Travis Shaw
L632—19th Cent. Am. Nature Writing
Prof. Irmscher
“Three Letters by
Henry David Thoreau”
American Literature
Manuscripts Collection
IU Lilly Library
In
Walden, Thoreau says, “To speak
critically I never received one or two letters in my life…that were worth the
postage” (89). If that is true, then the
contents of this essay, three letters written by Thoreau housed in in the Lilly
Library, are perhaps not very interesting.
Fortunately, Thoreau
is not being completely truthful when expresses his disdain for news and letters
in Walden, a fact which emerges in
the opening lines of the first letter, a missive written to Emerson on Jan. 24th
1843. The letter opens:
“The best way to
correct a mistake is to make it right. I
had not spoken of writing to
you, but as you
are about to write to me when you get my letter, I make haste on my
part in order to
get yours the sooner. I don’t well know
what to say to earn the forth
coming epistle.”
Thoreau is clearly interested in
his correspondence with Emerson, and I would argue that this and other
discrepancies between his letters and Walden
are what make this sort of textual comparative analysis so enjoyable.
By
far, the contents of the first letter are the lengthiest and most interesting
of the three and, for this reason, require a bit of background. By Jan. 1843, Thoreau had been living with
the Emerson family for nearly two years.
At the time of writing, Emerson is away from home, touring New York
City’s lecture circuit and thinking about the upcoming edition of the Dial, which he edited with the
assistance of Thoreau. The letter
actually comes from a series of exchanges between Emerson and Thoreau that took
place in the few months of 1843, during which they worked out some of the
editorial plans for the upcoming issue of the magazine. For this reason, the series is referred to by
the Thoreau Society’s website as “The Dial Letters.” The letter in the Lilly collection is the
first letter in this series.
On Jan. 24, 1843, Thoreau,
the Emerson’s live-in handyman, is at home with the rest of the Emersons: Lydia, Emerson’s wife, and Edith and Ellen,
their two young daughters. Thoreau’s
letters describe a busy and lively household, and despite whatever he says
about domestic life in Walden, he
seems to be enjoying himself. He says
Edith, the younger of the two daughters, is making “rapid strides” in her
speech “as well as well as over the carpet,” and the improvements in her speech
keep Thoreau entertained throughout the series of letters. For example, on Feb. 10, 1843,
Thoreau writes, “[Edith] talks a language of her own while she understands
ours. While she jabbers Sanscrit,
Parsee, Pehivi, say ‘Edith go bah!’ and ‘bah’ it is. No intelligence passes between us. She knows.
It is a capital joke,--that is the reason she smiles so.”
The
sentiment between the Thoreau and the Emerson’s seems as genuine as Thoreau’s
interest in baby Edith’s language games is, which shows that Thoreau was
intimately involved in the day-to-day events around the house. Thoreau jokes that Lidia “almost persuades
[him] to be a Christian” though he fears he “as often relapse[s] into
Heathenism,” he says Ellen tells him every morning that “Papa may come home
tonight,” and he reports that (friend? relative?) Elisabeth Hoar “flits about
these cleanings.” A passage written as a
post-script in Thoreau’s letter to Emerson dated Feb. 20 speaks volumes of the
Emersons’ regard for Thoreau:
“Last
evening we had the ‘Conversation,’…of which Henry was the champion, and
Elizabeth Hoar and
Lidian…his faithful squiresses…I have given you no idea of the
Scene, which was
ineffably comic, though it made no laugh at the time…Henry was
Brave and noble;
well as I have always like him, he still grows upon me.”
The scene in Lydia’s description is
hard to follow in the original letter but her affection for Thoreau is
obviously generous and sincere.
Thoreau
goes on to report that he had tea at Nathaniel Hawthorne’s place with a Mr.
O’Sullivan. Again, the letters and the
lore do not match. “To a philosopher,”
Thoreau says in Walden, all news, as it is called, is gossip, and
they who edit and read it are old women over their tea” (89). The irony is not only in that they are having
tea, but also that the subject of the men’s conversation happens to be editing
and publishing. Thoreau reports that Mr.
