Part 1 - Walden Audiobook by Henry David Thoreau (Ch 01)

CHAPTER 1 - PART 1 Economy
When I wrote 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 shore of
Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and
earned my living by the labor of my hands only.
I lived there two years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized
life again.
I should not obtrude my affairs so much on the notice of my readers if very particular
inquiries had not been made by my townsmen concerning my mode of life, which some
would call impertinent, though they do not
appear to me at all impertinent, but, considering the circumstances, very natural
and pertinent.
Some have asked what I got to eat; if I did not feel lonesome; if I was not afraid; and
the like.
Others have been curious to learn what portion of my income I devoted to
charitable purposes; and some, who have large families, how many poor children I
maintained.
I will therefore ask those of my readers who feel no particular interest in me to
pardon me if I undertake to answer some of these questions in this book.
In most books, the I, or first person, is omitted; in this it will be retained; that,
in respect to egotism, is the main difference.
We commonly do not remember that it is, after all, always the first person that is
speaking.
I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as
well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme
by the narrowness of my experience.
Moreover, I, on my side, require of every writer, first or last, a simple and sincere
account of his own life, and not merely what he has heard of other men's lives;
some such account as he would send to his
kindred from a distant land; for if he has lived sincerely, it must have been in a
distant land to me. Perhaps these pages are more particularly
addressed to poor students.
As for the rest of my readers, they will accept such portions as apply to them.
I trust that none will stretch the seams in putting on the coat, for it may do good
service to him whom it fits.
I would fain say something, not so much concerning the Chinese and Sandwich
Islanders as you who read these pages, who are said to live in New England; 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 is, whether it cannot be improved as well as
not.
I have travelled a good deal in Concord; and everywhere, in shops, and offices, and
fields, the inhabitants have appeared to me to be doing penance in a thousand
remarkable ways.
What I have heard of Bramins sitting exposed to four fires and looking in the
face of the sun; or hanging suspended, with their heads downward, over flames; or
looking at the heavens over their shoulders
"until it becomes impossible for them to resume their natural position, while from
the twist of the neck nothing but liquids can pass into the stomach"; or dwelling,
chained for life, at the foot of a tree; or
measuring with their bodies, like caterpillars, the breadth of vast empires;
or standing on one leg on the tops of pillars--even these forms of conscious
penance are hardly more incredible and
astonishing than the scenes which I daily witness.
The twelve labors of Hercules were trifling in comparison with those which my neighbors
have undertaken; for they were only twelve, and had an end; but I could never see that
these men slew or captured any monster or finished any labor.
They have no friend Iolaus to 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 is to have inherited farms,
houses, barns, cattle, and farming tools; for these are more easily acquired than got
rid of.
Better if they had been born in the open 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 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 its
load, creeping down the road of life, pushing before it a barn seventy-five feet
by forty, its Augean stables never
cleansed, and one hundred acres of land, tillage, mowing, pasture, and woodlot!
The portionless, who struggle with no such unnecessary inherited encumbrances, find it
labor enough to subdue and cultivate a few cubic feet of flesh.
But men labor under a mistake.
The better part of the man is soon plowed into the soil for compost.
By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity, they are employed, as it says in
an old book, laying up treasures which moth and rust will corrupt and thieves break
through and steal.
It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to the end of it, if not before.
It is said that Deucalion and Pyrrha created men by throwing stones over their
heads behind them:--
Inde genus durum sumus, experiensque laborum,
Et documenta damus qua simus origine nati.
Or, as Raleigh rhymes it in his sonorous way,--
"From thence our kind hard-hearted is, enduring pain and care, Approving that our
bodies of a stony nature are."
So much for a blind obedience to a blundering oracle, 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 that its finer fruits cannot be plucked by them.
Their fingers, from excessive toil, are too clumsy and tremble too much for that.
Actually, the laboring man has not leisure for a true integrity day by day; he cannot
afford to sustain the manliest relations to men; his labor would be depreciated in the
market.
He has no time to be anything but a machine.
How can he remember well his ignorance-- which his growth requires--who has so often
to use his knowledge?
We should feed and clothe him gratuitously sometimes, and recruit him with our
cordials, before we judge of him.
The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only
by the most delicate handling. Yet we do not treat ourselves nor one
another thus tenderly.
Some of you, we all know, are poor, find it hard to live, are sometimes, as it were,
gasping for breath.
I have no doubt that some of you who read this book are unable to pay for all the
dinners which you have actually eaten, or for the coats and shoes which are fast
wearing or are already worn out, and have
come to this page to spend borrowed or stolen time, robbing your creditors of an
hour.
It is very evident what mean and sneaking lives many of you live, for my sight has
been whetted by experience; always on the limits, trying to get into business and
trying to get out of debt, a very ancient
slough, called by the Latins aes alienum, another's brass, for some of their coins
were made of brass; still living, and dying, and buried by this other's brass;
always promising to pay, promising to pay,
tomorrow, and dying today, insolvent; seeking to curry favor, to get custom, by
how many modes, only not state-prison offenses; lying, flattering, voting,
contracting yourselves into a nutshell of
civility or dilating into an atmosphere of thin and vaporous generosity, that you may
persuade your neighbor to let you make his shoes, or his hat, or his coat, or his
carriage, or import his groceries for him;
making yourselves sick, that you may lay up something against a sick day, something to
be tucked away in an old chest, or in a stocking behind the plastering, or, more
safely, in the brick bank; no matter where, no matter how much or how little.
I sometimes wonder that we can be so frivolous, I may almost say, as to attend
to the gross but somewhat foreign form of servitude called Negro Slavery, there are
so many keen and subtle masters that enslave both North and South.
It is hard to have a Southern overseer; it is worse to have a Northern one; but worst
of all when you are the slave-driver of yourself.
Talk of a divinity in man!
Look at the teamster on the highway, wending to market by day or night; does any
divinity stir within him? His highest duty to fodder and water his
horses!
What is his destiny to him compared with the shipping interests?
Does not he drive for Squire Make-a-stir? How godlike, how immortal, is he?
See how he cowers and sneaks, how vaguely all 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 own private opinion.
What a man thinks of himself, that it is which determines, or rather indicates, his
fate.
Self-emancipation even in the West Indian provinces of the fancy and imagination--
what Wilberforce is there to bring that about?
Think, also, of the ladies of the land weaving toilet cushions against the last
day, not to betray too green an interest in their fates!
As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.
The mass of men 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
yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats.
A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the
games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes
after work.
But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.
When we consider what, to use the words of the catechism, is the chief end of man, and
what are the true necessaries and means of life, it appears as if men had deliberately
chosen the common mode of living because they preferred it to any other.
Yet they honestly think there is no choice left.
But alert and healthy natures remember that the sun rose clear.
It is never too late to give up our prejudices.
No way of thinking or doing, however ancient, can be trusted without proof.
What everybody 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 for a cloud that
would sprinkle fertilizing rain on their fields.
What old people say 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 fuel to keep the
fire a-going; new people put a little dry wood under a pot, and are whirled round the
globe with the speed of birds, in a way to kill old people, as the phrase is.
Age is no better, hardly so well, qualified for an instructor as youth, for it has not
profited so much as it has lost.
One may almost doubt if the wisest man has learned anything of absolute value by
living.
Practically, the old have no very important advice to give the young, their own
experience has been so partial, and their lives have been such miserable failures,
for private reasons, as they must believe;
and it may be that they have some faith left which belies that experience, and they
are only less young than they were.
I have lived some thirty years on this planet, and I have yet to hear the first
syllable of valuable or even earnest advice from my seniors.
They have told me nothing, and probably cannot tell me anything to the purpose.
Here is life, an experiment to a great extent untried by me; but it does not avail
me that they have tried it.
If I have any experience which I think valuable, I am sure to reflect that this my
Mentors said nothing about.
One farmer says to me, "You cannot live on vegetable food solely, for it furnishes
nothing to make bones with"; and so he religiously devotes a part of 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 lumbering plow along in spite of every obstacle.
Some things are really necessaries of life in some circles, the most helpless and
diseased, which in others are luxuries merely, and in others still are entirely
unknown.
The whole ground of human life seems to some to have been gone over by their
predecessors, both the heights and the valleys, and all things to have been 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 may go into your
neighbor's land to gather the acorns which
fall on it without trespass, and what share belongs to that neighbor."
Hippocrates has even left directions how we should cut our nails; that is, even with
the ends of the fingers, neither shorter nor longer.
Undoubtedly the very tedium and ennui which presume to have exhausted the variety and
the joys of life are as old as Adam.
But man's capacities have never been measured; nor are we to judge of what he
can do by any precedents, so little has been tried.
Whatever have been thy failures hitherto, "be not afflicted, my child, for who shall
assign to thee what thou hast left undone?"
We might try our lives by a thousand simple tests; as, for instance, that the same sun
which ripens my beans illumines at once a system of earths like ours.
If I had remembered this it would have prevented some mistakes.
This was not the light in which I hoed them.
The stars are the apexes of what wonderful triangles!
What distant and different beings in the various mansions of the universe are
contemplating the same one at the same moment!
Nature and human life are as various as our several constitutions.
Who shall say what prospect life offers to another?
Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an
instant?
We should live in all the ages of the world in an hour; ay, in all the worlds of the
ages.
History, Poetry, Mythology!--I know of no reading of another's experience so
startling and informing as this would be.
The greater part of what my neighbors call good I believe in my soul to be bad, and if
I repent of anything, it is very likely to be my good behavior.
What demon possessed me that I behaved so well?
You may say the wisest thing you can, old man--you who have lived seventy years, not
without honor of a kind--I hear an irresistible voice which invites me away
from all that.
One generation abandons the enterprises of another like stranded vessels.
I think that we may safely trust a good deal more than we do.
We may waive just so much care of ourselves as we honestly bestow elsewhere.
Nature is as well adapted to our weakness as to our strength.
The incessant anxiety and strain of some is a well-nigh incurable form of disease.
We are made to exaggerate the importance of what work we do; and yet how much is not
done by us! or, what if we had been taken sick?
How vigilant we are! determined not to live by faith if we can avoid it; all the day
long on the alert, at night we unwillingly say our prayers and commit ourselves to
uncertainties.
So thoroughly and sincerely are we compelled to live, reverencing our life,
and denying the possibility of change.
This is the only way, we say; but there are as many ways as there can be drawn radii
from one centre.
All change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place every
instant.
Confucius said, "To know that we know what we know, and that we do not know what we do
not know, that is true knowledge."
When one man has reduced a fact of the imagination to be a fact to his
understanding, I foresee that all men at length establish their lives on that basis.
Let us consider for a moment what most of the trouble and anxiety which I have
referred to is about, and how much it is necessary that we be troubled, or at least
careful.
It would be some advantage to live a primitive and frontier life, though in the
midst of an outward civilization, if only to learn what are the gross necessaries of
life and what methods have been taken to
obtain them; or even to look over the old day-books of the merchants, to see what it
was that men most commonly bought at the stores, what they stored, that is, what are
the grossest groceries.
For the improvements of ages have had but little influence on the essential laws of
man's existence; as our skeletons, probably, are not to be distinguished from
those of our ancestors.
By the words, necessary of life, I mean whatever, of all that man obtains by his
own exertions, has been from the first, or from long use has become, so important to
human life that few, if any, whether from
savageness, or poverty, or philosophy, ever attempt to do without it.
To many creatures there is in this sense but one necessary of life, Food.
To the bison of the prairie it is a few inches of palatable grass, with water to
drink; unless he seeks the Shelter of the forest or the mountain's shadow.
None of the brute creation requires more than Food and Shelter.
The necessaries of life for man in this climate may, accurately enough, be
distributed under the several heads of Food, Shelter, Clothing, and Fuel; for not
till we have secured these are we prepared
to entertain the true problems of life with freedom and a prospect of success.
