sailed."

nor distressed in

some severe storms.

common

my

even tying up the helm when

nights, than

It is

I

darker in the woods, even in

most suppose.

I frequently had to

look up at the opening between the trees above the path

my route, and, where there was no cartwith my feet the faint track which I had

in order to learn

path, to feel

worn, or steer by the known relation of particular trees

which I

felt

with

for instance, not

my

hands, passing between two pines

more than eighteen inches

apart, in the

midst of the woods, invariably in the darkest night.

Sometimes, after coming home thus

muggy

when my

night,

feet felt the

could not see, dreaming and absent-minded until I

was aroused by having

dark and

late in a

path v/hich

to raise

my

all

my

eyes

the way,

hand

to

lift

the latch, I have not been able to recall a single step of

my

walk, and I have thought that perhaps

would as the ance.

my

body

way home if its master should forsake it, way to the mouth without assistSeveral times, when a visitor chanced to stay into

find its

hand

evening, and

finds its

it

proved a dark night, I was obliged

to

conduct him to the cart-path in the rear of the house,

and then point out to him the direction he was to pursue, and in keeping which he was to be guided rather

by

One very dark night I diway two young men v.dio had been pond. They lived about a mile off through

his feet than his eyes.

rected thus on their fishing in the

the woods, and were quite used to the route.

two

after

one of them told

me

that they

A

day or

wandered

about the greater part of the night, close by their

own

;

THE VILLAGE. premises, and

/iid

not get

home

185 toward morning, by

till

which time, as there had been several heavy showers

mean

the

while, and the leaves were very wet, they

drenched to their

when

astray even in the village streets,

was so saying

thick that

you could cut

Some who

is.

town a-shopping

to

many

I have heard of

skins.

in

were going

the darkness

with a knife, as the

it

live in the outskirts,

having como

have been obliged

in their wagons,

and gentlemen and

making

to put

up

h

have gone half a mile out of their way, feeling the

call

for the night;

ladies

and not knowing when they turned. It is a surprising and memorable, as well as valuable experience, to be lost in the woods any time. sidewalk only with their

feet,

Often in a snow storm, even by day, one will come out upon a well-known road and yet find to

which way leads

tell

knows

that he has travelled

not recognize a feature in as if

it

were a road

perplexity walks, like

we and

it

village.

impossible

Though he

a thousand times, he can-

but

it

By

greater.

is

as strange to

him

night, of course, the

In our most

trivial

are constantly, though unconsciously, steering

by

pilots

lands,

it

it,

in Siberia.

infinitely

is

the

to

if

certain well-kfiown

we go beyond our

beacons and head-

usual course

we

still

car-

ry in our minds the bearing of some neighboring cape

and not for

a

till

man

we

are completely

or turned round,

—

needs only to be turned round once with his

eyes shut in this world to be the

lost,

lost,

— do we appreciate

vastness and strangeness of Nature.

Every man

hp4S to learn the points of compass again as often a3 he awakes, whether from sleep or any abstraction. Not till

wc

are

world, do

we

lost,

in other words, not

we begin

till

to find ourselves,

we have

lost the

and realize where

are and the infinite extent of our relations.

WALDEN.

l86

One afternoon, near tlie end of the firsv snmmei when I went to tlie village to get a shoe from the cobwas seized and put

bler's, I

have

into jail, because, as I

elsewhere related, I did not pay a tax

or recognize

to,

of, the state which buys and sells men, women, and children, like cattle at the door of its senateLouse. I had gone down to the woods for other pur-

the authority

man

But, wherever a

poses.

paw him

men

goes,

pursue and

will

with their dirty institutions, and,

constrain

him

to belong to their desperate

society.

It

true, I

more or society

;

is

they can,

if

odd-fellow

might have resisted forcibly with

less effect, might have run "amok" against but I preferred that society should run " amok"

against me,

it

However,

being the desperate party.

my mended season to get my

I

was

released the next day, obtained

shoe, and

returned to the woods in

dinner of

on Fair-Haven Hill. 1 was never moby any person but those who represented the

huckleberries lested state.

held

had no lock nor bolt but

I

my

windows.

I never fastened

though I was the next

And

yet

for the desk

papers, not even a nail to put over

to

fall I

my

my

not even

;

file

The

of soldiers.

and warm himself by

my

my

dinner, and

Vet, though

my

many people

to the ])ond, I

I

had

tired

ram-

the

liter-

my

closet door, see

what prospect

if it

fire,

ary amuse himself with the few books on the curious, by opening

of

when

spent a fortnight in the woods of iNIaine.

house was more respected than

bler could rest

which

latch or

door night or day,

be absent-several days

been surrounded by a

left

my

table, or

what was

had of a supper.

of every class

came

this

way

suffered no serious inconvenience fiom

these sources, and I nover missetl any thing but one

small book, a volume of

Homer, which perhaps

v/as in*

THE VILLAGE.

187

properly gilded, and this I trust a soldier of our has found by this time.

I

were

I

simply as

to live as

nm

convinced, that

camp if all men

then did, thieving and robbery

would be unknown.

These take j)lace only in comnumiwhere some have got moi-e than is sufficient while others have not cnougli. The Pope's Homers would ties

soon get properly

d'=t'-'h:itp'l.—

" Ncc bclla fucrunt, Faginus astabat duin scyphus ante dapcs." *' Nor wars did men molest, "When only bcechen bowls were in request."

"

You who

to

govei'n public affairs,

employ punislnnents

will

like

be virtuous. the wind

the grass

bends."

;

;

The

?

Love

and the people

virtues of a superior

the virtues of

the grass,

what need have you

virtue,

when

a common man

the whid

passes

man

are

are like

OTer

iti

;

fHE rujsus.

S:;MET-'iÂŤrES, Hnci gossip,

bled

having had a

and worn out

all

surfeit of

my

human

society

village friends, I ram-

farther -westward than I habitually dwell, into

still

yet more

unfrequented

parts

woods and pastures new,"

or,

of the town, " to

fresli

while the sun was setting,

made my supper of huckleberries and blueberries on Fair Haven Hill, and laid up a store for several days. The fruits do not yield their true flavor to the purchaser of them, nor to him who raises them for the market. There is but one way to obtain it, yet few take that way. If you would know the flavor of huckleberries, Hhk the cow-boy or the partridge. to

It is

a vulgar error

suppose that you have tasted huckleberries who never

plucked them.

A

huckleberry never reaches Boston

they have not been known there since they grew on her three

hills.

The

ambrosial and essential part of the

fruit is lost with the

market

cart,

bloom which

is

rubbed

off in the

and they become mere provender.

As

long as Eternal Justice reigns, not one innocent huckleberry- can be transported thither

from the country's

hiUs.

as8>

THE PONDS.

189

my hoeing was done for the day, I some impatient companion who had been fishing on the pond since morning, as silent and motionless as a duck or a floating leaf, and, after practising Occasionally, after

Joined

various kinds of philosophy, had concluded commonly, tlie time I arrived, that he belonged to the ancient

by

sect of Coenobites.

cellent

and

fjsher

who was

There was one older man, an exskilled

in

pleased to look upon

erected for the

his lines.

kinds of woodcraft,

my

house as a building

convenience of fishermen

when he

equally pleased

all

Once

sat in

in a while

we

my

many words

passed between

in his later years, but

v/hich

Our

doorway

sat together

he at one end of the boat, and I

;

and to

was

arrange

on the pond,

at the other

us, for

I

but not

;

he had grown deaf

he occasionally

hummed

harmonized well enough with

my

a psalm,

philosophy.

was thus altogether one of unbroken to remember than if it had been carried on by speech. When, as was commonly the case, I had none to commune with, I used to raise the echoes by striking with a paddle on the side of my intercourse

harmony, far more pleasing

woods with circling and dithem up as the keeper of a mena-

boat, filling the surrounding

lating sound, stirring

gerie his wild beasts, until I elicited a growl from every

wooded vale and Tn

warm

ing The li;Âťv(;

hill-side.

evenings I frequently sat in the boat play-

and saw the perch, which I seemed

flute,

cliarmed, hovering around me, and the

ling t)ver the ribbed bottom,

wrecks of the

forest.

travel

which was strewed with the

Formerly I had come

pond adventurously, from time nights, with a

moon

to

to time, in

companion, and making a

water's cigc, which we thought

to this

dark summer

fire close to

the

atti'acted the fishes,

we

WALDEN.

190

caught pouts with a bunch of worms strung on a thread

and when we

done, fur in

liad

threw tho

night,

tlie

burning brands high into the air like skyrockets, whicii;

coming down hissing,

into the pond,

were quenclied

and we were suddenly groping

ness.

Through

to the

haunts of

home by

this,

men

we

whistling a tune, again.

witli

a loud

in total

dark-

took our

way

But now I had made

my

the shore.

Sometimes, after staying in a village parlor family had

all retired, I

have returned

to the

till

the

woods, and,

partly with a view to the next day's dinner, spent the liours of

midnight fishing from a boat by moonlight, sere-

naded by owls and foxes, and hearing, from time

to time,

some unknown bird close at hand. These experiences were very memoi'able and valuable anchored in forty feet of water, and twenty oi to me, Ihii'ty rods from the shore, surrounded sometimes by thousands of small ])erch and shiners, dimpling the sur face with their tails in the moonlight, and communicating by a long flaxen line with mysterious nocturnal fishes which had their dwelling forty feet below, or sometimes di-agging sixty feet of line about the pond as the creaking note of

—

I drifted in the gentle night breeze,

ing a slight vibration along

prowling about

its

now and

indicative of

it,

then feel-

some

life

extremity, of dull uncertain blunder-

ing purpose there, and slow to

make up

its

At

mind.

length }ou slowly raise, pulling hand over hand, some Iiorned pout squeaking and squirming to the upper air. It

was very queer, especially

in

dark nights, when your

thoughts had wandered lo vast and cosmogonal themes hi other spheres, to feel this faint jerk,

interrupt your dreams and link It

seemed as

if

you

I might next cast

my

to

which came

to

Nature agaiiL

line

upward

into

THE PONDS. the

air,

as

as

i\^ell

1

91

dowmvard into this eleraen* ^Ineh Thus 1 caught two l-sheti as

was scarcely inoi-(3 dense. it were wil.h one hook.

The

scenery of "Walden

is

on a humble

though very beautiful, does not approach nor can

it

much concern one who

quented

it

or lived by

remarkable for

dei)th

its

ticular description.

shore

its

to

scale, an<>^

grandeur,

has not long fre-

yet this pond

;

and purity as

is

so

j)

nr-

to merit a

a clear and deep green well,

It is

half a mile long and a mile and three quarters in cii-

cumference, and contains about sixty-one and a half acres; a perennial sjn-ing in the midst of

woods, without any visible

i)ine

and oak

except by the

The surrounding

and evaporation.

clouds

inlet or outlet

rise

hills

abruptly from the water to the height of forty to eighth feet,

though on the south-east and east they attain

t(

about one hundred and one hundred and fifty feet i"e spectively, within a quarter and a third of a mile

They ters

have two colors

tance, first

are exclusively woodland. at least,

and another, more

depends more on the

clear weather, in

one when viewed at a

light,

summer,

appear

alike.

dis-

and follows the sky.

In

they ajipear blue at a liMle

and

at a great distance

In stormy weather they are some*

times of a dark slate color. to

wu The

propei*, close at hanfl.

distance, especially if agitated, all

All our Concord

The

sea,

however,

is

said

be blue one day and green another without any perchange in the aMnosphere. I have seen our

ccptiblt

rirer, \Ahen, the

landscape being covered with snow,

both water and

ice

Some

were almost as green as

grass.

consider blue " to be the color of pure water.

WALDEN.

192 whether liquid or into our waters

But, looking directly

solid."

from a boat, they are seen

Walden

dilFerent colors

is

to

blue at one time and green

Lying

even from the same point of view.

at another,

down

be of very

between the earth and the heavens,

it

partakes of the

Viewed from a hill-top it reflects the color of the sky, but near at hand it is of a yellowish tint next the shore where you can see the sand, then a color of both.

light green,

which gradually deepens

In some

green in the body of the pond.

even from a

hill-top,

shore.

Some have

verdure

;

but

it

is

is

it

uniform dark

to a

lights,

viewed

of a vivid green next the

referred this to the reflection of the

equally green there against the rail-

road sand-bank, and in the spring, before the leaves are

expanded, and

it

may be

simply the result of the prevail-

ing blue mixed with the yellow of the sand. color of

its iris.

This

spring, the ice being reflected

still

is

the

in the

the heat of the sun

also transmitted through

face of the

first

agitated, in clear weather, so that the sur-

waves may

or because there

is

reflect the

more

at a little distance of at

Such where

and forms a narrow canal about Like the rest of our waters, frozen middle.

when much

and

warmed by

from the bottom, and

the earth, melts

the

that portion, also,

is

light

sky at the right angle,

mixed with

it, it

appears

a darker blue than the sky

such a time, being on

its

surface,

itself;

and looking

with divided vision, so as to see the reflection, I have discerned a matchless

and indescribable

light

blue,

such as watered or changeable silks and sword blades suggest,

more cerulean than the sky

itself,

alternating

with the original dark green on the opposite sides of the waves, which last appeared but It is

muddy

in comparison.

a vitreous greenish blue, as I remember

it,

like

;

THE rONDS.

193

those patches of the winter sky seen thiough cloud vistas in the its

quantity of

to its " body,"

How

tint,

that a large plate of

owing, as the makers say,

of our river

is

black or a very dark brown to and, like that of most

it,

ponds, imparts to the body of one bathing in ;

col-

body of Walden water would be a green tint I have never proved.

large a

one looking directly down on ish tinge

an equal

but a small piece of the same will be

required to reflect

The water

known

It is well

air.

single glass of

to the light is as colorless as

have a green

glass will

orless.

Yet a

west before sundown.

water held up

but this water

is

it

a yellow-

of such crystalline purity that

the body of the bather appears of an alabaster whiteness,

still

nified and making fit

more unnatural, which,

mag-

as the limbs are

distorted withal, produces a monstrous effect,

studies for a

The water

is

Michael Angelo.

so transparent that the bottom can easi-

ly be discerned at the depth of twenty-five or thirty feet.

Paddling over

it,

you

may

see

many

feet

beneath the

surface the schools of perch and shiners, perhaps only

an inch long, yet the former easily distinguished by their transverse bars, and you think that they must be ascetic fish that find

many

a subsistence there.

years ago,

when

Once, in the winter,

I had been cutting holes through

the ice in order to catch pickerel, as I stepped ashore I tossed

my

axe back on

genius had directed

it,

to the ice, but, as if it slid

some

evil

four or five rods directly

into one of the holes, where the water was twenty-five Out of curiosity, I lay down on the ice and feet deep. looked through the hole, until I saw the axe a little on ine side, standing on its head, with its helve erect and gently swaying to and fro with the pulse of the pond

and there

it

might have stood 13

erec./

and swaying

till

in

;

WALDEN.

194 the

cours(^,

turbed

an

of time the handle rotted

Making another

it.

I had not

off, if

hole directly over

dis-

with

it

which I had, and cutting down the longest

ice chisel

my

birch which I could find in the neighborhood with

made a slip-noose, which I attached to its end, letting it down carefully, passed it over the knob of

knife, I

and,

the handle, and drew

it

by a

line along the birch,

and

80 pulled the axe out again.

The

shore

is

composed of a belt of smooth rounded pavmg stones, excepting one or two

white stones like

short sand beaches,

and

is

so steep that in

many

plaCv^s

a single leap will carry you into water over your head and were it not for its remarkable transparency, that

would be the

last to

be seen of

Some

the opposite side.

its

think

it

bottom is

till it

rose on

bottomless.

It is

nowhere muddy, and a casual observer would say that there were no weeds at all in it and of noticeable plants, except in the little meadows recently overflowed, which ;

do not j)roperly belong to detect a flag

it,

a closer scrutiny does not

nor a bulrush, nor even a

white, but only a few small heart-leaves tons,

and perhaps a water-target or two

ever a bather might not perceive

;

lily,

yellow or

and potamoge-

all which howand these plants are ;

clean and bright like the element they

grow

in.

The

stones extend a rod or two into the water, and then the

bottom there

is

is

pure sand, except in the deepest parts, where

usually a

little

sediment, probably from the de-

cay of the leaves which have been wafted on to

many

successive

falls,

up on anchors even

We have in

and a bright green weed

is

it

so

brought

in midwinter.

one other pond just like

this, 'Whit(i

Pond

Nine Acre Corner, about two and a half miles wes-

terly; but, though I

am

acquainted with most of the

THE PONLS.

195

ponds witLin a dozen miles of

this centre, I do not know pure and well-like character. Successive nations perchance have drank at, admired, and fathomed it, and passed away, and still its water is green and pel-

a third of

this

lucid as ever. Not an intermitting spring! Perhaps on that spring morning when Adam and Eve were driven out of Eden Walden Pond was already in existence, and even then breaking up in a gentle spring rain accompanied with mist and a southerly wind, and covered with myriads of ducks and geese, which had not

heard of the

fall,

Even

then

them.

when

such pure

still

lalves

sufficed

had commenced to rise and fall, and had clarified its waters and colored them of the hue they now wear, and obtained a patent of heaven to be the only Walden Pond in the world and distiller of celestial dews. Who knows in how many unremembered it

nations' hteratures this has

or what It is a

been the Castahan Fountain?

nymphs presided over

gem

of the

first

it in the Golden Age water which Concord wears in

.?

her coronet.

Yet perchance the first who came to this well have some trace of their footsteps. I have been surprised to detect encircling the pond, even where a thick wood has just been cut down on the shore, a narrow shelf-like left

path in the steep

hill-side, alternately rising

and

falling,

approachmg and receding from the

water's edge, as old

pro')ably as the race of

worn by the

aboriginal hunters, and

man still

here,

from time

feet of

to time unwit-

tingly trodden

by the present occupants of the land. particularly distinct to one standing on the middle of the pond in winter, just after a light snow has This

is

fliUen, appearing as a clear undulating white line, unobecured by weeds and twigs, and very obvious a quailci

196

"WALDEN.

ly

as

many places where

summer it is hiird' distinguishable close at hand. The snow reprints it, it were, m clear white type alto-relievo. The orna-

of a mile off in

mented grounds of

villas

which

in

will

one day be

may still preserve some trace of this. The pond rises and falls, but whether

built

here

not,

regularly o?

and within what period, nobody knows, though, aa

many

usual,

pretend to know.

in the winter

and lower

in the

It is

commonly higher

summer, though not

responding to the general wet and dryness.

member was There it

Avhen

it

was a

foot or

is

when

I lived

a narrow sand-bar running into side,

I can re-

two lower, and also when

at least five feet higher, than

deep water on one

cor-

it,

by

it.

with very

on which I helped boil a kettle

of chowder, some six rods from the main shore, about the year 1824, which

twenty-five years

used to

listen

;

it

has not been possible to do for

and on the other hand,

my

friends

with incredulity when I told them, that a

few years later I was accustomed to

fish

a secluded cove in the woods,

rods from the only

fifteen

from a boat

in

shore they knew, which place was long since converted

meadow. But the pond has risen steadily for two years, and now, in the summer of '52, is just five into a

feet higher than

when

thirty years ago,

and

I lived there, or as high as

This makes a difterence of

ow.

of six or seven feet

rounding

;

it

level, at the outside,

and yet the water shed by the

hills is insignificant in

was

on again in the mead-

fishing goes

amount, and

this

sur*

over

flow must be referred to causes which affect the deep springs.

again.

This same summer the pond has begun to It is

remarkable that

this fluctuation,

periodical or not, appears thus to require (or

its

accomphshment.

fall

whether

many

years

I have observed one rise an

il

a

THE PONDS. pan

of

ever

known

two

197

and I expect that a dozen or fifteen years hence the water will again be as low as I have falls,

Pond, a mile eastward, allowing

Flints'

it.

by its inlets and outlets, and the smaller intermediate ponds also, sympathize with Walden, and recently attained their greatest height for the disturbance occasioned

at the

same time with the

far as

my

This

and

rise

use at least

this

;

fall

it,

up about

kills its

though

it

edge since the

;

at long intervals serves

makes

my

the water house, a

is

many ponds and

to

a daily

row of

if

it

;

this fluctuation the

a shore, and thus the shore not hold

by

by a

is

pond

clean-

is

and thus a

size indicates

asserts its title to

and the

shorn^

to time.

When

in the w.-vter,

and

trees can-

These are the

the water

and maples send

red roots several feet long from

shore,

lever,

and their

right of possession.

alders, willows,

fion? the

wa-

the side of the pond

of the lake on which no beard grows.

from time

shore

all

years have elapsed since the last rise to this

By

height.

I

walk

pitch pines fifteen feet high has

stop put to their encroachments

how many

tide, its

On

lowest.

been killed and tipped over as

and

difficult to

it

last rise, pitch-pines, birches,

unlike

for,

which are subject

when

next

Walden

of

the shrubs and trees which have sprung

unobstructed shore

est

true, aa

aspens, and others, and, falling again, leaves an

Âťtlders,

ters

is

the water standing at this great height

for a year or more,

round

The same

latter.

observation goes, of White Pond.

It licks its is

lips

chaps

at its height, the\

forth a

mass of

all sides

fibrous

of their stems

to the height of three or four feet

ground, in the effort to maintain themselves;

have known the

liigh-])lueberry bushes about the

which commonly produce no

frait,

4ant crop under these circumstances.

bear an abun.

WALDEN.

198

Some have been puzzled came

the tradition, the oldest people it

m

how

to tell

the shore he-

My townsmen have

so regularly paved.

me

tell

that they heard

their youth, that anciently the Indians

ing a po^v-wow upon a

hill

the heavens as the pond

here,

now

heard

all

were hold-

which rose as high into

sinks deep into the earth,

and they used much profanity, as the story goes, though one of which the Indians were never guilty,

this vice is

and while they were thus engaged the

hill

shook and

suddenly sank, and only one old squaw, named Walden, escaped, and from her the pond was named.

been conjectured that when the rolled is

down

its

side

now

shook these stones

hill

and became the present shore.

very certain, at any

here, and

has

It

there

once there was no pond

rate, that

is

one

;

It

and

this Indian fable does

not in any respect conflict with the account of that ancient settler

whom

when he

so well

have mentioned, who remembers

I

came here whh

first

saw a thin vapor

rising

his divining rod,

from the sward, and the hazel

pointed steadily downward, and he concluded to dig a well here.

As

for the stones,

many

are hardly to be accounted for

think that they

still

by the

action of the

waves on these hills but I observe that the surrounding hills are remarkably full of the same land of stones, ;

so that they

on

have been obliged

to pile

them up in walls pond and

both sides of the railroad cut nearest the

moreover, there are most stones where the shore abrupt to

me.

;

so that, unfortunately,

I detect the paver.

rived from that of den, for instance,

it is

The pond was my

name was

locality,

— one might suppose

originally, Walled-in

is

most

no longer a mystery

If the

some English

;

not de-

— Saffron Wal

that

H was

called,

Pond. well ready dug.

For four montk

;

THE PONDS.

m

Ik'i

year iu

w iter

and I think that

it

is

as cold as

199 it is

best, in the town.

In the winter,

exposed

is

to

the air

all

all if

times

not the

water which

is

colder than springs and wella

which are protected from it. pond water which had stood from

pure at

then as good as any,

is

The temperature the

in

five o'clock in the afternoon

of the

room where I

sat

noon the next day, the sixth of March, 1846, the thermometer having heen up to 65째 or 70째 some of the time, owing partly to the till

sun on the

roof, was 42째, or one degree colder than the water of one of the coldest wells in the village just

The temperature

drawn.

same day was though

it is

of the Boiling Spring the

warmest of any water

the coldest that I

beside, shallow

gled with

45째, or the

it.

know

tried,

of in summer, when,

and stagnant surface water is not minMoreover, in summer, Walden never be-

comes so warm as most water which is exposed to the sun, on account of its depth. In the warmest weather

my cellar, where it became and remained so during the day;

I usually placed a pailful in cool in

tlie

night,

though I also resorted

to

a spring

in the

neighborhood.

was as good when a week old as the day it was dipped, and had no taste of the pump. Whoever camps for a week in summer by the shore of a pond, needs only bury a pail of water a few feet deep in the shade It

of his

camp

to be

independent on the luxury of

There have been caught weighing seven pounds,

to

in

Walden,

ice.

pickerel,

one

say nothing of another which

carried off a reel with great velocity, which the fisher-

man

down at eight pounds because he did not perch and pouts, some of each weighing over U'o pounds, shiners, chivins or roach, [Leuciscus pulchel' safely set

?ee him,

his,)

a

\

^ry few breams, and a couple of eels, one weigh-

;

WALDEN.

200 ing four pounds,

weight of a

—I

fish is

am

thus particular because the

commonly

its

only

title

these are the only eels I have heard of here

have a faint recollection of a dace-like in

my

not very dant, are

on the

also, I

five inche

i

is

though not abun-

Its pickerel,

fertile in fish.

chiefly

Nevertheless, this pond

facts to fable.

I have seen at one time lying

chief boast.

its

—

which I mention here

character,

its

;

and a greenish back, somewhat

long, with silvery sides

to link

some

little fish

and

to fame,

ice pickerel of at least three different kinds

;

a

long and shallow one, steel-colored, most like those

caught in the river

common here like the last,

;

a bright golden kind, with green-

and remarkably deep, which

ish reflections

is

the most

and another, golden-colored, and sliaped but peppered on the sides with small dark ;

brown or black

spots,

intermixed with a few faint blood-

red ones, very

much

like

These are

tus rather.

more than perch

and indeed

much

;

it

very firm

all

all

The

trout.

to this

their size promises.

also,

pond, are

a

would not apply

reticulatus

The

specific

name

should be gutta'

and weigh

fish,

shiners, pouts,

and

the fishes which inhabit this

cleaner, handsomer,

and firmer fleshed

than those in the river and most other ponds, as the

water

is

purer,

from them.

new

and they can

Probably

varieties of

many

easily be distinguished

ichthyologists

some of them.

Thgre are

would make also a clean

race of frogs and tortoises, and a few muscles in

it

muskrats and minks leave their traces about

oc-

casionally a travelling mud-turtle visits

when

I pushed off

my

it.

it,

and

Sometimes,

boat in the morning, I disturbed a

great mud-turtle which

boat in the night. ipring and

fall,

had secreted himself under the Ducks and geese frequent it in the

the wliite-bellied swallows {TJhundo

THE PONDS. Vicdor) >kim over

it,

larius) -teter" along

201

and the peetweets {Totanus macu. its stony shores all summer. I

have sometimes disturbed a fishliawk sitting on a whitepine over the water; but I doubt if it is ever profaned by the wing of a gull, like Fair Haven.

At

tolerates

one annual loon. These are of consequence which frequent it now.

all

most,

it

the animala

You may see from a boat, in calm weather, near the sandy eastern shot 3, where the water is eight or ten feet deep, and also in some other parts of the pond, some circular heaps half a dozen feet in diameter by a foot in height, consisting of small stones less than a hen's e^g in size, where all around is bare sand. At first

you wonder

if the Indians could have formed them on the ice for nny purpose, and so, when the ice melted,

they sank to the bottom

Bome of them plainly

;

but they are too regular and

too fresh

for that.

They

are

similar to those found in rivers; but as there are no

suckers nor lampreys here, I

know not by what fish Perhaps they are the nests of the chivin. These lend a pleasing mystery to the bottom. The shore is irregular enough not to be monotonous. I have in my mind's eye the western indented with they could be made.

-

deep bays, the bolder northern, and the beautifully scolloped southern shore, lap each other

The

forest has

where successive capes overand suggest unexplored coves between. never so good a

tinctly beautiful, as

setting,

when seen from

nor

is

so dis

the middle

of a small lake amid hills which rise from the water's edo-e : for the water in which it is reflected not only makes the best foreground in

such a case, but, with its winding most natural and agreeable boundary to it. no rawness nor imperfection in its edge therei

shore, the

There

is

WALDEN.

202

where the axe has cleared a part, or a culti\'ated The trees have ample room to ex field abuts on it. pand on the water side, and each sends forth it most vigorous branch in that direction. There Nature has woven a natural selvage, and the eye rises by just as

5

the low shrubs of the shore to the

gradations from

There are few traces of man's hand

highest trees.

The water

be seen.

laves the shore as

it

tc

did a thou-

sand years ago.

A

lake

the landscape's most beautiful and expres-

is

It is earth's eye

sive feature.

beholder measui

are

looking into which the

the depth of his

^s

own

The

nature.

next the shore are the slender eyelashes

fluviatile trees

which fringe

;

it,

and the wooded

and

hills

cliffs

around

overhano-ino; brows.

its

Standing on the smooth sandy beach of the pond, in a calm

at the east

end

September afternoon, when a

haze makes the opposite shore line indistinct, I have seen whence came the expression, " the glassy rjight

When

surface of a lake." lOoks like

you invert your head,

it

a thread of finest gossamer stretched acros.-

the valley, and gleaming against the distant pine woods,

separating one stratum of the atmosphere from another.

You would

think that you could walk dry under

the opposite

it.

below

were by mistake, and are

tlie

line,

as

As you

'ibliged to

to

and that the swallows which skim

hills,

over might perch on

ceived.

it

it

Indeed, they sometimes dive iiide

look over the pond westward you are

employ both your hands

to

defend your eyes

against the reflected as well as the true sun, for they are

equally bright

;

and

gui-face critically,

i\

if,

is

between the two, you survey

literally as

smooth as

3ept whei e the skater insects, at eq

"lal

its

glass, ex-

intervals scat-

THE PONDS.

203

fcred over

its whole extent, by iLeir motions in the sun produce the linest imaginable .p^^rkle on it,

or, per-

chance, a duck plumes itseh; or, aa 1 nave said, a swallow sknns so low as to touch it. It n.aj be that in the distance a fish describes an arc of tuice or four feet in the air, and ihere is one bright flash vuere

it emer-es and another where it strikes the water; sometimes "the' whole silvery arc is revealed; or here ana there, per-

naps,

a thistle-down floating on

is

fishes dart at

and so dimple

it

its

again.

glass cooled but not congealed,

surface,

which the

It is like

molten

and the few mo.es

in

it

are pure and beautiful like the imperfections in glass. You may often detect a yet smoother and darker water, separated from the rest as if by an invisible cob^-eb,'

boom of top

you

the water nymphs, resting on it. can see a fish leap in almost any

From

a

nill-

part; for not

a pickerel or shiner picks an insect from this smooui surface but it manifestly disturbs the equilibrium of the

whole lake. this

It is

simple fact

will out,

is

wonderful with what elaborateness advertised,

— and from my

eircling undulations

diameter.

—

this piscine

murder

distant perch I distinguish the

when You can even

they are half a dozen rods in detect a water-bug {Gyrmus)

ceaselessly progressing over the smooth surfiice a quarof a mile off; for they furrow the water slightly,

ter

making a conspicuous lines,

ripple

bounded by two diverging

but the skaters glide over

peiceptibly.

When the

surface

is

it

without rippling

it

considerably agitated

tnere are no skaters nor water-bugs on it, but apparently, in calm days, they leave their havens and adventu-

rously glide forth from the shore by short impulses till .hey completely cover it. It is a soothing employment, on one of those fine days in the fall when all the wai'mth

!

WALDEN.

204 of the sun

on a stump on

fully appreciated, to sit

is

su(

h

a height as this, overlooking the pond, and study the

dimpling circles which are incessantly inscribed on

its

otherwise invisible surface amid the reflected skies and

Over

trees.

but

it is

suaged, as, circles

this great

expanse there

when a vase

of water

seek the shore and

can leap or an insect

fish

is

thus at once gently smoothed is

away and

as-

jarred, the trembling

Not a

smooth again.

all is fall

no disturbance

on the pond but

thus

it is

reported in circling dimples, in lines of beauty, as

were the constant welling up of pulsing of

its life,

fountain, the gentle

its

breast.

the heaving of

The

thrills

How

of joy and thrills of pain are undistinguishable. peaceful the

man

of

phenomena of the lake

shine as in the spring.

Again the works Ay, every leaf and !

twig and stone and cobweb sparkles

noon as when covered with dew

Every motion light

;

and

now

at mid-after-

a spring morning.

in

of an oar or an insect produces a flash of

an oar

if

it

its

how sweet

falls,

the echo

In such a day, in September or October, Walden

is

a

perfect forest mirror, set round with stones as precious to

my

eye as

if

pure, and at the lies

same time

Nothing so

fair,

so

so large, as a lake, perchance,

on the surface of the earth.

no fence. is

fewer or rarer.

Sky

water.

It

Nations come and go without defiling

needs it.

It

a mirror which no stone can crack, whose quicksilver

never wear

whose gilding Nature continually repairs; no storms, no dust, can dim its surface ever fresh a mirror in which aU impurity presented to it sinks, swept and dusted by the sun's hazy brush, this will

;

off,

—

the light dust-cloth,

breathed on

above

its

it,

— which

but sends

surface,

and be

its

—

retains

own

no breath that

ig

to float as clouds high

reflected in its

bosom

still.

THE PONDS.

A It

of water betrays the spirit that

field

continually receiving

is

above.

