Thoreau Today
Questions and Findings by Chris Dodge
Boerhaave is a fan of Thoreau, and copies excerpts from "A Winter Walk" and A Week on the Concord and Merrimac Rivers into his journal, some of which is included here, including some of Thoreau's words on travel from A Week. . . (the three sentences beginning, "[C]ontinued traveling is far from productive. . ."). Barrett's chapter 6 epigraph also comes from A Week.
"Dr. Boerhaave, arranging the grubs on a tin plate, made a wry face. 'Fish murderer,' he said. 'One of the things that made me want to meet Thoreau was an early essay he wrote [since this is set in 1855, an astute editor would have scratched "early"] about the joys of fish spearing; and then the way he grumbled later about the fate of fishes. Somewhere he talks about fish as if they have souls. About their virtues, and their hard destiny, and the possibilities of a secret fish civilization we don't appreciate. 'Who hears the fishes when they cry?' he wrote. He worries about the strangest things." ("'Who hears the fishes' and Thoreau's musing about dams is in A Week.) Boerhaave also copies into his journal a long excerpt from Walden about exploration, which appears here, beginning, "Is it the source of the Nile, or the Niger, or the Mississippi. . ."
Later in the
book Zaslowky
erroneously quotes Thoreau without citing the source: "[A] town is
saved, not more by the men and women in it than by the woods and swamp
that surround it." Thoreau's actual words in "Walking": "[A] town is
saved, not more by the righteous men in it than by the woods and swamp
that surround it."
Zaslowsky also quotes the most famous line in Walking"—"In wildness is
the preservation of the world," adding, "There are those who say it is
high time we understood the full implications of Thoreau's simple
statement."
Heacox quotes Emerson widely on Thoreau, then regurgitates the old tale
about the alleged encounter between Thoreau and Emerson when the former
was in jail overnight: "Henry, what are you doing in there? Ralph, what
are you doing out there?"
Heacox quotes Thoreau on the "little oases of wildness in the desert of
our civilization" (what is the source?) then adds, "Though Thoreau
didn't use the term 'park' as George atlin did, he framed the idea as an
essential need, something required not just to save America, but also
Americans." Thoreau, says Heacox, "knew that without new and radical
ways of thinking, his society, so eager to grow new branches, would rot
away at the roots. . . . More than a single-sense naturalist, he was a
full quintet, an explorer of the fragrant and tactile, of the grand and
scenic, but also, and perhaps more important, of the small and
unheralded. He never stopped admiring the ground at his feet, and thus
learned to be home, rooted and perennial, singing the praises of
belonging."
Later in the book, in a couple of pages devoted to Thoreau's time at
Walden, Heacox says that Thoreau "went to jail for one night to protest
slavery," calling into question every thing else that appears in this
book. (Thoreau, for the umpteenth time, went to jail because he'd not
paid his poll tax.)
But Heacox is right about some things. He says of Thoreau, "He . . . no
doubt would have been alarmed, or at least surprised, when the federal
government became the instrument of conservation that established
national parks, saving those places that would one day be the largest
islands of wilderness and biodiversity remaining in a sea of spreading
monoculture and capitalism. Furthermore, that railroads would play a
significant role in the establishment of those parks would have
surprised him as swell." Heacox also compares Thoreau with Robinson
Crusoe, writing, "In truth, Crusoe and Thoreau didn't harbor hate, and
they didn't wish to burn Rome or sack Concord; they were simply
disillusioned , and at times disheartened."
Of Thoreau and parks, he writes, "The trick, as he saw it, was to find a
balance between the extremes of wilderness and civilization and to live
in that balance without remorse. The national park movement, indeed the
entire American political conservation movement, at least in a political
sense, would postdate him. But his fluid ideas helped to birth it and
water it from infancy to its adolescence of today, giving others the
inspiration and language require to create something that had never been
created before. Not a King's Forest, but a people's forest, an
unprecedented commons that belonged to everyone and no one, if they
could keep it. And not so much something created, but something left as
it was—nature unaltered and untrammeled. 'A man is rich in proportion to
the number of things he can afford to let alone,' Thoreau said. And
people began to listen."
Like those mentioned above, Heacox also cites "In wildness is the
preservation of the world," predating it to a talk delivered at the
Concord Lyceum on April 23, 1851 ("Thoreau stepped to the lectern . . .
and said in his soft voice, 'I wish to speak a word for Nature, for
absolute freedom and wildness.'") Heacox goes on to talk of John Muir,
saying about "the tide toward conservation and preservation": "Henry
David Thoreau raised the banner. John Muir would raise the sword."
The book also has a foreword by former U.S. president Jimmy Carter in
which he writes, "National parks give us an opportunity to treasure what
Henry David Thoreau called those 'little oases of wildness in the desert
of our civilization.'" And a "Time Line of Western Awareness" notes that
in 1854 "Henry David Thoreau publishe[d] Walden.
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Copyright 2006–2007, C. Dodge.
Thoreau and the Parks