Man has invented, not only houses, but clothes and cooked food; and possibly from
the accidental discovery of the warmth of fire, and the consequent use of it, at
first a luxury, arose the present necessity to sit by it.
We observe cats and dogs acquiring the same second nature.
By proper Shelter and Clothing we legitimately retain our own internal heat;
but with an excess of these, or of Fuel, that is, with an external heat greater than
our own internal, may not cookery properly be said to begin?
Darwin, the naturalist, says of the inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego, that while
his own party, who were well clothed and sitting close to a fire, were far from too
warm, these naked savages, who were farther
off, were observed, to his great surprise, "to be streaming with perspiration at
undergoing such a roasting."
So, we are told, the New Hollander goes naked with impunity, while the European
shivers in his clothes.
Is it impossible to combine the hardiness of these savages with the intellectualness
of the civilized man?
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 is the result of a slow combustion, and disease and death take
place when this is too rapid; or for want of fuel, or from some defect in the
draught, the fire goes out.
Of course the vital heat is not to be confounded with fire; but so much for
analogy.
It appears, therefore, from the above list, that the expression, animal life, is nearly
synonymous with the expression, animal heat; for while Food may be regarded as the
Fuel which keeps up the fire within us--and
Fuel serves only to prepare that Food or to increase the warmth of our bodies by
addition from without--Shelter and Clothing also serve only to retain the heat thus
generated and absorbed.
The grand necessity, then, for our bodies, is to keep warm, to keep the vital heat in
us.
What pains we accordingly take, not only with our Food, and Clothing, and Shelter,
but with our beds, which are our night- clothes, robbing the nests and breasts of
birds to prepare this shelter within a
shelter, as the mole has its bed of grass and leaves at the end of its burrow!
The poor man is wont to complain that this is a cold world; and to cold, no less
physical than social, we refer directly a great part of our ails.
The summer, in some climates, makes possible to man a sort of Elysian life.
Fuel, except to cook his Food, is then unnecessary; the sun is his fire, and many
of the fruits are sufficiently cooked by its rays; while Food generally is more
various, and more easily obtained, and
Clothing and Shelter are wholly or half unnecessary.
At the present day, and in this country, as I find by my own experience, a few
implements, a knife, an axe, a spade, a wheelbarrow, etc., and for the studious,
lamplight, stationery, and access to a few
books, rank next to necessaries, and can all be obtained at a trifling cost.
Yet some, not wise, go to the other side of the globe, to barbarous and unhealthy
regions, and devote themselves to trade for ten or twenty years, in order that they may
live--that is, keep comfortably warm--and die in New England at last.
The luxuriously rich are not simply kept comfortably warm, but unnaturally hot; as I
implied before, they are cooked, of course a la mode.
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CHAPTER 1 - PART 2 Economy
Most of the luxuries, and many of the so- called comforts of life, are not only not
indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind.
With respect to luxuries and comforts, the wisest have ever lived a more simple and
meagre life than the poor.
The ancient philosophers, Chinese, Hindoo, Persian, and Greek, were a class than which
none has been poorer in outward riches, none so rich in inward.
We know not much about them.
It is remarkable that we know so much of them as we do.
The same is true of the more modern reformers and benefactors of their race.
None can be an impartial or wise observer of human life but from the vantage ground
of what we should call voluntary poverty.
Of a life of luxury the fruit is luxury, whether in agriculture, or commerce, or
literature, or art. There are nowadays professors of
philosophy, but not philosophers.
Yet it is admirable to profess because it was once admirable to live.
To be a philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a
school, but so to love wisdom as to live according to its dictates, a life of
simplicity, independence, magnanimity, and trust.
It is to solve some of the problems of life, not only theoretically, but
practically.
The success of great scholars and thinkers is commonly a courtier-like success, not
kingly, not manly.
They make shift to live merely by conformity, practically as their fathers
did, and are in no sense the progenitors of a noble race of men.
But why do men degenerate ever?
What makes families run out? What is the nature of the luxury which
enervates and destroys nations? Are we sure that there is none of it in our
own lives?
The philosopher is in advance of his age even in the outward form of his life.
He is not fed, sheltered, clothed, warmed, like his contemporaries.
How can a man be a philosopher and not maintain his vital heat by better methods
than other men?
When 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 fires, and the like.
When he has obtained those things which are necessary to life, there is another
alternative than to obtain the superfluities; and that is, to adventure on
life now, his vacation from humbler toil having commenced.
The soil, it appears, is suited to the seed, for it has sent its radicle downward,
and it may now send its shoot upward also with confidence.
Why has man rooted himself thus firmly in the earth, but that he 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 are not treated like the humbler esculents, which, though they may
be biennials, are cultivated only till they have perfected their root, and often cut
down at top for this purpose, so that most
would not know them in their flowering season.
I do not mean to prescribe rules to strong and valiant natures, who will mind their
own affairs whether in heaven or hell, and perchance build more magnificently and
spend more lavishly than the richest,
without ever impoverishing themselves, not knowing how they live--if, indeed, there
are any such, as has been dreamed; nor to those who find their encouragement and
inspiration in precisely the present
condition of things, and cherish it with the fondness and enthusiasm of lovers--and,
to some extent, I reckon myself in this number; I do not speak to those who are
well employed, in whatever circumstances,
and they know whether they are well employed or not;--but mainly to the mass of
men who are discontented, and idly complaining of the hardness of their lot or
of the times, when they might improve them.
There are some who complain most energetically and inconsolably of any,
because they are, as they say, doing their duty I also have in my mind that seemingly
wealthy, but most terribly impoverished
class of all, who have accumulated dross, but know not how to use it, or get rid of
it, and thus have forged their own golden or silver fetters
If I should attempt to tell how I have desired to spend my life in years past, it
would probably surprise those of my readers who are somewhat acquainted with its actual
history; it would certainly astonish those
who know nothing about it I will only hint at some of the enterprises which I have
cherished
In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have been anxious to improve the
nick of time, and notch it on my stick too; to stand on the meeting of two eternities,
the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line.
You will pardon some obscurities, for there are more secrets in my trade than in most
men's, and yet not voluntarily kept, but inseparable from its very nature.
I would gladly tell all that I know about it, and never paint "No Admittance" on my
gate
I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle dove, and am still on their trail
Many are the travellers I have spoken concerning them, describing their tracks
and what calls they answered to.
I have met one or two who had heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse, and even
seen the dove disappear behind a cloud, and they seemed as anxious to recover them as
if they had lost them themselves.
To anticipate, not the sunrise and the dawn merely, but, if possible, Nature herself!
How many mornings, summer and winter, before yet any neighbor was stirring about
his business, have I been about mine!
No doubt, many of my townsmen have met me returning from this enterprise, farmers
starting for Boston in the twilight, or woodchoppers going to their work It is
true, I never assisted the sun materially
in his rising, but, doubt not, it was of the last importance only to be present at
it
So many autumn, ay, and winter days, spent outside the town, trying to hear what was
in the wind, to hear and carry it express!
I well-nigh sunk all my capital in it, and lost my own breath into the bargain,
running in the face of it If it had concerned either of the political parties,
depend upon it, it would have appeared in
the Gazette with the earliest intelligence At other times watching from the
observatory of some cliff or tree, to telegraph any new arrival; or waiting at
evening on the hill-tops for the sky to
fall, that I might catch something, though I never caught much, and that, manna-wise,
would dissolve again in the sun
For a long time I was reporter to a journal, of no very wide circulation, whose
editor has never yet seen fit to print the bulk of my contributions, and, as is too
common with writers, I got only my labor
for my pains However, in this case my pains were their own reward.
For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow-storms and rain-storms,
and did my duty faithfully; surveyor, if not of highways, then of forest paths and
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 by leaping fences; and I have had an eye to the unfrequented nooks
and corners of the farm; though I did not
always know whether Jonas or Solomon worked in a particular field to-day; that 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 else in dry seasons
In short, I went on thus for a long time (I may say it without boasting), faithfully
minding my business, till it became more and more evident that my townsmen would not
after all admit me into the list of town
officers, nor make my place a sinecure with a moderate allowance.
My accounts, which I can swear to have kept faithfully, I have, indeed, never got
audited, still less accepted, still less paid and settled.
However, I have not set my heart on that.
Not long since, a strolling Indian went to sell baskets at the house of a well-known
lawyer in my neighborhood. "Do you wish to buy any baskets?" he asked
"No, we do not want any," was the reply.
"What!" exclaimed the Indian as he went out the gate, "do you mean to starve us?"
Having seen his industrious white neighbors so well off--that the lawyer 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
weave baskets; it is a thing which I can do.
Thinking that when he had made the baskets he would have done his part, and then it
would be the white man's to buy them He had not discovered that it was necessary
for him to make it worth the other's while
to buy them, or at least make him think that it was so, or to make something else
which it would be worth his while to buy I too had woven a kind of basket of a
delicate texture, but I had not made it worth any one's while to buy them.
Yet not the less, in my case, did I think it worth my while to weave them, and
instead of studying how to make it worth men's while to buy my baskets, I studied
rather how to avoid the necessity of selling them.
The life which men praise and regard as successful is but one kind.
Why should we exaggerate any one kind at the expense of the others?
Finding that my fellow-citizens were not likely to offer me any room in the court
house, or any curacy or living anywhere else, but I must shift for myself, I turned
my face more exclusively than ever to the
woods, where I was better known I determined to go into business at once, and
not wait to acquire the usual capital, using such slender means as I had already
got My purpose in going to Walden Pond was
not to live cheaply nor to live dearly there, but to transact some private
business with the fewest obstacles; to be hindered from accomplishing which for want
of a little common sense, a little
enterprise and business talent, appeared not so sad as foolish
I have always endeavored to acquire strict business habits; they are indispensable to
every man If your trade is with the Celestial Empire, then some small counting
house on the coast, in some Salem harbor,
will be fixture enough You will export such articles as the country affords,
purely native products, much ice and pine timber and a little granite, always in
native bottoms These will be good ventures.
To oversee all the details yourself in person; to be at once pilot and captain,
and owner and underwriter; to buy and sell and keep the accounts; to read every letter
received, and write or read every letter
sent; to superintend the discharge of imports night and day; to be upon many
parts of the coast almost at the same time- -often the richest freight will be
discharged upon a Jersey shore;--to be your
own telegraph, unweariedly sweeping the horizon, speaking all passing vessels bound
coastwise; to keep up a steady 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
everywhere, and anticipate the tendencies of trade and civilization--taking advantage
of the results of all exploring
expeditions, using new passages and all improvements in navigation;--charts to be
studied, the position of reefs and new lights and buoys to be ascertained, and
ever, and ever, the logarithmic tables to
be corrected, for by the error of some calculator the vessel often splits upon a
rock that should have reached a friendly pier--there is the untold fate of La
Prouse;--universal science to be kept pace
with, studying the lives of all great discoverers and navigators, great
adventurers and merchants, from Hanno and the Phoenicians down to our day; in fine,
account of stock to be taken from time to time, to know how you stand.
It is a labor to task the faculties of a man--such problems of profit and loss, of
interest, of tare and tret, and gauging of all kinds in 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 port
and a good foundation No Neva marshes to be filled; though you must everywhere build
on piles of your own driving.
It is said that a flood-tide, with a westerly wind, and ice in the Neva, would
sweep St. Petersburg from the face of the earth.
As this business was to be entered into without the usual capital, it may not be
easy to conjecture where those means, that will still be indispensable to every such
undertaking, were to be obtained.
As for Clothing, to come at once to the practical part of the question, perhaps we
are led oftener by the love of novelty and a regard for the opinions of men, in
procuring it, than by a true utility.
Let him who has work to do recollect that the object of clothing is, first, to retain
the vital heat, and secondly, in this state of society, to cover nakedness, and he may
judge how much of any necessary or
important work may be accomplished without adding to his wardrobe.
Kings and queens who wear a suit but once, though made by some tailor or dressmaker to
their majesties, cannot know the comfort of wearing a suit that fits.