205

It

new

intermediate in

is

the air

and motion from

life

its

is in

nature between land

On

and sky.

land only the grass and trees wave, but the water itself is rippled by the wind. I see where the breeze dashes across it by tue streaks or flakes of light It is

We

remarkable that we can look down on shall,

at length,

over

perhaps, look

down

and mark where a

its

surface.

thus on the surface of air still

subtler spirit sweeps

it.

The

and water-bugs

skaters

latter part of

October,

come; and then and day, there

in

when

finally

disappear in the

the severe frosts have

November,

usually, in a

calm

absolutely nothing to ripple the surface.

is

One November

afternoon, in the calm at the end of a

rain storm of several days' duration,

when the sky was completely overcast and the air was full of mist, I observed that the pond was remarkably smooth, so that

still

it

was

difficult to distinguish its

surface

;

though

it

no

longer reflected the bright tints of October, but the sombre 1

November

passed over

tions

colors of the surrounding hills.

it

Thoucrh

as gently as possible, the slight undula-

produced by

my

boat extended almost as far as I

could see, and gave a ribbed appearance to the reflec tions.

But, as I was looking over the surface, I saw

here and there at a distance a faint glimmer, as

if

some

skater insects which had escaped the frosts might be collected

there,

or,

perchance,

the surface, being so

Emooth, betrayed where a spring welled up from the bottom.

Paddling gently

surprised to find

one of these places, I was myself surrounded by myriads of small to

perch, about five inches long, of a rich bronze color ia the green water, sporting there and constantly rising

to

WALUEN.

206

the suiface and dimpling

on

it,

sometimes leaving bubbles

In such transparent and seemingly bottomless

it.

water, reflecting

the clouds, I

seemed

be floating

to

through the air as in a balloon, and their swimming impressed

me

as a kind of flight or hovering, as if they

were a compact level

flock of birds passing just

on the right or

left,

their fins,

lik'>

beneath

my

sails, set

all

There were many such schools

around them.

in the

pond, apparently improving the short season before winter

would draw an icy shutter over their broad sky-

light, if

sometimes giving

to the surface

a slight breeze struck

When

I

it,

an appearance as

or a few rain-drops

fell there.

approached carelessly and alarmed them, they

made a sudden

plash and rippling with their

tails,

as if

one had struck the water with a brushy bough, and stantly took refuge in the depths. rose, the mist increased,

At

in-

length the wind

and the waves began

to run,

and the perch leaped much higher than before, half out of water, a hundred black points, three inches long, at

once above the surface.

December, one year,

and thinking

it

I

Even

as late as the fifth of

saw some dimples on the

surface,

was going to rain hard immediately, the

made haste to take my place at and row homeward already the rain seemed

air being full of mist, I

the oars

;

rapidly increasing, though I

felt

none on

I anticipated a thorough soaking.

my

cheek, and

But suddenly the

dimples ceased, for they were produced by the perch,

which the noise of

my

oars had scared into the depths,

and I saw their schools dimly disappearing a dry afternoon after

An

old

man who that in

so I spent

to frequent this pond nearly was dark with surrounding forthose days he sometimes saw it all

used

Bixty years ago, Adien ests. tell& rae

;

all.

it

THE PONDS.

207

with ducks and other water fowl, and that there

ftlive

were many eagles about it. He came here a-fishir-g, and used an old I02: canoe which he found on the shore. It was made of two white-pine logs dug out and pinned

and was cut

together,

off

square at the ends.

It

was

very clumsy, but lasted a great many years before

it

became water-logged and f)erhaps sank to the bottom. He did not know whose it was it belonged to the j)ond. ;

He

used to

make

a cable for his anchor of strips of hick

An

cry bark tied together.

old

man, a

f)otter,

who

lived

by the pond before the Revolution, told him once that there was an iron chest at the bottom, and that he had Sometimes it would come floating up to the Been it. shore into

;

but when you went toward

deep water and disappear.

of the old log canoe, which took

I

it, it

would go back

was pleased

tlie

to

hear

place of an Indian

one of the same material but more graceful construction,

which perchance had then, as

it

were,

fell

flrst

been a tree on the bank, and

into the water, to float there for a

generation, the most proper vessel for the lake.

I re-

member that when I first looked into these depths there were many large trunks to be seen indistinctly lying on the bottom, which had either been blown over formerly, or left on the ice at the last cutting,

cheaper

;

When

but I

now they have mostly

first

when wood was

disappeared.

paddled a boat on Walden,

pletely surrounded

by thick and

woods, and in some of

its

lofty

it

was com-

pine and oak

coves grape vines had run

over the trees next the water and formed bowers under

which a boat could

pass.

The

hills

which form

its

shores are so steep, and the woods on them were then so hidi, that, as a-ou looked

down from

the west end,

it

had \he appearance of an amphitheatre for some kind

;

WALDEN.

208

willed,

on

having paddled

my

many an

I have spent

of sylvan spectacle.

I was younger, floating over

my

back across the

hour,

when

surface as the zephyr

its

boat to the middle, and lying

a

seats, in

summer forenoon

was aroused by the boat touchmy fates had impelled me to days when idleness was the most attractive and productive industry. Many a forenoon have 1 dreaming awake,

until I

ing the sand, and 1 arose to see what shore ;

stolen away, preferring to spend thus the most valued

was

money, in sunthem lavishly; nor do I regret that I did not waste more of them in the workshop or the teacher's desk. But since I left those shores the woodchoppers have still further laid them waste, and now for many a year there will be no more

part of the day

;

for I

ny hours and summer

rambling through the vistas

may

rich, if not in

days, and spent

aisles of the

wood, with occasional

My

through which you see the water.

be excused

if

she

you expect the birds

silent henceforth.

is

to sing

when

Muse

How

can

their groves are cut

down ?

Now the

trunks of trees on the bottom, and the old

log canoe, and the dark surrounding woods, are gone,

and the

villagers,

who

scarcely

know where

it

lies, in-

stead of going to the pond to bathe or drink, are thinking to bring

Ganges

its

water, which should be as sacred as the

at least, to the village in

dishes with

!

—

to

a pipe, to wash their

earn their "Walden by the turning of a

cock or drawing of a plug

whose ear-rending neigh

!

is

That

devilish Iron Horse,

heard throughout the town,

has muddied the Boiling Spring with his foot, and he is

that has

browsed

off all the

it

woods on Walden shore

that Trojan horse, with a thousand

^oduced by mercenary Greeks

!

men in Where

his belly, in is

the conn

THE PONDS.

209

champion, the Moore of Moore Hall, to meet him Deep Gut and thrust an avenging lance between

try's

at the

^he ribs of the bloated pest

Nevertheless, of

Many men

rity.

best,

and best preserves

have been likened

Though

serve that h^nor.

bare

the characters I have known,

all

perhaps Walden wears

?

to

it,

its

pu-

but few de-

the woodchoppers have laid

shore and then that, and the Irish have

first this

by

built then- sties

and the railroad has infringed on its border, and the ice-men have skimmed it once, it is itsolf unchanged, the same water which my youthful eyec

fell

q'liied js

on

the change

all

;

it,

in

is

me.

one permanent wrinkle after

perennially young, and I

may

all its ripples.

it

me

It struck

It

stand and see a swallow

dip apparently to pick an insect from yoi-e.

It has not ac-

again to-night, as

its

if

surface as of

I had not seen

almost daily for more than twenty years,

— Why, here

Walden, the same woodland lake that I discovered so many years ago where a forest was cut down last winis

;

ter another

ever

;

springing up by

is

the same thought

is

its

shore as lustily as

welling up to

its

surface that

was then it is the same liquid joy and happiness to itself and its Maker, ay, and it may be to me. It is the work of a brave man surely, in w^hom there was no ;

guile

and it

!

He

clarified

rounded

this

water with

in his thought,

it

to Concord.

I see

Bam< reflection

;

by

its

and

his hand,

in his will

face that

it is

a line;

come nearer to God and Heavci live to Walden even.

I cannot

Than

am

I

its

stony shore,

A.nd the breeze that passes o'er *

u

by the

is it

no dream of mine,

To ornament

I

bequeathed

visited

and I can almost say, Walden,

It is

deepened

you

?

WALDEN.

210

In the hollow of my hand Are its water and its sand,

And

its

deepest resort

Lies high in

The

my

thought.

cars never pause to look at

it

;

yet I fancy

tl.at

the engineers and firemen and brakemen, and those pas-

who have a season ticket and see it men for the sight. The engineer does

sengers

often, are

better

not forget

at night, or his nature does not, that

vision of serenity

and purity once

day.

Though seen but

once,

street

and the engine's

soot.

he has beheld

helps to

it

One

this

at least during the

wash out

State-

proposes that

be

it

called " God's Drop."

I have said that let,

but

visible inlet

nor out-

on the one hand distantly and indirectly re-

it is

lated to

Walden has no

Pond, which

Flints'

more

is

by a

elevated,

chain of small ponds coming from that quarter, and on the

other directly and

which

is

which

in

flowed,

and by a

be made

by a

lower,

some other little

period

geological digging,

which

to flow thither again.

served and austere, it

manifestly to Concord River,

similar chain of ponds through

-like

God

it

may have

forbid,

it

can

If by hving thus re-

a hermit in the woods, so long,

has acquired such wonderful purity,

who would

not

regret that the comparatively impure waters of Flints

Pond to

should be mingled with

waste

its

Flints', or

ani

ii

much

it,

or itself should ever gc

sweetness in the ocean

Sandy Pond,

land sea,

lies

wave ?

in Lincoln, our greatest lake

about a mile east of Walden.

larger, being said to contain

ninety-seven acres, and

is

more

It is

one hundred and

fertile in fish

;

but

it

is

THE PONDS.

211

comparatively shallow, and not remarkably pure. A walk through the woods thither was often my recreation. It was worth the while, if only to feel the wind blow on youi cheek freely, and see the waves run, and remember the life of mariners. 1 went a-chestnutting there in

on windy days, when the nuts were dropping into the water and were washed to my feet; and one the

fall,

day, as I crept along

blowing

my

its

sedgy shore, the fresh spra}'

came upon the mouldering wreck of a boat, the sides gone, and hardly more than the im* pression of its flat bottom left amid the rushes yet its model was sharply defined, as if it were a large decayed in

face, I

;

pad, with

veins.

its

It

was

as impressive a

wreck as

one could imagine on the sea-shore, and had as good a moral.

It

is

by

this

time mere vegetable mould and

undistinguishable pond shore, through which rushes and

have pushed up.

flags

I used to admire the ripple

marks on the sandy bottom, pond,

made

at the north

end of

the pressure of the water, and the rushes which

Indian

file,

in

waving

lines,

marks, rank behind rank, as them. ties,

this

firm and hard to the feet of the wader

corresponding to

if

by

grew

in

these

the waves had planted

TJiere also I have found, in considerable quanti-

curious balls, composed apparently of fine grass or

roots, of pipe wort perhaps,

inches

diameter,

in

from half an inch

and perfectly

spherical.

to four

These

wash back and forth in shallow water on a sandy bottom, and are sometimes cast on the shore. They are eitlier solid graÂŤs,

At

first

tion of

or have a

little

sand in the middle.

you would say that they were formed by the tilt

waves, like a pebble

made of equally ^hey are

;

ac-

yet the smallest are

coarse materials, half an inch long, and

produced only at one season

of the year

WALDEN.

212

Moreover, the waves, I suspect, do not so much coa« struct as wear down a material which has already ac

They preserve

quired consistency.

dry

an

for

form wlien

their

indefinite period.

Pond!

Such is the poverty of our nomenclaWhat right had the unclean and stupid farmer, ture. whose farm abutted on this sky water, whose shores he Flints*

has ruthlessly laid bare, to give his skin-flint,

who loved

dollar, or

a bright

who

to

Some

it ?

which he could see

cent, in

his

own

regarded even the wild ducks which

brazen face

;

settled in

as trespassers

it

name

better the reflecting surface of a

;

his fingers

grown

into crook-

ed and horny talons from the long habit of grasping har-

—

named for me. I go not there to see him nor to hear of him who never saw it, who never bathed in it, who never loved it, who never protected it, who never spoke a good word for it, nor thanked God that he had made it. Rather let it be named from the fishes that swim in it, the wild fowl or

py-like

;

so

it is

not

;

quadrupeds which frequent

it,

the wild flowers which

grow by its shores, or some wild man or child the thread not from of whose history is interwoven with its own him who could show no title to it but the deed which a him like-minded neighbor or legislature gave him, who thought only of its money value whose presence ;

—

;

perchance cursed

around within

it,

it

;

all

the shore

and would

who

fain

;

who exhausted

the land

have exhausted the waters

regretted only that

it

was not English hay

redeem or cranberry meadow, — there was nothing — and would have drained and to

sold

forsooth, in his eyes, it

for the

and

it

mud

at its bottom.

It did not turn his mill,

him to behold it. I respect farm where every thing has its pri:e,

was no privilege

not his labors, his

it,

to

;

THE PONDS

21.^

who would carry hia he could get any thing for him ; who

wlio w^ould carry the landscape,

God,

to market, if

goes to market for his god as it is ; on whose farm nothing grows free, whose fields bear no crops, whose mead-

ows no

flowers,

whose

no

trees

but dollars

fruits,

who

;

loves not the beauty of his fruits, whose fruits are not ripe for

him

till

they are turned to dollars.

the poverty that enjoys true wealth. spectable and interesting to poor,

— poor

farmers.

me

Farmers are re

in proportion as

A model farm

me

Give

!

they are

where the house

stands like a fungus in a muck-heap, chambers for men,

and swine, cleansed and uncleansed,

horses, oxen,

contiguous to one another grease-spot, redolent of

Stocked with

!

men

!

all

A great

manures and buttermilk

Un-

!

der a high state of cultivation, being manured with the hearts and brains of potatoes

m

No, no to

;

men

the church-yard if

As

!

if

you were

Such

!

is

to raise

your

a model farm.

the fairest features of the landscape are

be named after men,

worthiest

men

alone.

let them be the noblest and Let our lakes receive as true

names

at least as the Icarian Sea, where "stiU the ehore " a " brave attempt resounds."

Goose Pond, of small extent, is on my way to FHnts' Fair-Haven, an expansion of Concord River, said to contain some seventy acres,

is

a mile south-west

;

and

White Pond, of about forty acres, is a mile and a half bejond Fair-Haven. This is my lake country. These, with Concord River, are my water privileges and night ;

and day, year

in

year

out,

they grind such grist as I

carry to them.

Since the woodcutters, and the railroad, and I myseli

WALDEN.

214 ^

have profaned Walden, perhaps the most if

not the most beautiful, of

the woods,

White Pond

is

;

attractive,

gem

our lakes, the

all

— a poor name from

its

of

com-

monness, whether derived from the remarkable puritj of

waters or the color of

its

other respects, however,

much

its

In these as

sands.

in

a lesser twin of Walden.

it is

you would say they must be connected under ground. It has the same stony As at Walshore, and its waters are of the same hue.

Thej are so

alike that

down through

den, in sultry dog-day weather, looking

some of

the woods on

bays which are not so deep

its

but that the reflection from the bottom tinges them,

its

waters are of a misty bluish-green or glaucous color.

Many by

years since I used to go there to collect the sand

cart-loads, to

tinued to visit

poses to call

it

it

make sand-paper with, and I have ever since. One who frequents it

Virid Lake.

Perhaps

it

conpro-

might be called

Yellow-Pine Lake, from the following circumstance.

About

fifteen

years ago you could see the top of a pitch-

pine, of the kind called yellow-pine hereabouts,

though

not a distinct species, projecting above the surface

it

is

in

deep water,

many

rods from the shore.

It

was even

supposed by some that the pond had sunk, and

this v/as

one of the primitive forest that formerly stood there. lind that ical

even so long ago as 1792, in a " Topograph-

D ascription

of the

Town

of Concord,"

citizens, in the Collections of the

torical

seen,

appears as

when

if it

;

:

its

Walden

" In the middle of the latter

the water

grew

is

very low, a tree which

in the place

although the roots are

water

by one of

Massachusetts His-

Society, the author, after speaking of

and White Ponds, adds

may be

I

fifty feet

the top of this tree

is

where

it

now

stands,

below the surface of the broken

off,

and

at that

THE PONDS.

215

place measui-es fourteen inches in diameter."

In the

man who lives nearest pond in Sudbury, who told me that it was he who out this tree ten or fifteen years before. As near

spring of '49 I talked with the the got

as he could

remember, it stood twelve or fifteen rods from the shore, where the water was thirty or forty feet

was

deep.

It

out ice

m

aud he had been getting the forenoon, and had resolved that in the in the winter,

afternoon, with the aid of his neighbors, he would take

He sawed

out the old yellow-pine.

toward the shore, and hauled

on

to the ice with

his work,

oxen

;

it

a channel in the ice

over and along and out

but, before

he was surprised

he had gone far in

to find that

it

was wrong end

upward, with the stumps of the branches pointing down,

and the small end firmly fastened

sandy bottom.

in the

was about a foot in diameter at the big end, and he had expected to get a good saw-log, but it was so rotten He had some of it as to be fit only for fuel, if for that. There were marks of an axe and of in his shed then. It

woodpeckers on the

but.

He

thought that

been a dead tree on the shore, but was

it

might have

finally

blown

over into the pond, and after the top had become waterlogged, while the but-end was drifted out

still

and sunk wrong end up.

years old, could not remember

Several pretty large logs bottom, where, owing

may

to the

when

stiU

dry and

His it

light,

had

father, eighty

was not

there.

be seen lying on the

undulation of the surface,

they look like huge water snakes in motion.

This pond has rarely been profaned by a boat, there

white flag,

is little lily,

in

it

to

tempt a fisherman.

for

Instead of the

which requires mud, or the common sweet

the blue flag {Iris versicolor) grows thinly in the

pure water, rising from the stony bottom

all

around the

WALDEN.

216 shore,

where

it

is

by humming

visited

birds in June,

and the color both of its bluish blades and its flowers, and especially their reflections, are in singular harmony with the glaucous water. "White

Pond and Walden

surface of the earth,

are great crystals on the

Lakes of Light.

If they were per-

manently congealed, and small enough

to

be clutched,

they would, perchance, be carried off by slaves, like precious stones, to adorn the heads of emperors

;

but

being liquid, and ample, and secured to us and our suc-

we disregard them, and run after the diamond of Kohinoor. They are too pure to have a market value they contain no muck. How much more cessors forever,

;

beautiful than our, hves,

how much more

than our characters, are they ness of them.

How much

transparent

We never learned mean-

!

fairer than the pool before

ducks swim

the farmer's door, in which

liis

the clean wild ducks come.

Nature has no human

habitant

who

appreciates her.

!

Hither

The birds with harmony with the

in-

their

plumage and their notes are in flowers, but what youth or maiden conspires with the wild luxuriant beauty of Nature ? She flourishes moot alone, far from the towns where they reside. Talk of Leaven I 5re

disgrace earth.

BAKER FARM.

Sometimes I rambled iemples, or

like

fleets

to pine groves, standing like

at

sea, full-rigged,

with

wavy

boughs, and rippling with light, so soft and green and

shady that the Druids would have forsaken their oaks to worship in them ; or to the cedar wood beyond Flints*

Pond, where the spiring higher

trees,

covered with hoary blue berries,

and higher, are

fit

to stand before Val-

and the creeping juniper covers the ground with

halla,

wreaths full of fruit ; or to swamps where the usnea lichen

hangs in festoons from the white-spruce stools,

round

md more flies

tables of the

swamp

trees,

and toad-

gods, cover the ground,

hke butterwhere the swamp-pink

beautiful fungi adorn the stumps,

or shells,

vegetable winkles

;

and dogwood grow, the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty, and he is dazzled and tempted by nameless other wild forbidden Instead of calling on fruit;'., too fair for mortal taste. woods

some

in its folds,

scholar, I paid

many a

visit to particular trees,

of

kinds which are rare in this neighborhood, standing fai (217)

WALDEN.

218

away in the middle of some pasture, or in the dejiths of a wood or swamp, or on a hill-top such as the blackbirch, of which we have some handsome specimens two ;

feet in diameter

its

;

loose golden vest,

cousin the yellow- birch, with

perfumed

like the first

;

it3

the beech,

which has so neat a bole and beautifully lichen-painted, perfect in all

details,

of which, excepting scattered

know but one

specimens, I left in

itÂŤÂť

small grove of sizable trees

the township, supposed

by some

to

have been

planted by the pigeons that were once baited with beech nuts near by

;

it

is

worth the while

to see the silver

when you split this wood the bass the hornbeam; ihQceltis occidentalis, or false elm, of which grain sparkle

we have

;

but one well-grown

a shingle

tree,

or a

more

;

some

taller

;

mast of a pine,

perfect hemlock than usual,

standing like a pagoda in the midst of the woods

many

Once

it

summer and

and

These were the shrines

others I could mention.

I visited both

;

winter.

chanced that I stood in the very abutment of

a rainbow's arch, which

filled

the lower stratum of the

atmosphere, tinging the grass and leaves around, and

dazzhng

me

as if I looked through colored crystal.

was a lake of rainbow I lived like a dolphin.

my

have tinged

light, in

If

it

It

which, for a short while,

had

employments and

lasted longer life.

As

it

might

I walked on

the raiboad causeway, I used to wonder at the halo of light

around

one of the

my

elect.

shadow, and would fain fancy myself

One who

visited

me

declared that the

shadows of some Irishmen before him had no halo it was only natives that were so disBenvenuto Cellini tells us in his memoirs,

about them, that tinguished. that, after

had during

a certain terrible dream or vision which

lit)

his confinement in the castle of S*Âť Angeles

BAKER ""f ARM.

219

A resplendent light appeared over the shadow of hia head at morning and evening, whether he was in Italy or France, and it was particularly conspicuous

when the grass was moist with dew. This was probably the same phenomenon to which I have referred, Tvhich

especially observed.in the morning, but also at other times, and even by moonlight. Though a conis

stant one,

it is

not

commonly

an excitable imagination enough for superstition.

showed

it

tinguished

to

very few.

who

noticed, and, in the case of

like CeUini's,

Beside, he

it

would be basis

tells

us that he

But are they not indeed

dis-

are conscious that they are regarded

ataU?

I

set

out one

afternoon

Haven, through the woods,

My

vegetables.

way

to

to

go a-fishing to Fair-

eke out

my scanty fare

led through Pleasant

of

Meadow, an

adjunct of the Baker Farm, that retreat of which a poet has since sung, beginning,

—

" Thy entry is a pleasant field, Which some mossy fruit trees yield Partly to a ruddy brook,

By

gliding

And

musquash undertook,

mercurial trout,

Darting about."

I thought

of living there before I went to Walden.

I "hooked" the apples, leaped the brook, and scared the

musquash and the trout. It was one of those afternoons which ÂŤ;eem indefinitely long before one, in which

many life,

events

though

it

may

happen, a large portion of our natural

was already half spent when I started.

By

220 the

Waldt:n.

way

there

to stand half

my

came up a shower, which compelled m%

ac hour under a pine, piling boughs over

my handkerchief for

head, and wearing

when

at length I

had made one

a shed

;

and

cast over the pickerel-

my middle in water, I found myself

weed, standing up to

suddenly in the shadow of a cloud, and the thunder

began

to

rumble with such emphasis that I could do

no more than thought

I,

to

listen

The gods must be

it.

proud,

with such forked flashes to rout a poor un-

armed fisherman.

So

I

made

haste for shelter to the

nearest hut, which stood half a mile from any road, but 80

much

the nearer to the pond, and

uninhabited

:

—

"

had long been

And here

a poet builded, In the completed years, For behold a trivial cabin

That

to destruction steers."

So the Muse fables. But therein, as I found, dwelt now John Field, an Irishman, and his wife, and several children, from the broad-faced boy who assisted his father at his work, and now came running by his side from the bog like,

to escape the rain, to the wrinkled, sibyl-

cone-headed infant that sat upon

father's

its

knee

as in the palaces of nobles, and looked out from

home

in the midst of

the stranger, with the privilege of infancy, not

but

it

was the

its

wet and hunger inquisitively upon a noble

last of

line,

knowing

and the hope and cy-

nosure of the world, instead of John Field's poor starveling brat.

There we

sat

together under that part of

the roof which leaked the least, while

ihundered without.

I

had

sat there

it

showered and

many

times of old

before the ship was built that floated this family to

BAKER FARM.

An

America. plainly to

;

many

that lofty s'lOve Btill

honest, hard-working, but shiftless

was John Field and

cook so

221

;

his wife, she too

man

was brave

successive dinners in the recesses or

with round greasy

fiice

and bare

thinking to improve her condition one day

the never absent

mop

breast^ ;

with

one hand, and yet no effects any where. The chickens, which had also taken shelter here from the rain, stalked about the room of

in

it ^'isible

like

members of the family, too humanized methought They stood and looked in my c-ye or

to roast well.

pecked

me

at

my

shoe significantly.

Meanwhile

my

host

how hard he worked " bogging " for a neighboring farmer, turning up a meadow with a spade told

his story,

ur bog hoe at the rate of ten dollars an acre and the use

manure for one year, and his little broad-faced son worked cheerfully at his father's sido the while, not knowing how poor a bargain the latter had made. I tried to help him with my experience, telling him that he was one of my nearest neighbors, and that I too, who came a-fishing here, and looked like a loafer, was getting my living like himself; that I lived in a tight, light, and clean house, which hardly cost more than the annual rent of such a ruin as his commonly amounts to and how, if he chose, he might in a month of the land with

;

or two build himself a palace of his

use

tea,

nor

coffee,

own

;

that I did not

nor butter, nor milk, nor fresh meat,

and so did not have to work to get them did not

me and

work hard,

but a trifle for coffee,

and

have

I did not

my

butter,

food

;

;

to eat hard,

again, as I

and

it

cost

but as he began with tea,

and milk, and

beef,

he had

to

them, and when he had worked

work hard to pay for hard he had to eat hard again to repair the waste of hia and so it was as broad as it was long, indeed gystem,

—

WALDEN.

222 it

was broader than

and wasted rated

it

it

was

as a gain in

was discontented and yet he had

long, for he

his life into the bargain

coming

;

America, that here you

to

could get tea, and coffee, and meat every day.

only true America

is

mode

of

life

do without these, and where the to

where you are

that country

erty to pursue such a

But the

as

may

at lib-

enable you to

state does not

endeavor

compel you to sustain the slavery and war and other

superfluous expenses which directly or indirectly result

from the use of such

him

a wild

state, if that

to study history to find out

But

alas

!

meadows on the earth were

what

A man is

will not

best for his

the culture of an Irishman

prise to be undertaken with a sort of moral told him, that as

be one.

to

were the consequence of men's

beginning to redeem themselves.

ture.

I purposely talked to

were a philosopher, or desired

as if he

I should be glad if all the left in

For

things.

is

need

own

cul-

an enter-

bog hoe.

I

he worked so hard at bogging, he re-

quired thick boots and stout clothing, which yet were

soon soiled and worn out, but I wore light shoes and thin clothing,

which cost not half so much, though he

might think that I was dressed

like

a gentleman, (which,

however, was not the case,) and in an hour or two, without labor, but as a recreation, I could, as

many

fish

as I should

enough money

to support

want

me

for

if

two days, or earn

a week.

family would live simply, they might

summer

I wished, catch

If he and Ina all

go a-huckle-

John heaved a sigh at this, and his wife stared with arms a-kimbo, and both appeared to be wondering if they had

berrying in the

capital tic

enough

enough

to

for their

amusement.

begin such a course with, or aritkmo-

to carry

it

through.

It

was

sailing

by dead

reckoning to them, and they saw not clearly hoif to

BAKER FARM, make life

tlieir

port so

und

nail,

not having skill to split

umns with any

still

take

But they living, John

thistle.

disadvantage,

—

and faihng

metic,

Do you

it

it

col-

in de-

roughly, as one should

it

an overwhelming

fight at

Field, alas! without arith-

so.

fish ? "

ever

I asked.

mess now and then when I

am

" What's your bait

catch."

massive

its

wedge, and rout

fine entering

;-- thinking to deal with

handle a

"

therefore I suppose they

bravely, after their fashion, face to face, giving

tooth

tail

;

223

?

"

lying

"I

"

yes, I catch a

by

good perch 1

;

catch shiners with

fish-worms, and bait the perch with them."

"

You'd

better go now, John," said his wife with glistening and

hopeful face

;

but John demurred.

The shower was now

over,

and a rainbow above the

eastern woods promised a fair evening

When

departure.

hoping

to get

my

so I took

;

I had got without I asked for a dish,

my

a sight of the well bottom, to complete

survey of the premises

but there, alas

;

and quicksands, and rope broken

are shallows

!

withal,

and bucket

ir-

Meanwhile the right culinary vessel wa<? selected, water was seemingly distilled, and after consultation and long delay passed out to the thirsty one,— not Such gruel susyet suffered to cool, not yet to settle. my eyes, and extains life here, I thought so, shutting recoverable.

;

cluding the motes by a skilfully du-ected under-current,

1 drank to genuine hospitality the heartiest draught I I

could.

am

not squeamish in such cases

when man-

ners are concerned.

As

I

was leaving the Irishman's roof

after the rain,

my

haste to catch

bending pickerel,

my

steps again to the pond,

wading

in

bog-holes, in forlorn

retired

meadows,

and savage

places,

in sloughs

appeared

and

for

an

!

WALDEN.

224 instant trivial to college

;

me who had

but as I ran

down

been sent to school and

the

hill

toward the redden-

my shoulder, and some my ear through the cleansed quarter, my Good Genius

ing west, with the rainbow over faint tinkling sounds air,

borne to

from I know not what

—

seemed to say, Go fish and hunt far and wide day farther and wider, and rest thee by many by day, brooks and hearth-sides without misorivinnr. Remember

—

—

Rise free from

thy Creator in the days of thy youth.

care before the dawn, and seek adventures.

noon

find thee

by other

lakes,

thee every where at >\ome.

There are no larger

than these, no worthier games than

Grow

Let the

and the night overtake

may

wild according to thy nature, like these sedges

and brakes, which

will

the thunder rumble

crops ? that

not

is

;

its

never become English hay.

what

if it

flee to carts

Take

shelter un-

and sheds.

not to get a Hving be thy trade, but thy sport. the land, but faith

own

men

not.

Through want of

Let

Enjoy

enterprise

are where they are, buying and selling,

and spending their

O

it

Let

threaten ruin to farmers

errand to thee.

der the cloud, while they

and

fields

here be played.

lives like serfs.

Baker Farm **

Landscape where the richest element * •

Is a little sunshine innocent." **

No one runs to revel On thy rail-fenced lea." *

*•

Debate with no

man

hast thou,

With questions art never perplexcid, As tame at the first sight as now, In thy plain russet gabardine dressed.' **

Come ye who love, And ye who hate.

•

•

BAKER FARM.

225

Children of the Holy Dove,

Faux

Aiivl (Juj

cf

Men come

ktiM^

liie

And hang conspiracies From the tough rafters

of the trees

'* !

tamely home at night only from the next

field

or street, where their household echoes haunt, and

their

life

again

pines because

their

;

it

breathes

We

ther than their daily steps.

from

far,

it3

cvvn breath over

shadows morning and evening reach

from adventures, and

should come

perils,

far-

home

and discoveries

every day, with new experience and character. Before I had reached the pond some fresh impulse

had brought out John Field, with altered mind, go " bogging " ere

this

turbed only a couple of string,

and he said

it

Field!

—I

improve by country

he, poor

letting

man,

dis-

while I was catching a fair

his luck

changed

;

but when

we changed

seats too.

Poor John

trust he does not read this, unless he will it,

mode

— thinking It is

his horizon all his

by some derivative old

to live

—

to catch

good bait sometimes,

I allow.

in this primitive

perch with shiners.

With

fins

was

seats in the boat luck

But

sunset.

new

country,

own, yet he a poor man, born

be poor, with his inherited Irish poverty or poor

Adam's grandmother and

to his

]?oggy ways, not to rise in this

world, he nor his posterity,

till

their

wading webbed

bog-trotting feet get talaria to their heels.

15

life,

HIGHER LAWS.

As of

1

fisli,

my

came home through the woods with trailing

my

pole,

it

being

now

string

quite dark, I

caught a glimpse of a woodchuck stealing across path,

and

felt

my

a strange thrill of savage delight, and was

strongly tempted to seize and devour

him raw

;

not that

I was hungry then, except for that wildness which he represented.

Once or

twice, however, while I lived at

the pond, I found myself ranging the woods, like a half-

starved hound, with a strange abandonment, seeking

some kind of venison which I might devour, and no morsel could have been too savage for me. The wildest scenes had become unaccountably familiar. myself, and

still find,

an

named,

spiritual

life,

it is

instinct

as do

I found in

toward a higher,

or, aa

most men, and another

toward a primitive rank and savage one, and 1 reverence them both. I love the wild not less than the good.

The wildness and adventure that are in fishing still recommended it to me. I like sometimes to take rank hold on life and spend my day more as the animals do. Pernaps 1 have owed to this employment and to hunting, vrhan quite young,

my closest

acquaintance with Nature. f226)

flIGHER LAWS.

They

227

and detain us in scenery with we should have little ac-

oarly introduce us to

•which otherwise, at that age,

quaintance.