O’Sullivan expresses his admiration of Emerson’s poems and requests a list of
them, and that he (Mr. O’Sullivan) would like Thoreau to write for his
“‘Review,” which Thoreau is “glad to do.”
Yet another level of irony is the way Thoreau weaves the report gossip
fit for any tea-party of old women: [Mr.
O’Sullivan] is a rather puny looking man, and did not strike me. We had nothing to say to one another, and
therefore we said a great deal!” Though
definitely not the epic meeting of philosophers, the scene has an ordinary
charm all its own.
The
rest of the letter recounts a local bit of gossip that actually turns out to
have enormous significance in the life of Thoreau, the near jailing of Bronson
Alcott and Charles Lane for the nonpayment of poll taxes. The event foreshadows Thoreau’s famous arrest
in July 1846 for the same (mis)deed. According
to Thoreau’s letter, Alcott and Lane’s run in with “the state” seems to have
caused a local stir, and Thoreau adds, with amusement, “a good anecdote to the
rest” of the reports. The story is brief
and jumps around incoherently (to me) but the upshot is that he and Lane decide
they “should agitate the state” and storm off to protest, so it seems, but they
wind up at the Universalist Church, and there, Thoreau’s anger cools off:
“…when
over the audience I saw our hero’s head moving in the free air
of
the Universalist Church, my fire all went out—and the state was safe as far as
I
was
concerned, but Lane, it seems had cogitated and even written on the matter in
the
afternoon…”
Though Thoreau tells the story for
comic effect, the issue itself—paying taxes to a government that actively
supported slavery—was quite serious, nearly provoking a violent confrontation,
it appears, between Thoreau and some of Concord’s radical intellectuals and the
local state authorities.
The story is also
interesting because Alcott and Lane’s brush with the law set a precedent for Thoreau
when he was arrested for not paying his poll taxes in July 1846. In fact, biographical sources say he developed
their defense into an elegant rhetorical argument of civil disobedience[i]. The Lilly letter seems to corroborate this
fact. Thoreau says that Sam Staples—Thoreau’s
friend and the jailer who would infamously arrest Thoreau and keep him locked
up overnight in jail—tells Thoreau’s sister Helen that he is not sure what
motivated Mr. Alcott: “‘I vum—I believe
it was nothing but principle—for I never heard a man talk honester.’” This principle, so it seems, would develop
into Thoreau’s impassioned defense for civil obedience.
The
letter closes with a sincere expression of gratitude to Emerson and his wife for
their “long kindness” to him: “I have
been your pensioner for nearly two years and still left free as under the
sky—It has been as free a gift as the sun on the summer—though I have sometimes
molested you with my mean acceptance of…but for once thank you as well as
heaven.” Perhaps the relations are a bit
more strained than the rest of the letters in the Dial series suggests. It is not clear whether Thoreau is issuing an
apology for a specific offense or perhaps feeling the effects of two years’
dependence. In either case, the
friendship and generosity the Emerson’s gave to Thoreau continued
unabatedly. In March 1845, Thoreau began
building his famous cabin on Emerson’s fourteen acres at Walden, where he lived
for two years. The gratitude Thoreau
expresses to Emerson in this letter seems, indeed, to be heartfelt. And yet, as critics have often pointed out,
that type of appreciation much more subdued in Walden.
The
next two letters are short, the first of which is dated Oct. 30, 1850, and the
second one Sep. 22, 1856. The recipient
of the first letter is Charles Sumner, who seems to have lent Thoreau some
geographical survey reports. Thoreau
says he is pleased with the “faithful reports with their admirable maps and
plates,” and then he trenchantly says the books give “some atonement for the
misdeeds of our government.” In the briefest
of thank-you letters, Thoreau memorably bristles at (we can presume) the
government’s policy of slavery.
