But these foibles, real or apparent, were fast vanishing in the incessant growth of a spirit so robust and wise, and which effaced its defeats with new triumphs. His study of Nature was a perpetual ornament to him, and inspired his friends with curiosity to see the world through his eyes, and to hear his adventures. They possessed every kind of interest.
He had many elegances of his own, whilst he scoffed at conventional elegance. Thus, he could not bear to hear the sound of his own steps, the grit of gravel; and therefore never willingly walked in the road, but in the grass, on mountains and in woods. His senses were acute, and he remarked that by night every dwelling-house gives out bad air, like a slaughter-house. He liked the pure fragrance of melilot. He honored certain plants with special regard, and, over all, the pond-lily,--then, the gentian, and the Mikania scondens, and "life-everlasting," and a bass-tree which he visited every year, when it bloomed, in the middle of July. He thought the scent a more oracular inquisition than the sight,--more oracular and trustworthy. The scent, of course, reveals what is concealed from the other senses. By it he detected earthiness. He delighted in echoes, and said they were almost the only kind of kindred voices that he heard. He loved Nature so well, was so happy in her solitude, that he became very jealous of cities, and the sad work which their refinements and artifices made with man and his dwelling.
The axe was always destroying his forest. "Thank God," he said, "they cannot cut down the clouds!" "All kinds of figures are drawn on the blue ground with this fibrous white paint."
I subjoin a few sentences taken from his unpublished manuscripts, not only as records of his thought and feeling, but for their power of description and literary excellence.
"Some circumstantial evidence is very strong, as when you find a trout in the milk."
"The chub is a soft fish, and tastes like boiled brown paper salted."
"The youth gets together his materials to build a bridge to the moon, or, perchance, a palace or temple on the earth, and at length the middle-aged man concludes to build a wood-shed with them."
"The locust z-ing."
"Devil's-needles zigzagging along the Nut-Meadow brook."
"Sugar is not so sweet to the palate as sound to the healthy ear."
"I put on some hemlock-boughs, and the rich salt crackling of their leaves was like mustard to the ear, the crackling of uncountable regiments. Dead trees love the fire."
"The bluebird carries the sky on his back."
"The tanager flies through the green foliage as if it would ignite the leaves."
"If I wish for a horse-hair for my compass-sight, I must go to the stable; but the hair-bird, with her sharp eyes, goes to the road."
"Immortal water, alive even to the superficies."
"Fire is the most tolerable third party."
"Nature made ferns for pure leaves, to show what she could do in that line."
"No tree has so fair a bole and so handsome an instep as the beech."
"How did these beautiful rainbow-tints get into the shell of the fresh-water clam, buried in the mud at the bottom of our dark river?"
"Hard are the times when the infant's shoes are second-foot."
"We are strictly confined to our men to whom we give liberty."
"Nothing is so much to be feared as fear. Atheism may comparatively be popular with God himself."
"Of what significance the things you can forget? A little thought is sexton to all the world."
"How can we expect a harvest of thought who have not had a seed-time of character?"
"Only he can be trusted with gifts who can present a face of bronze to expectations."
"I ask to be melted. You can only ask of the metals that they be tender to the fire that melts them. To nought else can they be tender."
There is a flower known to botanists, one of the same genus with our summer plant called "Life-Everlasting," a Gnaphalium like that, which grows on the most inaccessible cliffs of the Tyrolese mountains, where the chamois dare hardly venture, and which the hunter, tempted by its beauty, and by his love, (for it is immensely valued by the Swiss maidens,) climbs the cliffs to gather, and is sometimes found dead at the foot, with the flower in his hand. It is called by botanists the Gnaphalium leontopodium, but by the Swiss Edelweisse, which signifies Noble Purity. Thoreau seemed to me living in the hope to gather this plant, which belonged to him of right. The scale on which his studies proceeded was so large as to require longevity, and we were the less prepared for his sudden disappearance. The country knows not yet, or in the least part, how great a son it has lost. It seems an injury that he should leave in the midst his broken task, which none else can finish,--a kind of indignity to so noble a soul, that it should depart out of Nature before yet he has been really shown to his peers for what be is. But he, at least, is content. His soul was made for the noblest society; he had in a short life exhausted the capabilities of this world; wherever there is knowledge, wherever there is virtue, wherever there is beauty, he will find a home.
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A SUMMER DAY.
At daybreak, in the fresh light, joyfully The fishermen drew in their laden net; The shore shone rosy purple, and the sea Was streaked with violet, And, pink with sunrise, many a shadowy sail Lay southward, lighting up the sleeping bay, And in the west the white moon, still and pale, Faded before the day. Silence was everywhere. The rising tide Slowly filled every cove and inlet small: A musical low whisper, multiplied, You heard, and that was all. No clouds at dawn,--but, as the sun climbed higher, White columns, thunderous, splendid, up the sky Floated and stood, heaped in the sun's clear fire, A stately company. Stealing along the coast from cape to cape, The weird mirage crept tremulously on, In many a magic change and wondrous shape, Throbbing beneath the sun. At noon the wind rose,--swept the glassy sea To sudden ripple,--thrust against the clouds A strenuous shoulder,--gathering steadily, Drove them before in crowds, Till all the west was dark, and inky black The level ruffled water underneath, And up the wind-cloud tossed, a ghostly rack, In many a ragged wreath. Then sudden roared the thunder, a great peal Magnificent, that broke and rolled away; And down the wind plunged, like a furious keel Cleaving the sea to spray, And brought the rain, sweeping o'er land and sea. And then was tumult! Lightning, sharp and keen, Thunder, wind, rain,--a mighty jubilee The heaven and earth between! And loud the ocean sang,--a chorus grand,-- A solemn music sung in undertone Of waves that broke about, on either hand, The little island lone, Where, joyful in His tempest as His calm, Held in the hollow of that hand of His, I joined with heart and soul in God's great psalm, Thrilled with a nameless bliss. Soon lulled the wind,-the summer storm soon died; The shattered clouds went eastward, drifting slow; From the low sun the rain-fringe swept aside, Bright in his rosy glow, And wide a splendor streamed through all the sky O'er land and sea one soft, delicious blush, That touched the gray rocks lightly, tenderly, A transitory flush. Warm, odorous gusts came off the distant land, With spice of pine-woods, breath of hay new-mown, O'er miles of waves and sea-scents cool and bland, Full in our faces blown. Slow faded the sweet light, and peacefully The quiet stars came out, one after one,-- The holy twilight deepened silently, The summer day was done. Such unalloyed delight its hours had given, Musing, this thought rose in my grateful mind, That God, who watches all things, up in heaven, With patient eyes and kind, Saw and was pleased, perhaps, one child of His Dared to be happy like the little birds, Because He gave His children days like this, Rejoicing beyond words,-- Dared, lifting up to Him untroubled eyes In gratitude that worship is, and prayer, Sing and be glad with ever new surprise He made His world so fair! |