Walden

“Actually, the laboring man has not leisure for a true integrity day by day; he cannot afford to sustain the manliest relations to men […]. He has no time to be anything but a machine. […] 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 […] can be preserved only by the most delicate handling. Yet we do not treat ourselves nor one another thus tenderly.”

Thoreau describes how a production-motivated capitalist society keeps laborers uninformed and prevents them from recognizing this. Because working men are so absorbed in the demands of their work, they function like “machines,” never pausing to reflect or appreciate beauty. Thoreau believes individual identities—the qualities that make people unique—are not nourished by a lifestyle of rush and toil.

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

This widely used quote has become a trope of American culture, a kind of battle cry against dehumanizing capitalism. Thoreau cleverly juxtaposes the phrases “mass of men” and “lives of quiet desperation,” generating emotional tension with the images of faceless, toiling men and individuals who suffer through “lives of quiet desperation.” The word quiet is key, suggesting that capitalism teaches laborers to remain silent about their painful experiences. Thoreau urges readers to recognize their desperation, break this complicit silence, and pursue their own individual desires.

“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.”

Thoreau introduces the theme of discovering life’s basic necessities. By defining these essentials, Thoreau seeks to demonstrate both what is needed to live and what is not needed. He illustrates that it is possible to live a simple life without luxuries.

“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. […] 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.”

Thoreau explains the ethos and aim of his Walden Pond experiment. By going into the woods and living a simple life, he seeks to demonstrate the benefits of simple living “not only theoretically, but practically.” Essentially, Walden is not merely a mélange of theoretical musings or the privileged product of Thoreau’s education. He uses his experience as a tangible example of his philosophies rather than imparting abstract ideas.

“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 physical warmth, then the warmth of the affections.”

In this passage, Thoreau continues to stress the essentials needed for survival and establishes a certain hierarchy of these needs. Before “other clothes” comes shelter, or “the bower.” Before mankind can develop its higher faculties—including “the warmth of the affections”—it first requires “a home, a place of warmth, or comfort.” Thoreau suggests that capitalism locks laborers into a cycle of toiling to obtain their basic needs.

“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 built for this world a family mansion, and for the next a family tomb.”

Thoreau suggests that systems of civilization—capitalism, agriculture, and Christianity—prevent individuals from recognizing and acting upon their true spiritual “hunger.” In Thoreau’s opinion, these systems provide their own sets of laws and dictates by which people must live instead of allowing them to “independently [pluck] the fruits when […] hungry.” He suggests that in its desire for order and mass production, mankind has victimized itself. The greed-driven pursuit of more money and material possessions has generated a vicious cycle, wherein workers cannot differentiate what they really want or need from what they are told they want and need. Furthermore, Thoreau espouses that the material objects gained in this life are unsatisfying in a lasting or metaphysical sense. In his words, the material gain that appears to be a “mansion” is nothing more than a “tomb.”

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life […] I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms […].”

Thoreau explains that he stayed in Walden Pond to revive his spirits and clear his mind from capitalist messages of false need. By isolating himself from society, he hopes to whittle life down to its purest essence. He wants to understand what makes him an individual and what is necessary and unnecessary for his survival. With this understanding, he can make educated decisions based on his true needs and desires, rather than what he has been taught to want and need.

“Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains.”

With this passage, Thoreau begins to develop the pond as a metaphor for the ever-changing human condition. He compares water to “time” and the practice of making meaning and soul-searching to “fishing.” In this conception of time, the temporary falls away and the eternal becomes apparent. As he later discovers when exploring Walden Pond, time is only as deep as one allows it to be, and the soul is only as profound as one’s patience, attention, and dedication. Through his slow-paced, contemplative days on Walden Pond, Thoreau discovers the depths of his own soul, which contrast the “shallow,” fleeting currents of civilization.

“Instead of noblemen, let us have noble villages of men.”

Thoreau states this in the course of proposing that all villages should have libraries rich with classical literature. He believes that reading and knowledge should be accessible to people at every level of society. He maintains it is wrong to withhold intellectual wealth from the masses, just as it is wrong for material wealth to be hoarded by a select few “noblemen.” 

“But while we are confined to books, though the most select and classic […], we are in danger of forgetting the language which all things and events speak without metaphor, which alone is copious and standard. Much is published, but little printed. The rays which stream through the shutter will be no longer remembered when the shutter is wholly removed. No method nor discipline can supersede the necessity of being forever on the alert.”

Thoreau is essentially warning the reader that learning from books is only meaningful when it is enriched by experience. He emphasizes that no amount of formal education can substitute for the value of engaging with ones surroundings.

