Discovery at Walden
Roland Wells Robbins
(Stoneham, Mass.: G. R. Barnstead & Son, 1947)
xvi, 60 p. incl. front., maps, ports., 23 cm.
A Word from the Author
Illustrations
Dedication
Introduction
Chapter I: The Centennial Anniversary
Chapter II: Channing's Notes on Thoreau's House
Chapter III: An Analysis of Walden
Chapter IV: Thoreau's "One Thousand Old Brick" Site Discovered
Chapter V: Henry David Thoreau, Jr., Visits Me
Chapter VI: Chimey Foundation Discovered
Chapter VII: Suggestions for a New Walden Memorial
Chapter VIII: New Discoveries
Chapter IX: Thoreau's Cellar Hole
Chapter X: "Banner of Light"
Chapter XI: Thoreau's Map Confirms My Discovery
A Word from the Author (Return to Top)
Shortly after completing my Walden Pond excavating, late in 1945, I received a letter
from a person in New York congratulating me on having discovered Thoreau's grave. Later,
while rehearsing for a radio interview, the director approached me with, "Let me
shake the hand of the man who found Thoreau's body."
It seems fitting here that I outline the extent of my discovery. I did not locate
Thoreau's body, or his grave nor am I acquainted with their discoverer. My good fortune
was limited to the finding of the site of Thoreau's Walden Pond house and the remains of
its chimney foundation. Also found were several bushels of plaster, fireplace and chimney
bricks, nails, and window glass which had played a part in the construction of the Walden
Pond house and Thoreau's woodshed. Also, several unusual coincidences came about during my
work at Walden.
Here in New England may be found many old houses, famous for their historic
backgrounds. Some of these old houses had been standing for as much as two centuries
before Thoreau began building his Walden Pond house. Yet the fascinating stories of the
building of these earlier landmarks may not capture the imagination as does Thoreau's
vivid and matter-of-fact account of the manual labor and financial expenses involved in
building his Walden Pond home. Thoreau's record of this work in Walden is a classic.
Then again, many of New England's early houses have survived the Walden Pond house by
three-quarters of a century. Shortly after Thoreau vacated his Walden Pond house, in
September 1847, and moved its furnishings back to the hustle and bustle of Concord's
Village, the house itself was moved. Within a few years the action of the elements on
sandy soil, and the work of erosion, eliminated all surface evidence of the original site
of the house. Surviving two or three movings, its ruins were finally pulled down June 4,
1868 and its boards used in the construction of a barn on the old Brooks Clarke farm, in
the north part of Concord. Its boards never were used in the construction of a barn on
Sudbury Road, Concord, as has often been erroneously stated. By July 4th, 1945, when the
commemorative services were held at Walden Pond, marking the hundredth anniversary of
Thoreau's moving into his more there, those legends still flourished. In fact, at this
time, the controversy as to its original site had advanced beyond the legendary stage to
one of personal opinions on the subject. It was at the Walden Pond centennial service that
my interest in the controversy became aroused.
"Discovery at Walden" is not a philosophical account of my research and
excavating at Walden Pond. It is not eloquent, nor is it inspirational. Rather, it is a
New England Yankee's experience in finding things out in his own way. There are those who
insist that my way is the hard way. But my way, coupled with reason and patience, has
produced a personal contentment suitable for my way of life. Certainly Henry David Thoreau
would not object to this.
The accomplishments of the historical research worker are not the results of his
individual investigation alone. Without the aid of others he could no more uncover,
assemble, assort and evaluate the untold number of controversies, personal opinions and
pieces of documentary evidence associated with an historical problem, than he could
actually participate in the historic event itself.
I am especially indebted to the following: Aaron Bagg, of Holyoke, Mass.; Miss Sarah R.
