P. M. — Got in my boat, which before I had got out and turned up on the bank. It made me sweat to wheel it home through the snow, I am so unused to the work of late.
Then walked up the railroad. The clear straw-colored grass and some weeds contrasting with the snow it rises above. Saw little in this walk.
Saw Melvin's lank bluish-white black-spotted hound, and Melvin with his gun near, going home at eve. He follows hunting, praise be to him, as regularly in our tame fields as the farmers follow farming. Persistent Genius! How I respect him and thank him for him! I trust the Lord will provide us with another Melvin when he is gone. How good in him to follow his own bent, and not continue at the Sabbath-school all his days! What a wealth he thus becomes in the neighborhood! Few know how to take the census. I thank my stars for Melvin. I think of him with gratitude when I am going to sleep, grateful that he exists, — that Melvin who is such a trial to his mother. Yet he is agreeable to me as a tinge of russet on the hillside. I would fain give thanks morning and evening for my blessings. Awkward, gawky, loose-hung, dragging his legs after him. He is my contemporary and neighbor. He is one tribe, I am another, and we are not at war.
I saw but little in my walk. Saw no bird, only a crow's track in the snow.
How quickly men come out on to the highways with their sleds and improve the first snow! The farmer has begun to play with his sled as early as any of the boys. See him already with mittens on and thick boots well greased — been soaking in grease all summer, perhaps — and fur cap and red comforter about his throat, though it is not yet cold, walking beside his team with contented thoughts.
This drama every day in the streets! This is the theatre I go to. There he goes with his venture behind him, and often he gets aboard for a change.
As for the sensuality in Whitman's "Leaves of Grass," I do not so much wish that it was not written, as that men and women were so pure that they could read it without harm.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 2, 1856
Got in my boat. See December 2, 1854 ("Got up my boat and housed it, ice having formed about it.”); December 2, 1852 ("I do not remember when I have taken a sail or a row on the river in December before.”) and also A Book of the Seasons, Boat in. Boat out.
Melvin the hunter. See May 31, 1853 (“We went on down the brook, - Melvin and I and his dog, - and crossed the river in his boat, and he conducted me to where the Azalea nudiflora grew,”) Also December 3, 1856 ("I see Melvin all alone filling his sphere, in russet suit, which no other could fill or suggest. He takes up as much room in nature as the most famous.”)
I saw but little in my walk. Saw no bird, only a crow's track in the snow. See December 11, 1854 ("I hear rarely a bird except the chickadee, or perchance a jay or crow.”)
Sensuality in Whitman. . . See Letter to Blake concerning Thoreau’s visit of November 10 1856 ("He said that I misapprehended him. I am not quite sure that I do.”) HDT is reading the second edition of Leaves of Grass, inscribed "H.D. Thoreau from Walt Whitman”, that he received on that visit--and is now writing under the influence? See December 1, 1856( “I love and could embrace the shrub oak with its scanty garment of leaves rising above the snow, lowly whispering to me. . .”).
As for the sensuality in Whitman's "Leaves of Grass," See Letter to Blake December 7,1856 :
That Walt Whitman , of whom I wrote to you , is the most interesting fact to me at present . I have just read his second edition ( which he gave me ) , and it has done me more good than any reading for a long time . Per- haps I remember best the poem of Walt Whitman , an American , and the Sun - Down Poem . There are two or three pieces in the book which are disagreeable , to say the least ; simply sensual . He does not celebrate love at all . It is as if the beasts spoke . I think that men have not been ashamed of themselves without reason . No doubt there have always been dens where such deeds were unblushingly recited , and it is no merit to compete with their inhabitants . But even on this side he has spoken more truth than any American or modern that I know . I have found his poem exhilarating , encouraging . As for its sensuality , — and it may turn out to be less sensual than it appears , -I do not so much wish that those parts were not written , as that men and women were so pure that they could read them without harm , that is , without understanding them . One woman told me that no woman could read it , as if a man could read what a woman could not . Of course Walt Whitman can communicate to us no experience , and if we are shocked , whose experience is it that we are reminded of ?On the whole , it sounds to me very brave and American , after whatever deductions . I do not believe that all the sermons , so called , that have been preached in this land put together are equal to it for preaching . We ought to rejoice greatly in him . He occasionally suggests something a little more than human . You can't confound him with the other inhabitants of Brooklyn or New York . How they must shudder when they read him ! He is awfully good . - To be sure I sometimes feel a little imposed on . By his heartiness and broad generalities he puts me into a liberal frame of mind prepared to see wonders , -as it were , sets me upon a hill or in the midst of a plain , stirs me well up , and then throws in a thousand of brick . Though rude , and sometimes ineffectual , it is a great primitive poem , — an alarum or trumpet - note ringing through the American camp . Wonderfully like the Orientals , too , considering that when I asked him if he had read them , he answered , " No : tell me about them . " - I did not get far in conversation with him , — two more being present , and among the few things which I chanced to say , I remember that one was , in answer to him as representing America , that I did not think much of America or of politics , and so on , which may have been somewhat of a damper to him . Since I have seen him , I find that I am not disturbed by any brag or egoism in his book . He may turn out the least of a braggart of all , having a better right to be confident . He is a great fellow .
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