They are no better than wooden horses to hang the clean clothes on.
Every day our garments become more assimilated to ourselves, receiving the
impress of the wearer's character, until we hesitate to lay them aside without such
delay and medical appliances and some such solemnity even as our bodies.
No man ever stood the lower in my estimation for having a patch in his
clothes; yet I am sure that there is greater anxiety, commonly, to have
fashionable, or at least clean and
unpatched clothes, than to have a sound conscience But even if the rent is not
mended, perhaps the worst vice betrayed is improvidence.
I sometimes try my acquaintances by such tests as this--Who could wear a patch, or
two extra seams only, over the knee?
Most behave as if they believed that their prospects for life 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 gentleman's legs, they can be mended; but
if a similar accident happens to the legs of his pantaloons, there is no help for it;
for he considers, not what is truly
respectable, but what is respected We know but few men, a great many coats and
breeches.
Dress a scarecrow in your last shift, you standing shiftless by, who would not
soonest salute the scarecrow?
Passing a cornfield the other day, close by a hat and coat on a stake, I recognized the
owner of the farm. He was only a little more weather-beaten
than when I saw him last.
I have heard of a dog that barked at every stranger who approached his master's
premises with clothes on, but was easily quieted by a naked thief.
It is an interesting question how far men would retain their relative rank if they
were divested of their clothes.
Could you, in such a case, tell surely of any company of civilized men which belonged
to the most respected class?
When Madam Pfeiffer, in her adventurous travels 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 to meet the authorities, for she "was now in a civilized country, where people
are judged of by their clothes."
Even in our democratic New England towns the accidental possession of wealth, and
its manifestation in dress and equipage alone, obtain for the possessor almost
universal respect.
But they yield such respect, numerous as they are, are so far heathen, and need to
have a missionary sent to them Beside, clothes introduced sewing, a kind of work
which you may call endless; a woman's dress, at least, is never done.
A man who has at length found something to do will not need to get a new suit to do it
in; for him the old will do, that has lain dusty in the garret for an indeterminate
period.
Old shoes will serve a hero longer than they have served his valet--if a hero ever
has a valet--bare feet are older than shoes, and he can make them do.
Only they who go to soirees and legislative balls must have new coats, coats to change
as often as the man changes in them.
But if my jacket and trousers, my hat and shoes, are fit to worship God in, they will
do; will they not?
Who ever saw his old clothes--his old coat, actually worn out, resolved into its
primitive elements, so that it was not a deed of charity to bestow it on some poor
boy, by him perchance to be bestowed on
some poorer still, or shall we say richer, who could do with less?
I say, beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new
wearer of clothes If there is not a new man, how can the new clothes be made to
fit?
If you have any enterprise before you, try it in your old clothes.
All men want, not something to do with, but something to do, or rather something to be
Perhaps we should never procure a new suit, however ragged or dirty the old, until we
have so conducted, so enterprised or sailed
in some way, that we feel like new men in the old, and that to retain it would be
like keeping new wine in old bottles. Our moulting season, like that of the
fowls, must be a crisis in our lives.
The loon retires to solitary ponds to spend it.
Thus also the snake casts its slough, and the caterpillar its wormy coat, by an
internal industry and expansion; for clothes are but our outmost cuticle and
mortal coil Otherwise we shall be found
sailing under false colors, and be inevitably cashiered at last by our own
opinion, as well as that of mankind
We don garment after garment, as if we grew like exogenous plants by addition without
Our outside and often thin and fanciful clothes are our epidermis, or false skin,
which partakes not of our life, and may be
stripped off here and there without fatal injury; our thicker garments, constantly
worn, are our cellular integument, or cortex; but our shirts are our liber, or
true bark, which cannot be removed without
girdling and so destroying the man I believe that all races at some seasons wear
something equivalent to the shirt.
It is desirable that a man be clad so simply that he can lay his hands on himself
in the dark, and that he live in all respects so compactly and preparedly that,
if an enemy take the town, he can, like the
old philosopher, walk out the gate empty- handed without anxiety While one thick
garment is, for most purposes, as good as three thin ones, and cheap clothing can be
obtained at prices really to suit
customers; while a thick coat can be bought for five dollars, which will last as many
years, thick pantaloons for two dollars, cowhide boots for a dollar and a half a
pair, a summer hat for a quarter of a
dollar, and a winter cap for sixty-two and a half cents, or a better be made at home
at a nominal cost, where is he so poor that, clad in such a suit, of his own
earning, there will not be found wise men to do him reverence?
When I ask for a garment of a particular form, my tailoress tells me gravely, "They
do not make them so now," not emphasizing the "They" at all, as if she quoted an
authority as impersonal as the Fates, and I
find it difficult to get 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 They are related to me, and what authority they may have in an affair
which affects me so nearly; and, finally, I am inclined to answer her with equal
mystery, and without any more emphasis of
the "they"--"It is true, they did not make them so recently, but they do now."
Of what use this measuring of me if she does not measure my character, but only the
breadth of my shoulders, as it were a peg to bang the coat on?
We worship not the Graces, nor the Parcae, but Fashion.
She spins and weaves and cuts with full authority The head monkey at Paris puts on
a traveller's cap, and all the monkeys in America do the same.
I sometimes despair of getting anything quite simple and honest done in this world
by the help of men.
They would have to 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, for not
even fire kills these things, and you would have lost your labor Nevertheless, we will
not forget that some Egyptian wheat was handed down to us by a mummy
On the whole, I think that it cannot be maintained that dressing has in this or any
country risen to the dignity of an art.
At present men make shift to wear what they can get.
Like shipwrecked sailors, they put on what they can find on the beach, and at a little
distance, whether of space or time, laugh at each other's masquerade.
Every generation laughs at the old fashions, but follows religiously the new.
We are amused at beholding the costume of Henry VIII, or Queen Elizabeth, as much as
if it was that of the King and Queen of the Cannibal Islands.
All costume off a man is pitiful or grotesque.
It is only the serious eye peering from and the sincere life passed within it which
restrain laughter and consecrate the costume of any people.
Let Harlequin be taken with a fit of the colic and his trappings will have to serve
that mood too. When the soldier is hit by a cannonball,
rags are as becoming as purple.
The childish and savage taste of men and women for new patterns keeps how many
shaking and squinting through kaleidoscopes that they may discover the particular
figure which this generation requires today.
The manufacturers have learned that this taste is merely whimsical.
Of two patterns which differ only by a few threads more or less of a particular color,
the one will be sold readily, the other lie on the shelf, though it frequently happens
that after the lapse of a season the latter
becomes the most fashionable Comparatively, tattooing is not the hideous
custom which it is called. It is not barbarous merely because the
printing is skin-deep and unalterable.
I cannot believe that our factory system is the best mode by which men may get
clothing The condition of the operatives is becoming every day more like that of the
English; and it cannot be wondered at,
since, as far as I have heard or observed, the principal object is, not that mankind
may be well and honestly clad, but, unquestionably, that corporations may be
enriched In the long run men hit only what
they aim at Therefore, though they should fail immediately, they had better aim at
something high
As for a Shelter, I will not deny that this is now a necessary of life, though there
are instances of men having done without it for long periods in colder countries than
this.
Samuel Laing says that "the Laplander in his skin dress, and in a skin bag which he
puts over his head and shoulders, will sleep night after night on the snow... in a
degree of cold which would extinguish the
life of one exposed to it in any woollen clothing" He had seen them asleep thus.
Yet he adds, "They are not hardier than other people."
But, probably, man did not live long on the earth without discovering the convenience
which there is in a house, the domestic comforts, which phrase may have originally
signified the satisfactions of the house
more than of the family; though these must be extremely partial and occasional 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, is unnecessary In our climate, in the summer,
it was formerly almost solely a covering at night In the Indian gazettes a wigwam was
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 times they had
camped.
Man was not made so large limbed and robust but that he must seek to narrow his world
and wall in a space such as fitted him.
He was at first bare and out of doors; but though this was pleasant enough in serene
and warm 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 if he had not made haste to clothe himself with the shelter of
a house. Adam and Eve, according to the fable, wore
the bower before other clothes.
Man wanted a home, a place of warmth, or comfort, first of warmth, then the warmth
of the affections
We may imagine a time when, in the infancy of the human race, some enterprising mortal
crept into a hollow in a rock for shelter.
Every child begins the world again, to some extent, and loves to stay outdoors, even in
wet and cold.
It plays house, as well as horse, having an instinct for it Who does not remember the
interest with which, when young, he looked at shelving rocks, or any approach to a
cave?
It was the natural yearning of that portion, any portion of our most primitive
ancestor which still survived in us.
From the cave we have advanced to roofs of palm leaves, of bark and boughs, of linen
woven and stretched, of grass and straw, of boards and shingles, of stones and tiles.
At last, we know not what it is to live in the open air, and our lives are domestic in
more senses than we think.
From the hearth the field is a great distance It would be well, perhaps, if we
were to spend more of our days and nights without any obstruction between us and the
celestial bodies, if the poet did not speak
so much from under a roof, or the saint dwell there so long Birds do not sing in
caves, nor do doves cherish their innocence in dovecots.
However, if one designs to construct a dwelling-house, it behooves him to exercise
a little Yankee shrewdness, lest after all he find himself in a workhouse, a labyrinth
without a clue, a museum, an almshouse, a prison, or a splendid mausoleum instead.
Consider first how slight a shelter is absolutely necessary.
I have seen Penobscot Indians, in this town, living in tents of thin cotton cloth,
while the snow was nearly a foot deep around them, and I thought that they would
be glad to have it deeper to keep out the wind.
Formerly, when how to get my living honestly, with freedom left for my proper
pursuits, was a question which vexed me even more than it does now, for
unfortunately I am become somewhat callous,
I used to see a large box by the railroad, six feet long by three wide, in which the
laborers locked up their tools at night; and it suggested to me that every man who
was hard pushed might get such a one for a
dollar, and, having bored a few auger holes in it, to admit the air at least, get into
it when it rained and at night, and hook down the lid, and so have freedom in his
love, and in his soul be free This did not
appear the worst, nor by any means a despicable alternative You could sit up as
late as you pleased, and, whenever you got up, go abroad without any landlord or
house-lord dogging you for rent Many a man
is harassed to death to pay the rent of a larger and more luxurious box who would not
have frozen to death in such a box as this I am far from jesting Economy is a subject
which admits of being treated with levity, but it cannot so be disposed of.
A comfortable house for a rude and hardy race, that lived mostly out of doors, was
once made here almost entirely of such materials as Nature furnished ready to
their hands Gookin, who was superintendent
of the Indians subject to the Massachusetts Colony, writing in 1674, says, "The best of
their houses are covered very neatly, tight and warm, with barks of trees, slipped from
their bodies at those seasons when the sap
is up, and made into great flakes, with pressure of weighty timber, when they are
green The meaner sort are covered with mats which they make of a kind of bulrush,
and are also indifferently tight and warm,
but not so good as the former Some I have seen, sixty or a hundred feet long and
thirty feet broad.
I have often lodged in their wigwams, and found them as warm as the best English
houses."
He adds that they were commonly carpeted and lined within with well-wrought
embroidered mats, and were furnished with various utensils.
The Indians had advanced so far as to regulate the effect of the wind by a mat
suspended over the hole in the roof and moved by a string.
Such a lodge was in the first instance constructed in a day or two at most, and
taken down and put up in a few hours; and every family owned one, or its apartment in
one.
>
CHAPTER 1 - PART 3 Economy
In the savage state every family owns a shelter as good as the best, and sufficient
for its coarser and simpler wants; but I think that I speak within bounds when I say
that, though the birds of the air have
their nests, and the foxes their holes, and the savages their wigwams, in modern
civilized society not more than one half the families own a shelter In the large
towns and cities, where civilization
especially prevails, the number of those who own a shelter is a very small fraction
of the whole The rest pay an annual tax for this outside garment of all, become
indispensable summer and winter, which
would buy a village of Indian wigwams, but now helps to keep them poor as long as they
live.