Bartlett, Librarian, and her assistants of the Concord Free Public Library, Concord,
Mass.; Mrs. Herbert G. Farrar, Lincoln Library, Lincoln, Mass.; the late Allen French,
Concord, Mass.; Fred R. Hart, Supt. Walden Pond State Reservation, Concord, Mass.; the
Middlesex County Commissioners, Cambridge, Mass.; T. Mott Shaw, Concord, Mass.; Miss
Louise Stimson, Concord, Mass.; and Mrs. Caleb Wheeler, Concord, Mass. They have given
freely of their time their knowledge of the subject.
I am grateful to the Concord citizens and the members of the Thoreau Society who
participated in the removing of stones from the rear of Thoreau's cairn and the placing of
these stones on the front of the cairn. I wish to thank them also for their assistance in
opening up Thoreau's filled-in cellar hole.
I am indebted to the following persons for their photographic recordings of the work at
Walden: Mrs. Leslie Anderson, of Concord, Mass.; Earl Hicks, Concord, Mass.; Anton
Huffert, North Bergen, N. J.; Henry B. Kane, Lincoln, Mass.; Joseph C. McIlwaine,
McKownville, Albany, N. Y.; Edwin Way Teale, Baldwin, L. I., N. Y.; and Miss Marcia
Webber, Bedford, Mass.
The Frontispiece is by Archibald H. Ferran, of Concord, Mass. For details of the Walden
house Mr. Ferran was guided by the Baker-Andrews sketch of Thoreau's house that appeared
in the first edition of Walden. However, the Baker-Andrews sketch does not place Thoreau
beside the house. That is a liberty which I have taken.
I am grateful to Alton Hall Blackington, of Lynn, Mass., for suggesting Discovery at
Walden for the title of this book.
Most certainly also I am grateful to my wife Geraldine, and my three children. They
made possible my Walden investigation by sharing generously the evenings, Sundays and
holidays which I would normally have spent with them. I like to feel that they shared
their home with Henry David Thoreau.
ROLAND WELLS ROBBINS
A Thoreau Yankee
Lincoln, Massachusetts
December 25, 1946
ILLUSTRATIONS (Return to Top)
- Thoreau at Walden
- Henry David Thoreau
- Roland Wells Robbins standing beside Thoreau's chimney foundation
- Brick and plaster uncovered; and removed from beneath tree stump
- Henry David Thoreau, Jr.; and his army identification tag
- Thoreau's chimney foundation
- Nails, window and tumbler glass; and cutting section from tree stump
- Section of cairn on Walden house site; placing statement in cellar hole
- Inscribed stones from bottom of cairn; Thoreau's cellar hole and king-post foundation;
and large deposit of lime plaster
- Flags marking site of Walden house and woodshed; the present cairn; and model of
proposed Walden Thoreau memorial
- Thoreau's map of Walden Pond; compass readings showing direction Thoreau's chimney
foundation faced
DEDICATION (Return to Top)
This book is dedicated to the late Allen French who, though pressed for time, always
found the time to listen and to assist me with my historical research problems; was always
ready to share generously with me his vast knowledge of Concord history; encouraged me at
times when encouragement was needed; and brought about this book by suggesting my active
participation in the century old controversy about the site of Thoreau's house at Walden
Pond.
INTRODUCTION (Return
to Top)
Walter Harding
Secretary of the Thoreau Society
I am not one to get excited over historical sites. Like Henry James, I find myself much
more stimulated by ideas than things. Even though I have found the writings of Henry David
Thoreau to be worthy of a lifetime of study, I have rarely found myself able to wax
sentimental over his birthplace or his grave. Yet I must confess that when Roland Wells
Robbins took me out to Walden Pond last summer and before my very eyes excavated nails,
plaster, bricks and glass from the site of Thoreau's cabin, I felt that little shiver of
excitement which one reserves for the most special occasions run up and down my spine like
an ecstatic butterfly.