Fishermen,

hunters,

woodchoppers, and

others, spending their lives in the fields

and woods,

in ?

peculiar sense a part of Nature themselves, are often in

a more favorable mood for observing her, in the intervals of their pursuits, than philosophers or poets even, who approach her with expectation. She is not afraid to exhibit herself to is

them.

The

traveller

on the prairie

naturally a hunter, on the head waters of the Mis-

souri

and Columbia a trapper, and

Mary

a fisherman.

He who

things at second-hand and

is

at the Falls of St.

only a traveller learns

by the

halves,

and

is

poor

We are most interested when science what those men already know practically or

authority.

re-

ports

in-

stinctively, for that alone is

of

human experience. They mistake who

a true humanity, or account

assert that the

Yankee has few

amusements, because he has not so many public holidays,

and men and boys do not play so many games as they do in England, for here the more primitive but solitary

amusements of hunting

fishing

given place to the former.

and the

like

Almost every

have not yet

New England

boy among my contemporaries shouldered a fowling piece between the ages of ten and fourteen and his hunting ;

were not limited like the preserves of an English nobleman, but were more boundless even than those of a savage. No wonder, then, that he did and

fishing grounds

not oftener stay to play on the common.

change ity,

is

But already a

taking place, owing, not to an increased human-

but to an increased scarcity of game, for perhaps the

nunter

is

the greatest friend of the animals hunted,

excepting the

Humane

Society.

xiot

228

"WALDEiT.

Moreover, when at the pond, I wished sometimes

add

fish to

my

from the same kind of necessity that the

Whatever humanity

did.

was

factitious,

all

my

than

had long

I

felt diffe*'ep+ly

my

much

it

philosophy more

about fowling, and sold ray gun

Not

that I

am

others, but I did not perceive that affected.

less

my

hufeel*

I did not pity the fishes nor

As

This was habit.

the worms.

fishers

I speak of fishing only now, for I

before I went to the woods.

mane than

first

might conjure up against

and concerned

feelings.

ings were

tc

I have actually fished

fare for variety.

for fowling, during

my excuse was that was studying ornithology, and sought only new or rare birds. But I confess that I am now inclined to think the last years that I carried a gun I

that there

is

a finer

It requires so

this.

of the birds, that,

way of studying ornithology than much closer attention to the habits

if for that

willing to omit the gun. jection

doubt these

Yet notwithstanding the ob-

on the score of humanity, I

if ;

reason only, I have been

am

compelled to

equally valuable sports are ever substituted for

my

and when some of

friends have asked

them it was make them

anxiously about their boys, whether they should hunt, I have answered, yes,

one of the best parts of hunters,

am

education,

—

first,

if

possible,

at last, so that they shall not find

them

large enough for

— hunters

let

remembering that

though sportsmen only at

mighty hunters ness,

—

my

me

in this or

game

any vegetable wilder-

as well as fishers of

of the opinion of Chaucer's nun,

men.

Thus

far I

who

" yave not of the text a pulled hen

That

There

is

saith that hunters

hen not holy men."

a period in the history of the individual, as of

the,

race,

HIGHER LAWS.

22&

when the hunters are the

" best men," as the

We

Algonquins called them.

who has never

fired

a gun

cannot but pity the boy

he

;

is

no more humane,

while his education has been sadly neglected.

my on

answer with respect

tc those

this pursuit, trusting that

No humane

it.

youths

This was

who were bent

they would soon outgrow

being, past the thoughtless age of boy-

hood, will wantonly murder any creature, which holds

by the same tenure

life

its

extremity cries like a child.

that

my

The hare

that he does.

its

I

in

warn you, mothers,

sympathies do not always make the usual phil-

anthropic distinctions.

Such is oftenest the young man's introduction to the and the most original part of himself. He goes

forest,

thither at first as a hunter

has the seeds of a better his

and life

fisher, until at last, if

in

proper objects, as a poet or naturalist

leaves the

gun and

fish-pole

he

him, he distinguishes

behind.

may be, and The mass of

it

men

are still and always young in this respect. In some countries a hunting parson is no uncommon sight. Such a one might make a good shepherd's dog, but is far

from being the Good Shepherd.

I have been sur-

prised to consider that the only obvious employment,

except wood-chopping, ice-cutting, or the like business,

which ever for

to

my

knowledge detained

a whole half day any of

at

Walden Pond

my fellow-citizens,

whether

fathers or children of the town, with just one exception,

was fishing. Commonly they did not think that they were lucky, or well paid for their time, unless they got a long string of fish, though they had the opportunity of seeing the pond

all

the while.

They might go

there

a thousand times before the sediment of fishing would gink to the bottom

and leave their purpose pure ; but nn

WALDEN.

230

doubt such a clarifying process would be going on

The governor and

the while.

now they are and so they know

a-fishing,

;

but

even they expect lature regards

hooks

to

to

go

it, it is

to

too old

when they

and dignified

no more forever.

it

heaven at

last.

but they

;

know

to

go

Yet

If the legis-

chiefly to regulate the

be used there

renKjm

his council faintly

ber the pond, for they went a-fishing there

were boys

ail

number of

nothing about

the hook of hooks with which to angle for the pond itself,

impaling the legislature for a

civilized communities, the

Thus, even in

bait.

embryo man passes through

the hunter stage of development. I have found repeatedly, of late years, that I cannot fish it

of

without falling a

little in

again and again.

my it

but always

to time,

BO are the

first

orders of creation

;

at present I

that if I

were

if I

me which

which revives

had not

am

fished.

There

is

is

I

unques-

am

less a

more humanity or even wisBut I see all.

no fisherman at

to live in

a wilderness I should again be

tempted to become a fisher and hunter in earnest. side, there

I feel

belongs to the lower

yet with every year I

fisherman, though without ;

it,

many

It is a faint intimation, yet

streaks of morning.

tionably this instinct in

I have tried

and, like

when I have done

would have been better

think that I do not mistake.

dom

it,

fellows, a certain instinct for

from time that

self-respect.

I have skill at

Be-

something essentially unclean about this

and

where housework commences, and whence the endeavor, which costs so much, to wear a tidy and respectable appearance each day, to keep the house sweet and free from all ill odors and sights. Having been my own butcher and scullion diet

and

all flesh,

I

began

to see

and cook, as well as the gentleman for

whom

the dishea

HIGHLH LAWS.

231

irere served up, I

can speak from an unusually complc.te

The

practical objection to animal food in

experience.

my

case was

its

uncleanness

and, besides, Avhen I bad

;

caught and cleaned and cooked and eaten

Beemed not

me

have fed

to

essentially.

It

my

cant and unnecessary, and cost more than

A

little

insignifi-

came

it

to.

bread or a few potatoes would have done as

and

well, with less trouble

filth.

contemporaries, I had rarely for

mal

they

fish,

was

food, or tea, or coffee,

&c.

;

Like many of

many

not so

my

years used ani-

much because

of

any ill effects which I had traced to them, as because they were not agreeable to my imagination. The repugnance to animal food

not the effect of experience, but

is

appeared more beautiful

stinct.

It

hard in

many

respects

went far enough that every

;

my

an

hi

low and fare

and though I never did

to please

man who

to live

is

imagination.

I

so,

I believe

has ever been earnest to preserve

his higher or poetic faculties in the best condition

has

been particularly inclined to abstain from animal food,

and from much food of any kind. It is a significant fact, stated by entomologists, I find it in Kirby and Spence, that " some insects in their perfect state, though furnished with organs of feeding,

and they lay

it

down

make no use

of them

" ;

as " a general rule, that almost all

much less than in that of larvae. when transformed into a butgluttonous maggot when become

insects in this state eat

The

voracious caterpillar

terfly,"

.

.

"and

the

a fly," content themselves with a drop or two of honey The abdomen under the or some other sweet liquid.

wings of the butterfly still represents th3 larva. This The is the tid-bit which tempts his insectivorous fate. nro thers and state larva the ; gross f :ieder is a man in

WALDEN.

232 whole nations

without fancy or

in that condition, nations

imagination, whose vast abdomens betray them. It is

hard

to

provide and cook so simple and clean a

diet as will not offend the imagination

but

;

this, I think,

be fed when we feed the body they should both down at the same table. Yet perhaps this may be done. The fruits eaten temperately need not make us is

to

;

sit

ashamed of our

But put an extra condiment

pursuits.

and

by

appetites, nor interrupt the worthiest

will poison you.

it

rich cookery.

It is not

Most men would

preparing with their

own hands

we

are not civilized, and,

not true

change

men and women. to

is

be made.

if

shame

feel

to live

caught

if

precisely such a dinner,

whether of animal or vegetable prepared for them by others.

your dish,

into

worth the while

food, as

Yet

till

is

every day otherwise

this is

gentlemen and

ladies, are

This certainly suggests what

It

may be

why

vain to ask

imagination will not be reconciled to flesh and

am

satisfied that

it is

not.

Is

it

not a reproach

is

a carniverous animal

in

a great measure, by preying on other animals

is

a miserable way,

—

any one who

rabbits, or slaughtering lambs,

may

will

learn,

be regarded as a benefactor of his race

man

to confine himself to

some

diet.

:io

Whatever

doubt that

•Hce, in its

it is

other

;

live,

but this

to snaring

— and he

who

will

shall teach

a more innocent and whole-

my own

practice

may

be, I

have

a part of the destiny of the human

gradual improvement, to leave off eating an-

imals, as surely as the savage tribes t^ach

go

I

man

tliat

True, he can and does

?

as

fat.

the

when they came

have

in contact

left off

eating

with the more civ-

ilized.

£f

one

listens to the faintest

but constant sug-gestion?

HIGHER LAWS.

233

his genius, which are certainly true, he sees not to what extremes, or even insanity, it may lead him and yet that way, as he grows more resolute and faithful, his fif

;

road

The

lies.

healthy

man

faintest assured objection

feels will at length prevail

which one over the argu-

ments and customs of mankind. his genius

till

it

misled him.

No man ever followed Though the result were

bodily weakness, yet perhaps no one can say that the

consequences were to be regretted, for these were a in conformity, to higher principles.

night are such that you greet them with joy, and emits a fragrance Hke flowers and sweet-scented is

more

elastic,

your success.

more

starry,

All nature

is

life

If the day and the

more immortal,

—

life

herbs,

that

is

your congratulation, and

you have cause momentarily to bless yourself. The greatest gains and values are farthest from being appreciated. We easily come to doubt if they exist. We soon forget them.

They are the highest reality. Perhaps the facts most astounding and most real are never

communicated by man

my

daily

life is

to

man.

The

true harvest of

somewhat as intangible and indescribamorning or evening. It is a httle

ble as the tints of star-dust caught, a

segment of the rainbow which

I

have

clutched.

my part, I was never unusually squeamish ; I could sometimes eat a fried rat with a good relish, if Yet, for

it

were necessary.

long, for the

I

am

same reason

glad to have arunk water so that I prefer

),ne natural sky an opium-eater's heaven. I would lam keep sober always ; and there are infinite degrees of drunkenness.

to

I believe that water

wine

is

is

the only drink for a wise

not so noble a liquor

;

man

;

and think of dashing the

hopes of a morning with a cup of

warm

coffee, or

of an

;

WALDEN.

234

evening with a dish of tea

I

am

tempted by them

Ah, how low I

!

fall

Even music may be

!

when

intoxicat-

Such apparently slight causes destroyed Greece and Rome, and will destroy England and America. Of all ebriosity, who does not prefer to be intoxicated by the air he breathes ? I have found it to be the most ing.

serious objection to coarse labors long continued, that

they comnelled to

tell

me

to eat

and drink coarsely

the truth, I find myself at present

no blessing

am

was, but, I

much

is

it

;

less

I carry less religion to the

particular in these respects. table, ask

But

also.

somewhat

not because I

am

wiser than I

obliged to confess, because, however

be regretted, with years I have grown

to

more coarse and

Perhaps these questions

indifferent.

are entertained only in youth, as most believe of poetry.

My practice is theless I

am

"

far

nowhere,"

is

Never-

here.

from regarding myself as one of those

privileged ones to that " he

my opinion

who has

whom

the

Ved

refers

when

it

says,

true faith in the Omnipresent Su-

preme Being may eat all that exists," that is, is not bound to inquire what is his food, or who prepares it and even in their case it is to be observed, as a Hindoo commentator has remarked, that the Vedant limits this privilege to

Who isfaction

''

the time of distress."

has not sometimes derived an inexpressible

from

his food in

I have been thrilled to think that I

ception to the

commonly

sat-

which appetite had no share

r

owed a mental per-

gross sense of taste, that I have

been inspired through the palate, that some berries which I

had eaten on a

hill-side

had fed

my

genius.

"

The

soul not being mistress of herself," says Thseng-tseu, " one lvX)ks, df es

and one does not see

;

one

listens,

not bear: one eats, and one does not

and one

know

the

HIGHER LAWS.

He who

savor of fo)d."

distinguishes the true savor of

can never be a glutton

his food

A

be otherwise.

235

;

may

puritan

he who does not cannot go

brown-bread

to his

crust with as gross an appetite as ever an aldeiinAn to

Not

his turtle.

defileth

which entereth

that food

into the

a man, but the appetite with which

It is neither the quality

tion to sensual savors

mouth

is

eaten.

nor the quantity, but the devo-

when

;

it

that Avhich

is

eaten

is

not

a viand to sustain our animal, or inspire our spiritual life,

but food for the worms that possess us.

If the hunt-

er has a taste for mud-turtles, muskrats, and other such

savage

made

tid-bits,

the fine lady indulges a taste for jelly

of a calf's foot, or for sardines from over the sea,

He

and they are even. can live

this

Our whole an is

goes to the mill-pond, she to her

The wonder

preserve-pot.

slimy beastly

how

they,

how you and

between virtue and

the only investment that never

There

on

this

which

thrills

us.

is

In the music it

The harp

travelling patterer for the Universe's Insurance

pany, recommending

the assessment that

all

last

grows

indifferent,

it.

we

indifferent, the

We

is

Though

the

Com

goodness

the youth at

laws of the universe are not

cannot touch a string or

go a long

is

way

off,

is

it

who does not hear move a stop but the

unfortunate

charming moral transfixes

Wc

pay.

the

but are forever on the side of the most sen-

surely there, and he

satire

and our

little

is is

Listen to every zephyr for some reproof, for

sitive. is

laws,

its

never

Goodness

vice.

fails.

of the harp which trembles round the world insisting

I,

eating and drinking.

life,

startlingly moral.

life is

instant's truce

is

us.

Many

an irksome

noise,

heard as music, a proud sweet

on the meanness of our

lives.

are conscious of an animal in us, which awakenj

;

23G

"WALDEN.

.

in projortion as our higher nature slumbers.

It is rep-

and sensual, and perhaps cannot be wholly expelled like the worms which, even in life and health, occupy tile

.

we may withdraw from it, but never change its nature. I fear that it may enjoy a certain health of its own that we may be well, yet not pure. The other day I picked up the lower jaw of a our bodies.

Possi^^ly

;

hog, with white and sound teeth and tusks, which sug-

gested that there was an animal health and vigor dis-

from the

tinct

spiritual.

This creature succeeded by

other means than temperance and purity.

which men

superior

;

men

knows what

sort of life

to purity ?

If I

knew

;

common herd

the

preserve

in

so wise a

if

man

lose

we had

it

Who

carefully."

it

would result

attained

as could teach

purity I would go to seek him forthwith.

mand

That

diifer from brute beasts," says Mencius, " is

a thing very inconsiderable

very soon

"

"

A

me

com-

over our passions, and over the external senses

of the body, and good acts, are declared by the

be indispensable

Yet the

in the mind's

Ved

to

approximation to God.'*

can for the time pervade and control

spirit

every member and function of the body, and transmute

what

in

form

is

The

devotion.

the grossest sensuality into purity and

and makes us unclean,

loose, dissipates

tinent invigorates

ering of

man

when we are when we are con-

generative energy, which,

and inspires

Chastity

us.

is

the flow-

and what are called Genius, Heroism,

;

Holiness, and the like, are but various fruits which suc-

ceed

it.

of purity

Man is

flows at once to

oper..

By

our impurity casts us down. sured that the animal

and

the divine

is

God when

the channel

turns our purity inspires and

He

is

blessed

who

is

as-

dying out in him day by day,

being established.

Perhaps there

ia

!

HIGHER LAWS.

237

none but has cause for shame on account of the inferior

and brutish nature

we

to

which he

I fear that

is allied.

are such gods or demigods only as fauns and satyrs,

the divine allied to beasts, the creatures of appetite, and that, to

some "

extent, our very

How happy 's he who To

Can use

his

And

is

Else

man

But

not ass himself to

one.

is

not only

to a

sensuality

puritj

!

many forms all same whether a man eat, or sensually. They are but one

one, though

is

It is the

and we only need

The impure can

if

he

have heard of

We

sj)eak

sloth ignorance ity is

What

chaste

person do any one

sit

mouth

of his

is

burrow, he

but

How

chastity ?

He

?

this virtue,

exertion

and

is.

"When

with purity.

shall not

we know

know

shall it.

not what

conformably to the rumor which

From

lieard.

is

;

If you would be chaste, you

at another.

must be temperate.

takes

great a sensualist he

neither stand nor

the reptile is attacked at one

shows himself

it

to see a

know how

of these things to

man know

the rest

which did incline headlong rage, and made them worse.*

drink, or cohabit, or sleep appetite,

all

the herd of swine,

is

he's those devils too

Them I.

hath due place assigned and disaforested his mind * * Âť * horse, goat, wolf, and ev'ry beast.

his beasts

*

A

—

our disgrace.

life is

a sluggish habit of mind.

it

is.

we have

come wisdom and purity

sensuality.

a

We

;

from

In the student sensual-

An

unclean person

is

who sits by a stove, whom who reposes without being

universally a slothful one, one

the sun shines on prostrate, fatigued. sins,

work

Nature

is

If you would avoid uncleanness, and all the earnestly, though

hard

to

it

be at cleaning a

stable*

be overcome, but she must b^ over

WALDEN.

£38

What

come.

avails

it

that

you are Christian,

are not purer than the heathen,

more,

if

you are not more

if

if

you

you deny yourself no I

religious ?

know

of

many

systems of religion esteemed heathenish whose precepts the reader witli shame, and provoke

fill

deavors, though

it

I hesitate to say these things, but

—

the subject,

him

be to the performance of

I care not

how

it is

obscene

to

new

rites

en-

merely.

not because of

my

words

are,

—

but because I cannot speak of them without betraying

my

We

impurity.

discourse freely without

one form of sensuality, and are

We

about another,

we cannot speak simply of the human nature. In earlier ages,

are so degraded that

necessary functions of in

silent

shame of

some

countries, every function

of and regulated by law.

was reverently spoken

Nothing was too

trivial for

the Hindoo lawgiver, however offensive it may be to modern taste. He teaches how to eat, drink, cohabit, void excrement and urine, and the like, elevating what is mean, and does not falsely excuse himself by calling these things

trifles.

Every man to the

is

the builder of a temple, called his body,

god he worships, after a

style purely his

own, nor

by hammering marble instead. We are painters, and our material is our own Any nobleness begins at flesh and blood and bones. once to refine a man's features, any meanness or sencan he get

off

all sculptors

and

suality to imbrute them.

John Farmer after a

sat at his door

one September evening,

hard day's work, his mind

still

running on his

Having bathed he sat down to recIt was a rather cool evenreate his intellectual man. ing, and some of his neighbors were apprehending a

labor

frost.

more or

He

less.

hai not attended

to the train of his thoughts

HIGHER LAWS.

239

when he heard some one playing on a

long

that sound

harmonized with

of his work

though

his

mood.

Still

flute,

and

he thought

but the burden of his thought was, that this kept running in his head, and he found hiia;

self planning

and contriving it against his will, yet it concerned him very little. It was no more than the scurf of his pkin, which was constantly sljuffled off. But the notes of the flute came home to his cars out of

a

different sphere

work

for

They

gently did

and the

state in

— Why do you life,

from that he worked faculties

in, and suggested which slumbered in him.

away with

the street, and the village,

certain

when a

which he

lived.

A

voice said to him,

stay here and hve this

glorious

mean moiling

existence

is possible for you? Those same stars twinkle over other fields than these.— But how to come out of this condition and actually mi-

grate thither

All that he could think of was to prac^tise ? some new austerity, to let his mind descend into his body and redeem it, and treat himself with ever increasing respect.

!

BRUTE NEIGHBORS.

Sometimes 1 had a companion in my fishing, who came through the village to my house from the other Bide of the town, and the catching of the dinner was as

much a

social exercise as the eating of

it.

Hermit, I wonder what the world is doing now. I have not heard so much as a locust over the sweet-fern

The

these three hours.

er's

— no

pigeons are

all

asleep upon

flutter from them. Was that a farm noon horn which sounded from beyond the woods

their roosts,

now ? The hands are coming in to boiled salt beef and cider and Indian bread. Why will men worry

just

themselves so I wonder live there

of Bose

?

He

?

that does not eat need not work.

how much they have

would

for the barking

And

keep bright tho

O, the housekeeping

and scour

Better not keep a house.

then for morning

pecker tapping. ;

Who

where a body can never think

devil's door-knobs,

there

reaped.

calls

!

to

day

his tubs this bright

Say, some hollow tree

and dinner-parties

O, they swarm

they are born too far into

;

!

the sun life

for

and Only a woodis

me.

too

;

warm

I have

Water from the spring, and a loaf of brown bread on the

BRFTE NEIGHBORS. ehelf.

— Hark,

some

ill-fed village

chase?

hew

I

a nistling

bound

jf

241 the leaves

or the lost pig -which

is

is it

See those clouds

Poet.

greatest thing I it

;

how they hang

have seen to-day.

in old paintings, nothing like

less

when we were

oflf

Mediterranean sky. get,

ing.

it

!

comes on

— Eh,

That's the

There's nothing like

the coast of Spain.

That's the true industry for poets.

be gone.

Come,

I cannot resist.

let's

My

my

living to

near the end of that

Leave me

it.

we may

a-fish-

It is the

only

along.

brown bread

will

soon

am

just

I think that I

am

I will go with you gladly soon, but I

concluding a serious meditation.

— un-

That's a true

and have not eaten to-day, that I might go

Hermit.

IMr.

to-day ?

in foreign lands,

I thought, as I have

trade 1 have learned.

But

It

my sumachs and s\\ eet-briers tremble. you ? How do you like the world

;

Poet,

ifc

said to be in these

woods, whose tracks I saw after the rain ?

apace

Is

\'ielding to the instinct of the

alone, then, for a while.

not be delayed, you shall be digging

the bait meanwhile.

Angle-worms are rarely to be met soil was never fattened

with in these parts, where the with manure

;

the race

digging the bait fish,

when

may have Bet in the

is

is

sport of

nearly equal to that of catching the

one's appetite all to

The

nearly extinct.

is

not too keen

yourself to-day.

you I would advise you to ;

and

this

spade down yonder among the ground-nuts,

where you see the johnswort waving. I think that I may warrant you one worm to every three sods you turn up, if you look well in among the roots of the Or, if you choose to go grass, as if you were weeding. farther, it will not be u'awise, for I have found the increase of fair bait to b

the dista?ices.

16

;

very nearly as the squares of

WALDEN.

24:2

Hermit

me

Let

alone.

mind

;

the worid

Shall I go to heaven or a-fish-

lay about at this angle.

ing

Mv

see; where was I?

thinks I was nearly in this frame of

If I should soon bring this meditation to an end,

?

would another so sweet occasion be

likely to offer

?

I

was as near being resolved into the essence of things ns ever I was in my life. I fear my thoughts will n<>t come back to me. If it would do any good, I would whistle for them.

no

was

it

they

make

us an

offer, is it

We will

think of it ? My thoughts have and I cannot find the path again. What that I was thinking of? It was a very hazy day.

wise to say, left

When

track,

I will just try these three sentences of Con-fut-see;

they

may

whether

fetch that state

it

was the dumps or a budding

There never

is

How

Poet,

just thirteen

;

know

ecstasy.

now. Hermit,

worms are

off

not

Mem.

too soon

is it

I have got

?

whole ones, beside several which are imbut they will do for the smaller

;

they do not cover up the hook so much.

village

meal

I

but one opportunity of a kind.

perfect or undersized

fry

about again.

quite too large

;

a shiner

Those

may make a

one without finding the skewer.

Hermit,

Concord ?

Well, then,

let's

be

Shall

off.

There's good sport there

if

we

to the

the water be not

too high.

Why

do precisely these objects which we behold

make a world ?

Why

imals for his neighbors

have

filled this

has

crevice

have put animals

man just

these species of an-

as if nothing but a

;

?

mouse could

I suspect that Pilpay

&

Co.

to their best use, for they are all

beasts of burden, in tion of our thoughts.

a

sense,

made

to carry

some

per*

BRUTE NEIGHBORS.

2*3 •

The mite which haunted my house were

men

ones, which are said to

not ihe comhave been introduced into

the country, but a wild native kind not found in the vilI sent one to a distinguished naturalist,

lage.

and

terested

had

its

him much.

When

I

was

nest underneath the house,

it

in-

building, one of these

and before I had

laid

the second floor, and

swept out ihe shavings, would come out regularly at lunch iime and pick up the crums at my feet. It probably had never seen a man before and it soon became quite familiar, and Avould ;

run over

my

shoes and up mjr-clothes.

It could readily

ascend the sides of the room by short impulses, like a squirrel, which it resembled in its motions. At length, as I leaned with my elbow on the bench one day, it

my clothes, and along my sleeve, and round and round the paper which held my dinner, while I kept the latter close, and dodged and played at bo-peep with it ; and when at last I held still a piece of cheese between ran up

my thumb and finger, it came and my hand, and afterward cleaned its a

fly,

nibbled face

it,

sitting in

and paws,

like

and Avalked away.

A phoebe soon tection in

built in my shed, and a robin for proa pine which grew against the house. In

June the partridge, (T'etrao umhellus,) a

bird, led

her brood past

in the rear to the front of

Avhich

is

so shy

my windows, from the woods my house, clucking and call-

them like a hen, and in all her behavior proving herself the hen of the woods. The young suddenly dising to

perse on your approach, at a signal from the mother, as

a whirlwind had swept them away, and they so exactly resemble the dried leaves and twigs that many a if

traveller has placed his foot in the midst of a brood,

beard the whir of the old bird as she flew

off,

and

and her

WALDEN.

2 4 'A

anxious

calls

and mewing, or seen her

trail

her wings

tt

attract his attention, Avithout suspecting their neighbor-

The parent

hood.

sometimes

will

roll

and spin round

before you in such a dishabille, that you cannot, for a

few moments, detect what kind of creature it is. The young squat still and flat, often running their heads under a

leaf,

and mind only

from a distance, nor

will

their mother's directions given

your approach make them run

You may even

again and betray themselves.

tread on

them, or have your eyes on them for a minute, without discovering them. at such a time,

J

and

mother and their

have held them

still

in

my

open hand

their only care, obedient to their

instinct,

was

to squat there without

that once, So when I had laid them on the leaves again, and one accidentally fell on its side, it was found with the rest in exactly the same position ten minutes afterward. They are not callow like the young of most birds, but more

perfect

fear or trembling.

perfectly developed

The remarkably

is this instinct,

and precocious even than chickens.

adult yet innocent expression of their

open and serene eyes

is

very memorable.

gence seems reflected in them.

They

All

intelli-

suggest not mere-

ly the purity of infancy, but a wisdom clarifled by expe-

rience.

but

is

Such an eye was not born when the bird was, The woods ÂŤlo coeval with the sky it reflects.

not yield another such a gem.

The

often look into such a limpid well.

traveller dees njt

The

ignorant or

reckless sportsman often shoots the parent at such a time,

and leaves these innocents

to fall

a prey to some

prowling beast or bird, or gradually mingle with the dv-

much resemble. It is said when hatched by a hen they will directly disperse

caying leaves which they so that

on some alarm, and so are

lost, for

they never hear the

!

BRUTE NEIGHBORS. inoilier*3 call

my

245

which gathers them again.

These were

hens and chickens.

It

is

remarkable

how many

creatures live wild and

free though secret in the woods,

and

still

sustain them-

selves in the neighborhood of towns, suspected

ers only.

How

He

to

grows

retired the otter

manages

by hunt-

to live

here

be four feet long, as big as a small boy,

perhaps without any human being getting a glimpse of him. I formerly saw the raccoon in the woods behind

where

my

house

is built,

and probably

Commonly

still

heard their

whinnering

al night.

two

shade at noon, after planting, and ate

in the

lunch, and read a

of a

swamp and

little

I rested an hour or

my

by a spring which was the source

of a brook, oozing from under Brister's

Hill, half a mile from my field. The approach to this was through a succession of descending grassy hollows, full of young pitch-pines, into a larger wood about the swamp. There, in a very secluded and shaded spot, under a spreading white-pine, there was yet a clean firm sward to sit on. I had dug out the spring and made a well of clear gray water, where I could dip up a pailful without roiling it, and thither I went for this purpose almost every day in midsummer, when the pond was

warmest.

Thither too the wood-cock led her brood, to

probe the

mud

down

for

worms,

flying but a foot

above them

the bank, while they ran in a troop beneath

at last, spying me, she

would leave her young and

;

but

circle

round and round me, nearer and nearer till within four or five feet, pretending broken wings and legs, to attract

my

attention, a'ld get off

her young, who would already

ha\ e taken up their march,

w- itli

faint

wiry peep, single

swamp, as she directed. Or I heard when I could not see the parent young the peep of the file

through

th'j

WALDEN.

246 bii'd.

There too the turtle-doves sat over the spring, or from bough to bough of the soft white-pines

fiutlered

over

my

head

or the red squirrel, coursing

;

was

nearest bough,

You

only need

down

the

particularly familiar and inquisitive.

long enough in some attractive

sit still

spot in the woods that

may

inhabitants

all its

exhibit

themselves to you by turns. I was witness to events of a less peaceful character.

One day when

my

much

wood-pile, or rather

observed two large ants, the one

pile of stumps, I

red, the other

my

I went out to

larger, nearly half

black, fiercely contending with one

once got hold they never

and

Avrestled

rolled

Having and

another.

go, but struggled

let

Looking

on the chips incessantly.

was surprised

farther, I

an inch long, and

to find that the chips

ered with such combatants, that

it

were cov-

was not a duellum,

but a helium^ a war between two races of ants, the red

always pitted against the black, and frequently two red

The

Dues to one black.

covered

all tlie hills

legions of these

and vales

in

my

Myrmidons

wood-yard, and

the ground was already strewn with the dead and dying,

both red and black.

It

was the only

have ever witnessed, the only while the battle

was raging

;

battle Avhich I

battle-field

I

war

internecine

ever trod ;

the red

republicans on the one hand, and the black imperialists

on the other.

On

every side they were engaged in

deadly combat, yet without any noise that I could hear,

and

human

soldiers

never fought so

resolutely.

I

watclied a couple that were fast locked in each other's

embraces, in a

little

sunny valley amid the

noon-day prepared to life

went

out.

The

fight

till

chips,

now

at

the sun went down, or

smaller red champion had fastened

himself like a vice to his adversary's front, and through

;

BRUTE NEIGHBORS. all

the tumblings

ed to

cea!

gnaw

at

on that

247

never for an instant

field

one of his feelers near the

root,

ing already caused the other to go

hav-

by the board while the stronger black one dashed him from side to side, anr^ as I saw on looking nearer, had already divested him of several of his members. They fought with more ;

,

than

pertinacity

Neither

bull-dogs.

least disposition to retreat.

It

manifested

was evident that

the their

was Conquer or die. In the mean while there came along a single red ant on the hill-side of this

battle-cry

valley, evidently full of excitement,

spatched his

who

either

had de-

or had not yet taken part in the battle

foe,

latter, for he had lost none of his limbs whose mother had charged him to return with his shield or upon it. Or perchance he was some Achilles, who Kad nourished his wrath apart, and had now come to avenge or rescue his Patroclus. He saw this unequal combat from afar, for the blacks were nearly twice

probably the

— — he drew near with

the size of the red,

he stood on batants

;

his

rapid pace

till

guard within half an inch of the com-

then, watching his opportunity, he sprang

upon

commenced

near

the black warrior, and

his operations

the root of his right fore-leg, leaving the foe to select

among

his

ed for

life,

own members and so there were three unitas if a new kind of attraction had been in;

vented which put

all

other locks and cements to shame.

I should not have wondered by

this

time to find that

they had their respective musical bands stationed on

some eminent

chip,

and playing their national

while, to excite the slow ants.

and cheer the dying combat-

I was myself excited somewhat even as

had been men. lifference.

And

airs the

The more you certainly there

think of is

it,

if

they

the less the

not the fight recorderl

— 248 in

TTALDEN.

Concord history, at

the histoiy of Ameiica,

.east, if in

that will bear a moment's comparison with this, whether

numbers engaged in it, or for the patriotism and heroism displayed. For numbers and for carnage it was an Austerlitz or Dresden. Concord Fight Two

for the

!

on the patriots' side, and Luther Blanchard wounded! Why here every ant was a Buttrick, "Fire! for God's sake fire!" and thousands shared the fate of Davis and Hosmer. There was not one hirehng there. I have no doubt that it was a principle they fought for, as much as our ancestors, and not to avoid a three-penny tax on their tea and the results of this battle will be as important and memorable to those whom it concerns as those of the battle of Bunker Hill, killed

—

;

at least.