I do not mean to insist 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; nor can he, in the long run, any better
afford to hire But, answers one, by merely paying this tax, the poor civilized man
secures an abode which is a palace compared with the savage's.
An annual rent of from twenty-five to a hundred dollars (these are the country
rates) entitles him to the benefit of the improvements of centuries, spacious
apartments, clean paint and paper, Rumford
fire-place, back plastering, Venetian blinds, copper pump, spring lock, a
commodious cellar, and many other things.
But how happens it that he who is said to enjoy these things is so commonly a poor
civilized man, while the savage, who has them not, is rich as a savage?
If it is asserted that civilization is a real advance in the condition of man--and I
think that it is, though only the wise improve their advantages--it 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 which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the
long run.
An average house in this neighborhood costs perhaps eight hundred dollars, and to lay
up this sum will take from ten to fifteen years of the laborer's life, even if he is
not encumbered with a family--estimating
the pecuniary value of every man's labor at one dollar a day, for if some receive more,
others receive less;--so that he must have spent more than half his life commonly
before his wigwam will be earned.
If we suppose him to pay a rent instead, this is but a doubtful choice of evils.
Would the savage have been wise to exchange his wigwam for a palace on these terms?
It may be guessed that I reduce almost the whole advantage of holding this superfluous
property as a fund in store against the future, so far as the individual is
concerned, mainly to the defraying of
funeral expenses But perhaps a man is not required to bury himself.
Nevertheless this points to an important distinction between the civilized man and
the savage; and, no doubt, they have designs on us for our benefit, in making
the life of a civilized people an
institution, in which the life of the individual is to a great extent absorbed,
in order to preserve and perfect that of the race.
But I wish to show at what a sacrifice this advantage is at present obtained, and to
suggest that we may possibly so live as to secure all the advantage without suffering
any of the disadvantage What mean ye by
saying that the poor ye have always with you, or that the fathers have eaten sour
grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge?
"As I live, saith the Lord God, ye shall not have occasion 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 I consider my neighbors, the farmers of Concord, who are at least as well off as
the other classes, I find that for the most part they have been toiling twenty, thirty,
or forty years, that they may become the
real owners of their farms, which commonly they have inherited with encumbrances, or
else bought with hired money--and we may regard one third of that toil as the cost
of their houses--but commonly they have not
paid for them yet It is true, the encumbrances sometimes outweigh the value
of the farm, so that the farm itself becomes one great encumbrance, and still a
man is found to inherit it, being well acquainted with it, as he says.
On applying to the assessors, I am surprised to learn that they cannot at once
name a dozen in the town who own their farms free and clear.
If you would know 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 every
neighbor can point to him I doubt if there are three such men in Concord What has
been said of the merchants, that a very
large majority, even ninety-seven in a hundred, are sure to fail, is equally true
of the farmers With regard to the merchants, however, one of them says
pertinently that a great part of their
failures are not genuine pecuniary failures, but merely failures to fulfil
their engagements, because it is inconvenient; that is, it is the moral
character that breaks down But this puts
an infinitely worse face on the matter, and suggests, beside, that probably not even
the other three succeed in saving their souls, but are perchance bankrupt in a
worse sense than they who fail honestly
Bankruptcy and repudiation are the springboards from which much of our
civilization vaults and turns its somersets, but the savage stands on the
unelastic plank of famine.
Yet the Middlesex Cattle Show goes off here with eclat annually, as if all the joints
of the agricultural machine were suent.
The farmer is endeavoring to solve the problem of a livelihood by a formula more
complicated than the problem itself. To get his shoestrings he speculates in
herds of cattle.
With consummate skill he has set his trap with a hair spring to catch comfort and
independence, and then, as he turned away, got his own leg into it.
This is the reason he is poor; and for a similar reason we are all poor in respect
to a thousand savage comforts, though surrounded by luxuries.
As Chapman sings,
"The false society of men-- --for earthly greatness
All heavenly comforts rarefies to air."
And when the farmer has got his house, he may not be the richer but the poorer for
it, and it be the house that has got him.
As I understand it, that was a valid objection urged by Momus against the house
which Minerva made, that she "had not made it movable, by which means a bad
neighborhood might be avoided"; and 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 to be avoided is our
own scurvy selves I know one or two
families, at least, in this town, who, for nearly a generation, have been wishing to
sell their houses in the outskirts and move into the village, but have not been able to
accomplish it, and only death will set them free.
Granted that the majority are able at last either to own or hire the modern house with
all its improvements.
While civilization has been improving our houses, it has not equally improved the men
who are to inhabit them It has created palaces, but it was not so easy to create
noblemen and kings And if the civilized
man's pursuits are no worthier than the savage's, if he is employed the greater
part of his life in obtaining gross necessaries and comforts merely, why should
he have a better dwelling 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.
The luxury of one class is counterbalanced by the indigence of another.
On the one side is the palace, on the other are the almshouse and "silent poor."
The myriads who built the pyramids to be the tombs of the Pharaohs were fed on
garlic, and it may be were not decently buried themselves.
The mason who finishes the cornice of the palace returns at night perchance to a hut
not so good as a wigwam It is a mistake to suppose that, in a country where the usual
evidences of civilization exist, the
condition of a very large body of the inhabitants may not be as degraded as that
of savages. I refer to the degraded poor, not now to
the degraded rich.
To know this I should not need to look farther than to the shanties which
everywhere border our railroads, that last improvement in civilization; where I see in
my daily walks human beings living in
sties, and all winter with an open door, for the sake of light, without any visible,
often imaginable, wood-pile, and the forms of both old and young are permanently
contracted by the long habit of shrinking
from cold and misery, and the development of all their limbs and faculties is
checked.
It certainly is fair to look at that class by whose labor the works which distinguish
this generation are accomplished.
Such too, to a greater or less extent, is the condition of the operatives of every
denomination in England, which is the great workhouse of the world.
Or I could refer you to Ireland, which is marked as one of the white or enlightened
spots on the map Contrast the physical condition of the Irish with 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 rulers Their condition only proves what squalidness may consist with
civilization I hardly need refer now to
the laborers in our Southern States who produce the staple exports of this country,
and are themselves a staple production of the South.
But to confine myself to those who are said to be in moderate circumstances.
Most men appear never to have considered what a house is, and are actually though
needlessly poor all their lives because they think that they must have such a one
as their neighbors have.
As if one were to wear any sort of coat which the tailor might cut out for him, or,
gradually leaving off palm-leaf hat or cap of woodchuck skin, complain of hard times
because he could not afford to buy him a crown!
It is possible to invent a house still more convenient and luxurious than we have,
which yet all would admit that man could not afford to pay for.
Shall we always study to obtain more of these things, and not sometimes to be
content with less?
Shall the respectable citizen thus gravely teach, by precept and example, the
necessity of the young man's providing a certain number of superfluous glow-shoes,
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
retinue at their heels, any carload of fashionable furniture.
Or what if I were to allow--would it not be a singular allowance?--that our furniture
should be more complex than the Arab's, in proportion as we are morally and
intellectually his superiors!
At present our houses are cluttered and defiled with it, and a good housewife 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?
I had three pieces of limestone on my desk, but I was terrified to find that they
required to be dusted daily, when the furniture of my mind was all undusted
still, and threw them out the window in disgust.
How, then, could I have a furnished house?
I would rather sit in the open air, for no dust gathers on the grass, unless where man
has broken ground.
It is the luxurious and dissipated who set the fashions which the herd so diligently
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 luxury than on
safety and convenience, and it threatens without attaining these to become no better
than a modern drawing-room, with its
divans, and ottomans, and sun-shades, and a hundred other oriental things, which we are
taking west with us, invented for the ladies of the harem and the effeminate
natives of the Celestial Empire, which
Jonathan should be ashamed to know the names of I would rather sit on a pumpkin
and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion I 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 simplicity and nakedness of man's life in the primitive ages imply this
advantage, at least, that they left him still but a sojourner in nature When he
was refreshed with food and sleep, he
contemplated his journey again He dwelt, as it were, in a tent in this world, and
was either threading the valleys, or crossing the plains, or climbing the
mountain-tops But lo! men have become the tools of their tools.
The man who independently plucked the fruits when he was hungry is become a
farmer; and he who stood under a tree for shelter, a housekeeper.
We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on earth and forgotten
heaven We have adopted Christianity merely as an improved method of agri-culture We
have built for this world a family mansion, and for the next a family tomb.
The best works of art are the expression of man's struggle to free himself from this
condition, but the effect of our art is merely to make this low state comfortable
and that higher state to be forgotten
There is actually no place in this village for a work of fine art, if any had come
down to us, to stand, for our lives, our houses and streets, furnish no proper
pedestal for it.
There is not a nail to hang a picture on, nor a shelf to receive the bust of a hero
or a saint When I consider how our houses are built and paid for, or not paid for,
and their internal economy managed and
sustained, I wonder that the floor does not give way under the visitor while he is
admiring the gewgaws upon the mantelpiece, and let him through into the cellar, to
some solid and honest though earthy foundation.
I cannot but perceive that this so-called rich and refined life is a thing jumped at,
and I do not get on in the enjoyment of the fine arts which adorn it, my attention
being wholly occupied with the jump; for I
remember that the greatest genuine leap, due to human muscles alone, on record, is
that of certain wandering Arabs, who are said to have cleared twenty-five feet on
level ground Without factitious support,
man is sure to come to earth again beyond that distance.
The first question which I am tempted to put to the proprietor of such great
impropriety is, Who bolsters you?
Are you one of the ninety-seven who fail, or the three who succeed?
Answer me these questions, and then perhaps I may look at your bawbles and find them
ornamental The cart before the horse is neither beautiful nor useful Before we can
adorn our houses with beautiful objects the
walls must be stripped, and our lives must be stripped, and beautiful housekeeping and
beautiful living be laid for a foundation: now, a taste for the beautiful is most
cultivated out of doors, where there is no house and no housekeeper
Old Johnson, in his "Wonder-Working Providence," speaking of the first settlers
of this town, with whom he was contemporary, tells us that "they burrow
themselves in the earth for their first
shelter under some hillside, and, casting the soil aloft upon timber, they make a
smoky fire against the earth, at the highest side."
They did not "provide them houses," says he, "till the earth, by 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 for a long season."
The secretary of the Province of New Netherland, writing in Dutch, in 1650, for
the information of those who wished to take up land there, states more particularly
that "those in New Netherland, and
especially in New England, who have no means to build farmhouses at first
according to 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
overhead for a ceiling, raise 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
entire families for two, three, and four
years, it being understood that partitions are run through those cellars which are
adapted to the size of the family The wealthy and principal men in New England,
in the beginning of the colonies, commenced
their first dwelling-houses in this fashion for two reasons: firstly, in order not to
waste time in building, and not to want food the next season; secondly, in order
not to discourage poor laboring people whom
they brought over in numbers from Fatherland In the course of three or four
years, when the country became adapted to agriculture, they built themselves handsome
houses, spending on them several thousands."
In this course which 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 wants satisfied now?
When I think of acquiring for myself one of our luxurious dwellings, I am deterred,
for, so to speak, the country is not yet adapted to human culture, and we are still
forced to cut our spiritual bread far
thinner than our forefathers did their wheaten Not that all architectural
ornament is to be neglected even in the rudest periods; but let our houses first be
lined with beauty, where they come in
contact with our lives, like the tenement of the shellfish, and not overlaid with it.
But, alas! I have been inside one or two of them, and
know what they are lined with.
Though we are not so degenerate but that we might possibly live in a cave or a wigwam
or wear skins today, it certainly is better to accept the advantages, though so dearly
bought, which the invention and industry 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
sufficient quantities, or even well- tempered clay or flat stones.