Like every other student of Thoreau who has visited Concord, I had often found myself
wondering just where the site of Thoreau's cabin was. It hardly seemed possible that the
foundation of such a sturdy little building as he described could completely disappear in
a hundred years. Yet never did two Thoreauvians arrive at Walden Pond at the same time but
that a controversy arose over where it could have been. Some said the cairn marked the
spot- but then there were rumors that years ago the cairn itself had been in a different
spot.
Others were sufficiently sure of a nearby foundation hole to mark it with four granite
posts. Still others studied all the clues in Walden and decided on completely unmarked
sites. Like that genius of the Renaissance who decided the best way to discover the number
of teeth in a horse's head was to look in a horse's mouth rather than to consult
Aristotle, Roland Robbins ended the controversy by going out and searching for the
evidence. And after a prodigious amount of labor, and with a precision in his work that
put the most scholarly archeologists to shame, he discovered and authenticated the exact
site of the cabin so that now we are far more certain of just where Thoreau dwelt than on
which boulder the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Beach.
I must confess too that when I first heard of Mr. Robbins' discovery, I was skeptical.
Many other men had searched and found nothing. Even if he had found something, how was he
certain that it was not the relic of the hut built by the theological student Hotham some
years after Thoreau's death? But after spending hours poring over Mr. Robbins' records and
photographs, examining all the material he has uncovered, talking at length with him, and
going out and digging around at his site myself, I am completely convinced that his
discovery is authentic.
Now Mr. Robbins has set down the story of his discovery for all to read. It is a
careful recording of each step in his labors, scholarly in the best sense of the word, and
as fascinating as a detective story. One does not have to be a follower of Thoreau to find
this story interesting. But I will wager that few will read his words without taking a
copy of Walden down from the shelves and reading that great masterpiece with a new
interest.
Chapel Hill, N. C.
January 7, 1947.
CHAPTER I: THE CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY (Return to Top)
ON July 4th, 1945, the early rising sun greeted Concord, Mass., with a panorama of its
choicest colors viewed across the cloudless local skies. What a day for a holiday! While
cities and rural communities the nation over were eager to display their traditional
programs of celebration, for the Town of Concord this was to be a very special day. To the
traditional celebration of the holiday was to be added a commemorative exercise to be held
at the site of the house in which one of her sons, famous in American literature, had
begun to live exactly one hundred years earlier. It was on July 4th, 1845, that Henry
David Thoreau deserted the companionship of the village to take up residence in his
self-made house at Walden Pond.
Like Thoreau, Mrs. Robbins and I had moved into our new home on a July 4th in the
beautiful, retiring- as yet unmolested by the wheels of modern progress-
village of
Lincoln which shares boundaries with Concord. Our new home had been made possible by my
small and successful domestic window cleaning and house painting business. Many times
Thoreau spoke kindly of Lincoln and its rolling hills, its lush land and its beautiful
Flint's Pond, now named Sandy Pond. There is evidence that Thoreau's first desire was to
build at Flint's Pond. This could not be arranged so he settled at Walden Pond, one half
mile west of Flint's Pond, and separated only by the forest wilderness Thoreau loved.
Of course, our occupancy was more recent than that of Henry Thoreau's, in fact by 91
years. As Mrs. Robbins and I had attempted to settle our new home that 4th of July we felt
we had reached a milestone in our young lives. Our enthusiasm told us the whole community
followed and encouraged our progress. Naturally this was not so. For our community, like
any other, had its own concern and problems- and a new family in its neighborhood wasn't
one of them.
Henry Thoreau in settling down in his Walden abode was little concerned with the
personal opinions and suggestions of local mortals, or for that matter with any mortal's
observations concerning his personal endeavors. This home in the woods was to be his
laboratory where the social and economic problems of mankind could be analyzed and
treated. Thoreau's house-warming didn't include the rasping static of backslapping mortals
toasting him "good lock." Rather, we might say, it was well attended by his many
philosophical problems and their desire for his success.