I took up the chip on which the three I have particularly described

and placed

it

were

struggling, carried

under a tumbler on

der to see the issue.

mentioned red ly

gnawing

ant, I

my

it

my house,

window-sill, in or-

Holding a microscope to the firstsaw that, though he was assiduous-

at the near fore-leg of his

severed his remaining feeler, his torn away, exposing

into

what

vitals

own

enemy, having breast was

all

he had there to the

jaws of the black warrior, whose breast-plate was apparently too thick for

him

to pierce

cles of the sufferer's eyes

war only could longer under the

;

and the dark carbun-

shone with ferocity such as

They struggled half an hour tumbler, and when I looked again the

excite.

black soldier had severed the heads of his foes from their bodies,

and the

either side of

bow, tvafl

him

still livinor

heads were

han<rinjr

en

like ghastly trophies at his saddle-

still appai'ently as firmly fastened as ever, and he endeavoring with feeble struggles, being without

;

BRUTE NEIGHBORS. feelers

not

and with only the remnant of a

how many

which

249

oilier

at length, after half

plished.

leg,

and I know

wounds, to divest himself of them

an hour more, he accom-

I raised the glass, and he went off over the

window-sill in that crippled state.

survived that combat,

Whether he

finally

and spent the remainder of

days in some Hotel des Invalides, I do not know

;

thought that his industry would not be worth thereafter.

I

if I

but I

much

never learned which party was victorious,

nor the cause of the war

day as

his

had had

my

;

but I

tell

for the rest of that

feelings excited

by witnessing the struggle, the human battle before my door. Kirby and Spence

felt

ferocity

and harrowed

and carnage, of a

us that the battles of ants have

long been celebrated and the date of them recorded, though they say that Huber is the only modern author

who appears

to

have witnessed them,

"^neas

Syl-

vius," say they, " after giving a very circumstantial ac-

count of one contested with great obstinacy by a great and small species on the trunk of a pear tree," adds that

This action was fought in the pontificate of Eugenius the Fourth, in the presence of Nicholas Pistoriensis, an

"

'

eminent lawyer, who related the whole history of the batsimilar engagement tle with the greatest fidehty.'

A

between great and small ants is recorded by Olaus Magnus, in which the small ones, being victorious, are said to

have buried the bodies of their own soldiers, but lef* those This Kivent of their giant enemies a prey to the birds.

happened previous to the expulsion of the tyrant ChrisThe battle which I witti(;rn the Second from Sweden." nessed took place in the Presiiency of Polk, five years before the passage of Webster's Fugitive-Slave Bill.

Many

a village Bose,

fit

only to course a mud-turtl*

,

WALDEN.

250 in

a victualling

cellar,

sported his heavy qiarters in iht

woods, without the knowledge of his master, and inef-

burrows and woodchucks* by some slight cur which nimbly threaded the wood, and might still inspire a natural terfecvually smelled at old fox

holes

led perchance

;

ror in

denizens

its

;

— now

far

behind his guide, bark-

ing like a canine bull toward some small squirrel wliich

had treed

itself for scrutiny, then,

cantering

the bushes with his weight, imagining that he

track

Once

of some I

member

stray

was surprised

to

bending

off,

on thÂŤ

in

of the jerbilla family.

see a cat walking along the

stony shore of the pond, for they rarely wander so far

from home.

The

surprise

was mutual.

Nevertheless

the most domestic cat, which has lain on a rug days, appears quite at sly

home

in the woods, and,

all

her

by her

and stealthy behavior, proves herself more native

there than the regular inhabitants.

Once, when berry-

met with a cat with young kittens in the woods, and they all, like their mother, had their backs up and were fiercely spitting at me. A few years before I lived in the woods there was what was called a " winged cat " in one of the farm-houses in Lincoln nearest the pond, Mr. Gilian Baker's. When ing, I

quite wild,

I called to see her in June, 1842, she was gone a-hunting

was her wont, was a male or female, and

in the woods, as

(I

whether

it

common

pronoun,) but her mistress told

came

into the

neighborhood a

little

am

not sure

so use the

me

more

that she

more than a year

and was finally taken into their house was of a dark brownish-gray (?olor, with a white spot on her throat, and white feet, and had a large bushy tail like a fox that in the winter the fur gi*ew Jhiek ard flatted out along her sides, forming strips ten before, in April,

that she

;

BRUTE NEIGHBORS.

251

or twelve inclies long by two and a half wide, and under her chin like a muff, the upper side loose, the under matted like felt, and in the spring these aj^pendages

dropped

off.

which I keep

They gave me a There

still.

sible, for,

no appearance of a

Some thought

brane about them. squirrel or

is

pair of her "wings,"

mem-

was part flyingsome other wild animal, which is not imposit

according to naturalists, prolific hybrids have

been produced by the union of the marten and domestic cat. This would have been the right kind of cat for

me

had kept any for why should not a cat be winged as well as his horse ?

to keep, if I

poet's

In the

fall

;

the loon [Golymhus glacialis) came, as

usual, to moult

and bathe

woods ring with At rumor of his

his wild laughter before I

on the

by

and on

three, with patent rifles

autumn

had

risen.

arrival all the Mill-dam sportsmen are

alert, in gigs

glasses.

pond, making the

in the

They come on

two by two and three balls

rustling through the

leaves, at least ten

station themselves

foot,

and conical

men

to

this side of the

and spy-

woods

one loon.

like

Some

pond, some on that,

for the poor bird cannot be omnipresent

;

if

he dive here

he must come up there. But now the kind October wind rises, rustling the leaves and rippling the surface of the water, so that no loon can be heard or seen,

though his foes sweep the pond with spy-glasses, and

make

the woods resound with their discharges.

waves generously with

all

rise

and dash

The

angrily, taking sidts

waterfowl, and our sportsmen must beat a re-

treat to town and shop and unfinished jobs. But they were too often successful. When I went to get a pail vf water early in the morning I frequently saw thig stately bird sailing out of

my

cove within a few roda.

WALDEN.

252

If I endeavored to overtake Bee

him

in a boat, in oTxler tâ‚Ź

how he would manoeuvre, he would

completely

lost,

sometimes,

till

dive and be

him But

so that I did not discover

the latter part of the daj.

again, I

was

more than a match for him on the surface. He commonly went off in a rain. As I was paddling along the north shore one very calm October afternoon, for such days especially they settle

on to the lakes, like the milkweed down, having

looked in vain over the pond for a loon, suddenly one. sailing out

from the shore toward the middle a few rods

in front of me, set self.

up

his wild

laugh and betrayed him-

I pursued with a paddle and he dived, but

He

he came up I was nearer than before. but I miscalculated the direction he

were

rods apart

fifty

time, for I

would

when he came

had helped

to

when

dived again, take,

and we

to the surface this

widen the interval

and again

;

he laughed long and loud, and with more reason than before.

He

manoeuvred

so cunningly that I could not

Each

get within half a dozen rods of him.

he came that,

he

head

to the surface, turning his

when way and

time,

this

coolly surveyed the water ajid the land,

parently chose his course so that he might

and ap-

come up

where there was the widest expanse of water and at It was surprising the greatest distance from the boat.

how quickly he made up into execution.

He

led

his

me

mind and put at

once

to the

his resolve

widest part

it. While he was endeavoring was a pretty game,

of the pond, and could not be driven from

was thinking one thing to divine his

in his brain, I

thought in mine.

It

played on the smooth surface of the pond, a man against a loon.

Suddenly your adversary's checker disappears

beneath the board, and the problem

is

to place yours

BRUTE NEIGHBORS.

2^)3

nearest to wliere his will appear again. ÂŤrould

Sometimes he come up unexpectedly on the opposite side of me,

having apparently passed directly under the boat.

So

iong-winded was he and so unweariable, that when he

had swum

would immediately plunge again,

farthest he

and then no wit could divine where in the deep pond, beneath the smooth surface, he might be

nevertheless

;

speeding his

way

to visit the is

like

a

for

fish,

he had time and

bottom of the pond in

said that loons

its

have been caught

ability

deepest part. in the

It

New York

lakes eighty feet beneath the surface, with hooks set for trout,

— though Walden

is

deeper than

How sur-

that.

prised must the fishes be to see this ungainly visitor from

way amid

another sphere speeding his

Yet he appeared

know

to

water as on the surface, and

Once

or twice I

isurface, just

saw a

put his

rest

on

when

I

faster there.

straining

it

was

my

rise

;

me

as well for

his reappearing as to

where he would

was

swam much

where he approached the head out to reconnoitre, and instant-

my oars and wait

to calculate

!

ripple

I found that

ly dived again.

their schools

course as surely under

his

for again

to

endeavor

and again,

eyes over the surface

one

way, I would suddenly be startled by his unearthly laugh behind me.

But why,

he came up by that loud laugh breast enough betray him

I thought.

I

could

?

?

He was

Did not

his white

indeed a

silly loon,

commonly hear the plash

water when he came up, and so *fter

much moment

after displaying so

cunning, did he invariably betray himself the

of the

also detected him.

But

an hour he seemed as fresh as ever, dived aa

willingly

and swam yet farther than

surprising to see

how

at

first.

If

was

serenely he sailed off with unruf*

;

WALDEN.

254 fled breast

when he came

to the surface, doing all the

work Avith his webbed feet beneath. His usual note was this demoniac laughter, yet somewhat like that of a water-fowl but occasionally, when he had balked me most successfully and come up a long way off, he uttered a long-drawn unearthly howl, probably more like that of a wolf than any bird as when a beast puts his muzzle ;

;

to

the ground and deliberately howls.

looning, here,

— perhaps the

wildest sound that

making the woods ring

far

own

Though

resources.

is

ever heard

and wide.

cluded that he laughed in derision of dent of his

This was his

my

I con-

efforts, confi-

the sky was

by

this

time overcast, the pond was so smooth that I could see

where he broke the surface when I did not hear him. His white breast, the stillness of the air, and the smoothness of the water were all against him. At length, having come up

fifty

prolonged howls, as

rods

off,

he uttered one of those

on the god of loons to aid

if calling

him, and immediately there came a wind from the east

and rippled the

surface,

and

filled

misty rain, and I was impressed as

the whole air with

if it

were the prayer

of the loon answered, and his god was angry with

and

so I left

him disappearing

far

away on

me

the tumultu-

3us surface.

For ly tack

hours, in fall days, I watched the ducks cunning-

and veer and hold the middle of the pond, far

from the sportsman

need

to practise in

;

which they

tricks

Louisiana bayous.

will

When

have

less

compelled

would sometimes circle round and round and over the pond at a considerable height, from which

to rise they

they could easily see like black

to other

motes in the sky

;

ponds and the river,

and,

when

I thought they

BRUTE NEIGHBORS.

255

had gone off thither long since, they would settle down by a slanting flight of a quarter of a mile on to a distant part

which was

left free

;

but what beside safety

they got by sailing in the middle of Walden I do not

know, unless they love that I do.

its

water for the same reason

HOUSE-WARMING.

In October I went a-graping to the river meadowa, and loaded myself with clusters more precious for their beauty and fragrance than for food.

There too I ad-

mired, though I did not gather, the cranberries, small

waxen gems, pendants

meadow

of the

grass, pearly

and

red, which the farmer plucks with an ugly rake, leaving

the smooth

meadow

in

a snarl, heedlessly measuring

them by the bushel and the dollar only, and sells the destined spoils of the meads to Boston and New York to be jammed^ to satisfy the tastes of lovers of Na;

So butchers rake the tongues of bison out of the prairie grass, regardless of the torn and droopThe barberry's brilliant fruit was likewise ing plant.

ture there.

food for

my

eyes merely

;

but I collected a small store

of wild apples for coddling, which the proprietor and travellers

had overlooked.

When

chestnuts were ripe

I laid up half a bushel for winter.

citing at that season to

It

was very ex-

roam the then boundless

nut woods of Lincoln, — they now — with a bag on my under the

chest-

sleep their long sleep

railroad,

fttick to

open burrs with in

my

shoulder, and a

hand, for I did not alwayi (256)

;

HOUSE-WARMING. wait for

amid the

tlie frost,

257 and the

rustling of leaves

loud reproofs of the red-squirrels and the jajs, whose

half-consumed nuts I sometimes

stole, for the burrs which they had selected were sure to contain sound ones.

Occasionally I climbed and shook the

grew

my

also behind

trees.

They

house, and one large tree which

it, was, when in flower, a bouquet which scented the whole neighborhood, but the squirrels and the jays got most of its fruit the last coming in

almost overshadowed

;

flocks early in the

morning and picking the nuts out of

the burrs before they

fell.

them and

more distant woods composed These nuts, as far as they went,

wholly of chestnut.

were a good

I relinquished these trees to

the

visited

substitute for bread.

tutes might, perhaps, be found.

INIany other substi-

Digging one day for

fish-worms I discovered the ground-nut (Apios tube' rosa) on

its string,

the potato of the aborigines, a sort

of fabulous fruit, which I had begun to doubt

if I

ever dug and eaten in childhood, as I had

and had

not dreamed

it.

I had often since seen

told,

its

had

crimpled red

velvety blossom supported by the stems of other plants

without knowing

it

nigh exterminated like that of

to

be the same.

it.

It has

Cultivation has well

a sweetish

taste,

a frostbitten potato, and I found

boiled than roasted.

it

much better

This tuber seemed like a faint

promise of Nature to rear her own children and feed

some future period. In these days of fatted cattle and waving grain-fields, this humble root, which was once the totem of an Indian tribe, is quite forgotten, or known only by its flowering vine but let wild Nature reign here once more, and tlie ten-

them simply here

at

der and luxurious English grains will pro]Âťably disap-

pear before a myriad of

17

foes,

and without the care of

WALDEN.

258

man

the crow

may

carry back even the last seed of

God

corn to the great corn-field of the Indian's south-west,

the

whence he

is

said to

have brought

now almost exterminated ground-nut

will

in the it

but

;

perhaps

revive and flourish in spite of frosts and wildness, prove itself

indigenous, and

and dignity as the

resume

its

ancient importance

Some

diet of the hunter tribe.

In-

dian Ceres or Minerva must have been the inventor and

bestower of

it;

mences here,

its

and when the reign of poetry comleaves and string of nuts may be repre-

sented on our works of art.

Already, by the

first

of September, I had seen two

or three small maples turned scarlet across the pond,

beneath where the white stems of three aspens di verged, at the point of a promontory, next the water.

Ah, many a tale their color told And gradually from week to week the character of each tree came out, and !

it

admired

lake.

the smooth mirror of the

itself reflected in

Each morning the manager of this gallery some new picture, distinguished by more

sub-

stituted

bril-

liant or

harmonious coloring, for the old upon the walls.

The wasps came by

thousands to

ber, as to winter quarters,

and

my

settled

lodge in Octo-

on

my

windows

within and on the walls over-head, sometimes deterring

Each morning, when they were numbed with cold, I swept some of them out, but I did not trouble myself much to get rid of them I even felt complimented by their regarding my house as a desiraThey never molested me seriously, though ble shelter. visitors

from entering.

;

they bedded with vnto

what crevices

me and ;

they gradually disappeared,

I do not

know, avoiding winter and

unspeakable cold.

Like the wasps, before I

finally

went

into wintei

HOUSE-WARMING.

259

quarters in November, I used to resort to the north- east

Waldcn, which the sun, reflected from the pitchpine woods tmd the stony shore, made the fire-side of the pond it is so much pleasanter and wholesomer to be side of

;

warmed by

the sun while you can be, than by an

I thus

cial fire.

warmed myself by

embers which the summer,

had

the

still

glowing

a departed hunter,

left.

When

My

like

artifi-

I

came

to build

my chimney I

bricks being second-hand

cleaned with

ones

studied masonry

required

to

be

a trowel, so that I learned more than

usual of the qualities of bricks and trowels.

The mor-

them was fifty years old, and was said to be still growing harder but this is one of those sayings which men love to repeat whether they are true or not. Such sayings themselves grow harder and adhere more firmly tar on

;

with age, and to clean

it

would take many blows with a trowel

an old wiseacre of them.

Many

of the villages

of Mesopotamia are built of second-hand bricks of a

very good quality, obtained from the ruins of Babylon, and the cement on them is older and probably harder

may

was struck by the peculiar toughness of the steel which bore so many violent blows without being worn out. As my bricks had been

still.

However

that

be, I

in a chimney before, though I did not read the name of Nebuchadnezzar on them, I picked out as many fireplace bricks as I could find, to save woi'k and waste, and

between the bricks about the fireplace with stones from the pond shore, and also made my mortar with the white sand from the same place. I I filled

the spaces

lint^ered

most about the

fireplace, as tlie roost vital part

WALDEN.

260 of the house.

Indeed, I worked so deliberately",

ihtit

though I commenced at the ground in the mornhig,

a

course of bricks raised a few inches above the fioor

served for

neck for

my

pilloAV at night

that I

it

remember

;

yet I did not get a

;

my

stiff

neck

is

stiff

of older

I took a poet to board for a fortnight about those

date.

times,

which caused

me

to

be put to

it

for

He

room.

own knife, though I had two, and we used them by thrusting them into the earth. He shared with me the labors of cooking. I was pleased to see my work rising so square and solid by degrees, and reflected, that, if it proceeded slowly, it was calculated to endure a long time. The chimney is to some brought his to scour

extent an independent structure, standing on the ground

and

rising through the house

after the house is

burned

to

it still

the heavens

even

;

stands sometimes, and

importance and independence are apparent. Thiii was toward the end of summer. It was now November. its

The

north wind had already begun to cool the pond,

though

it

took

many weeks

of steady blowing to accom-

When I began to have a fire at evening, before I plastered my house, the chimney carried

plish

is

it, it

smoke

so deep.

numerous chinks between the boards. Yet I passed some cheerful evenings in that cool and airy apartment, surrounded by particularly well, because of the

the rough the bark

my

brown boards

on

eye so much after

obligod to confess that no',

full

higli over-head.

it

it

of knots, and raders with

My

was plastered,

to create

nev-^^i-

man

pleased

thoufÂť-h I

was more comfortabxc.

every apartment in which

enough

house

dwells be

some obscurity over-head,

was

Should

vÂťher'^

lofty

i^hh

HOL!SE->V ARMING.

261

eiing shadows may play at evening about the rafters These forms are more agreeable to the fancy and

?

imagi-

nation

than fresco paintings or other the most expeii-

sive furniture.

I

may

say,

I

when

well as shelter.

now

first

began

to inhabit

my

house,

I began to

use it for warmth as I had got a couple of old fire-dogs to

keep the wood from the hearth, and it did me good to see the soot form on the back of the chimney which I

had

built,

and I poked the

satisfaction than usual.

fire

My

with more right and more

dwelling was small, and I

could hardly entertain an echo in

it but it seemed larger and remote from neighbors. All the attractions of a house were concentrated in one room; it was kitchen, chamber, parlor, and keeping;

for being a single apartment

room ; and whatever satisfaction parent or child, master or servant, derive from living in a house, I enjoyed it all. Cato says, the master of a family {patremfamilU must have in his rustic villa " cellam oleariam, vinariam, dolia multa, uti lubeat caritatem expectare, et rei, as)

et virtuti, et gloriae erit," that

many

casks, so that

tmies;

it

may

is,

"an

oil

be pleasant

and wine to

cellar,

expect hard

be for his advantage, and virtue, and had in my cellar a firkin of potatoes, about two quarts of peas with the weevil in them, and on my glory."

shelf a

will

it

I

little rice,

a jug of molasses, and of rye and In-

dian meal a peck each. I sometimes

dream of a larger and more populous standing in a golden age, of enduring materials, and without ginger-bread work, which shall still consist Jionse,

of only one room, a vast, rude, substantial, primitive hall, without ceiling or plastering, with bare rafters lind purlins supporting a sort of lower heaven over ore's 6ead, useful to keep off rain acd sncw j where the ki ag

—

;

WALDEN.

ÂŁ62

and queen posts stand out

your homage, when

to receive

you have done reverence

to the prostrate

older dynasty on stepping over the

some at

;

a cavernous

up a torch upon a pole

house, wherein you must reach to sec the roof;

sill

Saturn of an

where some may live in the fire-place, window, and some on settles, some

in the recess of a

one end of the

hall,

some

on rafters with the spiders,

you have got

into

at another,

they choose

if

;

and some aloft a house which

when you have opened

door,

and the ceremony

eller

may

wash, and

out further journey

is

eat, ;

over

;

the outside

where the weary trav-

and converse, and

sleep, with'

such a shelter as you would be

glad to reach in a tempestuous night, containing essentials of a house,

all

the

and nothing for house-keeping

where you can see all the treasures of the house at one view, and every thing hangs upon its peg that a man should use

;

store-house,

at once kitchen, pantry, parlor, chamber,

and garret; where yDu can see so necessary

a thing as a barrel or a ladder, so convenient a thing as a cupboard, and hear the pot to the fire that cooks

boil,

and pay your respects

your dinner and the oven that

bakes your bread, and the necessary furniture and utensils

are the chief ornaments

put out, nor the

fire,

are sometimes'requested to

when

;

where the washing

is

not

nor the mistress, and perhaps you

move from

off the trap-door,

the cook would descend into the cellar, and so learn

whether the ground

solid or

A house whose

stamping. fest as

is

hollow beneath you without

inside

as open

is

and mani-

a bird's nest, and you cannot go in at the front

door aid out at the back without seeing some of habitants

;

where

to

be a guest

the freedom of the house,

is

to

and not

cluded from seven eighths of

it,

to

shut

its in-

be presented with be carefully ex-

up

in

a

pai'ticulaj

;

HOUSE-WARMING. cell,

—

make yourself at home there, confinement. Nowadays the host does not

and

solitary

2o3

told

to

mit you to his hearth, but has got the mason

somewhere

onii for yourself is

the

There

of keeping you

art

as

is

much

had a design

in his alley,

the

at

I

am

<td-

to baild

and hospitality

greatest

distance.

secrecy about the cooking as

to poison you.

in

if

ho

aware that I have

been on many a man's premises, and might have been legally ordered in

many men's

am

but I

off,

not aware that I have been

I might visit in

houses.

a king and queen who lived simply have described,

if

out of a modern palace will be learn, if ever I It

am

lose

all its

all

old clothes

such a house as I

way

;

but backing

that I shall desire to

caught in one.

would seem as

would

in

I were going their

my

the very language of our parlors

if

nerve and degenerate into parlaver

wholly, our lives pass at such remoteness from bols,

and

its

its

sym-

metaphors and tropes are necessarily so far

and dumb-waiters, as it were in other words, the parlor is so far from the kitchen and fetched, through slides

workshop. ner,

The

;

dinner even

commonly. As

if

is

only the parable of a din

only the savage dwelt near enough

borrow a trope from them. How can the scholar, who dwells away in the North West Territory or the Isle of Man, tell what is x^arto

Nature and Truth

to

liamentary in the kitchen

?

However, only one or two of

my

guests were ever

bold enough to stay and eat a hasty-pudding with me but when they saw that crisis approaching they beai a

hasty retreat rather, as its

foundations.

many

if it

would shake the house to

Nevertheless,

it

stood through a great

hasty-puddings.

I did not plaster

till it

was freezing w^,ather I brought

;

264

TTALDEN.

over some whiter and cleaner sand for this purpose from the opposite shore of the pond in a boat, a sort of con-

veyance which would have tempted ther

My

necessary.

if

me

to

go much

been shingled down to the ground on every lathing I

was pleased

to

far-

house had in the mean while

be able

side.

In

send home each nail

to

with a single blow of the hammer, and

it

was

my

ambi-

from the board to the wall

tion to transfer the plaster

remembered the story of a conceited fellow, who, in fine clothes, was wont to lounge about the village once, giving advice to workmen. Venneat'y and rapidly.

I

turing one day to substitute deeds for words, he turned

up

his cuffs, seized a plasterer's board,

and having load-

ed his trowel without mishap, with a complacent look

toward the lathing overhead, made a bold gesture thith-

erward

;

and straightway,

to his

complete discomfiture,

received the whole contents in his ruffled bosom.

I ad-

mired anew the economy and convenience of plastering,

which so

effectually shuts out the cold and takes a handsome finish, and I learned the various casualties to which the plasterer is liable. I was surprised to see how thirsty the bricks were which drank up all the

moisture in

how many hearth. tity

my

plaster before I

pailfuls of

water

it

had smoothed

it,

takes to christen a

I had the previous winter

made a

and

new

small quan-

of lime by burning the shells of the Unio JluviatiUsy

which our river BO that I

affords, for the

knew where my

sake of the experiment

materials

came from.

I might

have got good limestone within a mile or two and burned it

myself, if I

had

The pond had

cai'ed to

in the

do

so.

mean while skimmed over in

the

HOUSE-WARMING. iliadiest

and shallcwest coves, some days or even weeks

before the general freezing.

and

interesting ent,

and

The

first ice is

perfect, being hard, dark,

especially

and transpar-

affords the best opportunity that ever offers for

examining the bottom where lie at

265

your length on

teT insect

it is

shallow

for

;

you can

only an inch thick, like a ska-

ice

on the surface of the water, and study the bot-

tom at your

leisure,

a picture behind a

only two or three inches distant, like

glass,

and the water

is

necessarily al-

ways smooth then. There are many furrows in the sand where some creature has travelled about and doubled on

its

tracks

the cases of cadis

;

and, for wrecks,

worms made

it is

strewn with

of minute grains of white

Perhaps these have creased it, for you find some of their cases in the furrows, though they are deep and broad for them to make. But the ice itself is the

quartz.

you must improve the opportunity to study it. If you examine it the morning after it freezes, you find that the

object of most interest, though earliest

closely

greater part of the bubbles, which at

be within jxre

it,

are against

its

first

appeared to

under surface, and that more

continually rising from the bottom

;

while the ice

as yet comparatively solid and dark, that

is,

is

you see the

These bubbles are from an eightieth to an eighth of an inch in diameter, very clear and beautiful, and you see your face reflected in them through water through

the

it.

There may be thirty or forty of them to a There are also already within the ice nar-

ice.

square inch.

row oblong perpendicular bubbles about long, sharp cones with the apex upward ;

the ice rectly

is

half an inch or oftener, if

quite fresh, minute spherical bubbles one di-

above another,

irithin the ice

like

a string of beads.

But these

are not so numerous nor obvious as those

;

WALDEN.

266

I sometimes used to cast on stones to try

beneath.

tlio

strength of the ice, and those which broke through carried in air with them, which formed very large and con-

One day when

spicuous white bubbles beneath. to the

same place

came

I

forty-eight hours afterward, I found

that those large bubbles

were

still

perfect,

though an inch

more of ice had formed, as I could see distinctly by the seam in the edge of a cake. But as the last two days had been very warm, like an Indian summer, the ice was not now transparent, showing the dark green color of the water, and the bottom, but opaque and whitish or gray, and though twice as thick

was hardly stronger

than before, for the air bubbles had greatly expanded

under ity

this heat

and run together, and

lost their regular-

they were no longer one directly over another, but

;

often like silvery coins poured from a bag, one overlap-

ping another, or in thin cleavages.

The beauty

flakes, as if

too late to study the bottom.

what

position

new

the

ice,

my

occupying slight

of the ice was gone, and

Being curious

was

it

to

know

great bubbles occupied with regard to

I broke out a cake containing a middling

sized one, and turned

it

bottom upward.

The new

ice

had formed around and under the bubble, so that it was It was wholly in the included between the two ices. lower ice, but close against the upper, and was flattish, or perhaps slightly lenticular, with a rounded edge, a quarter of an inch deep by four inches in diameter

;

and

I was surprised to find that directly under the bubble the ice

was melted with great

regularity in the form of a sau-

cer revei*sed, to the height of five eighths of an inch in the middle, leaving a thin partition there between the

water and the bubble, hardly an eighth of an inch thick

and

in

many places

the small bubbles in this partition ha^

MOUSE-WARMING. burst out

under

tlo-n

ilic

267

nward, and probably there was no ice at

which Avere a

largest bubbles,

I infenvd that the infinite

number

all

foot iu diameter.

of minute bubbles

which

I had first seen against the under surface of the were now frozen in likewise, and that each, in its

ice

degree, had operated like a burning glass on the ice be-

neath

to

melt and rot

which contribute

At had

to

make

little

air-guns

the ice crack and whoop.

length the winter set in in good earnest, just as I

finished

then.

till

and the wind began

plastering,

around the house as so

These are the

it.

to

had not had permission

if it

howl do

to

Night after night the geese came lumber-

ing in in the dark with a clangor and a whistling of wings, even after the ground was covered with snow,

some to alight in Walden, and some flying low over the woods toward Fair Haven, bound for Mexico. Several

when returning from

times,

the village at ten or eleven

o'clock at night, I heard the tread of a flock of geese, or else ducks, on the dry leaves in the woods by a pond-

hole behind

my

where they had come up

dwelling,

to

honk or quack of their leader as they hurried off. In 1845 Walden froze entirely over for the first time on the night of the 2 2d of December, feed,

and the

faint

and other shallower ponds and the river having been frozen ten days or more; in '46, the ICth; in '49, about the 31st; and in '50, about the 27th of December; in '52, the 5th of January in '53, the 31st of December. Flints'

;

The snow had

already covered the ground since the

25th of November, and surrounded the scenery of wii:ter. shell,

and endiavorei

me

suddenly with

I withdrew yet farther into to

keep a bright

fire

my

both withia

WALDEN.

268

my

house and

my

-within

of doors

now was

to collect the

bringing

it

my

hands or on

in

My

breast.

employment ouj

dead wood

my

in the forest,

shoulders, or some-

times trailing a dead pine tree under each shed.

An

which had seen

old forest fence

was a great haul for me. I sacrificed it was past serving the god Terminus. interesting

an event

to hunt, nay,

the fuel to cook

!

with

There are enough in the forests of

figots

warm

raft

built.

more who has just

you might

say, steal,

to support

all

kinds

many

tires,

none, and, some think, hin-

There was

also the

In the course of the summer I

drift-wood of the pond.

on, pinned together

Vulcan, for

and waste wood of

der the growth of the young wood.

had discovered a

my

best days

His bread and meat are sweet.

most of our towns

but Avhieh at present

to

to

How much

that man's supp(>i

is

been forth in the snow it

it

arm

its

of pitch-pine logs with the bark

by the

Irish

when

the railroad was

This I hauled up partly on the shore.

After

soaking two years and then lying high six months

it

was perfectly sound, though waterlogged past drying. I amused myself one winter day with sliding this piece-

meal across the pond, nearly half a mile, skating behind with one end of a log fifteen feet long on my shoulder, and the other on the

ice

;

or I tied several logs together

with a birch withe, and then, with a longer birch or

al-

der which had a hook at the end, dragged them across.

Though completely waterlogged and almost as heavy as lead, they not only burned long, but made a very hot fire

;

nay, I thought that they burned better for the

soaking, as if the pitch, being confined

by the water,

burned longer as in a lamp. Gilpin, in his account of the forest borderers of

Eng-

land, says that " the encroachments of trespassers, an(J

HOUSE--WAKMING.

269

the lioiises and fences thus raised on the holders of the

were " considered as great nuisances by the old law, and were severely punished under the name

forest,"

forest

of purprestures^ as tending ad terrorem ferarum

— ad

nocumentiim forestcB, Sec." to the frightening of the game

and the detriment of the

But

forest.

in the preservation of the venison

I

was interested

and the vert more

than the hunters or wood-choppers, and as

much

though I had been the Lord Warden himself; and

any part was burned, though

I burned

it

as if

myself by acci-

and was more inconsolable than tliat of the proprietors nay, I grieved when it was cut down by the proprietors themselves. I would that our farmers when tiiey cut down a iorest felt some of that awe which the old Romans did when they came to thin, or let in the light tc^ a consecrated grove, (lucum conlucare,) that is, wouJ. believe that it is sacred to some god. The Roman made an expiatory offering, and prayed. Whatever god or goddent, I grieved with a grief that lasted longer

;

dess thou art to to

me, It is

even

my

whom

family,

and

this

grove

age and in

permanent and

this

new

is still

put upon wood

country, a value

universal than that of gold.

our discoveries and inventions no of wood.

sacred, be propitious

children, &;c.

remarkable Avhat a value

in this

is

man

It is as precious to us as

and Norman ancestors.

it

made

will

was

more

After

all

go by a pile to

our Saxon

bows of it, wo make our gun-stocks of it. Michaux, more than thirty years ago, says that the price of wood for fuel io If they

their

New York

and Philadelphia " nearly equals, and sometimes exceeds, that of the best wood in Paris, though this immense capital annually requires more than three bundi-ed thousand cords, and

is

surrounded

to the dis-

WALDEN.

270

tance of three hundred miles

town the price of wood

this

only question than

come

is,

was the

it

in

hrw much

per.

In

cultivated plains."

higher

it is

be

to

and the

this

year

Mechanics and tradesmen who

last.

person to the forest on no other errand, are

sure, to attend the pric-^ for

by

rises almost steadily,

wood

auction,

and even pay a high

the privilege of gleaning after the wood-chop-

It is

now many

years that

men have

resorted to

the forest for fuel and the materials of the arts; the

New

Englander and the New Hollander, the Parisian and the Celt, the farmer and Robinhood, Goody Blake and Harry Gill, in most parts of the world the prince

and the peasant, the scholar and the savage, equally quire

cook their food.

