Henry David Thoreau - WALDEN AND ON THE DUTY OF CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE

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:—

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.

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