A century has passed since Thoreau's unceremonious moving-in. And how things have
changed! For today Henry David Thoreau is a Pied Piper of American literature. Not until
many years after Thoreau had completed his experiment at Walden Pond and vacated his
lodgings with nature was it universally discovered that he had compounded a tablet of
exalted phrases that, when taken in literary doses, acted as a sedative which would ease
many of life's spiritual pains.
With such thoughts in mind I prepared to join the pilgrimage to Walden Pond this July
4th morning for the Thoreau Centennial exercises. For there I could be introduced to the
literary works of Thoreau as well as become acquainted with the trails and haunts that he
had frequented.
I will never forget the simplicity and reverence which prevailed throughout the
services. Concord's eminent historian and gentleman, Mr. Allen French, conducted the
exercises held at the stone cairn which supposedly marked the site of Thoreau's house.
Many selections from Thoreau's writings were presented by members of the gathering. I was
impressed by the gray and intellectual heads that predominated among those in attendance.
I, with all my 37 years, felt conscious of stepping from my generation into one I was not
in a literary way prepared for. Here I was among the "Big League'' of the literary
world. Prominent professors of literature, as well as authors of note, were paying their
respects to this site which, supposedly, had supported the 10 by 15 foot single room house
that provided shelter and rest for Henry Thoreau while he communed with nature.
The cairn itself spoke of the several generations that had played a part in pyramiding
its construction. Stones of many sizes and shapes had been piled one on the other by
pilgrims from the world over, pilgrims who had brought with them wishes or ambitions which
they hoped to fulfill. Finding a stone nearby (in many cases they had brought their stones
with them), each had enclosed his wish in it to keep it eternal, then placed it on the
calm as his contribution to this evergrowing memorial. The cornerstone for this mound of
wishes had been laid in June, 1872, by Bronson Alcott and a Mrs. Adams from Dubuque, Iowa.
Bringing stones up the hill from the shore of Thoreau's cove, they had laid them on a spot
which Alcott had determined to be the place where Thoreau's house had stood. Bronson
Alcott was well qualified to point out the site of the house, as he himself had aided
Thoreau in raising its frame. A Unitarian Church picnic was being held that day at Walden
Pond. Some of the picknickers joined in the laying of the first stones of the cairn by
bringing stones from the shore and placing them beside Alcott's and Mrs. Adams'. Thus,
Thoreau's cairn was started by an old friend and a group of sincere admirers at a time
when mankind's progress was synchronized to the gait of the horse-and-buggy and the
undeveloped potential powers of the iron-horse.
Surely the cairn's beginning was a fitting memorial to Thoreau. The stones, broken
bottles and the like, which crown the summit of today's cairn, were placed years later by
more casual mortals of this modem world. And the use of the cairn's bronze plaque as a
target for boys to sharpen their pitching arms speaks only too well of this atomic age.
Near the close of the centennial exercises someone brought the question of the cairn's
position being properly located to the attention of the speaker. Several in attendance
felt certain that 25 or 35 years earlier the cairn had been much closer to Walden Pond.
Besides, said others familiar with the details of the house, Thoreau's very words
condemned the cairn's site as too remote. One dignified gentleman quoted from Thoreau's
Walden that the house had been built, "on the shore of Walden Pond ... My house was
on the side of a hill.... and half a dozen rods from the pond." The man was obviously
right. Most certainly the cairn is not on the shore. Nor is it, in a true sense, on the
side of the hill, but rather on a fairly level piece of ground.
"Rather intangible evidence," objected someone else.
"Maybe so," returned the first gentleman, "but you must remember Henry
Thoreau was a surveyor- and a Harvard graduate- and it has been said that by eye alone he
was nearly as accurate as with a measuring tool. And even blindfolded he couldn't have
stretched that half a dozen rods from the shore till it reached the site of the
cairn- now
could he?"