The second letter,
since we have already discussed it in class, does not need much comment. It is written to an admirer who asks for
Thoreau’s advice on what to bring on hiking trip to the White Mountains. Thoreau advises him not to take a gun, which
Thoreau believes “will affect the innocence of your enterprise.” Not that he would need a gun; for the
mountains are now disappointingly tame: “If
you chance to meet with a wolf or a dangerous snake, you will be luckier than I
have been, or expect to be.” Thoreau
then gives some advice regarding equipment.
About clothing, he says, “Wear old shoes; carry no thin clothes.” Not only is this ostensibly banal comment
actually quite humorous, it also shows how remarkably consistent Thoreau’s
thinking can be. As we talked about in
class, Thoreau spends a lot of time discussing the importance of sturdy,
well-fitting clothing, particularly in “Economy.” One particularly salient link between the letter
and Walden relates “thick” clothing
to good economy and moral character: “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…where is he so poor that, clad in a suit, of his own earning, there will not be
found wise men to do him reverence?”
In
summary, these three letters in the Lilly’s American Literature Manuscript
Collection reveal a different side of Thoreau.
We see a young man who is neither as self-reliant nor as solitary as he
presents himself. In the first letter
his dependency on the Thoreau’s seems to be a source of some pain and tension,
and in the second letter he is returning a batch of borrowed books. Furthermore, we see in all of the letters
that Thoreau is quite sociable, even over tea.
Though a cynical reader might want to cast judgment and clamor about the
discrepancies between these sides of Thoreau, I believe that it makes more
sense to read Walden in tandem with
the letters, seeing the two as different modes, indeed different moments, of
discourse, each with its different set of rhetorical aims.
[i]
“When Thoreau went into town to pick up a shoe at the cobbler’s in 1846, he was
confronted by Sam Staples, who charged him with the nonpayment of his poll
taxes. Thoreau’s nonpayment had been a
protest against government support of slavery.
Staples and Thoreau were good friends, but Thoreau’s refusal to bend
(and Staple’s refusal to back down) forced the issue, and Staples marched
Thoreau off to the county jail. Hearing
the rumor, his horrified mother ran back to notify the family, and
someone—probably Thoreau’s Aunt Maria—appeared at the jail shrouded in a veil
and paid the tax; Sam, however, had settled in for the night and was not about
to set Thoreau free. The next day,
Thoreau was, in Staple’s words, ‘as mad as the devil’ and refused to leave
until Staples threatened to throw him out bodily, whereupon Thoreau retrieved
his shoe and disappeared into the huckleberry fields where, he wrote in the
essay that immortalized his protest, ‘the State was nowhere to be seen.’ The incident aroused much commentary,
especially among Thoreau’s friends. Legend
has it that Emerson, seeing Thoreau behind bars, exclaimed, ‘Henry, why are you
here?’ To which Thoreau replied, ‘Waldo,
why are you not here?’ Alcott recorded in his journal an ‘earnest
talk’ with Emerson, who though Thoreau’s action ‘mean and skulking, and in bad
taste. I defended it on the grounds of a
dignified non-compliance with the injunction of civil powers.’ Thoreau’s reaction was to develop Alcott’s
line of defense into an elegant and impassioned essay, which he tried out first
as a lecture at the Concord Lyceum in Jan 1848, then published as ‘Resistance
to Civil Government’ in the first and only issue of Elizabeth Peabody’s Aesthetic Papers, May 1849." ("Biography" of Thoreau, more or less quoted from Book Rags: http://www.bookrags.com/biography/henry-david-thoreau-dlb3/).
Super-interesting perspective on letter-writing, and the connections with Walden are evident. I would suggest, though (and I explain this in more detail in comments I sent you off-blog) that you also consider the self-reflexivity of these letters, especially in the first example you quote: anticipating a letter, Thoreau writes a letter to speed up a letter that he also says he doesn’t deserve. The result of this complicated game is to distract from the writing itself and to make the correspondence that is about to happen about the correspondence itself, rather than the contents or the substance of the letters. So, while denigrating his own letter-writing capabilities, Thoreau in reality justifies himself (which is why the contradiction between the statement in Walden and the statement made at the beginning of the letter to me is only an apparent one.
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