Every man the

Neither could I do without them.

looks at his wood-pile with a kind of af-

I loved to have mine before

fection.

warm them and

a few sticks from the forest to

still

re-

more chips the better

to

remind

my

me

of

window, and

my

pleasing

I had an old axe which nobody claimed, with

work.

which by

spells in winter days,

on the sunny side of the

house, I played about the stumps which I had got out of

my

As my

bean-field.

driver prophesied

when

I

was

warmed me twice, once while I was splitwhen they were on the fire, so that no fuel could give out more heat. As for the axe, I was advised to get the village blacksmith to "jump " it; but I jumped him, and, putting a hickory helve from the woods into it, made it do. If it was dull, it was at least ploughing, they

ting them, and again

hung

true.

A few is still

were a great treasure. It is remember how much of this food for fire

pieces of fat pine

interesting to

concealed in the bowels of the earth.

vious years I

In pre-

had often gone " prospecting " ovei some

;

;

HOUSE-WARMING. bare

liill

stood,

side,

where

least, will still

wood has

all

wood had fonnerly pine roots. They are almost

pitch-pine

.1

and got out the

indeslructible.

27J

iat

forty years

thirty or

Stu?i,ips

old,

at

be sound at the core, though the sap-

become vegetable mould, as appears by

the scales of the thick bark forming a ring level with the earth four or five inches distant from the heart.

With axe and shovel you explore this mine, and follow maiTowy store, yellow as beef tallow, or as if you had struck on a vein of gold, deep into the earth. But commonly I kindled my fire with the dry leaves of the

the

snow came.

Green hickory

chopper's kindlings,

Once

my

which I had stored up in

forest,

finely split

shed before the

makes

when he has a camp

in a while I got

a

little

of

this.

the wood-

in the

When

woods. the vil-

lagers were lighting their fires beyond the horizon, I too

gave notice vale,

to the various wild inhabitants of

by a smoky streamer from

awake.

—

my

Walden

chimney, that I was

Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird,

Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight, Lark without song, and messenger of dawn, Circling above the hamlets as thy nest Or else, departing dream, and shadow)' form Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts By night star-veiling, and by day Darkening the light and blotting out the sun; Go thou my incense upward from this hearth, And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.

Hard green wood of that,

answered

sometimes

left

just cut, though I used but

my

a good

in a winter afternoon

four hours afterward,

little

purpose better than any other.

;

it

fire

when

I

went

to take a

I

walk

and when I returned, three or wouii be still alive and glowing

WALDEN.

272

My house if

was not empty though I was gone. 1 had left a cheerful housekeeper behind.

It It

was I

and commonly

my

house-

and Fire

that lived there

;

One

keeper proved trustworthy. splitting

was fu

day, however, as 1

was

wood, I thought that I would just look in at the

window and

see if the house

was not on

fire

;

it

was the

only time I remember to have been particularly anxious

on

this score

Šaught

my

;

so I looked

and saw that a spark had

bed, and I went in and extinguished

it

when

had burned a place as big as my hand. But my house occupied so sunny and sheltered a position, and its roof

it

was

so low, that I could afford to let the fire go out in

the middle of almost any winter day.

The moles potato,

nested in

my

cellar,

nibbhng every third

and making a snug bed even there of some hair

and of brown paper for even the wildest animals love comfort and warmth as well as man, and they survive the winter only because they are left after

plastering

;

so careful to secure them.

as if

Some

of

my

friends spoke

I was coming to the woods on purpose to freeze

myself.

The animal merely makes a

warms with

his

bed, which he

body in a sheltered place but man, fire, boxes up some air in a spacious ;

having discovered

apartment, and warms that, instead of robbing himself, makes that his bed, in which he can move about divested of more cumbrous clothing, maintain a kind of summer in the midst of winter, and by means of windowa even admit the light, and with a lamp lengthen out the Thus he goes a step or two beyond instinct, and day. saves a little time for the fine arts. Though, when I had been exposed to the rudest blasts a long time, my whole body began to grow torpid, when I reached the genial atmosphere of

my

house I soon recovered

my

HOUSE-WAKAIING.

my

and prolonged

faculties

ously housed has

little

may

be at

last destroyed.

We

the north.

to speculate It

any time with a

their threads

Great SnoAvs

would put a period

The next

how

fire so

the

nor

human

would be easy

little

to cut

sharper blast from

little

to

colder Friday, or greater snow,

man's existence on the globe.

winter I used a small cooking-stove for

economy, since I did not own the forest

keep

luxuri-

go on dating from Cold Fridays and

but a

;

But the most

life.

to boast of in this respect,

need we trouble ourselves race

273

;

but

well as the open fire-place.

then, for the

most

chemic process. of stoves, that

part,

no longer a

It will soon

we used

it

Cooking was merely a

poetic, but

be forgotten,

did not

in these

days

to roast potatoes in the ashes,

The stove not only took up room and scented the house, but it concealed the fire, and I felt as if I had lost a companion. You can always see a face in the fire. The laborer, looking into

after the Indian fashion.

it

at

evening, purifies his thoughts of the dross and

earthiness

day.

which they have accumulated during the

But I could no longer

sit

and look into the

and the pertinent words of a poet recurred

new

force.

**

—

to

me

Never, bright flame, may be denied to me dear, life imaging, close sympathy.

Thy

What but my What but my

Why

art

hopes shot upward e'er so bright ? fortunes sunk so low in night i

thou banished from our hearth and art welcomed and beloved by all ?

hall.

Thou who

Was

thy existence then too fanciful

For our life's common light, who arc so dull ? Did thy bright gleam mysterious converse hold

With our congenial

18

souls

?

secrets too bold

?

fire,

with

WALDEN.

274 Well,

we

are safe

and strong,

for

now we

Beside a hearth where no dim shadows

Where nothing

Warms

cheers nor saddens, but a

—

sit

flit,

fire

and hands nor does to more aspiie; By whose compact utilitarian, heap The present may sit down and go to sleep. Nor fear the ghosts who from the dim past walked, And with us by the unequal light of the old wood hit feet

talked.*'

FORMER INHABITANTS; AND WINTER VISITORS,

WEATHERED some merry snow storms, and spent some cheerful winter evenings by my fire-side, while the 1

enow whirled wildly without, and even the hooting of the owl was hushed. For many weeks I met no one in my walks but those who came occasionally to cut wood and Bled

me

it

to the village.

The

elements, however, abetted

making a path through the deepest snow in the woods, for when I had once gone through the wind blew the oak leaves into my tracks, where they lodged, and by absorbing the rays of the sun melted the snow, and in

so not only their

dark

made line

a dry bed for

was

my

my

guide.

feet,

but in the night

For human

society I

was obliged to conjure up the former occupants of these

Within the memory of many of

woods.

my townsmen

which my house stands resounded with and gossip of inhabitants, and the woods which were notched and dotted here and there with

the road near the laugh

border

it

was then much more shut in by the forest than now. In some places, within my own remembrance, the pines woidd their

little

gardens and dwellings, though

it

(275)

WALDEN.

276

women una way to Lincoln

scrape both sides of a chaise at once, and

who were compslled

children

alone and on foot did

once amused the traveller more than

and lingered longer in

rariety,

now

firm open fields

woods,

this

neighboring villages, or for the woodman's

route to it

go

Though mainly but a humble

part of the distance.

team,

to

with fear, and often ran a good

it

stretch

his

tion of logs, the

its

When

from the village

to the

swamp on a

then ran through a maple

it

now by

memory.

founda-

remnants of which, doubtless,

still

un-

derlie the present dusty highway, from the Stratten,

now

the

Alms House, Farm,

East of

my

to Brister's Hill.

Cato In-

bean-field, across the road, lived

graham, slave of Duncan Ingraham, Esquire, gentleman of Concord village

;

who

built his slave a house,

—

and

Walden Woods Cato, Some say that he not Uticensis, but Concordiensis. There are few who remember Guinea Negro. a was a his little patch among the walnuts, which he let grow up but a younger and till he should be old and need them gave him permission to

live in

;

;

whiter speculator got them at

last.

He

however,

too,

occupies an equally narrow house at present. half-obliterated cellar hole to few,

known

being concealed from the traveller by a fringe

of pines.

(Rhus

Cato's

remains, though

still

It

is

now

filled

with the smooth sumach,

glabra,) and one of the earliest species of golden-

rod (Solidago stricta) grows there luxuriantly.

Here, by the very corner of town, Zilpha, a colored

wher3 she spun linen

Walden Woods fi

my

field, still

woman, had her

nearer to

little

house,

making the singing, for she had

for the to^vnsfolk,

ring with her shrill

loud and notable voice.

At

1812, her dwelling was set on

length, in the wai' of

fire

by English

soldiers,

;;

FORMER INHABITANTS.

277

on parole, when she was away, and her cat and dog and hens were all burned up together. She prisonei

j

led a hard

life,

One

and somewhat inhumane.

old fre^

quenter of these woods remembers, that as he passed her

house one noon he heard her muttering to herself over her gurgling pot,

—

"

Ye are

!

all

I have

bones, bones "

seen bricks amid the oak copse there.

Down

the road, on the right hand, on Brister's Hill,

Freeman, " a handy Negro," slave of Squire Cummings once, there where grow still the apple-trees which Brister planted and tended large old Brister

lived

—

;

trees

now, but their

Not long

taste.

fruit still wild

little

marked graves of some the retreat from Concord,

called,

on one

side,

It also told

man

near the un-

British grenadiers

— where he

Scipio Africanus he had

Brister,"

is

who

wife,

in

some

title

be

to

of color," as if he were discolored.

me, with staring emphasis, when he died

lived.

who

fell

styled " Sippio

which was but an indirect way of informing he ever

my

to

since I read his epitaph in the old Lin-

coln burying-ground, a

— — "a

and ciderish

With him dwelt Fenda,

told fortunes, yet pleasantly,

me

that

his hospitable

—

large, round,

and black, blacker than any of the children of night, such a dusky orb as never rose on Concord before or since.

Farther down the

hill,

on the

left,

on the old road in

marks of some homestead of the Stratwhose orchard once covered all the slope of Hill, but was long since killed out by pitch

the woods, are ten

famil}--

Brister's

;

pines, excepting a Uill

few stumps, whose old roots furnish

the wild stocks of

many a

thrifty village tree.

^

Nearer yet to town, you come to Breed's location, on he other

side of the way, just

on the edge of the wood

— WALDEN.

278

gi'ound famous for the pranks of a

named

in old

mythology,

who

demon not

distinctly

has acted a prominent

and astounding part in our New England Hfe, and deserves, as much as any mythological character, to have who first comes in the his biography written one day guise of a friend or hired man, and then robs and murNew-England Rum. But hisders the whole family, ;

—

tory must not yet

the tragedies enacted here

tell

let

;

time intervene in some measure to assuage and lend

an azure

tint to

Here the most

them.

indistinct

and

dubious tradition says that once a tavern stood; the well the same, which tempered the traveller's beverage

and refreshed

another, and heard

ways

Here then men

his steed.

and

told the news,

saluted one

and went

their

again.

Breed's hut was standing only a dozen years ago, It was about the by mischievous boys, one Election night, if I do not mistake. I lived on the edge of the village then, and had just lost myself over

though

it

had long been unoccupied.

size of mine.

It

was

set

on

fire

Davenant's Gondiberfc, that winter that I labored with a lethargy,

— which, by the way,

regard as a family complaint, to sleep shaving himself,

knew whether to having an uncle who goes

and

I never

is

obliged to sprout pota-

keep awake and

toes in a cellar Sundays, in order to

keep the Sabbath, or as the consequence of to

my

attempt

read Chalmers' collection of English poetry without

skipping.

?unk

my

It fairly

head on

overcame

this

when

my

had jusl rung fire, and in

Nervii.

the bells

I

by a stragand I among the foremost,

dot haste the engines rolled that way, led gling troop of for

men and

boys,

I had leaped the brook.

oTcr the woods,

— we

We thought

who had run

it

was

far south

to fires before,

rORMER INHABITANTS. bani, shop, or dwelling-house, or all together. bara," cried one. "It is the

ker's

Codman

firmed another.

And

279 «

It's

Ba-

riace," af-

then fresh sparks went up above

wood, as if the roof Concord to the rescue ''

tlie

!

nous speed and crushing

fell

in,

and we

Wagons loads,

all

shouted

shot past with fu-

bearing,

perchance,

among the rest, the agent of the Insurance Company, who was bound to go however far; and ever and anon

the engine bell tinkled behind, more slow and sure, and rearmost of all, as it was afterward whispered,

they

who

set the fire

and gave the alarm.

came Thus we

kept on hke true ideahsts, rejecting the evidence of our senses, until at a turn in the road we heard the cracklin<.

and actually felt the heat of the fire from over the waU, and realized, alas that we were there. The very !

nearness of the

but cooled our ardor. At first we thought to throw a frog-pond on to it; but concluded to let it burn, it was so far gone and so fire

worthless.

So we

stood round our engine, jostled one another, expressed our sentiments through speaking trumpets, or in lower tone referred to the great conflagrations which the world

has witnessed, including Bascom's shop, and, between we thought that, were we there in season with our "tub," and a full frog-pond by, we ourselves,

could turn that threatened last and universal one into another flood We finally retreated without doing any mischief,

—

re-

turned to sleep and Gondibert. But as for Gondibert, I would except that passage in the preface about wit being the soul's powder, "but most of mankind are etrangers to wit, as Indians are to powder.'*

—

It

chanced that I walked that way across the

the following night, about the

bw

moaning

at this spot, I

fields

same hour, and hearing a drew near in the dark, and

WALDEN.

280

discovered the only survivor of the family that I know, the heir of both

its

and

virtues

its

vices,

who

alone was

interested in this burning, lying on his stomach and

looking over the cellar wall at the

still

ders beneath, muttering to himself, as

smouldering cinis

He

his wont.

had been working far off in the river meadows all day, and had improved the first moments that he could call his own to visit the home of his fathers and hi3 youth.

He

gazed into the

points of view

by

there was some

cellar

from

turns, always lying

treasure,

sides

all

down

to

it,

and

as if

which he remembered, con-

cealed between the stones, where there was absolutely

nothing but a heap of bricks and ashes. being gone, he looked at what there was

my

soothed by the sympathy which plied,

The house

He was

left.

mere presence im-

and showed me, as well as the darkness permitted,

where the well was covered up which, thank Heaven, could never be burned and he groped long about the wall to find the well-sweep which his father had cut and mounted, feeling for the iron hook or staple by which a all that burden had been fastened to the heavy end, to, to that it was no convince me he could now cling common " rider." I felt it, and still remark it almost ;

;

—

—

daily in

my

walks, for

by

it

hangs the history of a

family.

Once more, on the left, where are seen the well and bushes by the wall, in the now open field, lived Nutting and Le Grosse. But to return toward Lincoln. Farther in the woods than any of these, where the

lilac

road approaches nearest to the pond, i.er

squatted,

ware, and

and furnished

left

were they rich

his

Wyman

the pot

townsmen with earthen

descendants to succeed him.

Neithel

in worldly goods, holding the land

b^

;

FORMER INHABITANTS. BufFerance

came

whue

tliey lived

and there

;

in vain to collect the taxes,

have read

for form's sake, as I

281

often the sherifT

and " attached a chip," his accounts, there

in

being nothing else that he could lay his hands on.

One

was hoeing, a man who was carrying a load of pottery to market stopped his horse against my field and inquired concerning Wyman the younger. He had long ago bought a potter's wheel of him, and wished to know what had become of him. I day

in

midsummer, when

had read of the but

it

I

potter's clay

had never occurred

to

and wheel

me

in Scripture,

that the pots

we uso

were not such as had come down unbroken from those grown on trees like gourds somewhere, and I

days, or

was pleased tised in

The iin

my

to

coil

Hugh

enough,)

Col. Quoil,

fictile

an art was ever prac-

inhabitant of these woods before

last

Irishman,

with

hear that so

neighborhood.

he was

me was

Quoil, (if I have spelt his

who

—

Wyman's tenement, Rumor said that he had been

occupied

called.

If he

a soldier at Waterloo.

name

had lived

I should

have

made him fight his battles over again. His trade here was that of a ditcher. Napoleon went to St. Helena Quoil came to "Walden Woods. All I know of liim is He was a man of manners, like one who had tragic. seen the world, and was capable of more civil speech than you could well attend

to.

He

wore a great coat

in

mid-summer, being affected with the trembling delirium,

and

his face

was the

color of carmine.

He

died in the

came to have not remembered him as a house was pulled down, when hia

road at the foot of Brister's Hill shortly after I (he woods, so that I

neighbor.

Before his

comrades avoided

Th

5re

it

as " an unlucky castle," I visited

lay his old cbthes curled up

by

it.

use, as if th 3y

282

WALDEN-.

were himself, upon

His pipe lay

his raised plank bed.

broken on the hearth, instead of a bowl broken at the fountain.

The

last

could never have been the symbol

of his death, for he confessed to

me

that,

though he had

heard of Brister's Spring, he had never seen soiled

cards,

kings

of

were scattered over the

it

;

and

diamonds spades and hearts, floor.

One black chicken which

the administrator could not catch, black as night and as silent,

not even croaking, awaiting Reynard,

to roost in the next apartment.

went

still

In the rear there was

the dim outline of a garden, which had been planted

but had never received terrible shaking

It

fits,

its first

though

it

hoeing, owing to those

was now harvest time.

was over-run with Roman wormwood and bejrffarCO which last stuck to my clothes for all fruit. The

ticks,

skin of a

woodchuck was freshly stretched upon the

back of the house, a trophy of his last Waterloo no warm cap or mittens would he want more.

Now

only a dent in the earth marks the

dwellings, with buried cellar stones,

in the

sunny sward there

;

but

of these

and strawberries,

raspberries, thimble-berries, hazel-bushes,

growing

site

;

and sumachs

some pitch-pine or

gnarled oak occupies what was the chimney nook, and

a sweet-scented black-birch, perhaps, waves where the door-stone was. Sometimes the well dent is visible, where once a spring oozed now dry and tearless grass or it was covered deep, not to be discovered till some

—

;

— with a when under the race departed. What a sorrowful must — covering up of with

late day, last

;

flat

stone

the

sod,

of the

thnt be,

act

the

wells

openii.^T of wells

of tears.

These

!

coincident

cellar dents, like de-

sertod ibx burrows, old holes, are all that

one ^ were the

stir

the

and bustle of human

Is

life,

left

where

and " fate

FORMER INHABITANTS. free

'Will,

foreknowledge absolute," in some form and

alect or other

were by turns discussed.

learn of their conclusions amounts "

283

to just

Cato and Brister pulled wool " which ;

more famous

fying as the history of

But is

di«

I can

all

this,

that

about as edi-

schools of philo3«

ophy. Still

grows the vivacious

door and

lintel

and the

lilac

a generation after the

are gone, unfolding

sill

sweet-

its

scented flowers each spring, to be plucked by the mus-

ing traveller

;

planted and tended once by childi-en's

hands, in front-yard plots,

ests

;

— the

with

blip

ground

its

in the

dusky children think that the puny

and outlive them, and house

rear that shaded

— blossoming

first

spring.

I

it,

after they

as fair,

mark

itself

and grown man's garden

their story faintly to

tell

wanderer a half century that

in the

shadow of the house and daily watered,

itself so,

and orchard, and died,

to new-rising for-

two eyes only, which they stuck

in the

would root

wall-sides

survivor of that fam-

last of that stirp, sole

Little did the

ily.

— now standing by

and giving place

in retired pastures,

the lone

had grown up and

and smelling as sweet, as in

its still

tender, civil, cheerful,

lilac colors.

But did

this

it fail

small village,

germ of something more, why

while Concord keeps

no natural advantages,

its

— no water

Ay, the deep Walden Pond and

?

Were

unimproved by these

men

there

privileges, forsooth ?

cool Brister's Spring,

and healthy draughts

privilege to drink long nil

ground

—

at these,

but to dilute their glass,

riioy were universally a thirsty race.

Might not the

basket, stable-broom, mat-making, corn-parching, linenspinning, and pottery business have thrived here,

making the wilderness

to blossoir

li^ie

the rose, and 9

WALDEN.

284

numerous fathers ?

have inherited the land uf their The sterile soil would at least have been posterity

proof against a low-land degeneracy. does the

memory

human

of these

the beauty of the landscape

!

Alas

my

me

be the oldest in the hamlet.

for a first settler,

and

man has ever Deliver me from a

not aware that any

spot which I occupy. the site of a

more ancient

little

inhabitants enhance

will try, with

am

how

Again, perhaps, Nature

last spring to

I

!

city,

house raised

built

on the

city built on whose materials are

whose gardens cemeteries. The soil is blanched and accursed there, and before that becomes necessary ruins,

the earth itself will be destroyed. <jences I repeopled the

woods and

With such reminislulled

myself asleep.

At this season I seldom had a visitor. When the snow lay deepest no wanderer ventured near my house for a week or fortnight at a time, but there I lived as snug as a meadow mouse, or as cattle and poultry which are said to have survived for a long time buried in or like that early settler's fam-

drifts,

even without food

ily in

the town of Sutton, in this state, whose cottage

;

was completely covered by the great snoAV of 1717 when he was absent, and an Indian found it only by the

made in the drift, and But no friendly Indian con-

hole which the chimney's breath so relieved the family.

cerned himself about

me

;

nor needed he, for the master

of the house was at home. cheerful

get to

\t is tlie

hear of!

When

!

How

the farmers could not

woods and swamps with their teams, and

were obliged houses, and

to

The Great Snow

to cut

when

down

the shade trees before their

the crust was harder cut off the trees

WINTER in the

swamps ten

feet

285

VISITORS.

from the ground, as

it

appeared

the next spring.

In the deepest snows, the path which I used from the liighway to

my

house, about half a mile long, might

have been represented by a meandering dotted

line,

For a week of

with wide intervals between the dots.

even weather I took exactly the same number of

steps,

and of the same length, coming and going, stepping deand with the precision of a pair of dividers

liberately

my own

deep tracks,

— yet

duces us,

own

—

to

such routine the winter re-

often they

But no weather

blue.

walks, or rather

my

in

were

filled

with heaven's

interfered fatally with

my

going abroad, for I frequently

tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow

to

keep an appointment with a beech-tree, or a yellowbirch, or

an old acquaintance among the pines

the ice and

snow causing

their limbs to droop,

;

when

and so

sharpening their tops, had changed the pines into

fir-

when

the

trees

;

wading

to the tops of the highest hills

snow was nearly two

feet

deep on a

down another snow-storm on

my

level,

and shaking

head at every step

or sometimes creeping and floundering thither on

;

my

hands and knees, when the hunters had gone into winter quarters. One afternoon I amused myself by watching a barred owl

(Sirix nebulosa) sitting on one of the

lower dead limbs of a white-pine, close to the trunk, in broad daylight, I standing within a rod of him. He could hear

with

my

me when

feet,

I

moved and cronched

his

stretch out his neck,

neck feathers, and open his eyes wide fell

again,

and he began

to nod.

;

snow

When

but could not plainly see me.

mad3 most noise he would soon

the

T

and erect

but their

I too felt

lids

a slum-

be*ous influence after watching him half an hour, as h6

;

WALDEW.

286

a cat, winged brother of the cat. There was only a narrow slit left between their lids, ly which he preserved a peninsular

sat thus with his eyes half open, like

me

relation to

;

thus, with half-shut eyes, looking out

from the land of dreams, and endeavoring

to realize

me,

vague object or mote that interrupted his visions. At length, on some louder noise or my nearer approach, he would grow uneasy and sluggishly turn about on his perch, as

impatient at having his dreams disturbed

if

and when he launched himself off and flapped through the pines, spreading his wings to unexpected breadth, I could not hear the slightest sound from them.

amid the pine boughs rather by a neighborhood than by

were with

As

in

delicate sense of their

way as it he found a new perch,

sight, feeling his twilight

his sensitive pinions,

where he might

Thus, guided

peace await the dawning of his day.

I walked over the long causeway

made

for the

railroad through the meadows, I encountered many a blustering and nipping wind, for nowhere has it freer

play

;

and when the

frost

had smitten me on one cheek,

heathen as I was, I turned to

was

it

Hill.

much

better

For

came

I

it

the other also.

by the carriage road from town

to

still,

like

Nor

Brister's

a friendly Indian,

when

the contents of the broad open fields were all up between the walls of the "Walden road, and half an hour sufficed to obliterate the tracks of the last And when I returned new drifts would havo traveller. formed, through which I floundered, where the busy north-west wind had been depositing the powdery snow round a sharp angle in the road, and not a rabbit's track, piled

nor even the fine print, the small type, of a

mouse was ji

to

be seen.

mid-winter, some

Yet

meadow

I rai*ely failed to find,

warm and

springy

even

swamp where

WIXIER VISITORS. the glass and the skunk-cabbage

287 put forth with

still

perennial verdure, and some hardier bird occasionally

awaited the return of spring.

Scmitimes, notwithstanding the snow, when I returned from my walk at evening I crossed the deep tracks of a woodchopper leading from my door, and found his pile of whittlings on the hearth,

my

house

Or on a Sunday

with the odor of his pipe. if

and

filled

afternoon^

I chanced to be at home, I heard the crouching of

made by

the snow

who from

a social " crack

have

who

the step of a long-headed farmer

woods sought my house, to " one of the few of his vocation

far through the

are "

men on

;

their farms

;

"

who donned a frock

stead of a professor's gown, and

is

in-

as ready to extiact

the moral out of church or state as to haul a load of

manure from

his barn-yard.

simple times,

when men

bracing weather, sert failed,

squirrels

we

talked of rude and

sat about large

Avith clear

tried

We

heads

our teeth on

;

many

have long since abandoned,

have the thickest

shells are

The one who came from

fires

in cold

and when other desa nut which wise for those

which

commonly empty. farthest to ray lodge, through

deepest snows and most dismal tempests, was a poet.

A farmer, a hunter, a soldier, a reporter, even a philosopher,

he

is

may be daunted

;

but nothing can deter a poet, for

"Who can predict his His business calls him out at all

actuated by pure love.

comings and goings hours, even

when

?

doctors sleep.

We

made

that small

house ring with boisterous mirth and resound with the

murmur of much sober talk, making amends tlien to Walden vale for the long silences. Broadway was still and deserted in comparison. At suitable intervals there were, regular salutes of laughter, which might have

— WALDEN.

288

been referred indifferently to the

uttered or the

We made many a " bran new " theory

forth-coming jest. of

last

over a thin dish of gruel, which combined the

life

advantages of conviviality with the clear-headedness

which philosophy requires. I should not forget that during

my

last

winter at the

pond there was another welcome visitor, who at one time came through the village, through snow and rain and darkness, till he saw my lamp through the trees, and shared with me some long winter evenings. One Connecticut gave him to of the last of the philosophers, the world,

— he peddled

—

first

her wares, afterwards, as he

These he peddles still, prompting God and disgracing man, bearing for fruit his brain only, I think that he must be the like the nut its kernel. declares, his brains.

man

of the most faith of any alive.

attitude always suppose a better state

men

other

man

to

His words and of things than

are acquainted with, and he will be the last

He has

be disappointed as the ages revolve.

But though comparatively

venture in the present.

no

dis-

regarded now, when his day comes, laws unsuspected by

most will

will take effect,

come

to *•

A

him

How blind that

true friend of

man

progress.

tality,

and masters of families and rulers

for advice.

man

;

cannot see serenity

" I

almost the only friend of hu*

An Old Mortahty, say rather

Immor

an

with unwearied patience and faith making plain

the image engraven in men's bodies, the

God

of

they are but defaced and leaning monuments. his

whom With

hospitable intellect he embraces children, beggars,

insane,

and

adding to

it

and entertains the thought of commonly some breadth and elegance. scholars,

all,

I

WINTER VISITORS.

he should keep a caravansary on the world's

tliink that

high^\a7,

where philosophers of

up,

and on

for

man, but not

all nations might put be printed, " Entertainment

his sign should

who

He

sanest

the

p(».rhaps

and

man and

has the fewest

know the same yesterOf yore we had sauntered and

day and to-morrow. talked,

lei-

earnestly seek the right road."

any I chance

crotchets of

Enter ye that have

for his beast.

sure and a quiet mind, is

28&

to

effectually put the

;

world behind us ; for he

was pledged to no institution in it, freeborn, ingenuus. Whichever way we turned, it seemed that the heavens and the earth had met together, since he enhanced the

A

beauty of the landscape. roof

fittest

is

I do not see

serenity.

blue-robed man, whose

sky which

the overarching

how he can

reflects his

ever die

;

Nature

cannot spare him.

Having each some

shingles of thought well dried,

we

sat and whittled them, trying our knives, and admiring

We

the clear yellowish grain of the pumpkin pine.

waded so

so gently

and reverently, or we pulled together

smoothly, that

the

of thought were

fishes

not

scared from the stream, nor feared any angler on the

bank, but came and went grandly, like the clouds which

through the western sky, and the mother-o'-pearl

float

flocks

There

which sometimes form and dissolve there.

we worked,

revising mythology, rounding a fable here

and

and building

there,

castles

in the air

to converse

with

England Night's Entertainment.

we had, hermit and have spoken

my

little

of,

house

!

a

New

such discourse

philosopher, and the old settler I

— we ;

whom was

Ah

which

Great Looker!

earth offered no worthy foundation.

Great Expecter!

for

three,

—

it

expanded and racked

I should not dare to say

19

how many

WALDEN.

290

pounds' weight there was above the atmospheric press*

ure on every circular

incli

;

they had to be calked with stop the consequent leak

;

it

opened

much

— but

its

seams so

tliat

dulness thereafter to I had enough of that

kind of oakum already picked.

There was one other with whom I had " solid seaeons," long to be remembered, at his house in the village, and who looked in upon me from time to lime but I had no more for society there. There too, as every where, I sometimes expected tho Visitor who never comes. The Vishnu Purana, says, ;

*'

The

house-holder

yard as long as

it

is

to

remain at eventide

takes to milk a cow, or lotiger

pleases, to await the arrival of a guest."

formed

this

in nis courtif

he

1 often per-

duty of hospitality, waited long enough to

milk a whole herd of cows, but did not approaching from the town.

&^.e

the

man

WINTER ANIMALS.

When

the ponds were fimily frozen, they afforded

new and shorter routes to many points, but new views from their surfaces of the familiar landscape not only

around them.

When

I crossed Flints'

Pond, after

it

was covered with snow, though I had often paddled about and skated over it, it was so unexpectedly Avide and 60 strange that I could think of nothing but Baffin's

up around me at the extremity of a snowy plain, in which I did not remember and the fishermen, at an indeterto have stood before minable distance over the ice, moving slowly about with their wolfish dogs, passed for sealers or Esquimaux, or

The Lincoln

Bay.

hills

rose

;

in misty

did

weather loomed

like fabulous creatures,

and I

know whether they were giants or pygmies. this courf.e when I went to lecture in Lincoln in

not

I took

the evening, travelling in no road and passing no house

between

my own

hut and the lecture room.

Pond, which lay in

my

In Goose

way, a colony of muskrats

dwelt, and raised their cabins high above the ice, though

none could be seen abroad when I crossed it. Walden, being like the rest usually bare of snow, or with onl;^ (291)

292

WALDEJf.

on it, was my yard where I could walk freely when the snow was nearly

shallow and

two

feet

interrupted

drifts

deep on a level elsewhere and the villagers

were confined

There, far from the

to their streets.

vil-

lage street, ar d except at very long intervals, from the jingle of sleigh-bells, I slid

and skated, as

a vast

in

moose-yard well trodden, overhung by oak woods and solemn pines bent down with snow or bristling with icicles.

For sounds days,

I

hooting

and often

in winter nights,

heard the forlorn but melodious note of a

owl indefinitely far

frozen earth would

yield

a sound as

such

;

if

struck with

plectrum, the very lingua vernacula of

and

quite

familiar

saw the bird while

my

door

Hoo hoo

in winter

in

to it

me

at

Walden Wood,

though I never

last,

was making

a winter

opened

I seldom

it.

evening without

hoo^ hoorer hoo,

the

a suitable

hearing

it;

sounded sonorously, and the

first three syllables accented

somewhat

or sometimes hoo hoo only.

One

like

how der do ;

night in the beginning

of winter, before the pond froze over, about nine o'clock, I was startled by the loud honking of a goose, and, step-

ping to the door, heard the sound of their wings tempest in the woods as they flew low over

They passed over all

like

a

house.

the pond toward Fair Haven, seem-

ingly deterred from settling

dore honking

my

by

my

light, their

commo-

the while with a regular beat.

Sud-

denly an unmistakable cat-ovl from very near me, with the most harsh and tremendous voice I ever heard

from any inhabitant of the woods, responded at regular intervals to the goose, as if determined to expose

disgrace this intruder from Hudson's

Bay by

and

exhibiting

R greater compass and volume of voice in a native, and

"WINTER ANIMALS. loo-hoo him out of Concord mean by alarming the citadel Bccrated to

me ?

Do you

2D8

What

horizon. at this

think I

do you

time of night conÂŤ

am

ever caught nap-

ping at such an hour, and that I have not got lungs and

a larynx as hoo

It

!

heard.

were

in

a^sII

as yourself?