"How much is a rod?" asked a lady. The question reddened many faces, for no
one was certain of the answer- including myself. Twelve and fourteen feet gained the most
supporters. I held to fifteen and a half feet but I didn't intend to noose my neck.
Whatever the length of a rod, it was determined six of them couldn't connect the cairn
with the pond.
Someone shelved this problem of measurement by quoting a significant passage from
Walden . . . " a mink steals out of the marsh before my door and seizes a frog by the
shore." Most revealing! Henry Thoreau's casual observation, made as he sat by his
window, appeared to eliminate the possibility that the cairn had been correctly placed.
For, standing by the cairn, or on top of it for that matter, and looking in the direction
of the marsh, it was physically impossible to see it- to say nothing of seeing the
shoreline of that side of the pond. A large knoll obstructed a view of the marsh and the
sharp rise of the pond's bank hid the shoreline. Certainly, Henry Thoreau could never have
made such observations from this spot- nor identified an object the size of a frog at such
a distance, even if the shoreline had been visible. This seemed definitely to eliminate
the possibility of the cairn's sitting on the spot where Henry Thoreau had built.
But time was running short, and, as a box lunch picnic was to be enjoyed by many of us
at the Cliffs, which overlook Fairhaven Bay, one of Thoreau's favorite haunts, we had to
be getting on. The commemorative services were terminated with the customary handshaking
and words of greeting. As I spoke to Mr. French, he greeted me with a most flattering
compliment:
"Mr. Robbins, I am so pleased to see you turn your interests to Henry Thoreau. You
are the one to settle this issue once and for all. I do hope you will seek the
answer!"
My avocation is seeking answers to some of Concord's unsolved historical problems. It
was while compiling the true happenings involved in the making and dedicating of Daniel
Chester French's famous Minute Man statue for my booklet The Story of the Minute Man that
I became acquainted with Mr. Allen French. After such a verbal pat on the back as was
given me by Mr. French- not too common an experience with me- I had no alternative.
Besides, I had become unusually interested in the controversy. I made up my mind that I
must try to establish the site of Thoreau's house.
On the hike through the woods and over the hills to the Cliffs of Fairhaven Bay, T.
Morris Longstreth, the author, introduced me to a kind and dignified gentleman. As I
walked with this gentleman we discussed human nature, its virtues and failings, and noted
how often traditions distort the truth as they age. My philosophy sparred with his as we
walked part way around the pond, across the railway Thoreau mentions, through blueberry
patches and woods and through a corn field which was the last barrier to the Cliffs. As
the journey's end terminated our debating I stuck my tongue in my cheek, and gave my head
a small nod of self-approval for gaining a draw decision with my literary adversary.
When I met Mr. Longstreth several days later in the Concord Library, he inquired how I
had enjoyed the company of Professor Odell Shepard.
"You mean Pulitzer Prize winner, Odell Shepard?" I inquired.
"None other," said Mr. Longstreth.
"Phew!" thought I. "Good thing I hadn't known it at the time. I would
never have survived even the first literary round!"
It was at the Cliffs I met Aaron Bagg of Holyoke, Mass. We struck up a warm friendship.
Aaron is a few years younger than I am and is a naturalist in a true sense of the word. He
is a writer by profession and gives most of his time to interpreting nature. As we sat
munching crackers and peanut butter and sucking on oranges, he told of his trip to
Concord. He had made the pilgrimage from Holyoke by night train. Reaching Concord at 2:30
A.M. with a knapsack strapped to his shoulders, he had proved ideal material for the local
police car to investigate. After he had convinced the officers that he had arrived early
for the day's services at Walden Pond they had driven him to the station-house and
provided him with every courtesy at their disposal, including a wooden bench on which he
had stretched out for a little solid comfort.
He had been back on the road before daybreak. Going to Walden Pond, he had watched the
sun come up and display the beauty already mentioned. In greeting the first rays of dawn
to strike upon the site of Henry Thoreau's house on this one hundredth anniversary, Aaron
had acted as envoy for the enthusiasts who were to arrive later. As the sun had climbed
and cleared the air of the night's dampness, Aaron had followed the path that circled the
pond.