“Sympathy with the fluttering alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath; yet, like the lake, my serenity is rippled but not ruffled. These small waves raised by the evening wind are as remote from storm as the smooth reflecting surface. Though it is now dark, the wind still blows and roars in the wood, the waves still dash, and some creatures lull the rest with their notes. The repose is never complete.”

Once again, Thoreau offers a water-based metaphor. Herein, he explains that even though he committed himself to solitude, his life is far from quiet or lonely. Rather, his solitude has helped him become all the more finely attuned to his environment. He observes the subtle movements of the water as it is blown by the wind. In short, he suggests that—like the water—people should remain receptive to change.

“I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. […] We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will. Solitude is not measured by the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows.”

Thoreau explains that he values being alone and often finds human company “wearisome and dissipating.” Solitude helps him remain attuned to nature and commune with his most natural self. He clarifies that being alone is not the same as being lonely, as one can be alone even when surrounded by people. Thoreau sees humans as individuals who never cease being alone in their autonomous needs, desires, and rhythms of life. As someone who prizes individuality and personal freedom, Thoreau cherishes this idea.

“But if twenty came and sat in my house there was nothing said about dinner, though there might be bread enough for two, more than if eating were a forsaken habit; but we naturally practised abstinence; and this was never felt to be an offence against hospitality, but the most proper and considerate course. […] I could entertain thus a thousand as well as twenty; and if any ever went away disappointed or hungry from my house when they found me at home, they may depend upon it that I sympathized with them at least.”

Thoreau uses his Spartan entertaining habits to demonstrate humans’ adaptability. In his opinion, people do not need to offer their guests luxuries such as wine or rich food simply because they have been socially conditioned to do so. Rather, Thoreau believes that when hosts abstain from food and drink, their guests follow suit. He feels that if one offers visitors deep conversation and spiritual nourishment, they will never leave “disappointed or hungry.” With this passage, Thoreau models a simple mode of entertaining while using the concept of entertaining as a metaphor for human resilience. He believes it is always possible to revive and renew outmoded systems, laws, and habits.

“He suggested that there might be men of genius in the lowest grades of life, however permanently humble and illiterate, who take their own view always, or do not pretend to see at all; who are as bottomless even as Walden Pond was thought to be, though they may be dark and muddy.”

In this passage, Thoreau compares his woodsman friend, Alex Therien, to Walden Pond. As someone who lacks formal education, Therien possesses a “dark and muddy” perspective. Nevertheless, Thoreau greatly values Therien’s close relationship with nature and the special breed of intelligence this lends him. Thoreau suggests Therien’s lack of formal education or civilized influence might make him a “man of genius” more deeply attuned to his environment. It is worth noting, however, that Thoreau’s tone is somewhat patronizing and superior. He seemingly believe that his own formal education entitles him to judge Therien as inferior.

“This was my curious labor all summer,—to make this portion of the earth’s surface, which had yielded only cinquefoil, blackberries, johnswort […] produce instead this pulse. What shall I learn of beans or beans of me? I cherish them, I hoe them, early and late I have an eye to them; and this is my day’s work. […] My auxiliaries are the dews and rains which water this dry soil, and what fertility is in the soil itself, which for the most part is lean and effete. My enemies are worms, cool days, and most of all woodchucks. The last have nibbled for me a quarter of an acre clean. But what right had I to oust johnswort and the rest, and break up their ancient herb garden? Soon, however, the remaining beans will be too tough for them, and go forward to meet new foes.”

As Thoreau works happily in his bean fields, he poetically praises the land, “the dews and rains which water this dry soil, and what fertility is in the soil itself.” So doing, he contemplates his right to cultivate land upon which other plants previously grew. He understands and acknowledges that he has no divine right to “oust johnswort and the rest,” and that he is encroaching on land that is not his. He feels confident, however, that nature always takes its course, and ultimately claims what it needs. In Thoreau’s opinion, he is part of a natural cycle of change, rebirth, and new growth.

“You who govern public affairs, what need have you to employ punishments? Love virtue, and the people will be virtuous. The virtues of a superior man are like the wind; the virtues of a common man are like the grass; the grass, when the wind passes over it, bends.”

After Thoreau is arrested and imprisoned in Concord for refusing to pay a poll tax, he reflects on the fruitlessness of legal punishment. He believes this unnatural process disrupts the natural dynamics between virtuous leaders and “common” men. In his mind, common men do not need to be punished, as they naturally “bend” to their leaders’ will. Thoreau also suggests that most government leaders are not truly “superior men” of virtue, as they must use unnatural measures to maintain their authority.