Boo-hoo, boo-hoo, hoO'

was one of the most thrilling discords I evei yet, if you had a discriminating ear, there

And it

the elements of a concord such as these plains

never saw nor heard. I also heard the whooping of the ice in the pond,

great bed-fellow in that part of Concord, as restless

in

bed and would

its

if it

my

were

turn over, were

fain

troubled with flatulency and bad dreams

;

or I was

waked by the cracking of the ground by the frost, as some one had di'iven a team against my door, and

if

in

the morning would find a crack in the earth a quarter

of a mile long and a third of an inch wide.

Sometimes

snow

crust, in

I

heard the foxes as they ranged over the

moonlight nights, in search of a partridge

or other game, barking raggedly and demoniacally like forest dogs, as

if

laboring with some anxiety, or seeking

expression, struggling for light and to be dogs outright

and run freely

in the streets

into our account,

among

on to

may

;

for if

we

brutes as well as

men

?

be rudimental, burrowing men,

They seemed still

defence, awaiting their transformation.

came near to

my

take the ages

there not be a civilization going

window, attracted by

to

me

standing on their

Sometimes one

my

light,

barked

a vulpine curse at me, and then retreated. Usually the red squirrel {Sciurus Hndsonius) wak(:d

dawn, coursing over the roof and up and down the sides of the house, as if sent out of the woods In the course of the winter [ threw for this purpose.

me

in the

"WALDEN.

294

out half a bushel of ears of sweet-corn,

got ripe, on to the snow crust by

•

my

Tv^hich

had not and was

door,

amused by watching lie motions of the various animals which were baited by

In the twilight and the night

it.

made a hearty

the rabbits came regularly and

meal.

All day long the red squirrels came and went, and

me much

afforded

entertainment by '^«ir manoeuvres.

One would approach

ihe shrub-

at first warily throuj,

by fits ana o'arts like a leaf blown by the wind, now a few paces this way, "with wonderful speed and waste of energy, making in-

oaks, running over the

snow

crust

conceivable haste with his " trotters," as

wager, and

now

as

many

more than half a rod

ting on

if it

were

for

a

paces that way, but never getat

a time

;

and then sud

denly pausing with a ludicrous expression and a gratui tons somerset, as fixed on

if all

him, — or

all

the eyes in the universe were the motions of a squirrel, even

most solitary recesses of the

in the tors as

much

imply specta-

forest,

as those of a dancing girl,

— wasting more

time in delay and circumspection than would have sufficed to

walk,

walk the whole distance,

— and

—

saw one

I never

then suddenly, before you could say Jack

Robinson, he would be in the top of a young pitch-pine,

winding up his clock and chiding

and talking

tors, soliloquizing

same

time,

—

for

all

imaginary specta-

to all the universe at the

no reason that I could ever

he himself was aware

of,

would reach the corn, and

I

suspect.

At

wliere

lie

looked

my

me

wood-pile, before

in the face,

su})plying himself with a

nibbling

at first

length he

selecting a suitable ear, brisk

about in the same uncertain trigonometrical top-most stick of

detect, or

new

and there

way

my sit

to the

window, for hours,

ear from time to time,

voraciously and throwing the half-naked

WINTER ANIMALS. cobs about

played

;

witli

till

at length

295

he grew more dainty

still

and

his food, tasting only the inside of the ker-

and the ear, Avhich was held balanced over the stick by one paw, slipped from his careless grasp and fell to nel,

the ground,

when he would

look over at

crous expression of uncertainty, as

had

if

it

with a ludi-

suspecting that

agahi, or a

new

one, or

then listening to hear what was in the wind.

So the

impudent fellow would waste many an ear

little

it

made up whether to get it be off; now thinking of com,

with a mind not

life,

a

in

some longer and plumper one, considerably bigger than himself, and skilfully balancing it, he would set out with it to the woods, like a tiger with a buffalo, by the same zig-zag course and

forenoon

till

;

at last, seizing

it as if it were him and faUing all the while, making its fall a diagonal between a perpendicular and horizontal, being determined to put it through at any rate; and so a singularly frivolous and whimsical fellow

frequent pauses, scratching along with too

heavy

for

;

he would get carry tant,

the

it

with

to the top of

and

I

woods

At

off

it

to

where he

would afterwards

—

lived,

a pine tree forty or

—

fifty

perhaps rods dis-

find the cobs strewn about

in various directions.

length the jays arrive, whose discordant screams

were heard long before, as they were warily making their approach an eighth of a mile off, and in a stealthy and sneaking manner they flit from tree to tree, nearer and nearer, and pick up the kernels which the squirrels have dropped.

Then,

sitting

on a pitch-pine bough,

they attempt to swallow in their hasie a kernel which V too big for their throats and chokes them; and after great labor they disgorge the endeavor to crack

it

it,

and spend an hour

by repeated blows with

in

their

WALDEN.

296

They were

bills.

much

manifestly thieves, and I had

no",

them but the squirrels, though at first work as if they were taking what was

respect for

shy, went to

;

their own.

Meanwhile

also

came

the chicadees in flocks, which,

picking up the crums the squirrels had dropped, flew

claws,

as

them under

nearest twig, and, placing

the

to

hammered away

if it

were an

sufiiciently

them with

at

insect

in the

their

bark,

till

little

their bills,

they were

reduced for their slender throats.

A

little

came daily to pick a dinner out wood-pile, or the crums at my door, with faint

flock of these tit-mice

of

my

flitting lisping notes, like

grass, or

else

the tinkling of icicles in the

with sprightly day day day, or more

rarely, in spring-like days, a

the wood-side.

They were

wiry summery phe-he from so familiar that at length .

one alighted on an armful of wood which I was carrying

in,

and pecked

at the sticks without fear.

I once

had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance than I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn. The squirrels also grew at last to be quite familiar, and occasionally stepped upon my shoe, when that was the nearest way.

When

the ground was not yet quite covered, and

again near the end of winter,

on

my

when

south hill-side and about

the snow was melted

my

wood-pile, the par-

came out of the woods morning and evening to Whichever side you walk in the woods the feed there. partridge bursts away on whirring wings, jarring the snow from the dry leaves and twigs on high, whicb tomes sifting down in the sun-beams Hke golden dust

tridges

WINTER ANIMALS. tor

tlivs

brave bird

is

297

not to be scared by winter.

It is

by drifts, and, it is said, " sometimes plunges from on wing into the soft snow, where it frequently covered up

remahis concealed for a day or two."

them

in the

open land

the woods at sunset

They

also,

where they had come out of

"bud"

to

I used to start

the wild

apple-trees.

come regularly every evening to paiticular trees, where the cunning sportsman lies in wait for them, will

and the a

distant orchards next the

little.

rate.

am

I

woods

suffer thus not

glad that the partridge gets fed, at any

It is Nature's

own

bird which lives on buds

and

diet-drink.

In dark winter mornings, or

in short winter afternoons,

1 sometimes heard a pack of hounds threading

woods with hounding cry and yelp, unable instinct of the chase,

all

the

to resist the

and the note of the hunting horn

man was

the rear.

The

woods ring again, and yet no fox bursts forth on

to the

at intervals,

proving that

in

open level of the pond, nor following pack pursuing their Actoeon.

And

turnini; with

a

perhaps at evening I see the hunters resin^-le

brush

a trophy, seeking their inn. fox would remain in the

would be

safe,

or

if

trailincj

They

from their tell

that

if

for

the

bosom of the frozen earth he

he would run in a straight line

away no fox-hound could overtake him his pursuers far behind,

they come up, and

me

slei*!:!!

he stops

;

but,

to rest

when he runs he

having

and

circles

listen

round

left till

to his

where the hunters await him. Sometimes, however, he will run upon a wall many rods, and then leap off for to one side, and he appears to know old haunts,

that water will not retain his scent.

A

hunter told

me

that he once saw a fox pursued by hounds burst out on to Walden when the ice was covered with shallow pud

;

298

WALDF.N. run part

dies,

way

and then return

across,

to the

same

Ere long the hounds arrived, but here they lost Sometimes a pack hunting by tAiemselves would pass my door, and circle round my house, and shore.

the scent.

yelp and liound without regarding me, as if afflicted

by a species of madness, so that nothing could diver*

Thus they

them from the pursuit.

upon

llie

they faP

hound

will for-

recent trail of a fox, for a wise

sake every thing else for

my

circle until

this.

One day a man came

t<Âť

hut from Lexington to inquire after his hound that

made a

had been hunting

large track, and

But

for

a week

was not the wiser for all I told him, for every time I attempted to answer his questions he interrupted me by asking, " What do you do here? " He had lost a dog, but found a man. by

himself.

One come

I fear that he

old hunter

who used to once every year when the

who has a dry

to bathe in "VValden

tongue,

water was warmest, and at such times looked in upon

me,

told

me, that

many

years ago he took his gun one

afternoon and went out for a cruise in

Walden Wood

and as he walked the Wayland road he heard the ciy of hounds approaching, and ere long a fox leaped the wall into the road,

and as quick as thought leaped the other

wall out of the road, and his swift bullet had not touched

him.

Some way behind came an

three pups in

full pursuit,

old

hound and her

hunting on their

own

account,

Late in the and disappeared again in the woods. afternoon, as he was resting in the thick woods south of

Walden, he

heai-d

toward Fair Haven

the voice of the hounds far still

pursuing the fox

came, their hounding cry which made

all

;

over

and on they

the woods ring

sounding nearer and nearer,

now from Well-Meadow,

now from

For a long time he

the

Baker Farm.

stood

WINTER ANIMALS. 6till

ear,

299

avid lisjencd to their music, so sweet to

when suddenly

a hunter's

the fox appeared, threading the

solemn aisles with an easy coursing pace, whose sound wa; concealed by a sympathetic rustle of the leaves, swift and still, keeping the ground, leaving his pursuers far

behind

sat erect

;

and, leaping upon a )'ock amid the woods, he

and

listening,

that

was a short

lived

For

with his back to the hunter.

a moment vompassion restrained the

latter's

arm

;

but

mood, and as quick as thought can

follow thought his piece

was

and whang!

levelled,

—

the fox rolling over the rock lay dead on the ground.

The hunter still kept Still

his place

and listened

to the hounds.

on they came, and now the near woods resounded

through

with their demoniac cry.

all their aisles

At

length the old hound burst into view with muzzle to the

ground, and snapping the air as rectly to the rock

;

if

possessed, and ran di-

but spying the dead fox she suddenly

ceased her hounding, as

if

dumb

struck

ment, and walked round and round him

one by one her pups arrived, and,

like their

sobered into silence by the mystery.

came forward and stood in was solved. They waited

their midst,

with amaze-

in silence

;

and

mother, were

Then

the hunter

and the mystery

in silence while

he skinned

the fox, then followed the brush a while, and at length

turned

off

ton Squire

into the

came

woods again.

to the

That evening a Wes-

Concord hunter's cottage

how

to in-

week they had quire for his been hunting on their own account from Weston woods. The Concord hunter told him what he knew and ofFe -ed him the skin but the other declined it and departed. lie did not find his hounds thaf night, but the next day learned that they had crossed the river and put up at a hounds, and

;

told

for a

WALDEN.

500

farm-house for the night, whence, having been well

fed^

thej took their departure early in the morning.

The hunter who told me this could remember one Sam Nutting, who used to hunt bears on Fair Haven Ledges, an.l exchange their skins for rum in Concord village who told him, even, that he had seen a moose there. Nutting had a famous fox-hound named Burgojne, ;

— he pronounced to

Bugine,

— which my informant used

In the " Wast Book

borrow.

town,

it

who was

" of

an old trader of

also a captain, trwn-clerk,

tative, I find the following entry.

this

and represen-

Jan. 18th, 1742-3,

— —

3;" they 2 "John Melven Cr. by 1 Grey Fox 7th, leger, Feb. his in now found here and are not 1743, Hezekiah Stratton has credit "by ^ a Catt skin ;

— — 4^ 1

;

" of course, a wild-cat, for Stratton was a

sergeant in the old French war, and would not have got credit for hunting less noble

deer skins

also,

game.

and they were

Credit

daily sold.

is

given for

One man

still

last deer that was killed in and another has told me the particulars of which his uncle was engaged. The hunters

preserves the horns of the this vicinity,

the hunt in

were formerly a numerous and merry crew here. I remember well one gaunt Nimrod who would catch up a

by the road-side and play a strain on it wilder and more melodious, if my memory serves me, than any leaf

hunting horn.

At

midnight,

when

met with hounds in

there was a moon, I sometimes

my

path prowling about the woods,

which would skulk out of itand silent

amid the bushes

my till

way, as

if afraid,

and

I had passed.

my store of nuts, around my house, from

Squirrels and wild mice disputed for

There were scores of pitch-pines

WINTER ANIMALS.

301

one to four inches in diameter, which had been gnawed by mice the previous winter, a Norwegian winter for

—

them, for the snow lay long and deep, and they were

mix a

obliged to

large proportion of pine bark with their

These

other diet.

trees

were

ishing at mid-summer, and foot,

alive

many

though completely girdled

;

and apparently

flour-

of them had grown a

but after another win-

were without exception dead. It is remarkable that a single mouse should thus be allowed a whole pine tree for its dinner, gnawing round instead of up and ter such

down

it

but perhaps

;

necessary in order to thin

it is

these trees, which are wont to

grow up densely. The hares (Lepus Americanus) were very familiar. One had her form under my house all winter, separated from me only by the flooring, and she startled me each morning by her hasty departure when I began to stir,

—

thump, thump, thump, striking her head against the timbers in her hurry.

They used

to

floor

come round

my

door at dusk to nibble the potato parings which I had

thrown that

and were so nearly the color of the ground

out,

they could hardly be

Sometimes

ered sight of one sitting motionless under

When

I

my

opened

only excited

my

pity.

two paces from me, at

move

;

looked as

if

Near

One evening one first

my

window.

at

sat

hand they

by

my door

trembling with fear, yet un-

a poor wee thing, lean and bony, with

ragged ears and sharp nose, scant It

still.

and recov-

door in the evening, off they Avould

go with a squeak and a bounce.

willing to

when

distinguished

in the twilight I alternately lost

tail

and slender paws.

Nature no longer contained the breed of

nobler bloods, but stood on her last toes.

Its large

appeared young and unhealthy, almost dropsical. took a step, and

lo,

away

it

eyes I

scud with an elastic spring

WALDEN.

802

over Ihe snow crust, straightening into graceful length,

and

itself,

—

and soon put the

its

limlia

between its

me

visor

Not without reason was

Such then was some think.)

slenderness.

Wliat

forest

the wild free venison, assertinj?

and the dignity of Nature. light-fool,

body and

its

its

nature.

its

{Lepus, levipeSf

a country without rabbits and partridges? They are among the most simple and indigenous animal is

products

;

ancient and venerable families

tiquity as to

modern times

;

known

to an-

of the very hue and sub-

stance of Nature, nearest allied to leaves and to the

ground, is

— and

legged.

ture

It is

when a

one another

hardly as

if

;

it is

winged or

much

to

cut

off,

a

be expected as rustling leaves.

like true natives of the soil, is

it

you had seen a wild crea-

partridge and the rabbit are

If the forest

either

rabbit or a partridge bursts away, only

natural one, as

The

to

still

sure to thrive,

whatever revolutions occur.

the sprouts and bushes which

spring up afford them concealment, and they become

more numerous than ever.

That must be a poor counOur woods

try indeed that does not support a hare.

teem with them both, and around every swamp

may

be

seen the partridge or rabbit walk, beset Avith twiggy fences

and

horso-haii* snares,

which some cow-boy

t(

nds.

THE POND IN WINTER.

Aftek

a still winter night I awoke with the impressome question had been put to me, which I

sion that

had been endeavoring

what-— how Nature, in

whom

all

answer

in vain to

— when — where?

to

lips.

my

sleep, aa

But there was dawning

creatures live, looking in at

broad windows with serene and question on her

in

I

awoke

Nature and daylight.

to

satisfied face,

my

and no

an answered question,

The snow

lying deep on the

earth dotted with young pines, and the very slope of the hill

en which

ward

my

house

is

placed,

seemed

to say,

For-

Nature puts no question and answers none

I

which we mortals ask. resolution.

"

O

She has long ago taken her

Prince, our eyes contemplate with ad-

miration and transmit to the soul the wonderful and va-

The

ried spectacle of this universe.

this glorious creation

douV; a part of i*cve?l

night veils without ;

but day comes to

to us this great work, which extends from earth

evFD. iato the plains of the ether."

Th^n pail

f

jid

to

my

First I take an axe and

morning work-

go in search of water,

After % (old and «inowy night

it

if that

be not a dream.

needed a divining rod (303)

804

WALDEN. Every winter the of the pond, which was

to find

it.

surface

and trembling

liquid

so sensitive to every

breath, and reflected every light and shadow,

depth of a foot or a foot and a

solid to the it

will support the heaviest teams,

snow covers

it

to

dormant

for three

snow-covered cut

of

hills, it

my way

months or more.

plain, as if in

first

dow

down

Standing on the

a pasture amid the

pervaded by a softened

as in

and becomes

hills,

I

summer

;

my

feet,

where, kneel-

into the quiet parlor of the

of ground glass, with

same

not to be dis

through a foot of snow, and then a foot

ing to drink, I look fishes,

eye-lids

its

and open a window under

ice,

it is

Like the marmots in

field.

closes

half, so that

and perchance the

an equal depth, and

tinguished from any level the surrounding

becomes

its

light as

through a win

bright sanded floor the

there a perennial waveless seren-

to the cool

amber twilight sky, corresponding and even temperament of the inhabitants.

Heaven

under our feet as well as over our heads.

ity reigns as in the

is

Early in the morning, while frost,

and

men come

let

down

all

things are crisp with

with fishing reels and slendei lunch^

their fine lines through the

take pickerel and perch

;

wild men,

who

snowy

field tc

instinctively fol-

low other fashions and trust other authorities than their townsmen, and by their goings and comings together in parts where

They

sit

else

stitch

towns

they would be ripped.

and eat their luncheon in stout fear-naughts on

the dry oak leaves on the shore, as wise in natural lore

They never consulted know and can tell much less than they have done. The things which they practise are said not yet to be known. Here is one fishing for pickerel as the

citizen is in artificial.

with books, and

with grown perch for bait.

You

look into his pail with

THE POND wonder as

IN WINTER.

305

summer pond, as if he kept summer home, or knew where she had retreated.

into a

locked up at

How, pray, did he get these in mid- winter ? O, he got worms out of rotten logs since the ground froze, and so he caught them.

His

passes deeper in Nature

life itself

than the studies of the naturalist penetrate

The

subject for the naturalist.

and bark gently with

;

himself a

latter raises the

his knife in search of insects

moss ;

the

former lays open logs to their core with his axe, and moss and bark fly far and wide. He gets his living by barking trees.

Such a man has some

right to

swallows the

grub-worm, the

pickerel

the chinks in the scale of being are

When

and

swallows the

perch, and the fisherman swallows the pickerel all

fish,

The perch

I love to see Nature carried out in him.

;

and so

filled.

I strolled around the pond in misty weather I

was sometimes amused by the primitive mode which some ruder fisherman had adopted. He would perhaps have placed alder branches over the narrow holes in the

ice,

which were four or

five rods apart

and an equal

distance from the shore, and having fastened the end of

the line to a stick to prevent

have passed the slack foot or more above the

line ice,

its

being pulled through,

over a twig of the alder, a

and

tied

a dry oak leaf

which, being pulled down, would show

lo

it,

when he had a

These you walked half way round the pond. Ah, the pickerel of Walden when I see them lying on the ice, or in the well which the fisherman cuts in

alders loomed through the mist at regular

bite.

intervals as

!

the ice,

making a

little

hole to admit the Avater, 1

always surprised by their rare beauty, as

if

am

they were

fabulous fishes, they are so foreign to the streets, even to the woods, foreign as

20

Arabia

to oui*

Concord

lil'e

— ;

WALDEN.

SOG

They

possess a quite dazzling and transcendent beauty

them by a wide interval from the cadaverous cod and haddock whose fame is trumpeted in whicli separates

our

They are

streets.

not green like the pines, nor gray

like the stones, nor blue like the

my

sky

;

but they have, to

eyes, if possible, yet rarer colors, like flowers

and

precious stones, as if they were the pearls, the animal-

Walden

izcd nuclei or crystals of the course, are

selves

Walden

over and

all

small Waldens in the It is surprising that

denses.

all

They, of

water.

through

;

are them-

animal kingdom,

"VYal-

they are cnught here,

and capacious spring, far beneath the teams and chaises and tinklinsj sleij^hs that travel the Walden road, this great gold and emerald fish swims. I never chanced to see its kind in any market that in this deep

rattlinjir

it

would be the cynosure of all eyes

there.

Easily, with

a few convulsive quirks, they give up their watery ghosts, like a mortal translated before his time to the

thin air of heaven.

As I was desirous to recover the long lost bottom of Walden Pond, I surveyed it carefully, before the ice broke up, early in

'46,

with compass and chain and

There have been many stories told about the bottom, or rather no bottom, of this pond, which certainly had no foundation for themselves. It sounding

is

line.

remarkable how long

lessness of a

men

bottom-

will believe in the

pond without taking the trouble

to

sound

it.

I have visited two such Bottomless Ponds in one walk in this

neighborhood.

Many have

believed that

Walden

reached quite through to the other side of the globe.

Some who have

lain flat

on the

ice for

a

lono: time, look*

THE POND IN WINTER.

307

down througli the illusive medium, perchance with watery eyes into the bargain, and driven to hasty con-

\ag

by the fear of catching cold in their breasts, have seen vast holes " into which a load of hay might be driven," if there were any body to drive it, the unclusions

doubted source of the Styx and entrance

Others have gone down

Regions from these parts.

from the village with a

''

to the Infernal

fifty-six "

and a wagon load of

inch rope, but yet have failed to find any bottom

while the "

fifty-six "

paying out the rope in the vain attempt

to

tight

my

for

fathom their

But I

truly immeasurable capacity for marvellousness.

can assure

;

was resting by the way, they were

readers that AValden has a reasonably

bottom at a not unreasonable, though at an unusual,

depth.

I

fathomed

it

and a stone

easily witli a cod-hne

weighing about a pound and a

half,

and could

tell

accu-

when the stone left the bottom, by having to pull so much harder before the water got underneath to help me. The greatest depth was exactly one hundred and

rately

two

feet

;

to

which

has risen since, is

may

be added the five feet which

making one hundred and seven.

a remarkable depth for so small an area

inch of

it

yet not an

What

can be spared by the imagination.

ponds were shallow?

all

;

minds of men ?

I

am

Would

it

it

This

if

not react on the

thankful that this

pond was made

deep and pure for a symbol. While men believe in the infinite some ponds will be thought to be bottomless. factory owner, hearing what depth I had found, thought that it could not be true, for, judging from his

A

acquaintance with dams, sand would not

an angle.

But

lie at

proportion to their area as most suppose, and,

vo

lid

so steep

the deepest ponds are not so die;) in

not leave very remarkable valleys.

if

drained,

They

are

!

"WALDEIC.

508

not like cups between the hills

unusually deep for

through

its

;

for this one,

is

so

area, appears in a vertical section

centre not deeper than

its

which

a shallow plate.

Most ponds, emptied, would leave a meadow no more hollow than we fi-equently see. Wilham Gilpin, who is so admirable in all that relates to landscapes, and usually so correct, standing at the head of Loch Fyne, in Scotland, which he describes as " a bay of salt water, sixty or seventy fathoms deep, four miles in breadth,'*

and about

fifty

observes, " If

miles long, surrounded

we

could have seen

it

by mountains,

immediately after

the diluvian crash, or whatever convulsion of Nature

occasioned

chasm

it,

before the waters gushed in,

what a horrid

must have appeared

it

So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low Do\vn sunk a hollow bottom, broad, and deep, ."

Capacious bed of waters

But

if,

Loch Fyne, we ap Walden, which, as we have seen,

using the shortest diameter of

ply these proportions to

appears already in a vertical section only like a shallow plate,

it

will

emptied.

So much for chasm of Loch Fyne when

appear four times as shallow.

the increased horrors of the

No

doubt

many a

smiling valley with

its

stretching cornfields occupies exactly such a " horrid

chasm," from which the waters have receded, though

it

requires the insight and the far sight of the geologist to

convince the unsuspecting inhabitants of this

Often an inquisitive eye

may

detect

primitive lake in the low horizon

fact.

the shores of a

hills,

and no subse-

quent elevation of the plain have been necessary to conceal then* history.

But

it

is easiest,

as they

who

work on the highways know, to find the holbws by the

THE POND IN WINTER.

The amoant

nddles after a shower.

give

ftgin<ation,

Boars higher

it

depth of the ocean will be

sible in

its

fou^^id

So,

the im-

to

probably,

the

be very inconsider-

breadth.

bottom with greater accuracy than

is

pos-

surveying harbors which do not freeze over, and

was surprised field

which

In the deep-

at its general regularity.

est part there are several acres

any

it is,

I sounded through the ice I could determine the

-ihape of the

I

of

the least license, dives deeper and

than Nature goes.

able compared with

As

309

is

exposed

In one instance, on a

more

to the

level than almost

sun wind and plough.

line arbitrarily chosen, the

depth did

not vary more than one foot in thirty rods ; and generally,

near the middle, I could calculate the variation for each

one hundred feet in any direction beforehand within three or four inches.

Some

are accustomed to speak of

deep and dangerous holes even like this, but the effect of

stances

the

is

to level all inequalities.

bottom and

its

liills

promontory betrayed

across the pond,

and

The

regularity of

conformity to the shores and the

range of the neighboring tant

sandy ponds

in quiet

water under these circum-

its

were so perfect that a

itself in

dis-

the soundings quite

direction could be determined

Cape becomes bar, and and valley and gorge deep water and

by observing the opposite shore. plain

shoal,

channel.

AV hen I had -ods to an inch,

mapped

the pond

by the

scale of ten

and put down the soundings, more than

a hundred in all, I observed this remarkable coincidence. Having noticed that the number indicating the greatest deptli was apparently in the centre of the map, I laid a rule on the

ibuud, to

map

my

lengthwise, and then breadthwise, and

surprise, that the line of greatest leagth

WALDEN.

310

intersected the line of greatest breadth exactly at the

mid

point of greatest depth, notwithstanding that the die

is

so nearly level, the outline of the

pond

from

far

regular, and the extreme length and breadth were got

by measuring into the coves and knows but this hint would conduct ;

the ocean as well as of a

I said to myself,

Who

to the deepest part of

pond or puddle

Is not this

?

the rule also for the height of mountains, regarded as the

opposite of valleys

We know

that a hill

is

not high-

narrowest part.

est at its

Of

?

which had been sounded,

coves, three, or all

five

were observed

to

have a bar quite across

their

mouths

and deeper water within, so that the bay tended

to

be

an expansion of water within the land not only horizontally

but vertically, and to form a basin or independent

pond, the direction of the two capes showing the course of the bar.

bar at

its

its

Every harbor on entrance.

the sea-coast, also, has

In proportion as the mouth of

the cove was wider compared with

its

length, the water

over the bar was deeper compared with that in the basin.

Given, then, the length and breadth of the cove,

and the character of the surrounding shore, and you have almost elements enough to make out a formula for all cases.

In order to see how nearly I could guess, with

this

experience, at the deepest point in a pond, by observing the outlines of alone, I

its

surface and the character of

made a plan of White Pond, which

about forty-one acres, and, like

this,

nor any visible

and as the

est

breadth

inlet or outlet

fell

;

its

shores

contains

has no island in

it,

line of great-

very near the line of least breadth,

where two opposite capes approached each other and two opposite bays receded, I ventured to mark a poinJ

THE POND

IN WINTER.

a short distance from the latter line

line,

31 x

hut

The

of greatest length, as the deepest.

on the

still

deepest

part was found to be within one hundred feet of still

this,

farther in the direction to wliich I had inclined, and

was only one

foot deeper,

namely, sixty

Of course,

feet.

a stream running tln-ough, or an island in

pond,

tlie

wculd make the problem much more complicated.

knew

If we

only one

the laws of Nature,

we

should need

or the description of one actual phenome-

fact,

non, to infer

Now we

all

the particular results at that point.

all

knovv' only

ated, not, of course,

a few laws, and our result

by any confusion or

is viti-

irregularity in

Nature, but by our ignorance of essential elements in tht calculation.

Our

harmony are com

notions of law and

monly confined to those instances which we detect buÂť the harmony which results from a far greater numbci ;

of seemingly conflicting, but really concurring,

which we have not detected,

The

more wonderful.

a mountain outline varies with every step, and

number of Even when

has an infinite

but one form. is

still

particular laws are as our points of view, as, to the

traveller, it

is

law!.^

not comprehended in

What ethics.

its

profiles, thcuf cleft

or bored through

it

entireness.

I have observed of the pond It is the

h absolutely

law of average.

is no Such a

less true in

rule of the

two diameters not only guides us toward the sun in the system and the heart in man, but draw lines through the length and breadth of the aggregate of a man's particular daily behaviors

and

inlets,

and waves of

and where they intersect

or depth of his character.

know how

his

chores

trend

life

into his coves

will

be the height

Perhaps we need only and

his adjacent

trj or circumstances, to infer his depth

to

coun-

and concealed

WALDEN.

SI 2 If he

bottom.

is

surrounded by mountainous circura-

an Achillean shore, whose peaks overshadow and are reflected in his bosom, they suggest a But a low and smooth corresponding depth in him. stances,

shore proves him shallow on that side.

In our bodies,

a bold projecting brow falls responding depth of thought.

is

off to

and indicates a cor-

Also there

a bar across

the entrance of our every cove, or particular inclination

each

;

is

our harbor for a season, in which

we

are

detained and partially land-locked.

These

are not wliimsical usually, but

form, size, and di-

rection are determined

by the promontories of the

When

the ancient axes of elevation. ally increased

tlieir

by storms,

which was at

this

bar

tides, or currents, or

subsidence of the waters, so that face, that

inclinations

first

it

is

shore,

gradu-

there

is

a

reaches to the sur-

but an inclination in the

shore in which a thought was harbored becomes

an

individual lake,

cut off from the ocean, wherein the

thought secures

its

from

salt to fresh,

marsh.

may we surface

At

own

conditions, changes, perhaps,

becomes a sweet

sea,

dead

sea, or

a

the advent of each individual into this hfe,

not suppose that such a bar has risen to the

somewhere

?

It is true,

we

are such poor navi-

gators that our thoughts, for the most part, stand off

and

on upon a harborless coast, are conversant only with the bights of the bays of poesy, or steer for the

pubhc porta

of entry, and go into the dry docks of science, where

they merely

refit for this

world, and no natural currents

concur to individualize them.

As

for the inlet or outlet of

Walden,

I

have not

dis-

covered any but rain and snow and evaporation, thouojh perhaps, with a thermometer and a line, such places

may

be found, for where the water flows into the pond

THE PCND it

summer and warmest

will probably l>c coldest in

When

winter.

313

WINTER.

IN

in

ice-men were at work here in

the

*46-7, the cakes sent to the shore were one day rejected

by those who were stacking them up there, not being thick enough to lie side by side with the rest and the ;

cutlers thus discovered that the ice over a small space

was two or three inches thinner than elsewhere, which made them think that there was an inlet there. They also showed me in another place what they thought was a "leach hole," through which the pond leaked out under a hill into a neighboring meadow, pushing me out on a cake of ice to see it. It was a small cavity under ten feet of water but I think that I can warrant the pond ;

not to need soldering

One has

that.

till

they find a worse leak than

suggested, that if such a "leach hole"

should be found,

its

connection with the meadow,

if

any

might be proved by conveying some colored powder or sawdust to the mouth of the hole, and then putting a strainer over the spring in the meadow, which existed,

would catch some of the

particles carried through

by

the current.

While I was surveying, the inches thick, It

is

well

ice,

which was sixteen

undulated under a slight wind like water.

known

At when

that a level cannot be used on ice.

one rod from the shore

its

greatest fluctuation,

observed by means of a level on land directed toward

a graduated

staff

on the

ice,

was three quarters of an

inch, though the ice appeared firmly attached to the

shore.

It

knows but

was probably greater in the middle. Who if our instruments were delicate enough we

might detect an undulation in the crust of the earth ? When two legs of my level were on the shore and the third

r^n

the

ice,

and the

sights

were directed over the

WALDEN.

Bl^ a

latter,

of the ice of an almost infinitesimal

rise or fall

amount made a difference of several feet on a tree across the pond. AVhen I began to cut holes for sounding, there were three or four inches of water on the ice under a deep snow which had sunk it thus fav but the ;

and

water be:^an immediately to run into these holes, continued

run for two days in deep streams, which

to

wore away the

on every

ice

sentially, if not mainly, to

the water ran

for, as

in, it

and contributed

side,

dry the

sui-face

and

raised

eg-

of the pond

',

floated the ice.

This was somewhat like cutting a hole in the bottom of

a ship to let the water out. When such holes freeze, and a rain succeeds, and finally a ncAV freezing forms a fresh smooth ice over all, it is beautifully mottled inter-

by dark

'nally

shaped somewhat like a spider's

figures,

web, what you

may

ice rosettes,

call

produced by the

channels worn by the water flowing from centre.

Sometimes,

when

also,

the

all sides

to

a

was covered

ice

with shallow puddles, I saw a double shadow of myself,

one standing on the head of the other, one on the

ice,

the other on the trees or hill-side.