"Why," I asked, "was it necessary to arrive at the pond before the sun
did?"
"Well, to see the real beauty of nature, one must view it as it awakens. Besides,
to grasp fully the symbolism of the pond and its woods one must see it as Thoreau best
recalls it with its freshness and crispness revived by the night of rest. You see,"
he added, "nature, too, benefits by relaxation."
Not being qualified to debate the habits of nature, I let silence give my consent.
As the day grew long and enthusiasm ebbed, people began collecting their belongings and
departing for home. I felt that I had accomplished a great deal this day. I had been
formally introduced to the familiar haunts of Henry David Thoreau, had met many fine
people, had become better acquainted with the natural beauties of my neighboring town, and
had met a young fellow with whom I shared much in common. Meanwhile I had had my fill of
healthful exercise- and been told where Henry David Thoreau could not have built his
house! Farmer Ezra Nudkins tersely summed up the observations of many of us by reciting
this little rhyme on our way home:
"For a hundred years we've tipped our hat
To a site where Henry's hut ne'er sat."
Ezra also added, "Maybe it would have been a good idea to have found ourselves a
lucky stone and placed it on the cairn, a stone filled with the wish that when we next
convene someone will really have found the site of Henry David Thoreau's house."
"How true!" I thought. "How true!"
CHAPTER II: CHANNING'S NOTES ON
THOREAU'S HOUSE (Return to Top)
MANY times during the following five weeks I recalled my experiences of that
day- and
intended to look into the site controversy as soon as "time" permitted. In the
meantime, Aaron Bagg kept prodding me with constructive letters quoting Henry Thoreau's
references to the location. Wrote he on August 15, "At the ceremony at Walden I heard
two men who seemed to be planning the same hunt. At least I overheard the remark: 'In
looking for its true location, I don't think we should be too concerned over popular
feelings on the subject' . . . or words to that effect. So you may have a race on your
hands."
That startled me into getting out my inadequate six-foot steel ruler the following
evening and heading for the pond together with Mrs. Robbins. We measured the distance from
the bronze plaque which marks the front of the cairn, to the edge of the shore-line of
Thoreau's Cove, making allowance for the variation that comes with the seasons. It was
two-hundred and four feet. Of course by now I could tell anyone the length of a rod.
Taking the sixteen and one-half feet and wiggling an answer from my finger tips, I turned
to Mrs. Robbins and said, "Well, Gerry, this much is certain. Either Henry Thoreau
slipped in his count or Bronson Alcott's memory failed him when he started placing the
first stones of the cairn. I favor the poor memories." For it didn't seem likely that
one acquainted with measurements and distances- particularly as accurate a person as Henry
Thoreau- would call a distance greater than twelve rods "half a dozen rods". No
sir! And the more I thought of it the more curious and interested I became.
Purchasing a 95¢ copy of Walden at The Concord Bookshop I decided the answer would be
found by carefully listening to Henry Thoreau's description of his house and its location.
After all, he should be the best authority on the subject.
Here is an ideal place to explain my consistent use of the word house rather than the
customary hut, shack, or cabin when speaking of Henry Thoreau's Walden home. I too, before
reading Walden, thought of the house as a poor imitation of a 19th century woodshed,
converted into livable- but entirely unhealthy- dwelling quarters deserving of a name no
better than hut, shack, etc. But for one to read Walden and then refer to it as such is
denying Henry Thoreau a courtesy he rightfully deserves. First, of the nearly one hundred
references to his abode which he makes in Walden, eighty odd of the number are
"house". He says "lodge" three times, "dwelling" twice,
"apartment" twice, "homestead" once; and on only one occasion does he
use the word "hut". Second, in every sense of the word it was a house, carefully
planned and built and finished down to its plastering and a brick chimney and fireplace.