“In such a day, […] Walden is a perfect forest mirror, set round with stones as precious to my eye as if fewer or rarer. Nothing so fair, so pure, and at the same time so large, as a lake, perchance, lies on the surface of the earth. […] It is a mirror which no stone can crack, whose quicksilver will never wear off, whose gilding Nature continually repairs; no storms, no dust, can dim its surface ever fresh;—a mirror in which all impurity presented to it sinks, swept and dusted by the sun’s hazy brush,—this the light dust-cloth,—which retains no breath that is breathed on it, but sends its own to float as clouds high above its surface, and be reflected in its bosom still.”

Thoreau continues to develop his connections between the pond and the soul. Because the pond is pure and clear, it is a “perfect forest mirror.” Thoreau examines the ways this “mirror” reflects the content, character, and change of its surroundings. He suggests that close contemplation of nature helps him better examine his own reflection and understand how he fits into his environment. He repeatedly emphasizes the sacred steadfastness of the pond, implying that unlike the fleeting luxuries of civilization, nature remains eternally pure and satisfying. By living in woodland isolation, Thoreau seeks to “mirror” the purity of his reflection in Walden Pond.

“[…] he had rated it as a gain in coming to America, that here you could get tea, and coffee, and meat every day. But the only true America is that country where you are at liberty to pursue such a mode of life as may enable you to do without these, and where the state does not endeavor to compel you to sustain the slavery and war and other superfluous expenses […]. A man will not need to study history to find out what is best for his own culture. But alas! the culture of an Irishman is an enterprise to be undertaken with a sort of moral bog hoe.”

When Thoreau encounters Irish immigrant John Field, he argues over their different understandings of America’s defining values. For Field, America is a “land of opportunity” where all men have the liberty to pursue luxuries. Thoreau, on the other hand, rejects such luxuries, believing they cloud men’s true desires. While Thoreau does seem to believe America is the “land of opportunity,” he does not desire the opportunity to obtain material goods. He dismisses Field’s perspective as the inferior “culture of an Irishman,” believing that Irish immigrants are destined to live lives of “inherited poverty.” 

“I found in myself, and still find, an instinct toward a higher, or, as it is named, spiritual life, as do most men, and another toward a primitive rank and savage one, and I reverence them both. I love the wild not less than the good.”

After a fleeting moment wherein Thoreau is compelled to seize and devour a woodchuck, he contemplates the intersection of his “wild” and “good” characteristics. He examines the benefits of embracing one’s “wild” desires through hunting and fishing. Ultimately, however, Thoreau believes that, to maintain an ideal balance, one should adopt a simple, mostly plant-based diet that minimizes unnecessary consumption (and the violence associated with it).

“It is remarkable how many creatures live wild and free though secret in the woods, and still sustain themselves in the neighborhood of towns.”

Thoreau examines the overlaps between animal and human behavior. He observes that they possess more similarities than differences, noting that—like humans—animals navigate between “the woods” and “the neighborhood of towns.” With these reflections, Thoreau builds upon his ideas about the balance of “good” and “wild” traits, suggesting that even animals manage a similar balance.

“Deliver me from a city built on the site of a more ancient city, whose materials are ruins, whose gardens cemeteries. The soil is blanched and accursed there, and before that becomes necessary the earth itself will be destroyed.”

In Chapter 14, Thoreau shares the stories of previous Black residents of Concord, many of whom tragically lost their homes in fires. These stories dignify the Black residents in their losses, which would have been considered radical in the 1840s. It does align, however, with Thoreau’s abolitionist beliefs. In relation to these stories, though, Thoreau does not speak of possibilities for rebirth and regrowth. Rather, he condemns the “accursed” soil, expressing his desire to be “deliver[ed]” from these layers of history. While this can be interpreted in several ways, Thoreau's emphasis on ruination, decay, and destruction marks a departure from his musings about renewal.

“After a still winter night I awoke with the impression that some question had been put to me, which I had been endeavoring in vain to answer in my sleep, as what—how—when—where? But there was dawning Nature, in whom all creatures live, looking in at my broad windows with serene and satisfied face, and no question on her lips. I awoke to an answered question, to Nature and daylight. The snow lying deep on the earth dotted with young pines, and the very slope of the hill on which my house is placed, seemed to say, Forward! Nature puts no question and answers none which we mortals ask.”

This poetically phrased passage lauds the beauty of Walden Pond and marks a return to Thoreau’s development of “Nature” as an ever-changing, self-renewing force. Herein, he declares that nature is forever moving “forward” in spite of all the “questions […] mortals ask.”

“[…] if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. […] new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. […] the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.”

As Thoreau brings Walden to a close, he reaffirms that one can more clearly define “the direction of his dreams” by pursuing a simple existence and purging unneeded luxuries. He urges readers not to merely build “castles in the air” but to “put the foundations under them.”