Wliile yet

and

thick

it

solid,

and snow and ice are the prudent landlord comes from (he vilis

cold January,

lage to get ice to cool his

even pathetically wise,

It

to foresee the

— wearing a

July tens

summer drink

!

now in January, when so many

may be

whi^h

things

that he lays

will cool his

and saws the

solid

are

;

heat and thirst of

thick coat

not

up no treasures

summer

impressively,

and

air,

held

for.

in this world

drink in the next.

pond, unroofs the house of

carts off their very element

and mit-

provided

fiist

He fishes,

cuts

and

by ch^ns

POND

THfi h\id italces like air, to

wintry

IN WINTER.

corded wood, through the favoring winter

^est

and

wont

Those

spoit, ar.d

to invito

summer

cellars, to underlie the

me

there.

It

drawn through merry race, full of went among them they were

looks like solidified axure, as, far the streets.

315

off, it is

ice-cutters are a

when

to

saw

I

pit-fashion with them, I sland-

ing underneath.

In the winter of '46-7 there came a hundred

down on

of Hyperborean extraction swoop

one morning, with farming

many

tools, sleds,

to

men

our pond

car-loads of ungainly-looking

ploughs, drill-barroAvs, turf-knives,

spades, saws, rakes, and each

man was armed

double- pointed pike-staff, such as

is

with a

not described in

Farmer or the Cultivator. know whether they had come to sow a crop the !New-England

I did not

of winter

some other kind of grain recently introduced As I saw no manure, I judged tliat they meant to skim the land, as I had done, thinking the soil was deep and had lain fallow long enough. They said that a gentleman farmer, who was behind the scenes, wanted to double his money, which, as I understood, rye, or

from Iceland.

amounted

to half

a miUion already

;

but in order to cover

each one of his dollars with another, he took off the only coat, ay, the skin itself, of

a hard winter.

Walden Pond

They went

to

work

in the

midst of

at once, ploughing,

harrowing, rolling, furrowing, in admirable order, as

vhey were bent on making

this

a model farm

;

but

if

when

I

what kind of seed they dropped into the furrow, a gang of fellows by my side suddenly began to hook up the virgin mould itself, with a pecu-

was looking sharp

liar jerk,

for

it

clean

to see

down

to the sand, or rather the

was a very springy soil,

there was,

— and haul

it

— indeed

all

water,—

the terra jirma

away on sleds, and then

I guessed

WALDEN.

316

So they came that they must be cutting peat in a bog. and went every day, with a peculiar shriek from the loCumotive, from and to some point of the polar regions, as it

seemed

to

me,

like

a flock of

But

arctic snow-birds.

sometimes Squaw Walden had her revenge, and a hired

man, walking behind his team, slipped through a crack ground down toward Tartarus, and he who

the

in

became but the ninth part of a man, almost gave up his animal heat, and was glad to take refuge in my house, and acknowledged that there was some virtue in a stove or sometimes the frozen

was

so brave before suddenly

;

took a piece of steel out of a ploughshare, or a

soil

plough got set in the furrow and had to be cut out.

To speak overseers,

the ice.

known

literally, a hundred Irishmen, with Yankee came from Cambridge every day to get out They divided it into cakes by methods too well

to require description,

and

these, being sledded to

the shore, were rapidly hauled ofFon to an ice platform, and raised

by grappling

irons

and block and

by

horses, on to a stack, as surely as so

of

flour,

tackle,

worked

many

barrels

and there placed evenly side by

upon row, as

if

they formed the

designed to pierce the clouds.

solid

side,

They

told

a good day they could get out a thousand

was

the yield of about one acre.

holes " were

worn

and row

base of an obelisk

Deep

me

that in

tons,

which

ruts and " cradle

on terra firma^ by tha passage of the sleds over the same track, and the horses in the ice, as

invariably ate their oats out of cakes of ice hollowed out like buckets.

They

stacked up the cakes thus in

the open air in a pile thirty-five feet high on one side

and six or seven rods square, putting hay between the outside

layers to exclude the air

though lever so

c?ld, finds

;

for

when

the wind,

a passage through,

it vt'iM

THE POND IN WINTER.

317

wear large cavities, leaving slight supports or sluvls only here and there, and finally topple it down. At first it looked like a vast blue fort or Vallialla

but when they

;

meadow hay into the became covered with rime and icicles, a venerable moss-grown and hoary ruin,

began

and

to tuck the coarse

this

like

crevices, it

looked

built

we

—

see in the almanac,

sign

estivate with

to

his shanty, as if

They

us.

and that two or three per

However, a

cars.

different destiny

cent,

destination,

its

tliis

from what was intended

;

not

that

would be wasted

greater part of

still

he had a de-

calculated

twenty-five per cent, of this would reach

of

mau

azure-tinted marble, the abode of Winter, that old

in the

heap had a

for, either

be-

cause the ice was found not to keep so well as was expected, containing

reason,

it

more

air than usual, or for

never got to market.

some other

This heap, made in the

winter of '46-7 and estimated to contain ten thousand

was

tons,

though of

it

covered with hay and boards

and

;

was unroofed the following July, and a part

carried

it

Bun,

it

finally

off,

the

stood over that

was not quite melted

rest

remaining exposed to the

summer and till

the next winter, and

Thus

September 1848.

pond recovered the greater part. Like the water, the Walden ice, seen near has a green

tint,

but at a distance

and you can easily tell

it

is

from the white

at

the

hand,

beautifully blue, ice of the river

or the merely greenish ice of some ponds, a quarter of a

mile

off.

Sometimes one of those great cakes

slips

from

the ice-man's sled into the village street, and lies there for

a

week like a great emerald, an

passers.

I

in the state of

appear

object of interest to all

have noticed that a portion of Walden which water was green will often, when frozen,

froni the

same point of view

blue.

So the

hoi-

WALDEN.

318 lows about this pond

be

filled

sometimes, in the winter,

a greenish water somewhat like

ith

\i

will,

blue color of water and ice

due

is

to the light

they contain, and the most transparent Ice told

is

Pond is it

is

and

that they had

five years old

some

in the ice-houses at

becomes

that a bucket of water soon

that this

is

They Fresh

Why

which was as good as ever.

frozen remains sweet forever?

It is

air

the bluest.

an interesting subject for contemplation.

me

own,

its

Perhaps the

but the next day will have frozen blue.

putrid, but

commonly

said

the difference between the affections and the

intellect.

Thus

for sixteen

men

dred

at

work

days I saw from like

and horses and apparently ing,

such a picture as

almanac

we

all

a hun-

the implements of farm-

see on the

and as often as

;

my window

busy husbandmen, with teams

I

first

looked out

I

page of the

was reminded

of the fable of the lark and the reapers, or the parable

of the sower, and the like

and

;

and now they are

all

gone,

days more, probably, I shall look from the

in thirty

same window on the pure sea-green WalJen water there, reflecting the clouds and the trees, and sending up its evaporations in solitude, and no traces will appear that a

man

shall see

a lonely fisher in his boat, like a floating

l>eholding his

a hundred

Thus

it

form reflected

men

leaf,

waves, where lately

securely labored.

New

and CtUcutta, drink at

phy

in the

appears that the sweltering inhabitants of

Charleston and

my

Perhaps I shall hear a he dives and plumes himself, or

has ever stood there.

solitary loon laugh as

well.

Madras and Bombay

In the morning I bathe

stupendous and cosmogonal philosoBhagvat Geeta, since whose composition

intellect in the

of the

Orleans, of

my

THE POND IN -WINTER.

819

years cf the gods have elapsed, and in comparison with

which our modern workl and

and

seem puny

literature

its

and I doubt if that philosopliy is net to he referred to a previous state of existence, so re-

mote

trivial;

is its

sublimity from our conceptions.

the book and go to

my

meet the servant of t;ie Bramin, Vishnu and Indra, who still sits

I lay

and

well for water, ))riest

of

in his

lo

!

down

there I

Brahma and

temple on the

Ganges reading the Vedas, or dwells

at the root of a

tree with his crust

meet his servant and our buckets

come as

to

draw water

it v.'ere

is

I

for his master,

grate together in the

"Walden water

Ganges.

and water jug.

same

well.

The pure

mingled with the sacred water of the

With favoring winds

it is

wafted past the

site

of the fabulous islands of Atlantis and the Hesperides,

makes the periplus of Hanno, and, floating by Ternate and Tidore and the mouth of the Persian Gulf, melts in the tropic gales

ports of which

of the Indian seas, and

is

landed in

Alexander only heard the names.

SPRING.

The opening of large tracts by the ice-cutters offlnmonly causes a pond to break up earlier for the water, agitated by the wind, even in cold weather, wears away the surrounding ice. But such was not the effect on ;

Walden ment

that year, for she

had .soon got a thick new garThis pond never

to take the place of the old.

breaks up so soon as the others in this neighborhood, on

account both of

its

greater depth and

passing through it to melt or wear

knew

it

to

its

having no stream

away the

ice.

I never

open in the course of a winter, not excepting which gave the ponds so severe a trial

that of '52-3, It

commonly opens about the

ten days later than Flints'

first of April, a week or Pond and Fair-Haven, be-

ginning to melt on the north side and in the shallower parts

where

it

began

to freeze.

It indicates better

than

any water hereabouts the absolute progress of the season, being least affected ature.

A

by transient changes of temper-

severe cold of a few days' duration in

may very much

retard the opening of the former ponds,

while the temperature of mterruptedly.

March

A

Walden

increases almost un-

thermometer thrust into the middle (320^

SPRING. of

WaLlen on

freezing point

3*21

the 6th of March, 1847, stood at 32째, ;

near the shore at 33째

Fhnts' Pond, the same day, at 32^째

from the chore, at 36째.

in shallow water,

middle of

;

in the

;

at a

dozen rods

ice

a foot thick,

under

This difference of three and a half degrees be-

tween the temperature of the deep water and low in the tion of

)r

it

latter pond, is

and the

tluj

shal-

a great propor-

fact that

comparatively shallow, show

break up so much sooner than "VValden.

why it should The ice in the

shallowest part was at this time several inches thinner

than in the middle.

In mid-winter the middle had been

the warmest and the ice thinnest there.

So, also, every

one who has waded about the shores of a pond in sum-

mer must have perceived how much warmer

the water

where only three or four inches distance out, and on the surface where

close to the shore,

is

vleep, is

it

than a

little

In spring the sun

deep, than near the bottom.

not only exerts an influence through the increased tem-

perature of the air and earth, but ice

a foot or more thick, and

and so

in shallow water,

the under side of the

melting

it

more

is

its

heat passes through

reflected

from the bottom

warms the same time that it is above, making it uneven, and

the water and melts

also

ice, at

directly

causing the air bubbles which

it

contains to

themselves upward and downward until ly honey-combed, single spring rain.

and

it is

extend

complete-

at last disappears suddenly in

Ice has

its

a

grain as well as wood,

and when a cake begins to rot or " comb," that is, assume the appearance of honey-comb, whatever may be its position, the air cells are at right angles with what was the water surface.

Where

there

near to the surface the ice over is

frequently quite dissolved

21

by

is

a rock or a log rising

it is

much

thinner, and

this reflected

heat

;

and

WALDEN.

Si

I

havj hoen

to Triczo

told that in the

water

in

experiment at Cambridge

a shallow wooden pond, though Iho

cold air circulated underneath, Bidt.'.(.>,

the reflection of

tlie

and so had access

to both

sun from the bottom more

When

than counterbalanced this advantage.

a

warm

rain in the middle of the winter melts off the snow-ice

from Walden, and leaves a hard dark or transparent ice

on the middle, there will be a strip of rotten though

thicker white

ice,

a rod or more wide, about the shores,

created by this reflected heat.

AlsOj as I have said,

tlie

bubbles themselves within the ice operate as burning glasses to melt the ice beneath.

phenomena of the year take place every da}' in Every morning, generally speaking, the shallow water is being warmed more rapidly than the deep, though it may not be made so warm after all, and every evening it is being cooled more rapidly until the morning. The day is an epitome of the year. The night is the winter, the morning and evening are the spring and fall, and the noon is the summer. The cracking and booming of the ice indicate a change Tlie

a pond on a small scale.

One pleasant morning after a cold February 24th, 1850, having gone to Flints'

of temperature. night,

Pond when

to

spend the day, I noticed with surprise, that

I struck the ice with the

sounded

like a

had struck on a

gong tight

boom about an hour

for

many

head of

;

it

after sunrise,

stretched itself and

axe,

it

re-

rods around, or as if I

drum-head.

The pond began to when it felt the influ-

ence of the sun*s rays slanted upon hills

my

yawned

it

like

from over the a waking

man

with a gradually increasing tumult, which was kept up three or four hours. It took a short siesta at noon, and

boomed once more toward

night, as the sun

was with

823

SPKING.

drawing

Bu'

In the right stage

his influence.

er a pond fires in the

oi the

weath-

evening gun with great regularity.

its

middle of the day, being

the air also being less elastic,

full

of cracks, and

had ccmpletely

it

lost its

musk rats could not it. The fishermen sa} that the "thundering of the pond" scares the The pond does not fishes and prevents their biting. thunder every evening, and I cannot tell surely when to resonance, and probably fishes and

then have

bcm

expect

thundering; but though I

its

stunned by a blow on

diiFerence in the weather,

may

perceive no would have

Who

does.

it

suspected so large and cold and thick-skinned a thing to

be so sensitive?

when

obedience

in the spring.

The

papillae.

Yet it

it

has

law

its

to

which

thunders

should as surely as the buds expand

The

earth

largest

all alive

is

pond

as

is

and covered with

attraction in

coming

woods

to the

atmos

sensitive to

pheric changes as the globule of mercury in

One

it

its

to live

tube

was that

I should have leisure and opportunity to see the spring

come

The

in.

ice in the

pond

honey-combed, and I can set

Fogs and snow

the Bee to

I

how

my am

rains ;

at length begins to

my

heel in

it

be

as I walk.

and warmer suns are gradually melting

the days have

I shall get

grown

sensibly longer

and I

through the winter without adding

Avood-pile, for large fires are

on the alert for the

the chance note of

;

first

no longer necessary.

signs of spring, to hear

some arriving bird, or the striped must be now nearly ex-

squirrel's chirp, for his stores

hausted, or see the ter quarter?.

On

woodchuck venture out of

his win-

the 13th of March, after I had heard

the bluebird, song-sparrow, and red-wing,

tlie

ice

was

WALDEN,

S24.

it

As

nearly a foot thick.

Btill

grew wanner

the weather

was not sensibly worn away by the water, nor broken floated off as in rivers, but, though it was com-

up and

melted for half a rod in width about the shore,

pletelji

middle was merely honey-combed and saturated

the

with water, so that you could put your foot through

when

six inches thick

perhaps, after a

warm

rain followed

have wholly disappeared, away.

ited

One year

days before

five

den was '46, the

first

it

it

but by the next day evening,

;

gone

all

by

fog,

it

would

off with the fog, spir-

went across the middle only disappeared entirely. In 1845 WalI

completely open on the 1st of April; in

25th of March

;

in '47, the 8th of April

in '51,

;

March in '52, the 18th of April in '53, the 23d of March in '54, about the 7th of April. Every incident connected with the breaking up of the

the 28th of

;

;

;

and ponds and the

rivers

settling of the

ticularly interesting to us

great extremes.

who

When

weather

is

par-

who live in a climate of so warmer days come, they

the

dwell near the river hear the ice crack at night

with a startling whoop as loud as

artillery, as if its icy

were rent from end

and within a few days

fetters

rapidly going out.

see

it

the

mud with

to end,

So

the alligator comes out of

quakings of the earth.

One

old man,

who

has been a close observer of Nature, and seems as thor-

oughly wise in regard to

all

her operations as

if

she had

been put upon the stocks when he was a boy, and he had helped to lay her keel, who has come to his growth, and can hardly acquire more of natural lore if

—

he should live to the age of Methuselah, I

was surprised

to

—

told

me, and

hear him express wonder at any of

Nature's operations, for I thought that there were no secrets

between them, that one spring day he took

his

gun

325

SPRING.

and thought that he would have a little sport with the ducks. There was ice still on the meadows, but it was all gone out of the river, and he dropped and

boat,

down without

obstruction from Sudbury,

where he

lived,

Fair-Haven Pond, which he found, unexpectedU', It ijivered for the most part with a firm field of ice. R as a warm day, and he was surprised to see so great a body of ice remaining. Not seeing any ducks, he hid

f)

on the north or back side of an island in the pond, and then concealed himself in the bushes on the south side, to await them. The ice was melted for three his boat

or four rods from the shore, and there was a smooth and warm sheet of water, with a muddy bottom, such as the

ducks love, within, and he thought

it

hkely that some

After he had lain

still would be along pretty soon. there about an hour he heard a low and seemingly very distant sound, but singularly grand and impressive, unlike any thing he had ever heard, gradually swelling and

would have a universal and memorable ending, a sullen rush and roar, which seemed to him coming all at once like the sound of a vast body of fowl in to settle there, and, seizing his gun, he started up in increasing as

if it

haste and excited; but he found, to his surprise, that the whole body of the ice had started while he lay there,

and

drifted in to the shore,

was made by

its

and the sound he had heard

edge grating on the shore,

gently nibbled and crumbled

up and

scattering

its

off,

—

at first

but at length heaving

wrecks along the island to a con-

siderable height before

it

came

to

a stand

still.

have attained the right anand melt gle, and warm winds blow up mist and rain smiles mist the snow banks, and the sun dispersing the smoking Âťn a checkered landscape of russet ana white

At

le.igth the sun's rays

WALDEN.

26

way

with inccns3, through which the traveller picks his

from

islet to islet,

tin kilns rills

cheered by the music of a thousand

and rivulets whose veins are

blood of winter which they arc bearing

Few phenomena

gave

me more

with the

filled

off.

delight than to ob-

serve the forms which thawing sand and clay assume in

down

flowing tlirough

the sides of a deep cut on the railroad

my way to the village, a on so large a scale, common very

which I passed on

phenomenon not

though the number of freshly exposed banks of the right material must have been greatly multiplied since rail-

roads were invented.

The

material was sand of every

degree of fineness and of various rich colors, commonly mixed with a httle clay. When the frost comes out in the spring, and even in a thawing day in the winter, the

sand begins to flow down the slopes like lava, sometimes burstino; out

through the snow and overflowing

no sand was

to

be seen before.

where

it

Innumerable

little

streams overlap and interlace one with another, exhibit-

way the As it

ing a sort of hybrid product, which obeys half

law of currents, and half way that of vegetation. flows

it

takes the forms of sappy leaves or vines,

ing heaps of pulpy sprays a foot or

resembling, as you look

more

down on them,

mak-

in depth,

and

the laciniated

lobed and imbricated thalluses of some lichens

;

or you

are reminded of coral, of leopards' paws or birds' feet, of brains or lungs or bowels, and excrements of It is

we

all

kinds.

a truly grotesque vegetation, whose forms and color

see imitated in bronze, a sort of architectural foliage

more ancient and typical than acanthus, chiccory, ivy, vine, or any vegetable leaves destined perhaps, under som3 circumstances, to become a puzzle to future geolo;

gist 3.

'I'he

whole cut impressed

me

as if

it

were a cave

— 827

SPRING. with

open to the

laid

its stalactites

The

ll<!jht.

various

shades of the sand are singularly rich and agreeable,

embracing the ish,

different iron colors,

When

and reddish.

brown, gray, yellow-

the lowing mass reaches the

drain at the foot of the bank

spreads out flatter into

it

strands, the separate streams losing their semi-cylindrical

form and gradually becoming more

flat

running together as they are more moist,

an almost

flat

sand,

still

till

and broad, they form

variously and beautifully shaded,

but in which you can trace the original forms of vegetation

at length, in the water

till

;

itself,

they are convert-

ed into banks, like those formed off the mouths of rivers,

and the forms of vegetation are

lost in

the ripple marka

on the bottom.

The whole high,

is

bank, which

from twenty to forty

is

sometimes overlaid with a mass of

sandy rupture,

foliage, or

for

this

a quarter of a mile on one

What

or both sides, the produce of one spring day.

makes

sand foliage remarkable

this

existence thus suddenly.

—

the inert bank,

and on the an hour,

I

When

springing into

on one side

first,

other this luxuriant foliage, the creation of

am

affected as if in a peculiar sense I stood

— had come

who made

where he. was

to

on this bank, and with exQ^ fresh designs about. vitals

is its

I see on the one aide

for the sun acts

in the laboratory of the Artist

me,

feet

kind of

js

I feel as

still

the Avorld

and

at work, sporting

of energy strewing his if I

were nearer

of the globe, for *his sandy overflow

is

to the

something

such a foliaceous mass as the vitals of the animal body.

Yon

find thus in the

vegetable itself

leaf.

very sands an anticipation of the

No wonder

outwardly in leaves,

wardly.

The atoms have

it

that the

3arth expresses

so labors with the idea in-

already learned this law, and

WALDEN.

528

by

are pregnant prototype.

its

mal body,

The overhanging

it.

Internally,

it is

a moist thick

plicable to the liver {lel^ijjj

ing

many

globus,

leaf sees here

tlie

lobe,

globe

lap,

other words,) externally a dry thin

^ and v are a pressed and dried lobe are lb, the soft mass of the b ward.

In globe,

gib, the guttural

and

even as

radicals of

(single lobed, or it

pressing

g adds

The

ing the capacity of the throat.

laps-

flap,

leaf,

The

b.

behind

I

leaves of fat,

downward, a also

;

the

double lobed,) with a liquid

globe or ani-

a word especially apÂŤ

lobe,

and lungs and the

labor, lapsus, to flow or slip

lo^ocj

;

whether in

to the

feathers

B,

for-

it

mean-

and wings

of birds are still drier and thinner leaves. Thus, also, you pass from the lumpish grub in the earth to the airy and fluttering butterfly. The very globe continually transcends and translates itself, and becomes winged in

Even

its orbit.

as if

it

plants

ice begins with delicate crystal leaves,

had flowed have

whole tree

into

moulds which the fronds of water

impressed on the watery mirror. itself is

but one

vaster leaves whose pulp

and

cities

When in the

is

leaf,

an4 rivers are

The still

intervening earth, and towns

are the ova of insects in their axils.

the sun withdraws the sand ceases to flow, but

morning the streams

will start

once more and

branch and branch again into a myriad of others. here see perchance

how blood

vessels are formed.

You If

you look closely you observe that first there pushes forward from the thawing mass a stream of softened sand with a drop-like point, like the ball of the finger, feeling

way slowly and blindly downward, until at last v/ith more heat and moisture, as the sun gets higher, the most its

fluid portion, in its effort to

most inert also

obey the law

yields, separates

to

fjom the

which the latter

and

SPRING. forms for that, in

329

a meandering channel or arteiy

itself

which

seen a

is

^itliin

silvery stream

little

glanc-

ing like lightning from one stage of pulpy leaves or

branches to another, and ever and anon swallowed up in the sand.

terial its

nel.

how

It is wonderful

the sand organizes itself as

mass

affords to

flows, using the best

it

form the sharp edges of

Such are the sources of still

finer soil

of thawing clay

The The

?

a drop congealed.

silicious

and organic matter the

ball of the

fingers

ma-

chan-

perhaps the bony

is

What

fleshy fibre or cellular tissue.

its

In the

rivers.

matter which the water deposits system, and in the

rapidly yet perfectly

man but a mass human finger is but is

and toes flow

to their

Who knows tJie body. what the human body would expand and flow out to under a more genial heaven ? Is not the hand a spreading palm leaf with its lobes and veins ? The ear may extent from the thawing mass of

be regarded,

fancifully, as a lichen, umbilicaria,

side of the head, with

um, from labor

(?)

—

lobe or drop.

stalactite.

confluent dripping of the face.

diffused

lip

labi-

laps or lapses from the sides of

tlie

Tlie cheeks are a slide

from the brows into the valley of the

by the cheek bones.

vegetable

The

on the

—

The nose is a manifest congealed The chin is a still larger drop, the

cavernous mouth.

drop or

its

leaf, too, is

face,

opposed and

Each rounded lobe of the now loitering drop, larg-

a thick and

er or smaller; the lobes are the fingers of the leaf; and as

many

flow,

lobes as

it

has, in so

many

directions

it

tends to

and more heat or other genial influences would

have caused

Thus

it

it

to flow yet farther.

seemed that

this

one

hillside illustrated the

principle of all the operations of Nature.

of this earth but patented a

leaf.

The Maker

What ChampoUion

WALDEN.

530

new

turn over a

more exhilarating

me

and bowels, as

outward

side

than the luxuriance and

it is

character, and there

lights

This phenomenon

leaf at last ? to

True,

of vineyards. its

we may

decipher tins liieroglyphic for us, that

will

is

if

is

fertility

somewhat excrementitious no end to the heaps of

in

liver

the globe were turned wrong

but this suggests at least that Nature has

;

some bowels, and there again is mother of humanity. This is the frost coming out of the ground this is Spring. It precedes the green and flowery spring, as mythology precedes regular poetry. I know of nothing more purIt convinces gative of winter fumes and indigestions. me that Earth is still in her swaddling clothes, and Fresh curlt^ stretches forth baby fingers on every side. ;

spring from the baldest brow.

These

ganic.

the

slao;

The

chiefly,

nothing inor-

be

is

by

is

like

" in full

not a mere fragment of

upon stratum

studied

bank

like the leaves of

geologists

and

a

antiquaries

but living poetry like the leaves of a tree, which

precede flowers and living earth

;

fruit,

—

not a fossil earth, but a

compared with whose great central

animal and vegetable will

earth

history, stratum

book, to

is

of a furnace, showinjr that Nature

blast" within.

dead

There

foliaceous heaps lie along the

merely

life all

parasitic.

Its throes

heave our exuvise from their graves.

You may

life is

melt your metals and cast them into the most beautiful

moulds you can forms wliiUi only

ir,

in the

Ere

this

;

they will never excite

molten earth flows out

but the institutions upon

it, ai'e

me

into.

like

the

And

not

plastic like clay

hands of the potter.

Jong, not only

on these banks, but on every

liiU

— SPRING.

and plain and

every

in

331

liollow, the frost

comes out of

the ground hke n dormant quadruped from

and seeks the sea with music, or migrates in

Thaw

clouds.

its

to other

gentle persuasion

witli his

burrow,

is

chmea more

The one meUs,

powerful than Thor with his hammer. the other but breaks in pieces.

When

was

the ground

partially bare of snow,

few warm days had dried pleasant to compare the

surface somewhat,

its

first

and a

was

it

tender signs of the infant

year just peeping forth with the stately beauty of the withered vegetation which had withstood the winter, pinweeds,

golden-rods,

life-everlasting,

and

graceful

wild grasses, more obvious and interesting frequently

than in till

summer

then

stemmed

beauty was not ripe mulleins, johns-

cat-tails,

meadow-sweet,

plants, those

and

other

strong

unexhausted granaries which en-

tertain the earliest birds,

— decent weeds,

widowed Nature wears.

I

am

at least,

which

summer

to

by

particularly attracted

and sheaf-like top of the wool-grass

the arching

brings back the

among

if their

even cotton-grass,

;

hard-hack,

wort,

even, as

;

it

our winter memories, and

is

the forms which art loves to copy, and which, in

the vegetable kingdom, have the

already in the mind of

man

same

relation to types

that astronomy has.

It is

style older than Greek or Egyptian. Many phenomena of Winter are suggestive of an inex-

an antique of the

pressible tenderness

customed

to

hear this

terous tyrant

;

and

fragile delicacy.

kincr described as

We

arc ac-

a rude and bois-

but with the gentleness of a lover he

adorns the tresses of Summer.

At

mj

the approach of spring the red-squirrels got under

house, two at a time, directly under

my

feet as I sat

reading or writing, and kept up the queerest chuck'.ing

WALDEN.

332

and chirruping and vocal pirouetting and gurgling sounds that ever were heard ; and when I stamped they only chirruped the louder, as if past all fear and respect

mad

in their

No you

don't

ly deaf to

and

— chickaree —

fii'st

They were whol-

chickaree.

my arguments, or failed

into

fell

The

pranks, defying humanity to stop them.

to perceive their force,

a strain of invective that was sparrow of spring!

with younger hope than ever

!

irresistible.

The year beginning The faint silvery war-

blings heard over the partially bare and moist fields from

the blue-bird, the song-sparrow, and the red-wing, as if the last flakes of winter tinkled as they

fell

What

!

such a time are histories, chronologies, traditions, and written revelations

is

already seeking the

The

awakes.

?

The marsh-hawk

to the spring.

meadow

The brooks

sinkinn^

at all

sing carols and glees sailing first

low over the

slimy

that

life

sound of meltin": snow

heard

is

in all dells, and the ice dissolves apace in the ponds.

The **

grass flames

up on the

et primitus oritur

—as

if

;

a spring

herba imbribus primoribus

fire,

—

evocata,**

the earth sent forth an inward heat to greet the

returning sun

flame

hillsides like

—

;

not yellow but green

is

the color of

its

the symbol of perpetual youth, the grass-blade,

like a long green ribbon, streams

from the scd into the summer, checked indeed by the frost, but anon pushing on again, lifting its spear of last year's hay with the

fresh

life

below.

It

out of the ground. in the.

grows as steadily as the

rill

oozes

It is almost identical Avith that, for

growing days of June, when the

rills

are dry, the

grass blades are their channels, and from year to year the herds drink at this perennial green stream, and the

mower draws from our human life but forth

its

\t

betimes their winter supply.

dies

down

to its root,

green blade to eternity.

and

still

So puts

SPRING.

Walden

is

melting apace.

333

There

is

a canal two rods

wide along the northerly and westerly Btill

A great

at the east end.

field

sides,

and widbf

of ice has cracked

from the main body. I hear a song-sparrow from the bushes on the shore, olit, olit, olit, off

chip, chip, che char, helpijig to crack

— che

—

singin<y

—

wiss, wiss, wiss.

He

chip,

too

h

Hoav handsome the great sweeping curves in the edge of the ice, answering somewhat to those of the shore, but more regular It is unusually hard, owing to the recent severe but transient cold, and it.

!

all

watered or waved like a palace floor. But the wind eastward over its opaque surface in vain, till it

slides

reaches the living surface beyond. It is glorious to behold this ribbon of water sparkling in the sun, the bare face of the pond full of glee and youth, as if it spoke the joy of the fishes within

it, and of the sands on its shore, silvery sheen as from the scales of a leuciscus, as it were all one active fish. Such is the contrast between

—a

winter and spring.

But

this

spring

it

Walden was dead and is alive again. broke up more steadily, as I have

said.

The change from storm and winter to serene and mild weather, from dark and sluggish hours to bright and elastic ones, is

claim.

a memorable

crisis

which

all

things pro-

It is seemingly instantaneous at last.

Suddenly

an influx of

light filled

my

house, though the evening

was at hand, and the clouds of winter still overhung it, and the eaves were dripping with sleety rain. I looked out the window, and lo

!

where yesterday was cold gray pond already cahn and full of

ice there lay the transparent

hope as

a summer evening, reflecting a summer evenits bosom, though none was visible overhead, had intelligence with some remote horizon. T

in

ing sky in

as

if it

WALDEN.

S34

heard a robin in the distance, the

many

not forget for

I had heard for whose note I sliaD

first

a thousand years, methought,

many a thousand more,

— the same sweet

and powerful song as of yore. O the evening robin, at New England summer day If I could

the end of a

!

ever find the twig he

The

sits

This at least

the twig.

is

upon!

mean/^e; I mean

I

not the Turdus migratoriua.

pitch-pines and shrub-oaks about

my

house, which

had so long drooped, suddenly resumed their several characters, looked brighter, greener, alive, as if

and more erect and

effectually cleansed and restored by the rain.

knew that it would not rain any more. You may tell by looking at any twig of the forest, ay, at your very I

wood-pile, whether

its

winter

darker, I was startled

low over the woods,

like

is

past or not.

strained complaint

my door,

I

at

last

and mutual consolation.

in

my

house, they suddenly spied

unre-

Standing

could hear the rush of their wings

driving toward

grew

it

by the honking of geese flying weary travellers getting in late

from southern lakes, and indulging at

As

;

my

when, light,

and with hushed clamor wheeled and settled in the pond. So I came in, and shut the door, and passed my first spring night in the woods.

In the morning I watched the geese from the door through the mist, sailing in the middle of the pond, rods like

off,

an

so large artificial

fifty

and tumultuous that Walden appeared pond for their amusement. But when

I stood on the shore they at once rose up with a great flapping of wings at the signal of their commander, and

when they had got

into

rank circled about over

my

head, twenty-nine of them, and then steered straight to

Canada, with a regular honk from the leader at intervab, trusting to break their fast in muddier pools.

A

SPRING.

•plump"

of ducks rose at

route to the nortli in

the

335

same time and took the wake of their noisier tlic

cousins.

For a week I heard the circling groping chmgor of some solitary goose in the foggy mornings, seeking iti companion, and still peopling the woods with the sound of a larger

life

than they could sustain.