Ellery Channing in his copy of Walden, presented him by Thoreau, made this notation:
"The house stood in perfect condition so far as the frame and covering, to June 4,
'68, a period of 23 years, and would have lasted a century. It was well built, the
covering being poor." With this in mind, I replace custom with courtesy and
respectfully address my references to the house as such. Possibly the smallness of its
size, coupled with its isolated location in what was then considered a forest wilderness,
could be responsible for the many misnomers applied to it.
Channing made many other significant notations in this copy of Walden. Some of them
were corrections of Thoreau's references to the location of the Walden house. For
instance, where Thoreau, in Walden, said, "I dug my cellar in the side of a
hill," Channing writes, "There is nothing like a hill here and never was. At
present (Oct., '63), I tried with Mr. Green to find the cellar hole, but could not fix
it,- but have since. It is in the pathway to the pond. (The place is a bank gently sloping
towards the pond,- a hill in some places, but not so marked here.)" Channing also
recorded, "H. means the small rise in the ground, but it is no hill, not 20 foot
rise. The stones that were brought up from the pond for the chimney were carried away, I
think, by the Scotch gardener, Hugh Whelan, for his intended house on the
Bean-field." Channing's record could account for the fact that little evidence of the
site of the house remained above the level of the soil in 1863. Thoreau tells in Walden of
digging a cellar, "six feet square by seven deep, to a fine sand where potatoes would
not freeze in any winter. The sides were left, shelving, and not stoned." Later in
Walden he wrote, "I laid the foundation of a chimney at one end, bringing two
cartloads of stones up the hill from the pond in my arms".
Apparently Hugh Whelan, after removing the house from its original site to the
bean-field shortly after Thoreau vacated it in September, 1847, filled in the cellar hole.
Then, finding no stones available in the bean-field's sandy soil with which to build his
chimney foundation, returned to Thoreau's chimney foundation and removed the top section.
By October, 1863, erosion and slope-wash had covered the remaining evidence of the
original site to the extent that Ellery Channing had difficulty locating it. As Channing
also had helped Thoreau raise the frame of the Walden house, as well as having lived in it
for two weeks with Thoreau, we must assume he would have had no difficulty locating the
original site if much evidence of it were visible in 1863.
When Thoreau says, in speaking of where he built, "a small open field in the
woods, where pines and hickories were springing up", Channing writes, "In 1863,
Oct. 11, the pines, chiefly pitch, and other trees, have made a small wood here, about 25
or 30 feet in height. The pond not visible scarcely now". The difficulty in seeing
the pond at this time, because of "a small wood," indicates that the house must
have been separated from the pond by quite a stretch of land. Yet Thoreau had said in the
very first paragraph of Walden that he had built a house "on the shore of Walden
Pond." I found it hard to reconcile the conflicting statements.
Of the last years of the Walden house Ellery Channing said, "The windows were gone
in '63, and the plaster mostly cracked off, from the moving to old Clark's (from the
bean-field), in the N. part of the town, very near the opening of the old Carlisle Road.
Used as a place to store corn- visited with Blake and Brown, Sept. 11, '64".
At that time the Walden house could rightfully have been called a shack, etc. No longer
was it a rendezvous for philosophers and thinkers. Sacks of grain now bulged the walls
that had once sheltered Thoreau, Emerson, Bronson Alcott, Channing and other great minds.
Of the Walden house's last days Channing says, "I saw H's rafters, June 4, 1868, the
ruins of this house on the old Carlisle Road, just pulled down". Yet the house had
survived Thoreau by six years.