I speak understandingly on this subject, for I have made myself acquainted with it
both theoretically and practically With a little more wit we might use these
materials so as to become richer than the
richest now are, and make our civilization a blessing The civilized man is a more
experienced and wiser savage. But to make haste to my own experiment.
Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and went down to the 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,
for timber It is difficult to begin without borrowing, but perhaps it is the
most generous course thus to permit your fellow-men to have an interest in your
enterprise The owner of the axe, as he
released his hold on it, said that it was the apple of his eye; but I returned it
sharper than I received it It was a pleasant hillside where I worked, covered
with pine woods, through which I looked out
on the pond, and a small open field in the woods where pines and hickories were
springing up The ice in the pond was not yet dissolved, though there were some open
spaces, and it was all dark-colored and saturated with water.
There were some slight flurries of snow during the days that I worked there; but
for the most part when I came out on to the railroad, on my way home, its yellow sand
heap stretched away gleaming in the hazy
atmosphere, and the rails shone in the spring sun, and I heard the lark and pewee
and other birds already come to commence another year with us.
They were pleasant spring days, in which the winter of man's discontent was thawing
as well as the earth, and the life that had lain torpid began to stretch itself One
day, when my axe had come off and I had cut
a green hickory for a wedge, driving it with a stone, and had placed the whole to
soak in a pond-hole in order to swell the wood, I saw a striped snake run into the
water, and he lay on the bottom, apparently
without inconvenience, as long as I stayed there, or more than a quarter of an hour;
perhaps because he had not yet fairly come out of the torpid state It appeared to me
that for a like reason men remain in their
present low and primitive condition; but if they should feel the influence 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 numb and inflexible, waiting for the sun to thaw them.
On the 1st of April it rained and melted the ice, and in the early part of the day,
which 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 or scholar-like thoughts,
singing to myself,--
Men say they know many things; But lo! they have taken wings--
The arts and sciences, And a thousand appliances;
The wind that blows Is all that any body knows.
I hewed the main timbers six inches square, most of the studs on two sides only, and
the rafters and floor timbers on one side, leaving the rest of the bark on, so that
they were just as straight and much
stronger than sawed ones Each stick was carefully mortised or tenoned by its stump,
for I had borrowed other tools by this time.
My days in the woods were not very long ones; yet I usually carried my dinner of
bread and butter, and read the newspaper in which it was wrapped, at noon, sitting amid
the green pine boughs which I had cut off,
and to my bread was imparted some of their fragrance, for my 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 of
them, having become better acquainted with it.
Sometimes a rambler in the wood was attracted by the sound of my axe, and we
chatted pleasantly over the chips which I had made
By the middle of April, for I made no haste in my work, but rather made the most of it,
my house was framed and ready for the raising.
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 at home.
I walked about the outside, at first 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 the hens under the door board.
Mrs C came to the door and asked me to view it from the inside.
The hens were driven in by my approach.
It was dark, and had a dirt floor for the most part, dank, clammy, and aguish, only
here a board and there a board which would not bear removal.
She lighted a lamp to show me the inside of the roof and the walls, and also that the
board floor extended under the bed, warning me not to step into the cellar, a sort of
dust hole two feet deep In her own 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 way lately.
There was a stove, a bed, and a place to sit, an infant in the house where it was
born, a silk parasol, gilt-framed looking- glass, and a patent new coffee-mill nailed
to an oak sapling, all told.
The bargain was soon concluded, for James had in the meanwhile returned.
I to pay four dollars and twenty-five cents tonight, he to vacate at five tomorrow
morning, selling to nobody else meanwhile: I to take possession at six It were well,
he said, to be there early, and anticipate
certain indistinct but wholly unjust claims on the score of ground rent and fuel This
he assured me was the only encumbrance. At six I passed him and his family on the
road.
One large bundle held their all--bed, coffee-mill, looking-glass, hens--all but
the cat; she took to the woods and became a wild cat, and, as I learned afterward, trod
in a trap set for woodchucks, and so became a dead cat at last.
I took down this dwelling the same morning, drawing the nails, and removed it to the
pond-side by small cartloads, spreading the boards on the grass there to bleach and
warp back again in the sun.
One early thrush gave me a note or two as I drove along the woodland path.
I was informed treacherously by a young Patrick that neighbor Seeley, an Irishman,
in the intervals of the carting, transferred the still tolerable, straight,
and drivable nails, staples, and spikes to
his pocket, and then stood when I came back to pass the time of day, and look freshly
up, unconcerned, with spring thoughts, at the devastation; there being a dearth of
work, as he said.
He was there to represent spectatordom, and help make this seemingly insignificant
event one with 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 lowest
stain of vegetation, six feet square by
seven deep, to a fine sand where potatoes would not freeze in any winter The sides
were left shelving, and not stoned; but the sun having never shone on them, the sand
still keeps its place.
It was but two hours' work I took particular pleasure in this breaking of
ground, for in almost all latitudes men dig into the earth for an equable temperature
Under the most splendid house in the city
is still to be found the cellar where they store their roots as of old, and long after
the superstructure has disappeared posterity remark its dent in the earth The
house is still but a sort of porch at the entrance of a burrow
At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of my acquaintances,
rather to improve so good an occasion for neighborliness than from any necessity, I
set up the frame of my house.
No man was ever more honored in the character of his raisers than I.
They are destined, I trust, to assist at the raising of loftier structures one day.
I began to occupy my house on the 4th of July, as soon as it was boarded and roofed,
for the boards were carefully feather-edged and lapped, so that it was perfectly
impervious to rain, but before boarding I
laid the foundation of a chimney at one end, bringing two cartloads of stones up
the hill from the pond in my arms.
I built the chimney after my hoeing in the fall, before a fire became necessary for
warmth, doing my cooking in the meanwhile out of doors on the ground, early in the
morning: which mode I still think is in
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
my loaf, and passed some pleasant hours in that way.
In those days, when my hands were much employed, I read but little, but the least
scraps of paper which lay on the ground, my holder, or tablecloth, afforded me as much
entertainment, in fact answered the same purpose as the Iliad.
It would be worth the while to build still more deliberately than I did, considering,
for instance, what foundation a door, a window, a cellar, a garret, have in the
nature of man, and perchance never raising
any superstructure until we found a better reason for it than our temporal necessities
even There is some of the same fitness in a man's building his own house that there
is in a bird's building its own nest.
Who knows but if men constructed their dwellings with their own hands, and
provided food for themselves and families simply and honestly enough, the poetic
faculty would be universally developed, as
birds universally sing when they are so engaged?
But alas! we do like cowbirds and cuckoos, which lay their eggs in nests which other
birds have built, and cheer no traveller with their chattering and unmusical notes.
Shall we forever resign the pleasure of construction to the carpenter?
What does architecture amount to in the experience of the mass of men?
I never in all my walks came across a man engaged in so simple and natural an
occupation as building his house. We belong to the community.
It is not the tailor alone who is the ninth part of a man; it is as much the preacher,
and the merchant, and the farmer. Where is this division of labor to end? and
what object does it finally serve?
No doubt another may also think for me; but 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 this country, and I have heard of one at
least possessed with the idea of making architectural ornaments have a core of
truth, a necessity, and hence a beauty, as
if it were a revelation to him All very well perhaps from his point of view, but
only a little better than the common dilettantism.
A sentimental reformer in architecture, he began at the cornice, not at the
foundation It was only how to put a core of truth within the ornaments, that every
sugarplum, in fact, might have an almond or
caraway seed in it--though I hold that almonds are most wholesome without the
sugar--and not how the inhabitant, the indweller, might build truly within and
without, and let the ornaments take care of
themselves What reasonable man ever supposed that ornaments were something
outward and in the skin merely--that the tortoise got his spotted shell, or the
shell-fish its mother-o'-pearl tints, by
such a contract as the inhabitants of Broadway their Trinity Church?
But a man has no more to do with the style of architecture of his house than a
tortoise with that of its shell: nor need the soldier be so idle as to try to paint
the precise color of his virtue on his standard.
The enemy will find it out He may turn pale when the trial comes.
This man seemed to me to lean over the cornice, and timidly whisper his half truth
to the rude occupants who really knew it better than he.
What of architectural beauty I now see, I know has gradually grown from within
outward, out of the necessities and character of the indweller, who is the only
builder--out of some unconscious
truthfulness, and nobleness, without ever a thought for the appearance and whatever
additional beauty of this kind is destined to be produced will be preceded by a like
unconscious beauty of life The most
interesting dwellings in this country, as the painter knows, are the most
unpretending, humble log huts and cottages of the poor commonly; it is the life of the
inhabitants whose shells they are, and not
any peculiarity in their surfaces merely, which makes them picturesque; and equally
interesting will be the citizen's suburban box, when his life shall be as simple and
as agreeable to the imagination, and there
is as little straining after effect in the style of his dwelling.
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 without architecture who have no olives nor wines in the cellar.
What if an equal ado were made about 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?
So are made the belles-lettres and the beaux-arts and their professors.
Much it concerns a man, forsooth, how a few sticks are slanted over him or under him,
and what colors are daubed upon his box It would signify somewhat, if, in any earnest
sense, he slanted them and daubed it; but
the spirit having departed out of the tenant, it is of a piece with constructing
his own coffin--the architecture of the grave--and "carpenter" is but another name
for "coffin-maker" One man says, in his
despair or indifference to life, take up a handful of the earth at your feet, and
paint your house that color Is he thinking of his last and narrow house?
Toss up a copper for it as well What an abundance of leisure be must have!
Why do you take up a handful of dirt?
Better paint your house your own complexion; let it turn pale or blush for
you. An enterprise to improve the style of
cottage architecture!
When you have got my ornaments ready, I will 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 made of the first slice
of the log, whose edges I was obliged to straighten with a plane
I have thus a tight shingled and plastered house, ten feet wide by fifteen long, and
eight-feet posts, with a garret and a closet, a large window on each side, two
trap doors, one door at the end, and a
brick fireplace opposite The exact cost of my house, paying the usual price for such
materials as I used, but not counting the work, all of which was done by myself, was
as follows; and I give the details because
very few are able to tell exactly what their houses cost, and fewer still, if any,
the separate cost of the various materials which compose them:--
Boards.$ 8.03-1/2 .....mostly shanty boards.
Refuse shingles for roof sides...4.00 Laths............................1.25
Two second-hand windows .....with glass..................2.43
One thousand old brick...........4.00 Two casks of lime................2.40
.....That was high.
Hair.............................0.31 .....More than I needed.
Mantle-tree iron.................0.15 Nails............................3.90
Hinges and screws................0.14
Latch............................0.10 Chalk............................0.01
Transportation...................1.40 .....I carried a good part on my back.
In all......................$28.12-1/2
These are all the materials, excepting the timber, stones, and sand, which I claimed
by squatter's right.
I have also a small woodshed adjoining, made chiefly of the stuff which was left
after building the house
I intend to build me a house which will surpass any on the main street in Concord
in grandeur and luxury, as soon as it pleases me as much and will cost me no more
than my 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 now pays annually If I seem to
boast more than is becoming, my excuse is
that I brag for humanity rather than for myself; and my shortcomings and
inconsistencies do not affect the truth of my statement.
Notwithstanding much cant and hypocrisy-- chaff which I find it difficult to separate
from my wheat, but for which I am as sorry as any man--I will breathe freely and
stretch myself in this respect, it is such
a relief to both the moral and physical system; and I am resolved that I will not
through humility become the devil's attorney.
I will endeavor 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 I cannot but
think that if we had more true wisdom in these respects, not only less education
would be needed, because, forsooth, more would already have been acquired, but the
pecuniary expense of getting an education would in a great measure vanish.
Those conveniences which the student requires at Cambridge or elsewhere cost him
or somebody else ten times as great a sacrifice of life as they would with proper
management on both sides.
Those things for which the most money is demanded are never the things which the
student most wants Tuition, for instance, is an important item in the term bill,
while for the far more valuable education
which he gets by associating with the most cultivated of his contemporaries no charge
is made.