In April the

pigeons were seen again flying express in small flocks,

and

in

due time though

clearing,

heard the martins twittering over

I

it

many

contained so

my

had not seemed that the township that

it

could afford

me

any, and I

fancied that they were peculiarly of the ancient race that dwelt in hollow trees ere white

most

climes the tortoise and

all

tlie

men came. In alfrog are among the

precursors and lieralds of this season, and birds

fly

with

song and glancing plumage, and plants spring and bloom,

and winds blow,

to correct this sliglit oscillation of the

poles and preserve the equilibrium of Nature.

As every coming

season seems best to us in

in of spring is like the creation of

its

turn, so the

Cosmos out of

Chaos and the realization of the Golden Age. **

Eurus ad Auroram, Nabathacaqiie regna

—

rccessit,

Persidaque, et radiis juga subdita matutiuis."

*

The East-Wind withdrew to Aurora and the Nabathcean kingdOBa,

And

the Persian, and

*

Man

tlie

ridges placed unccr the

*

«

morning

rajs.

«

was born.

Whetljer that Artificer of things, made him from the divine seed; Or the earth being recent and lately sundered from the high

The

origin of a better world,

Ether, retained some seeds of connate heaven."

A

single gentle rain

l^ceuer.

So our

makes the grass many shades

prospects brighten on the inlius of

WALDEN.

336

"We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the inbetter thoughts.

dew

fluence of the slightest

that falls on

it

;

and did not

bpend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities,

which we

winter while

morning

all

it is

innocence

loiter in

Such a day

is

a

While such a sun holds out to burn, the return. Through our own recovered

may

we

discern the innocence of our neighbors.

You may have known your neighbor thief,

We

In a pleasant spring

already spring.

men's sins are forgiven.

truce to vice. vilest sinner

doing our duty.

call

yesterday for a

a drunkard, or a sensualist, and merely pitied or

despised him, and despaired of the world shines bright and

warm

this first

;

but the sun

spring morning, re-

you meet him at some serene work, and see how his exhausted and debauched veins expand with still joy and bless the new day, feel the creating the world, and

spring influence with the innocence of infancy, and his faults are forgotten.

There

is

all

not only an atmos-

phere of good will about him, but even a savor of holiness groping for expression, blindly and ineffectually

perhaps, like a new-born instinct, and for a short hour the south hill-side echoes to no vulgar jest. You see some innocent fair shoots preparing to burst from his gnarled rind and try another year's life, tender and fresh as the youngest plant. Even he has entered into

Why

the joy of his Lord.

open his prison doors, miss his case,

congregation

!

— why

the jailer does not leave

— w^hy

the judge does not dis-

the preacher does not dismiss his

It is because they

do not obey the hint

which God gives them, nor accept the pardon which ho freely offers to alL

387

SPRING.

"A

raturn to goodness produced each day in the

tranquil and beneficent breath of the morning, causes that in respect to the love of virtue

and the hatred of

vice, onj* approaches a little the primitive nature of man, as the sprouts of the forest which has been felled. In like manner the evil which one does in the interval

of a day prevents the germs of virtues which began to gpring up again from developing themselves and destroys them. " After the

many

germs of virtue have thus been prevented

times from developing themselves, then the be-

neficent breath of evening does not suffice to preserve

As

them. fice

soon as the breath of evening does not suf-

longer to preserve them, then the nature of

man

much from that of man like

Men

does not differ

seeing the nature of this

the brute.

that of the brute,

think that he has never possessed the innate faculty of

Are

reason.

of man

?

those the

true and natural

sentiments

"

"The Golden Age was

first

created,

which without any avenger

Spontaneously without law cherished fidelity and rectitude. Punishment and fear were not ; nor were threatening words read On suspended brass ; nor did the suppliant crowd fear The words of their judge ; but were safe without an avenger.

Not yet the pine felled on its mountains had descended To the liquid waves that it might see a foreign world, And mortals knew no shores but their own. « « « « There was eternal spring, and placid zephyrs with warm Blasts soothed the flcvers

On

bom without seed."

the 29 th of April, as I was fishing from the baxic

of the river near the Nine- Acje- Comer bridge, standing

on the quaking grass and willow roots, where the muskrats -« 22

WALDEN.

838

heard a singular rattling sound, somewhat

lurk, I

like

that of the sticks Avliich boys play with their fingci's,

when, looking up, I observed a very

slight

and graceful

haAvk, like a night-hawk, alternately soaring like a lip-

and

ple and tumbling a rod or two over

the underside of

its

ovei',

showing

wings, which gleamed like a satin

ribbon in tho sun, or like the pearly inside of a shell.

This sight rdninded

me

of fiilconry and what nobleness

and poetry are associated with that it

seemed

its

name.

me

to

:

It did not

simply flutter like a butterfly, nor

soar like the larger hawks, but liance in the fields of air

with

its

ful fall,

strange chuckle,

foot

it

;

it

sported with proud re-

mounting again and again

repeated

its

free

and beauti-

turning over and over like a kite, and then re

covering from its

jMcrlin

it might be called but I care net for was the most ethereal flight I had ever

It

witnessed.

The

sport.

its

had never set have no com-

lofty tumbling, as if it

on terra Jirma,

It

appeared

— sporting

panion in the universe,

to

there alone,

— and

to

need none but the morning and the ether with which

it

played.

It

lonely beneath it,

was not

kindred, and

its

tenant of the

lonely, but

Where was

it.

air, it

its

made

the earth

all

the parent which hatched

The

father in the heavens ?

seemed related

to the earth

but by an

—

egg hatched some time in the crevice of a crag

;

was

woven

its

native nest

made

in the angle of a cloud,

or

of the rainbow's trimmings and the sunset sky, and lined with

earth

?

midsummer haze caught up from eyry now some cliffy cloud.

some

Its

soft

Beside this I got a rare mess of golden and silrer

and bright cupreous jewels. tlie

Ah

!

I.

fishes,

which looked

have penetrated

moi*mn« of many a

fii-st

like

to those

a string of

meadows on

spring day, jumping froxs

339

SPRING. hiiramock to

hummock, from willow

when the wild ill

and bright a

so pure

dead,

river valley and

root to willow root,

woods were bathed waked the

tlie

as Avould have

liglit

they had been slumbering in their graves, as

if

some suppose.

There needs no stronger proof of im-

All things must live in such a

mortality.

Death, where was thy sting

O

?

O

light.

Grave, where was thy

victory, then ?

Our

village life

unexplored

forests

would stagnate

were not

if it

and meadows which surround

—

need the tonic of wildness,

to

for the "\Ve

it.

wade sometimes

in

marshes where the bittern and the meadow-hen lurk,

and hear the booming of the snipe

;

to smell

the wliis-

pering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary fowl builds her nest, and the mink craAvls with close to the ground.

At

the

earnest to explore and learn all

its

belly

same time that we are

all

things,

we

require that

and

things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land

sea be infinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us

We can never have enough of must be refreshed by the sight of inexhaustible vigor, vast and Titanic features, the sea-coast because unfathomable.

We

Nature.

with

its

wrecks, the wilderness with

its

living and

its

caying trees, the thunder cloud, and the rain which three weeks and produces freshets. ness our

own

limits transgressed,

We

need

and some

life

de-

lasts

to wit-

pastur-

we never wander. We are cheered when we observe the vulture feeding on the carrion ing freely where

which disgusts and disheartens us and deriving health

and strength from the la the hollow

mc

There was a dead liorse my house, which compelled

repast.

by the path

to

sometimes to go out of

Might

when

my way,

especially in the

the air was heavy, huX the assurance

it

gave

;

WARDEN.

B40

me

of tbc strong appetite and inviolable bealth of Nn«

tare was

Nature

my

compensation for

to be sacrificed tliat

myriads can be

so rife with life that

is

and

suflfcred

I love to see that

this.

afifordcd

to prey on one another;

tender organizations can be so serenely squastied

out of existence like pulp,

and

ble up,

tortoises

and that sometimes

it

—

tadpoles which herons gob-

and toads run over

in the road

With we must see how little account The impression made on a wise

has rained flesh and blood

!

the liability to accident, is

to be

man

is

made of

Poison

that of universal innocence.

sonous after is

it.

all,

nor are any wounds

a very untenable ground.

It

is

not poi-

Compassion

fatal.

must be expeditious.

Its pleadings will not bear to be stereotyped.

Early in May, the oaks, hickories, maples, and other trees, just putting

out amidst the pine woods around

the pond, imparted a brightness like

sunshine to the

landscape, especially in cloudy days, as if the sun were

breaking

through mists

hill-sides

here

of

and

and shining

there.

On

the

faintly

third

on

the

or fourth

May

first

I saw a loon in the pond, and during the week of the month I heard the whippoorwill,

the brown-thrasher, the veery, the wood-pewee, the che-

I had heard the wood-thrush The phoebe had already come once more

wink, and other birds. long before.

and looked in at

my

my

door and window, to see if

house was cavern-like enough for her, sustaining hersQlf

on humming wings with clinched

talons, as if she held

the air, while she surveyed the premises. like pollen

by

The sulphur-

of the pitch-pine soon covered the pond and

the stones and rotten

wood along the

could have collected a barrel-ful.

showers " we hear o£

Even

shore, so that

This

is

in Calidas*

the

*'

you

sulphur

drama of Sa«

341

SPRING. contala,

we

read of "

dust of the lo'us." into

summer,

And

as one

dyed yellow with the golden so the seasons went rolling on

rills

rambles into higher and higher

grass.

Thus was

my

first

yenr's

life in

and the second year was similar "Walden Septembei- â‚Źth 18.17

the woods completed; to

it.

I finally

left

coNCL;3siojr.

To

the

sicl\

the doctors wisely

Thank Heaven, here

of an* and sceniriy.

The buck-eye does

world.

and the mocking-bird goose fast

is

in

is

not

grow

in

more of a cosmopolite than we the

for

the bison, to

is

night

in

;

in

not

New

rarely heard here.

Canada, takes a luncheon

plumes himself

Even

recommend a change the

all

England,

The

wild-

he breaks his the Ohio, and

a southern bayou.

some extent, keeps pace with the

seasons, cropping the pastures of the Colorado only

till

a greener and sweeter grass awaits him by the Yellowstone.

Yet we think

that if rail-fences are pulled

down,

and stone-walls piled up on our farms, bounds are henceforth sei to our lives and our fates decided.

If

you arc chosen town-clerk, forsooth, you cannot go to Tieira del Fuego this summer: but you may go to the huul of infernal

wiJer

lliun

fire

The

nevertheless.

our views of

tafferel of

our

make the voyage The other side of

curious passengers, and not

like stupid sailors picking

the glebe

is

it.

Yet we should oftener look over the craft, like

universe

is

but the

home

oakum.

of our correspondent. r342)

Oui

CONCLUSION. royasfing

iJd3

J-ly great-circle sailing, and the doctora

is

One

prescribe for diseases of the skin merely. to

Southern Africa

is

not the

game he would be

would a man hunt

How

after.

afford rare sport

would be nobler game

;

to shoot one's self.

long, pray,

Snipes and

he could?

giraffes if

may

woodcocks also

hastens

chase the giraffe; but surely that

to

but I trust

—

it

" Direct your eye right inward, and you'll find A thousand regions in your mind Yet ur discovered. Travel them, and be Expert

What Is

does Africa,

— what

does the "West stand foi?

own interior white on the chart? black may prove, like the coast, when discovered.

not our

though Is

in home-cosniograpliy."

it

it

the source of the Nile, or the Niger, or the Missis-

sippi, or

that

a North-West Passage around this continent,

we would fmd?

Are

most concern mankind?

who

is

lost,

these the problems which

Is

Franklin the only

man

that his wife should be so earnest to find

Does Mr. Grinnell know where he himself is ? Be rather the IMungo Park, the Lewis and Clarke and explore Frobisher, of your own streams and oceans with shiploads of preserved your own higher latitudes, you, if they meats to support be necessary and pile the

him ?

;

—

;

empty cans sky-high

for a sign.

Were

invented to preserve meat merely

bus to whole

new

?

preserved meats

Nay, be a Colum-

continents and worlds

within you,

opening new channels, not of trade, but of thought.

Every man earl lily

mock Itave

the lord of a realm beside which the

empire of the Czar

loft

no

is

by the

but a petty

state,

a hum-

Yet some can be patriotic who and sacrifice the greater to the lass.

ice.

se//'-respect,

is

TTALDEN.

344

They

love the soil which

no sympathy with the their clay.

makes

spirit

Patriotism

is

their graves, but

may

which

a maggot

still

their

in

have

animate

heada

"What was the meaning of that South-Sea Exploiting Expedition, with

parade and expense, but an

all its

in-

direct recognition of the fact, that there are continents

and seas

isthmus or an is

moral world, to which erery man

in the

inlet,

an

yet unexplored by him, but that

many thousand

easier to sail

is

it

miles through cold and

storm and cannibals, in a government ship, with five

hundred men and boys

to assist one, *han

plore the private sea, the Atlantic

of one's being alone.

—

it is

to ex-

and Pacific Ocean

" Erret, et extremes alter scrutetur Iberos. Plus habet hie vitse, plus habet ille vioe."

Let them wander and scrutinize the outlandish Australians I have more of God, they more of the road.

It is not

worth the while to go round the world to count

the cats in Zanzibar. better,

and you

may

Yet do

till you can do some " Symmes*

even

this

perhaps

find

"

by which to get at the inside at last. England and France, Spain and Portugal, Gold Coast and Slave Holb

Coast, all front on this private sea

them has ventured out of without doubt the direct learn to speak

all

;

but no bark from

sight of land, though

way

to India.

it

is

If you would

tongues and conform to the customs

of all nations, if you would travel farther than all travellers,

to

be naturalized in

all climes,

and cause the Sphinx

dash her head against a stone, even obey the precept

of the old philosopher, and Explore thyself.

demanded

the eye and the nerve.

'

Herein are

Only the defeated

'

."45

CONCLUSION. tUi^.

^Ifiserters

rikI

enlist.

go to the wars, cowards that run away

now on

Start

that farthest western way,

which does not pause at the JMississippi or the

Pa.;ific,

nor conduct toward a worn-out Ciiina or Japan, but leads

on direct a tange/

1

to this sphere,

summer and

day and night, sun down, moon down, and at

down

winter,

earth

last

too.

highway robbery " to ascertain Avhat degree of resolution was necessary in orIt is said that

Mirabeau took

to

der to place one's self in formal opposition

He

sacred laws of society."

who

fights in the

never stood

was

in the

— "that honor and

way

idle, if

much

religion Iiave

of a well-considered and a firm

This was manly, as the world goes

resolve." it

declared that " a soldier

ranks does not require half so

courage as a foot-pad,"

most

to the

A saner man

not desperate.

and yet

;

would have

found himself often enough "in formal opposition" to

what are deemed " the most sacred laws of society, through obedience to yet more sacred laws, and so have tested his resolution without going out of his way. is

not for a

man

to put himself in such

society, but to maintain himself in

It

an attitude

to

whatever attitude he

find himself through obedience to the laws of his being,

which ment,

will if

Perhaps It is

he should chance

meet with such.

it

seemed

to

me

that I

had several more

1

and make a beaten

ti-ack

my door

five or six yeai's

to the pond-side

since

I

trod

it,

it

one

;

int*

fall

for our-

had not lived there a week before

wore a path from

lives

for that

remarkable how easily and insensibly we

selves.

is

a just govern-

and could not spare any more time

a particular route,

it

to

to

the woods for as good a reason as I went there.

I left

to live,

never be one of opposition

and

my tl

is still

lecv

oujj

quite

TTALDEN

iJ46

It is tine, I fear that others

distinct.

into

and so helped

it,

earth V'itli

soil

is

and

to

keep

it

open.

may have

fallcu

Tlie surface of the

by tlie ieet of men and so mind travels. How worn and

iinpressihle

the paths wiiich the

;

dusty, then, must be the highways of the world,

the ruts of tradition and conformity

how deep

I did not wish to

!

take a cabin passage, but rather to go before the mast

and on the deck of the the moonlight

Avorld, for there I could best see

amid the mountains.

I do not wish to

go below now.

by

I learned this, at least,

advances confidently endeavors

my experiment

in the direction of his

to live the life

;

that if one

dreams, and

which he has imagined, he

meet with a success unexpected

in

common

hours.

will

He

some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal Liws will begin to establish themselves around and within him or the will put

;

old laws be expanded,

more

and interpreted

and he

liberal sense,

a higher order of beings. fies his

life,

will live

in his favor in

a

with the license of

In proportion as he simpli-

the laws of the universe will appear less

complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty povei-ty,

nor weakness weakness.

castles in the air,

If you ha^•e built your woi-k need not be lost that if ;

Avhere they should be.

Now

put the foundations undei

them. It is

ica

a ridiculous demand which England and

make, that you

stand you.

shall

Neither

Amer-

speak so that they can under-

men nor

toad-stools

grow

so.

As

were important, and there were not enough to understand you without them. As if Nature could support but one order of undei-standings, could not susÂť

if

that

tain bu'ds as well as

quadrupeds, Hying as well as creep-

;

CONCLUSION.

8-47

ing things, and JmsJi find tuho, which Bright can understand,

were the best Enghslj.

in stiipidity alone.

not be extra- vagant enough,

beyond the narrow be adequate

limits of

to the truth of

Extra vagance

!

it

buffalo,

another latitude,

is

over the

runs after her

there were safety

if

my expression may

may not wander far enough

my daily experience, so

which

as to

have been convinced.

I

depends on how you are yarded.

The migrating kicks

As

I fear cliiefly lest

which seeks new pastures in

not extravagant like the cow which leaps

pail,

cow-yard fence, and

the

milking time.

calf, in

I desire to

speak

somewhere loWiout bounds; like a man in a waking moment, to men in their waking moments for I am convinced that I cannot exaggerate enough even to lay ;

the foundation of a true expression.

Who

heard a strain of music feared then

lest

speak extravagantly any more forever future or possible,

we

?

that has

he should

In view of the

should live quite laxly and unde-

fined in front, our outlines

dim and mLsty on

that side

as our shadows reveal an insensible perspiration toward

the sun.

The

volatile truth of

our words should con-

tinually betray the inadequacy of the residual statement.

Their truth

is

instantly translated

;

The words which

alone remains.

piety are not definite

;

its literal

monument

express our faith and

yet they are significant and fra-

grant like frankincense to superior natures.

Why

level

downward

to

our dullest ))erception

al-

common sense ? The comsense of men asleep, which they exSometimes we are inclined to class

ways, and praise that as

monest sense press

the

by snoring.

who

those wit ted, wit.

is

are

once-and-a-half witted with

the

half'

because we appreciate only a third part of their

Some would

find fault with the morning-red, if

WALDEN.

S4:H

"

ever got up early enough.

tliey

hear, " that

senses

Vedas;" but

trine of the

pretend," us 1

of Kabir have four difTtront

the verses

illusion, spirit, intellect,

;

They

and the exoteric docworld

in this part of the

considered a ground for complaint

it is

if

a man's writings

admit of more than one interpretation.

While England

endeavors to cure the potato-rot, will not any endeavor cure the

to

brain-rot,

which prevails so much more

widely and fatally? 1 do not suppose that I

have attained

to obscurity,

but I should be proud if no more fatal fault were found

my

with

Walden color,

pages on this score than was found with the

Southern customers objected to

ice.

which

the evidence of

is

The

purity

blue

it

were

purity, as if

its

muddy, and preferred the Cambridge but tastes of weeds.

its

ice,

men

which

love

is

is

white,

like the

mists which envelop the earth, and not like the azure

ether beyond.

Some

are dinning in our ears that

and moderns generally, are

we Americans,

intellectual dwarfs

compared

with the ancients, or even the Elizabethan men.

what

that to the purpose?

is

than a dead Hon.

Shall a

A

living

dog

man go and hang

is

But better

himself be-

cause he belongs to the race of pygmies, and not be the biggest

own

pygmy

business,

Why ceed,

should

and

in

that he can

and endeavor

we be

?

to

Let every one mind his be what he was made.

in such desperate haste to suc-

such desperate enterprises?

If a

does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps

because he hears a diiferent drummer. to

far

man it

is

Let him step

the music which

awaj

.

us soon as

It is

he hears, however measured or not important that he should mature

an apple-tree or an oak.

Shall he turn his

CONCLUSION. upring iniv --jowTner

we were made

If the condition of things whi(;h

?

for

is

not yet, what Arere any reality

which we can substitute on a vain reahty.

349

We

?

Slmll

Avill

we with

not be sliipwrecked

pains erect a heaven

when

of blue glass over ourselves, though

we

shall

be sure to gaze

far above, as if the

There was an

still

it

is

done

at the true ethereal lieaTen

former were not

?

Kouroo wlo waa One day it came Having considered that

the city of

artist in

disposed to strive after perfection.

mind to make a staff. an imperfect work time is an ingredient, but

into his in

perfect

work time does not

enter,

shall be perfect in all respects,

my

ing else in forest for

made

He

life.

he said

into a

to himself, It

though I should do noth-

proceeded instantly to the

wood, being resolved that

it

should not be

of unsuitable material; and as he searched for

and rejected

stick after stick, his friends gradually de-

serted him, for they

grew

old in their

but he grew not older by a moment.

works and died,

His singleness of

purpose and resolution, and his elevated piety, endowed him, without his knowledge, with perennial youth. As

he made no compromise with Time, Time kept out of way, and only sighed at a distance because he could

his

not overcome him.

Before he had found a stock in

all

Kouroo was a hoary ruin, mounds to peel the stick. Be-

respects suitable the city of

and he fore he

sat

on one of

had given

it

its

the proper shape the dynasty of

the Candahars was at an end, and with the point of the stick

he wrote the name of the

last

sand, and then resumed his work.

of that race in the

By

the time he had

smoothed and polished the the pole-star

;

staff Kalpa was no longer and ere he had put on the ferule and the

head adorned with precious stones,

Brahma had aw ok 3

)

WALDEN.

35

and slumbered many times.

When

tion these things ?

work,

to his

But wliy do I

stay to racnÂŤ

the finishing stroke

was put

suddenly expanded before the eyes of the

it

astonished artist into the fairest of all the creations oi

He

Brahma.

had made a new system in making a

a world with

6t:iff,

(hough the old

and

full

fair proportions

;

in whichj

and dynasties had passed away,

cities

and more glorious ones had taken their places.

fairer

And now

he saw by the heap of shavings

him and

his feet, that, for

his v/ork, the

still

frosli at

former lapse

of time had been an illusion, and that no more time Iiad elapsed than

is

required for a single scintillation from

Brahma to fall on and inflame the tinder The material was pure, and his art how could the result be other than wonderful ? (\'as pure No face which we can give to a matter will stead U3

the brain of

of a mortal brain. ;

This alone wears well.

so well at last as the truth.

we are not where we are, but in a Through an infirmity of our natures, we suppose a case, and put ourselves into it, and hence are m two cases at the same time, and it is doubly ditficult to get out. In sane moments we regard only the facts, the case that is. Say what you have to say, not what you For

the most part,

false position.

ought.

Any

truth

is

better than make-believe.

Tom

Hyde, the tinker, standing on the gallows, was asked if ho had any tiling to say. " Tell tlie tailors," said he, " to re-

member

to

the

stitch."

first

make a knot

However mean your Dot shun

you

are.

it

and

call

it

life,

life

poor as

it

is,

meet

hard names.

It looks poorest

fault- finder will find

your

in their thread before they take

His companion's prayer

and

fcrgotten.

live

It is not so

when you

are richest.

it do bad as ;

The

Love You may perhaps have some

faults

is.

it

is

even

in

paradise.

CONCLUSION.

351

pleasant, thrilling, glorious lionrs, even in a poor-house.

The

setting sun

is

the

from the windows of the

retiectcd

from the rich man's abode;

alnis-iiouse as brightly as

snow melts before

its

door as early

do not see lut a quiet mind there,

The

may

in the spring.

live as

and have as cheering thoughts, as

town's poor seem to

pendent

enough

lives

me

in

a palace.

often to live the most inde-

they are simply great

INIay be

of any.

Most think that

without misgiving.

to rer,eive

they are above being supported by the town oftener

I

contentedly

;

but

it

happens that they are not above supporting

themselves by dishonest means, which should be more Cultivate poverty like a

disreputable.

Do

garden herb,

much to get new Turn the old; rethings, whether clothes or friends. Things do not change we change. Sell turn to them. your clothes and keep your thoughts. God will see like sage.

not trouble yourself

;

that you do not want society.

corner of a garret

all

my

would be just as large

The

about me.

me

to

;

while I had

philosopher said

three divisions one can take in disorder

If I were confined to a

days, like a spider, the world

from the

man

away

:

thoughts of

general, and put

its

the most abject

cannot take away his thought."

my

From an army

"

Do

it

and vulgar one

not seek so anx-

many inHuheavenly lights. The

ously to be developed, to subject yourself to fluences to

be played on

;

it

is

mility like darkness reveals the

all

dissipation.

shadows of poverty and meanness gather around us, " and lo creation widens to our view." We are often !

reminded that

if

there were bestowed on us the wealth

of Croesus, our aims must

means

essentially ihe same.

stricted in

still

be the same, and our

Moreover,

your range by poverty,

if

ii

you are

re-

you cannot bu^

WALDEN.

852

books and ne\vspapers, for instance, you are but con*

most

fined to the

and

significant

experiences

vital

you

;

are compelled to deal with the material which yields the

most sugar and the most starch.

where

is

it

You

are defended from being a

on a lower level by mag-

Superfluous wealth can buy su-

nanimity on a higher.

Money

only.

perfluities

near the bone

loses ever

sweetest.

No man

trifler.

It is life

not required

is

buy olo

to

necessary of the soul. I live in the angle of a leaden wall, into Avhose composition

was poured a

in the repose of

my

little

alloy of bell metal.

of

my

my

mid-day, there reaches

confused tititiniiahuhim from without.

My

contemporaries.

Often, ears a

It is the noise

neighbors

tell

me

of their

adventures with famous gentlemen and ladies, what no-

they met at the dinner-table

tabilities

more

;

am no

but I

interested in such things tlian in the contents of the

The

Daily Times.

interest

and the conversation are

about costume and manners chiefly goose

still,

dress

you

as

it

;

but a goose

They

will.

tell

me

is

a

of Cali-

and Texas, of England and the Indies, of the Hon. Mr. of Georgia or of Massachusetts, all

fornia

and

transient

phenomena,

fleeting

leap from their court-yard like the

come

delight to sion with to

my

to

pomp and

bearings,

am

Mameluke

— not walk

ready to bey.

I

in proces-

parade, in a conspicuous place, but

walk even with the Builder of the universe,

— not

if I

may,

to live in this restless, nervous, bustling, trivial

Nineteenth Century, but stand or it

I

till

goes by.

What

are

men

sit

thoughtfully while

celebrating

?

They

are

all

on a committee of arrange-nents, and liourly expect a speech from somebody. God is only the president of the day,

and Webster

is

his orator.

I love to weigh, to

CONCLUSION. settle, to

gravitate toward that

rin^htfuUy attracts

and try

scale

353

to

me

;

—

weigh

take the case that

is

;

which most strongly and not hang by the beam of the

less,

— not suppose

to travel

a

case, but

the only path I can.

and that on which no power can resist me. It affords me no satisfaction to commence to spring an arch before I liave got a sohd foundation. Let us not play at kittlybenders. There is a solid bottom every where. We read that the traveller asked the boy

if

the

swamp

be-

him had a hard bottom. The boy replied that had. But presently the traveller's horse sank in up

fore it

and he observed to the boy, " I thought you said that this bog had a hard bottom." " So it has," answered the latter, " but you have not got half way to it yet." So it is with the bogs and quicksands of soto the girths,

ciety

;

but he

is

an old boy that knows

it.

Only what

thought said or done at a certain rare coincidence is good. I would not be one of those who will foolishly is

mere would keep me awake drive a nail into

let

me

lath

and plastering

nights.

feel for the furrowing.

Give

Do

me

;

such a deed

a hammer, and

not depend on the

Drive a nail home and clinch it so faithfully that you can wake up in the night and think of your putty.

—

work with satisfaciion, a work at which you would not be ashamed to invoke the Muse. So will help you God, and so only. Every nail driven should be as another rivet in the machine of the universe, you carrying on the work.

Rather thau love, than money, than fame, give me truth. I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance, and obsequious attendance, but sincerity

and truth were not

and I went away hungry from the 23

;

WALDEN.

854

The

inhospitable board.

They

them.

talked to

fame of the vintage

me ;

was as cold as the

was no need of

I thought that tliere

ices.

tlie

hospitality

ice to freeze

of the age of the wine and

but I thought of an older, a

newer, and purer wine, of a more glorious vintage,

which they had not

got,

stjle,

and grounds and "entertainment" pass

-he house

nothing with me.

man

for

made me

I called on the king, but he

wait in his hall, and conducted like a

incapacitated

There was a man in my neighborhood His manners were truly

for hospitality.

who

The

and could not buy.

lived in a hollow tree.

regah

I should

have done better had I called on

long shall

we

him.

How

&nd musty tinent

virtues,

As

?

sutFering,

if

sit in

our porticoes practising

idle

which any work would make imper-

one were to begin the day with long-

and hire a man

hoe his potatoes

to

and

;

in

meekness

the afternoon go forth to practise Christian

and charity

witli

Cliina pride

and stagnant self-complacency of mankind

goodness aforethouglit!

This generation reclines a being the

last

little to

scent,

it

speaks of

its

the Pliilosophical Societies,

own

Men

virtue.

!

;

great lil

men

in

Boston and

It is the

There are the Records of and the public Eulogies of

good

Adam

contemplating his

" Yes, Ave have done great deeds,

di\ine songs, which shnll never die," as u'c can

and

thinking: of its lonj? de-

progress in art and science and

literature with satisfjiction.

Great

congratulate itself on

of an illustrious line

London and Paris and Kome,

Consider tho

remember them. of Assyria,

The

— that

and sung

is,

as ions

learned societies and

— where are they

philosophers and experimentalists

we

?

What

are

!

youth-

Tbcre

ig

355

CONCLUSION. not one of

my

man

Tlicse

may be

race.

If

life

life.

of

tlie

we have

yet lived a whole hu-

but the spring months

we have had

are acquainted with a

we

globe on which

not where

we

and

we

liave

mere

pellicle

of the

many above it. We we are sound asleep

Beside,

are.

Yet we esteem ourselves

we

are ambitious spirits

wise,

Truly,

an established order on the surface.

are deep thinkers,

Con-

Most have not delved six feet

live.

nearly half our time.

the

the seven-years' itch,

beneath the surface, nor leaped as

know

in

not seen the seventeen-year locust yet in

We

cord.

who has

readers

As

!

I

stand over the insect crawling amid the pine needles on t'.ie

forest floor,

my

siglit,

and ask myself why and hide

ble thoughts,

perhaps, be

to conceal itself

from

will cherish those

hum-

and endeavoring it

head

its

fi-om

me who

benefactor, and impart to

its

clieering information, I

am

its

some

reminded of the greater

Benefactor and Intelligence that stands over

human

might,

race

me

the

insect.

There

is

an incessant influx of novelty into the world,

and yet we

tolerate incredible dulness.

suggest what kind of sermons are

still

I need only

listened to in the

There are such words as

most enlightened countries.

joy and sorrow, but they are only the burden of a psalm,

suns with a nasal twancr, while we believe nary and mean. only.

clot lies

It

We is

think that

said

that

we can

the British

in the ordi-

changr; our

Empire

is

very large and respectable, and that the United States arc a fii>t-rate power. rircs

and

J>rilisli

in his

Empire

mind.

We

do not believe that a tide

behind every

fulls

like

Who

a chip,

if

man

Avhich can float the

he should ever harbor

knows what

it

sort of seventeen-yea/

;

!

WALDEN.

856

come out of the ground ? Tlie gov* ernment of the world I live in was not framed, like

locust will next

that of Britain, in after-dinner conversations ovei the

wine.

The

life in

us

is

like the

rise this

year higher than

flood the

parched uplands

water in the

man ;

has ever

even

this

river.

It

known

may

may and

it,

be the event-

It was drown out all not always dry land where we dwell. I see far inland the banks which the stream anciently washed, before Bcience began to record its freshets. Every one has heard the story which has gone the rounds of New England, of a strong and beautiful bug which pame out of the diy leaf of an old table ef apple-tree wood, which had stood in a farmer's kitclien for sixty years, first in Connecticut, and afterward in Massachusetts, from an ful year,

which

our muskrats

will

—

egg deposited as appeared

many

in the living tree

years earlier

which was heard gnawincr out perchance by the heat

ot

it

for several weeks, hatched

Who does not

an urn.

feel his

a resurrection and immortality strengtliened by

faith in

heanng of

this ?

Who

knows what

beautiful

wmged life, whose egg has been buried for der many concentric layers of woodenness in dry

still,

by counting the annual layers beyond

life

of society, deposited at

first in

and

ages uu" the dead

the alburnum cf

the green and living tree, which has been gradually con

verted into the semblance of

its

heard perchance gnawing out

well-seasoned tomb,

now

for years

by

—

tlie as-

tonished family of man, as they sat round the festive Doard,

— may unexpectedly come

ciety's

most

perfect

trivial

summer

and handselled

life at last

forth

from amidst so

furniture, to enjoy

it

CONCLUSION. 1 do not say that John or Jonathan will realize

357 all

morrow which mere lapse of time can never make to dawn. The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star^ this

;

but such

is

the character of that

THE END*

-^l ^A

J

J

^M&

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