Of all of the things I’ve read this year in AP English Language, I think that Walden by Henry David Thoreau has definitely been one of my favorites. Out of my favorite book, here are two rhetorical devices from two of my favorite passages.
Sometimes I rambled to pine groves, standing like temples, or like fleets at sea, full-rigged, with wavy boughs, and rippling with light, so soft and green and shady that the Druids would have forsaken their oaks to worship in them; or to the cedar wood beyond Flints’ Pond, where the trees, covered with hoary blue berries, spiring higher and higher, are fit to stand before Valhalla, and the creeping juniper covers the ground with wreaths full of fruit; or to swamps where the usnea lichen hangs in festoons from the white-spruce trees, and toad-stools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles; where the swamp-pink and dogwood grow, the red alder-berry glows like eyes of imps, the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild-holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty, and he is dazzled and tempted by nameless other wild forbidden fruits, too fair for mortal taste…These were the shrines I visited both summer and winter. (197)
Here Thoreau’s ethereal imagery and descriptions of nature and references to ancient mythology in his writing show that there is beauty in even the simplest things in life, but one must look for these finer things first. He describes pine groves that “stand… like temples” and look “like fleets at sea,” which connotes places worth of worship and power respectively (196). According to Thoreau, nature is not unlike places of heavenly gods. Thoreau describes a particular swampy area in a decorative fashion: “wreaths full of fruit” are present, “lichen hangs in festoons,” “beautiful fungi adorn the stumps” (196), and then proceeds to call toadstools “round tables of the swamp gods” (196). This evokes an image of an ancient dining hall for ancient gods, elaborate and decorated, brimming with food and drink, showing how there is power and legend in even simple things, like swamps, if the perspective is correct. Moreover, the beauty of nature can make people “forget [their] homes” (197). Visitors are “dazzled and tempted by… forbidden fruits” (197). This allusion to both the story of Persephone in Hades’ garden with the forbidden pomegranates as well as Adam and Eve with the forbidden apples in the Garden of Eden furthers the beauty and fable-like qualities that Thoreau imbues nature with.
Additionally, Thoreau references ancient literature and cultures to show how nature can be beautiful and wondrous as well. In his descriptions of the pine groves, Thoreau claims that the trees are so majestic, the ancient Celtic race of Druids “would have forsaken their oaks to worship them” (197). The reference to Druids, who are known for worshipping their oaks, serves two purposes: first, it links nature and the pine groves to ancient mythology, and second, it elevates the status of this particular set of trees. The cedar trees that Thoreau discusses are “fit to stand before Valhalla,” which according to ancient Norse mythology is a great hall of immortality where only great heroes achieve afterlife (196). Both of these references to ancient peoples and beliefs emphasize the majesty of nature and show how nature, often underappreciated, can have characteristics similar to those of mythological gods.
Overall, this passage, by showing how there is beauty in simple things such as nature, supports Thoreau’s belief that there is beauty and fine details in all life, and that one simply has to search for them.
And the second passage:
Though the view from my door was still more contracted, I did not feel crowded or confined in the least. There was pasture enough for my imagination… Both place and time were changed, and I dwelt nearer to those parts of the universe and to those eras in history which had most attracted me. Where I lived was as far off as many a region viewed nightly by astronomers. We are wont to imagine rare and delectable places in some remote and more celestial corner of the system, behind the constellation of Cassiopeia’s Chair, far from noise and disturbance. I discovered that my house actually had its site in such a withdrawn, but forever new and unprofaned, part of the universe. If it were worth the while to settle in those parts near to the Pleiades or the Hyades, to Aldebaran or Altair, then I was really there, or at an equal remoteness from the life which I had left behind, dwindled and twinkling with as fine a ray to my nearest neighbor, and to be seen only in moonless nights by him. Such was that part of creation where I had squatted…
The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour. Then there is least somnolence in us; and for an hour, at least, some part of us awakes which slumbers all the rest of the day and night. Little is to be expected of that day, if it can be called a day, to which we are not awakened by our Genius… by our own newly-acquired force and aspirations from within, accompanied by the undulations of celestial music, instead of factory bells, and a fragrance filling the air—to a higher life than we fell asleep from; and thus the darkness bear its fruit, and prove itself to be good, no less than the light… All memorable events, I should say, transpire in morning time and in a morning atmosphere.