The mode of founding a college is, commonly, to get up a subscription of
dollars and cents, and then, following blindly the principles of a division of
labor to its extreme--a principle which
should never be followed but with circumspection--to call in a contractor who
makes this a subject of speculation, and he employs Irishmen or other operatives
actually to lay the foundations, while the
students that are to be are said to be fitting themselves for it; and for these
oversights successive generations have to pay.
I think that it would be better than this, for the students, or those who desire to be
benefited by it, even to lay the foundation themselves.
The student who secures his coveted leisure and retirement by systematically shirking
any labor necessary to man obtains but an ignoble and unprofitable leisure,
defrauding himself of the experience which alone can make leisure fruitful.
"But," says one, "you do not mean that the students should go to work with their hands
instead of their heads?"
I do not mean that exactly, but I mean something which he might think a good deal
like that; I mean that they should not play life, or study it merely, while the
community supports them at this expensive
game, but earnestly live it from beginning to end How could youths better learn to
live than by at once trying the experiment of living?
Methinks this would exercise their minds as much as mathematics If I wished a boy to
know something about the arts and sciences, for instance, I would not pursue the common
course, which is merely to send him into
the neighborhood of some professor, where anything is professed and practised but the
art of life;--to survey the world through a telescope or a microscope, and never with
his natural 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 is a satellite himself; or
to be devoured by the monsters that swarm all around him, while contemplating the
monsters in a drop of vinegar.
Which would have advanced the most at the end of a month--the boy who had made his
own jackknife from the ore which he had dug and smelted, reading as much as would be
necessary for this--or the boy who had
attended the lectures on metallurgy at the Institute in the meanwhile, and had
received a Rodgers' penknife from his father?
Which would be most likely to cut his fingers? To my astonishment I was
informed on leaving college that I had studied navigation!--why, if I had taken
one turn down the harbor I should have known more about it.
Even the poor student studies and is taught only political economy, while that economy
of living which is synonymous with philosophy is not even sincerely professed
in our colleges The consequence is, that
while he is reading Adam Smith, Ricardo, and Say, he runs his father in debt
irretrievably.
>
CHAPTER 1 - PART 4 Economy
As with our colleges, so with a hundred "modern improvements"; there is an illusion
about them; there is not always a positive advance.
The devil goes on exacting 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 attention from serious
things.
They are but improved means to an unimproved end, an end which it was already
but too easy to arrive at; as railroads lead to Boston or New York.
We are in great haste to construct a magnetic telegraph from Maine to Texas; but
Maine and Texas, it may be, have nothing important to communicate Either is in such
a predicament as the man who was 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 say As if the main
object were to talk fast and not to talk
sensibly We are eager to tunnel under the Atlantic and bring the Old World some weeks
nearer to the New; but perchance the first news that will leak through into the broad,
flapping American ear will be that the Princess Adelaide has the whooping cough.
After all, the man whose horse trots a mile in a minute does not 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 carried a peck of corn to mill.
One says to me, "I wonder that you do not lay up money; you love to travel; you might
take the cars and go to Fitchburg today and see the country" But I am wiser than that.
I have learned that the swiftest traveller is he that goes afoot.
I say to my friend, Suppose we try who will get there first The distance is thirty
miles; the fare ninety cents That is almost a day's wages.
I remember when wages were sixty cents a day for laborers on this very road.
Well, I start now on foot, and get there before night; I have travelled at that rate
by the week together You will in the meanwhile have earned your fare, and arrive
there some time tomorrow, or possibly this
evening, if you are lucky enough to get a job in season.
Instead of going to Fitchburg, you will be working here the greater part of the day.
And so, if the railroad 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 is the universal law, which no man can ever outwit, and with regard to the
railroad even we may say it is as broad as it is long.
To make a railroad round the world available to all mankind is equivalent to
grading the whole surface of the planet.
Men have an indistinct notion that if they keep up this activity of joint stocks and
spades long enough all will at length ride somewhere, in next to no time, and for
nothing; but though a crowd rushes to the
depot, and the conductor shouts "All aboard!" when the smoke is blown away and
the vapor condensed, it will be perceived that a few are riding, but the rest are run
over--and it will be called, and will be, "A melancholy accident."
No doubt they can ride at last who shall have earned their fare, that is, if they
survive so long, but they will probably have lost their elasticity and desire to
travel by that time.
This spending of the best part of one's life earning money in order to enjoy a
questionable liberty 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 in the land, "is not this railroad which we have built a
good thing?"
Yes, I answer, comparatively good, that is, you might have done worse; but I wish, as
you are brothers of mine, that you could have spent your time better than digging in
this dirt.
Before I finished my 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 One farmer said that it was "good for nothing but to raise
cheeping squirrels on."
I put no manure whatever on this land, not being the owner, but merely a squatter, and
not expecting to cultivate so much again, and I did not quite hoe it all once.
I got out several cords of stumps in plowing, which supplied me with fuel for a
long time, and left small circles of virgin mould, easily distinguishable through the
summer by the greater luxuriance of the
beans there The dead and for the 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 man for the plowing, though I held the plow myself.
My farm outgoes for the first season were, for implements, seed, work, etc., $14.72-
1/2.
The seed corn was given me This never costs anything to speak of, unless you
plant more than enough I got twelve bushels of beans, and eighteen bushels of
potatoes, beside some peas and sweet corn.
The yellow corn and turnips were too late to come to anything My whole income from
the farm was
.$ 23.44 Deducting the outgoes 14.72-1/2
-------- There are left $ 8.71-1/2
beside produce consumed and on hand at the time this estimate was made of the value of
$4.50--the amount on hand much more than balancing a little grass which I did not
raise.
All things considered, that is, considering the importance of a man's soul and of
today, notwithstanding the short time occupied by my experiment, nay, partly even
because of its transient character, I
believe that that 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 I learned from the experience of both years, not
being in the least awed by many celebrated
works on husbandry, Arthur Young among the rest, that if one would live simply and eat
only the crop which he raised, and raise no more than he ate, and not exchange it for
an insufficient quantity of more luxurious
and expensive things, he would need to cultivate only a few rods of ground, and
that it would be cheaper to spade up that than to use oxen to plow it, and to select
a fresh spot from time to time than to
manure the old, and he could do all his necessary farm work as it were with his
left hand at odd hours in the summer; and thus he would not be tied to an ox, or
horse, or cow, or pig, as at present.
I desire to speak impartially on this point, and as one not interested 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 to a house
or farm, but could follow the bent of my genius, which is a very crooked one, every
moment.
Beside being better off than they already, if my house had been burned or my crops had
failed, 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 former are so much the freer.
Men and oxen exchange work; but if we consider necessary 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 boy's play.
Certainly no nation that lived simply in all respects, that is, no nation of
philosophers, would commit so great a blunder as to use the labor of animals.
True, there never was and is not likely soon to be a nation of philosophers, nor am
I certain it is desirable that there should be.
However, I should never have broken a horse or bull and taken him to board for any work
he might do for me, for fear I should become a horseman or a herdsman merely; and
if society seems to be the gainer by so
doing, are we certain that what is one man's gain is not another's loss, and that
the stable-boy has equal cause with his master to be satisfied?
Granted that 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 himself in that case?
When men begin to do, not merely unnecessary or artistic, but luxurious and
idle work, with their assistance, it is inevitable that a few do all the exchange
work with the oxen, or, in other words, become the slaves of the strongest.
Man thus not only works for the animal within him, but, for a symbol of this, he
works for the animal without him.
Though we have many substantial houses of brick or stone, the prosperity of the
farmer is still measured by the degree to which the barn overshadows the house.
This town is said to have 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.
It should not be by their architecture, but why not even by their power of abstract
thought, that nations should seek to commemorate themselves?
How much more admirable the Bhagvat-Geeta than all the ruins of the East!
Towers and temples are the luxury of princes.
A simple and independent mind does not toil at the bidding of any prince.
Genius is not a retainer to any emperor, nor is its material silver, or gold, or
marble, except to a trifling extent.
To what end, pray, is so much stone hammered?
In Arcadia, when I was there, I did not see any hammering stone.
Nations are possessed with an insane ambition to perpetuate the memory of
themselves by the amount of hammered stone they leave.
What if equal pains were taken to smooth and polish their manners?
One piece of good sense would be more memorable than a monument as high as the
moon.
I love better to see stones in place. The grandeur of Thebes was a vulgar
grandeur.
More sensible is a rod of stone wall that bounds an honest man's field than a
hundred-gated Thebes that has wandered farther from the true end of life.
The religion and civilization which are barbaric and heathenish build splendid
temples; but what you might call Christianity does not.
Most of the stone a nation hammers goes toward its tomb only.
It buries itself alive.
As for the Pyramids, there is nothing to wonder at in them so much as the fact that
so many men could be found degraded enough to spend their lives constructing a tomb
for 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 building be an Egyptian temple or the United States Bank.
It costs more than it comes to.
The mainspring is vanity, assisted by the love of garlic and bread and butter.
Mr. Balcom, a promising young architect, designs it on the back of his Vitruvius,
with hard pencil and ruler, and the job is let out to Dobson & Sons, stonecutters.
When the thirty centuries begin to look 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 said, he heard
the Chinese pots and kettles rattle; but I
think that I shall not go out of my way to admire the hole which he made.
Many are concerned about the monuments of the West and the East--to know who built
them.
For my part, I should like to know who in those days did not build them--who were
above such trifling. But to proceed with my statistics.
By surveying, carpentry, and day-labor of various other kinds in the village in the
meanwhile, for I have as many trades as fingers, I had earned $13.34.
The expense of food for eight months, namely, from July 4th to March 1st, the
time when these estimates were made, though I lived there more than two years--not
counting potatoes, a little green corn, and
some peas, which I had raised, nor considering the value of what was on hand
at the last date--was
Rice....................$ 1.73-1/2 Molasses................. 1.73
Cheapest form of the saccharine. Rye meal................. 1.04-3/4
Indian meal.............. 0.99-3/4 Cheaper than rye.
Pork..................... 0.22 All experiments which failed:
Flour.................... 0.88 Costs more than Indian meal, both money and
trouble. Sugar.................... 0.80
Lard..................... 0.65 Apples................... 0.25
Dried apple.............. 0.22 Sweet potatoes........... 0.10
One pumpkin.............. 0.06 One watermelon........... 0.02
Salt..................... 0.03
Yes, I did eat $8.74, all told; but I should not thus unblushingly publish my
guilt, if I did not know that most of my readers were equally guilty with myself,
and that their deeds would look no better in print.
The next year I sometimes caught a mess of fish for my dinner, and once I went so far
as to slaughter a woodchuck which ravaged my bean-field--effect his transmigration,
as a Tartar would say--and devour him,
partly for experiment's sake; but though it afforded 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 woodchucks 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
$8.40-3/4 Oil and some household utensils.......2.00
So that all the pecuniary outgoes, excepting for washing and mending, which
for the most part were done out of the house, and their bills have not yet been
received--and these are all and more than
all the ways by which money necessarily goes out in this part of the world--were
House............................$ 28.12- 1/2
Farm one year..................... 14.72- 1/2
Food eight months..................... 8.74
Clothing, etc., eight months...... 8.40-3/4
Oil, etc., eight months............... 2.00 -----------
- In all...................... $ 61.99-
3/4
I address myself now to those of my readers who have a living to get.
And to meet this I have for farm produce sold
$23.44 Earned by day-labor..............
13.34
------- -
In all............................. $36.78,
which subtracted from the sum of the outgoes leaves a balance of $25.21-3/4 on
the one side--this being very nearly the means with which I started, and the measure
of expenses to be incurred--and on the
other, beside the leisure and independence and health thus secured, a comfortable
house for me as long as I choose to occupy it.
These statistics, however accidental and therefore uninstructive they may appear, as
they have a certain completeness, have a certain value also.
Nothing was given me of which I have not rendered some account.
It appears from the above estimate, that my food alone cost me in money about twenty-
seven cents a week.
It was, for nearly two years after this, rye and Indian meal without yeast,
potatoes, rice, a very little salt pork, molasses, and salt; and my drink, water.
It was fit that I should live on rice, mainly, who love so well the philosophy of
India.
To meet the objections of some inveterate cavillers, I may as well state, that if I
dined out occasionally, as I always had done, and I trust shall have opportunities
to do again, it was frequently to the detriment of my domestic arrangements.
But the dining out, being, as I have stated, a constant element, does not in the
least affect a comparative statement like this.
I learned from my two years' experience that it would cost incredibly little
trouble to obtain one's necessary food, even in this latitude; that a man may use
as simple a diet as the animals, and yet retain health and strength.
I have made a satisfactory dinner, satisfactory on several accounts, simply
off a dish of purslane (Portulaca oleracea) which I gathered in my cornfield, boiled
and salted.
I give the Latin on account of the savoriness of the trivial name.
And pray what more can a reasonable man desire, in peaceful times, in ordinary
noons, than a sufficient number of ears of green sweet corn boiled, with the addition
of salt?
Even the little variety which I used was a yielding to the demands of appetite, and
not of health.
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 thinks that her son
lost his life because he took to drinking water only.
The reader will perceive that I am treating the subject rather from an economic than a
dietetic point of view, and he will not venture to put my abstemiousness to the
test unless he has a well-stocked larder.
Bread I at first made of pure Indian meal and salt, genuine hoe-cakes, which I baked
before my fire out of doors on a shingle or the end of a stick of timber sawed off in
building my house; but it was wont to get smoked and to have a piny flavor.
I tried flour also; but have at last found a mixture of rye and Indian meal most
convenient and agreeable.
In cold weather it was no little amusement to bake several small loaves of this in
succession, tending and turning them as carefully as an Egyptian his hatching eggs.
They were a real cereal fruit which I ripened, and they had to my senses a
fragrance like that of other noble fruits, which I kept in as long as possible by
wrapping them in cloths.
I made a study of the ancient and indispensable art of bread-making,
consulting such authorities as offered, going back to the primitive days and first
invention of the unleavened kind, when from
the wildness of nuts and meats men first reached the mildness and refinement of this
diet, and travelling gradually down in my studies through that accidental souring of
the dough which, it is supposed, taught the
leavening process, and through the various fermentations thereafter, till I came to
"good, sweet, wholesome bread," the staff of life.
Leaven, which some deem the soul of bread, the spiritus which fills its cellular
tissue, which is religiously preserved like the vestal fire--some precious bottleful,
I suppose, first brought over in the
Mayflower, did the business for America, and its influence is still rising,
swelling, spreading, in cerealian billows over the land--this seed I regularly and
faithfully procured from the village, till
at length one morning I forgot the rules, and scalded my yeast; by which accident I
discovered that even this was not indispensable--for my discoveries 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 prophesied a speedy
decay of the vital forces.
Yet I find it not to be an essential ingredient, and after going without it for
a year am still in the land of the living; and I am glad to escape the trivialness of
carrying a bottleful in my pocket, which
would sometimes pop and discharge its contents to my discomfiture.
It is simpler and more respectable to omit it.
Man is an animal who more than any other can adapt himself to all climates and
circumstances. Neither did I put any sal-soda, or other
acid or alkali, into my bread.
It would seem that I made it according to the recipe which Marcus Porcius Cato gave
about two centuries before Christ. "Panem depsticium sic facito.
Manus mortariumque bene lavato.
Farinam in mortarium indito, aquae paulatim addito, subigitoque pulchre.
Ubi bene subegeris, defingito, coquitoque sub testu."
Which I take to mean,--"Make kneaded bread thus.
Wash your hands and trough well. Put the meal into the trough, add water
gradually, and knead it thoroughly.
When you have kneaded it well, mould it, and bake it under a cover," that is, in a
baking kettle. 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 own breadstuffs in this land of rye and
Indian corn, and not depend on distant and fluctuating markets for them.
Yet so far are we from simplicity and independence that, in Concord, fresh and
sweet meal is rarely sold in the shops, and hominy and corn in a still coarser form are
hardly used by any.
For the most 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 them in a hand-mill, and so do
without rice and pork; and if I must have some concentrated sweet, I found by
experiment that I could make a very good molasses either of pumpkins or beets, and I
knew that I needed only to set out a few
maples to obtain it more easily still, and while these were growing I could use
various substitutes beside those which I have named.
"For," as the Forefathers sang,--
"we can make liquor to sweeten our lips Of pumpkins and parsnips and walnut-tree
chips."
Finally, as for salt, that grossest of groceries, to obtain this might be a fit
occasion for a visit to the seashore, or, if I did without it altogether, I should
probably drink the less water.
I do not learn that the Indians ever troubled themselves to go after it.
Thus I could avoid all trade and barter, so far as my food was concerned, and having a
shelter already, it would only remain to get clothing and fuel.
The pantaloons which I now wear were woven in a farmer's family--thank Heaven there is
so much virtue still in man; for I think the fall from the farmer to the operative
as great and memorable as that from the man
to the farmer;--and in a new country, fuel is an encumbrance.
As for a habitat, if I were not permitted still to squat, I might purchase one acre
at the same price for which the land I cultivated was sold--namely, eight dollars
and eight cents.
But as it was, I considered that I enhanced the value of the land by squatting on it.
There is a certain class of unbelievers who sometimes ask me such questions as, if I
think that I can live on vegetable food alone; and to strike at the root of the
matter at once--for the root is faith--I am
accustomed to answer such, that I can live on board nails.
If they cannot understand that, they cannot understand much that I have to say.
For my part, I am glad to hear of experiments of this kind being tried; as
that a young man tried for a fortnight to live on hard, raw corn on the ear, using
his teeth for all mortar.
The squirrel tribe tried the same and succeeded.
The human race is interested in these experiments, though a few old women who are
incapacitated for them, or who own their thirds in mills, may be alarmed.
My furniture, part of which I made myself-- and the rest cost me nothing of which I
have not rendered an account--consisted of a bed, a table, a desk, three chairs, a
looking-glass three inches in diameter, a
pair of tongs and andirons, a kettle, a skillet, 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 japanned lamp.
None is so poor that he need sit on a pumpkin.
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 never tell from inspecting such a
load whether it belonged to a so-called rich man or a poor one; the owner always
seemed poverty-stricken.
Indeed, the more you have of such things the poorer you are.
Each load looks as if it contained the contents of a dozen shanties; and if one
shanty is poor, this is a dozen times as poor.
Pray, for what do we move ever but to get rid of our furniture, our exuviae: at last
to go from this world to another newly furnished, and leave this to be burned?
It is the same as if all these traps were buckled to a man's belt, and he could not
move over the rough country where our lines are cast without dragging them--dragging
his trap.
He was a lucky fox that left his tail in the trap.
The muskrat will gnaw his third leg off to be free.
No wonder man has lost his elasticity.
How often he is at a dead set! "Sir, if I may be so bold, what do you mean
by a dead set?"
If you are a seer, whenever you meet a man you will see all that he owns, ay, and much
that he pretends to disown, behind him, even to his kitchen furniture and all the
trumpery which he saves and will not burn,
and he will appear to be harnessed to it and making what headway he can.
I think that the man is at a dead set who has got through a knot-hole or gateway
where his sledge load of furniture cannot follow him.
I cannot but feel compassion when I hear some trig, compact-looking man, seemingly
free, all girded and ready, speak of his "furniture," as whether it is insured or
not.
"But what shall I do with my furniture?"-- My gay 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 today 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, little trunk, bandbox, and bundle.
Throw away the first three at least.
It would surpass the powers of a well man nowadays to take up his bed and walk, and I
should certainly advise a sick one to lay down his bed and run.
When I have met an immigrant tottering under a bundle which contained his all--
looking like an enormous wen which had grown out of the nape of his neck--I have
pitied him, not because that was his all, but because he had all that to carry.
If I have got to drag my trap, I will take care that it be a light one and do not nip
me in a vital part.
But perchance it would be wisest never to put one's paw into it.
I would observe, by the way, that it costs me nothing for curtains, for I have no
gazers to shut out but the sun and moon, and I am willing that they should look in.
The moon will not sour milk nor taint meat of mine, nor will the sun injure my
furniture or fade my carpet; and if he is sometimes too warm a friend, I find it
still better economy to retreat behind some
curtain which nature has provided, than to add a single item to the details of
housekeeping.
A lady once offered me a mat, but as I had no room to spare within the house, nor time
to spare within or without to shake it, I declined it, preferring to wipe my feet on
the sod before my door.
It is best to avoid the beginnings of evil. Not long since I was present at the auction
of a deacon's effects, for his life had not been ineffectual:--
"The evil that men do lives after them."
As usual, a great proportion was trumpery which had begun to accumulate in his
father's day. Among the rest was a dried tapeworm.
And now, after lying half a century in his garret and other dust holes, these things
were not burned; instead of a bonfire, or purifying destruction of them, there was an
auction, or increasing of them.
The neighbors eagerly collected to view them, bought them all, and carefully
transported them to their garrets and dust holes, to lie there till their estates are
settled, when they will start again.
When a man dies he kicks the dust.
The customs of some savage nations might, perchance, be profitably imitated by us,
for they at least go through the semblance of casting their slough annually; they have
the idea of the thing, whether they have the reality or not.
Would it not be well if we were to celebrate such a "busk," or "feast of first
fruits," as Bartram describes to have been the custom of the Mucclasse Indians?
"When a town celebrates the busk," says he, "having previously provided themselves with
new clothes, new pots, pans, and other household utensils and furniture, they
collect all their worn out clothes and
other despicable things, sweep and cleanse their houses, squares, and the whole town
of their filth, which with all the remaining grain and other old provisions
they cast together into one common heap, and consume it with fire.
After having taken medicine, and fasted for three days, all the fire in the town is
extinguished.
During this fast they abstain from the gratification of every appetite and passion
whatever. A general amnesty is proclaimed; all
malefactors may return to their town."
"On the fourth morning, the high priest, by rubbing dry wood together, produces new
fire in the public square, from whence every habitation in the town is supplied
with the new and pure flame."
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 in like manner purified and prepared themselves."
The Mexicans also practised a similar purification at the end of every fifty-two
years, in the belief that it was time for the world to come to an end.
I have scarcely heard of a truer sacrament, that is, as the dictionary defines it,
"outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace," than this, and I have no
doubt that they were originally inspired
directly from Heaven to do thus, though they have no Biblical record of the
revelation.
For more than five years I maintained myself thus solely by the labor of my
hands, and I found that, by working about six weeks in a year, I could meet all the
expenses of living.
The whole of my winters, as well as most of my summers, I had free and clear for study.
I have thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that my expenses were in proportion,
or rather out of proportion, to my income, for I was obliged to dress and train, not
to say think and believe, accordingly, and I lost my time into the bargain.
As I did not teach for the good of my fellow-men, but simply for a livelihood,
this was a failure.
I have tried trade but I found that it would take ten years to get under way in
that, and that then I should probably be on my way to the devil.
I was actually afraid that I might by that time be doing what is 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 friends being fresh in my mind to tax my
ingenuity, I thought often and seriously of
picking huckleberries; that surely I could do, and its small profits might suffice--
for my greatest skill has been to want but little--so little capital it required, so
little distraction from my wonted moods, I foolishly thought.
While my acquaintances went unhesitatingly into trade or the professions, I
contemplated this occupation as most like theirs; ranging the hills all summer to
pick the berries which came in my way, and
thereafter carelessly dispose of them; so, to keep the flocks of Admetus.
I also dreamed that I might gather the wild herbs, or carry evergreens to such
villagers as loved to be reminded of the woods, even to the city, by hay-cart loads.