If [men] had not been overcome with drowsiness they would have performed something. The millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion, only one in a hundred millions to a poetic or divine life. To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face? We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor. It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look, which morally we can do. To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts. Every man is tasked to make his life, even in its details, worthy of the contemplation of his most elevated and critical hour. If we refused, or rather used up, such paltry information as we get, the oracles would distinctly inform us how this might be done. (93)
In the chapter Where I Lived, and What I Lived For, Thoreau explores the extent of his imagination and comments on the careless way that most people live their lives through comparisons of his home and the universe and using the morning as a symbol for wakefulness and careful thought. This passage begins as Thoreau explains that his home at Walden Pond, though small and isolated, was not “crowded or confined in the least” (84). Although there are places in the universe -- “parts near to the Pleiades or the Hyades, to Aldebaran or Altair,” all of which are constellations and stars -- that are “far from noise and disturbance” (84), with his imagination and his thoughts, Thoreau can travel anywhere he wishes. With his mind and with his own thoughts, Thoreau delves into his own world and his own constructed fantasy, a place where “both place and time were changed… as far off as many a region viewed nightly by astronomers” (84). Thoreau’s comparisons of his imagined world and far-off galaxies show how vivid his imagination can be, and how even though he has little materialistic property, Thoreau still enjoys his life. This first part of the passage answers the question that the name of the chapter poses: “where [Thoreau] lived” (78).
In answer to the second half of the chapter’s title -- “what [Thoreau] lived for” (78) -- early morning symbolizes the awakening of man’s self-awareness and emphasizes the importance of active thinking and living. Thoreau claims that men are “overcome with drowsiness” (84). Although many are awake for “physical labor” (84), only a few are intellectually awake. Thoreau even claims that to be “awake is to be alive” (84). In this way, the morning represents awakening, represents man becoming aware of himself and aware of the world around him. Other times of the day, man sleeps and works mindlessly, without thinking of the finer things in life, the valuable fruits in life. Being awake and staying awake are essential, and there must be “an infinite expectation of the dawn” (84). This means that people must always be living actively, living deliberately, and not mindlessly going through the motions of life. In this way, every hour of man’s life becomes important and elevated, thus elevating man’s life as well; man elevates his own life, consciously, and improves the quality of his time. This analogy between morning and awakening highlights the significance of living deliberately and, combined with vivid descriptions of Thoreau’s imagination, Thoreau illustrates the power of thought and the importance of active thinking.
I think Walden is a culmination of Transcendentalism and naturalism, while also representing various ideas like spiritualism and isolationism. Thoreau brings together concepts from these areas in a memoir that carefully analyzes modern society and materialism, reflecting on the changes in people’s lives due to the industrial revolution and rise of consumerism. Walden accurately depicts the modern Transcendentalists’ values in a way that combines several interdisciplinary areas: Thoreau carefully observes his bean plants and records his every purchase in display of the meticulous, careful values scientists had at that time; the vivid descriptions of life around Walden Pond and the animals that Thoreau encounters are categorized in the same way an attentive naturalist would; in his first chapter of Walden, Thoreau analyzes the fault of a modern man, drawing upon various sources such as Hinduism and the hierarchy of needs to highlight the materialism that has taken over society; and Thoreau’s own personality shines through in Walden as well, as he scrutinizes the human condition and speculates about loneliness and man’s place in the world. All of these ideas and movements reflected in Walden are worthy of analysis: from science to philosophy and literature to satire, Thoreau imparts many ideas that combine together in a memoir that is still relevant today, perhaps even more so than it was when Walden was initially published. In particular, Thoreau’s criticism of materialism and consumerism become increasingly relevant as supplies are more and more readily available for consumption; Thoreau’s belief that such surplus of the lower levels of the hierarchy of needs will ultimately prevent society from moving forwards towards the higher, more intellectual levels of need. And in a time when there are furious debates over environmentalism and global warming, Walden remains a timeless piece worthy of analysis in many areas.
Initially, I chose Walden to read because I was interested in how Thoreau could combine literature and nature. After completing Walden, however, I learned so much more than that.
Economy, the first chapter of Walden, deals less with nature and literature and more with Thoreau’s satire on modern society and materialism; reading the chapter reminded me of Ralph Waldo Emerson, and I enjoyed reading Thoreau’s discourse on how is prone to man losing himself in work much more than I thought I would. In his writings, Thoreau employs beautiful metaphors -- he uses fine fruits to represent literary and intellectual values -- to explain his argument, and the style of writing is just complicated enough that I have to slow down to understand every point Thoreau makes. Though his beliefs are not radical -- in Economy, Thoreau illustrates his belief that materialism can be detrimental to higher thought -- Thoreau presents in his arguments in a way that forces me to reconsider my own values.
In regards to science and nature, Thoreau meticulously catalogues the things he notices in the woods in an interesting and descriptive way, using references to ancient mythology and careful rhetoric to describe nature and the animals around him. Then, Thoreau combines those descriptions of nature with his philosophical beliefs, often using Walden Pond or small pieces of nature as microcosms representing the world: to Thoreau, an eagle might represent the solitary man and a path might represent the pressure society puts on people to conform. As he uses nature as a segway into many philosophical musings on the human condition, Thoreau raises many probing questions that caused me to reevaluate some of my definitions and values: he dissects the definition of loneliness, of existence, and questions the way many people live their lives. In my opinion, Thoreau combines a plethora of topics -- nature, animals, the human condition, materialism, consumerism, human existence -- in a memoir that is difficult to read at times, but often rewarding in the ideas and rhetorical devices that it imparts, making Walden a book to be read in the years to come.
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