But I have since learned that trade curses everything it handles; and though you trade
in messages from heaven, the whole curse of trade attaches to the business.
As I preferred some things to others, and especially valued my freedom, as I could
fare hard and yet succeed well, I did not wish to spend my time in earning rich
carpets or other fine furniture, or
delicate cookery, or a house in the Grecian or the Gothic style just yet.
If there are any to whom it is no interruption to acquire these things, and
who know how to use them when acquired, I relinquish to them the pursuit.
Some are "industrious," and appear to love labor for its own sake, or perhaps because
it 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 work twice as hard as they do-- work till they pay for themselves, and get
their free papers.
For myself I found that the occupation of a day-laborer was the most independent of
any, especially as it required only thirty or forty days in a year to support one.
The laborer's day ends with the going down of the sun, and he is then free to devote
himself to his chosen pursuit, independent of his labor; but his employer, who
speculates from month to month, has no
respite from one end of the year to the other.
In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to maintain one's self on
this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely; as the
pursuits of the simpler nations are still the sports of the more artificial.
It is not necessary that a man should earn his living by the sweat of his brow, unless
he sweats easier than I do.
>
CHAPTER 1 - PART 5 Economy
One young man of my acquaintance, who has inherited some acres, told me that he
thought he should live as I did, if he had the means.
I would not have any one adopt my mode of living on any account; for, beside that
before he has fairly learned it I may have found out another for myself, I desire that
there may be as many different persons in
the world as possible; but I would have each one be very careful to find out and
pursue his own way, and not his father's or his mother's or his neighbor's instead.
The youth may build or plant or sail, only let him not be hindered from doing that
which he tells me 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 sufficient guidance for all our
life.
We may not arrive at our port within a calculable period, but we would preserve
the true course.
Undoubtedly, in this case, what is true for one is truer still for a thousand, as a
large house is not proportionally more expensive than a small one, since one roof
may cover, one cellar underlie, and one wall separate several apartments.
But for my part, I preferred the solitary dwelling.
Moreover, it will commonly be cheaper to build the whole yourself than to convince
another of the advantage of the common wall; and when you have done this, the
common partition, to be much cheaper, must
be a thin one, and that other may prove a bad neighbor, and also not keep his side in
repair.
The only co-operation which is commonly possible is exceedingly partial and
superficial; and what little true co- operation there is, is as if it were not,
being a harmony inaudible to men.
If a man has faith, he will co-operate with equal faith everywhere; if he has not
faith, he will continue to live like the rest of the world, whatever company he is
joined to.
To co-operate in the highest as well as the lowest sense, means to get our living
together.
I heard it proposed lately that two young men should travel together over the world,
the one without money, earning his means as he went, before the mast and behind the
plow, the other carrying a bill of exchange in his pocket.
It was easy to see that they could not long be companions or co-operate, since one
would not operate at all.
They would part at the first interesting crisis in their adventures.
Above all, as I have implied, the man who goes alone can start today; but he who
travels with another must wait till that other is ready, and it may be a long time
before they get off.
But all this is very selfish, I have heard some of my townsmen say.
I confess that I have hitherto indulged very little in philanthropic enterprises.
I have made some sacrifices to a sense of duty, and among others have sacrificed this
pleasure also.
There are those who have used all their arts to persuade me to undertake the
support of some poor family in the town; and if I had nothing to do--for the devil
finds employment for the idle--I might try my hand at some such pastime as that.
However, when I have thought to indulge myself in this respect, and lay their
Heaven under an obligation by maintaining certain poor persons in all respects as
comfortably as I maintain myself, and have
even ventured so far as to make them the offer, they have one and all unhesitatingly
preferred to remain poor.
While my townsmen and women are devoted in so many ways to the good of their fellows,
I trust that one at least may be spared to other and less humane pursuits.
You must have a genius for charity as well as for anything else.
As for Doing-good, that is one of the professions which are full.
Moreover, I have tried it fairly, and, strange as it may seem, am satisfied that
it does not agree with my constitution.
Probably I should not consciously and deliberately forsake my particular calling
to do the good which society demands of me, to save the universe from annihilation; and
I believe that a like but infinitely
greater steadfastness elsewhere is all that now preserves it.
But I would not stand between any man and his genius; and to him who does this work,
which I decline, with his whole heart and soul and life, I would say, Persevere, even
if the world call it doing evil, as it is most likely they will.
I am far from supposing that my case is a peculiar one; no doubt many of my readers
would make a similar defence.
At doing something--I will not engage that my neighbors shall pronounce it good--I do
not hesitate to say that I should be a capital fellow to hire; but what that is,
it is for my employer to find out.
What good I do, in the common sense of that word, must be aside from my main path, and
for the most part 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 about being good.
As if the sun should stop when he had kindled his fires up to the splendor of a
moon or a star of the sixth magnitude, and go about like a Robin Goodfellow, peeping
in at every cottage window, inspiring
lunatics, and tainting meats, and making darkness visible, instead of steadily
increasing his genial heat and beneficence till he is of such brightness that no
mortal can look him in the face, and then,
and in the meanwhile too, going about the world in his own orbit, doing it good, or
rather, as a truer philosophy has discovered, the world going about him
getting good.
When Phaeton, wishing to prove his 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 spring, and made the great
desert of Sahara, till 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 arises from goodness tainted.
It is human, it is divine, carrion.
If I knew for a certainty that a man was coming to my house with the conscious
design of doing me good, I should run for my life, as from that dry and parching wind
of the African deserts called the simoom,
which fills the mouth and nose and ears and eyes with dust till you are suffocated, for
fear that I should get some of his good done to me--some of its virus mingled with
my blood.
No--in this case I would rather suffer evil the natural way.
A man is not a good man to me because he will feed me if I should be starving, or
warm me if I should be freezing, or pull me out of a ditch if I should ever fall into
one.
I can find you a Newfoundland dog that will do as much.
Philanthropy is not love for one's fellow- man in the broadest sense.
Howard was no doubt an exceedingly kind and worthy man in his way, and has his reward;
but, comparatively speaking, what are a hundred Howards to us, if their
philanthropy do not help us in our best
estate, when we are most worthy to be helped?
I never heard of a philanthropic meeting in which it was sincerely proposed to do any
good to me, or the like of me.
The Jesuits were quite balked by those Indians who, being burned at the stake,
suggested new modes of torture to their tormentors.
Being superior to physical suffering, it sometimes chanced that they were superior
to any consolation which the missionaries could offer; and the law to do as you would
be done by fell with less persuasiveness on
the ears of those who, for their part, did not care how they were done by, who loved
their enemies after a new fashion, and came very near freely forgiving them all they
did.
Be sure that you give the poor the aid they most need, though it be your example which
leaves them far behind. If you give money, spend yourself with it,
and do not merely abandon it to them.
We make curious mistakes sometimes. Often the poor man is not so cold and
hungry as he is dirty and ragged and gross. It is partly his taste, and not merely his
misfortune.
If you give him money, he will perhaps buy more rags with it.
I was wont to pity the clumsy Irish laborers who cut ice on the pond, in such
mean and ragged clothes, while I shivered in my more tidy and somewhat more
fashionable garments, till, one bitter cold
day, one who had slipped into the water came to my house to warm him, 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, it is true, and that he could afford to refuse the extra garments which I
offered him, he had so many intra ones. This ducking was the very thing he needed.
Then I began to pity myself, and I saw that it would be a greater charity to bestow on
me a flannel shirt than a whole slop-shop on him.
There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at
the root, and it may be that he who bestows the largest amount of time and money on the
needy is doing the most by his mode of life
to produce that misery which he strives in vain to relieve.
It is the pious slave-breeder devoting the proceeds of every tenth slave to buy a
Sunday's liberty for the rest.
Some show their kindness to the poor by employing them in their kitchens.
Would they not be kinder if they employed themselves there?
You boast of spending a tenth part of your income in charity; maybe you should spend
the nine tenths so, and done with it. Society recovers only a tenth part of the
property then.
Is this owing to the generosity of him in whose possession it is found, or to the
remissness of the officers of justice?
Philanthropy is almost the only virtue which is sufficiently appreciated by
mankind. Nay, it is greatly overrated; and it is our
selfishness which overrates it.
A robust poor man, one sunny day here in Concord, 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.
I once heard a reverend lecturer on England, a man of learning and
intelligence, after enumerating her scientific, literary, and political
worthies, Shakespeare, 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
greatest of the great.
They were Penn, Howard, and Mrs. Fry. Every one must feel the falsehood and cant
of this.
The last were not England's best men and women; only, perhaps, her best
philanthropists.
I would not subtract anything from the praise that is due to philanthropy, but
merely demand justice for all who by their lives 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 withered we make herb tea for the sick serve but a
humble use, and are most employed by quacks.
I want the flower and fruit of a man; that some fragrance be wafted over from him to
me, and some ripeness flavor our intercourse.
His goodness must not be a partial and transitory act, but a constant superfluity,
which costs him nothing and of which he is unconscious.
This is a charity that hides a multitude of sins.
The philanthropist too often surrounds mankind with the remembrance of his own
castoff griefs as an atmosphere, and calls it sympathy.
We should impart our courage, and not our despair, our health and ease, and not our
disease, and take care that this does not spread by contagion.
From what southern plains comes up the voice of wailing?
Under what latitudes reside the heathen to whom we would send light?
Who is that intemperate and brutal man whom we would redeem?
If anything ail a man, so that he does not perform his functions, if he have a pain in
his bowels even--for that is the seat of sympathy--he forthwith sets about
reforming--the world.
Being a microcosm himself, he discovers-- and it is a true discovery, and he is the
man to make it--that the world has been eating green apples; to his eyes, in fact,
the globe itself is a great green apple,
which there is danger awful to think of that the children of men will nibble before
it is ripe; and straightway his drastic philanthropy seeks out the Esquimau and the
Patagonian, and embraces the populous
Indian and Chinese villages; and thus, by a few years of philanthropic activity, the
powers in the meanwhile using him for their own ends, 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
crudity and is once more sweet and wholesome to live.
I never dreamed of any enormity greater than I have committed.
I never knew, and never shall know, a worse man than myself.
I believe that what so saddens the reformer is not his sympathy with his fellows in
distress, but, though he be the holiest son of God, is his private ail.
Let this be righted, let the spring come to him, the morning rise over his couch, and
he will forsake his generous companions without apology.
My excuse for not lecturing against the use of tobacco is, that I never chewed it, that
is a penalty which reformed tobacco-chewers have to pay; though there are things enough
I have chewed which I could lecture against.
If you should ever 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.
Rescue the drowning and tie your shoestrings.
Take your time, and set about some free labor.
Our manners have been corrupted by communication with the saints.
Our hymn-books resound with a melodious cursing of God and enduring Him forever.
One would say that even the prophets and redeemers had rather consoled the fears
than confirmed the hopes of man.
There is 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 evil, however much
sympathy it may have with me or I with it.
If, then, we would indeed restore mankind 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 take up a little life into our pores.
Do not stay to be 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
continuance of which it is fresh and blooming, and during their absence dry and
withered; to neither of which states is the
cypress exposed, being always flourishing; and of this nature are the azads, or
religious independents.--Fix not thy heart on that which is transitory; for the
Dijlah, or Tigris, will continue to flow
through Bagdad after the race of caliphs is extinct: if thy hand has plenty, be liberal
as the date tree; but if it affords nothing to give away, be an azad, or free man, like
the cypress."
COMPLEMENTAL VERSES The Pretensions of Poverty
Thou dost presume too much, poor needy wretch,
To claim a station in the firmament Because thy humble cottage, or thy tub,
Nurses some lazy or pedantic virtue
In the cheap sunshine or by shady springs, With roots and pot-herbs;
where thy right hand, Tearing those humane passions
from the mind,
Upon whose stocks fair blooming virtues flourish,
Degradeth nature, and benumbeth 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 enlightened sphere,
Study to know but what those worthies were. T. CAREW
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