From several readings of Walden I carefully compiled the many passages, references and
casual observations which Thoreau made concerning the house and its location. With these I
painstakingly reconstructed in my mind the scene as Henry Thoreau had so graphically
described it. Taking this mental model out to Walden Pond, I endeavoured to locate the
spot into which it would fit. (Bear in mind the trees and vegetation that now exist had to
be mentally swept away as they had no place in the pattern of a century ago.) The site of
the cairn provided no accommodations for my mental model. In fact, the only place that
beckoned welcome was the strip within the "half a dozen rods" of the pond.
Wonderful, thought I, "the distance from the pond is settled." But trying to
determine the spot along the "half a dozen rods" distance as it paralleled the
pond was difficult. For several hundred feet along the shore I could pick out any spot and
find that it had features conforming to my mental model. It made no difference how I
twisted the Walden references about, I couldn't condense this haystack to a size small
enough to warrant my looking for the needle. The needle in this case I had already decided
was the remains of the foundation to the house chimney which Henry Thoreau so clearly
describes in Walden. Though Hugh Whelan had removed the top of the foundation, surely the
base must remain.
CHAPTER III: AN ANALYSIS OF WALDEN (Return to Top)
RECALLING a letter Prof. Elliott Adams White of Norwich, Vermont, had published in the
Concord Journal, telling of his discovery of what he presumed to be a corner post-hole of
the house, I wrote him for details. He answered, telling me to get in touch with Mrs.
Caleb Wheeler of Concord, as he had showed her his "find". Prof. White
considerately warned me to go prepared to combat poison ivy as he paid for his discovery
with a painful and badly swollen countenance. "Sorry for you professor," thought
I. "Thanks for your warning, but I'm immune."
Sunday afternoon, September 16, Mrs. Wheeler, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace Conant and I went to
Walden Pond. Mrs. Wheeler spent the better part of an hour searching for the 'post-hole'
but couldn't locate it. However, in her search she did find evidence which ultimately led
to the key to the solution. She called our attention to two or three pieces of brick
embedded in the soil just back of the cairn, in the pathway up the hill.
"Now Henry Thoreau was the only one to have brought brick into this vicinity. We
had better cherish these fragments as gems," I remarked.
"Hold on to them then", agreed Mrs. Wheeler.
The following Wednesday getting home too early for supper I called to my six year old
daughter, "What say, Jean, shall we go over to Walden Pond and walk up an
appetite?" It was on this hike that we accidentally located the
"post-hole". Time not permitting an investigation then, I returned the following
night. Finding no evidence of poison ivy, I smiled to myself, "Well, professor, it's
not for me to say you didn't have a spell of ivy poisoning- but you didn't catch it
here". I carefully examined the hole and found it to be two or three feet deep with a
base of another two feet of loose soil. It was eight to ten inches in diameter, and its
unusualness did stimulate my imagination- but not into believing it at one time supported
a corner-post of Henry Thoreau's house. It seemed logical that erosion would have sealed
such a hole many times during a century. Even if its top had been carefully covered during
that time, seepage and the working of frosts would have filled it in long ago. No, I
didn't know what it was but I knew what it wasn't, that being a century-old petrified
posthole!
The following Saturday my left eye developed a most unpleasant and annoying itch. As
the day advanced the irritation became so bad that I had to halt a set of tennis that I
was enjoying. One of the tennis group being a doctor, I inquired, "Doe, what's
annoying my eye so?" Examining it, he said,
"You've been making eyes at ivy- poison ivy."
"Ridiculous, Doc," I said. "I'm immune! Why, I've picked the stuff up by
the handful!"
"Maybe so," he said, "but this is probably the first time you tried
picking it up with your eye- and succeeded."
Success it was; for, before my itchy friend decided to vacate, he treated me to a
five-day, one-eye view of my surroundings, plus a bonus of a face swollen to the
proportions of my Uncle Hekimer's waist-line after one of his celebrated beer parties. A
local doctor and his medical poison ivy neutralizer, a needle that rivaled in length the
four-foot long steel probing rod I used for locating solid objects in the soil, managed,
after several proddings, to dislodge the barbs the ivy curse had embedded. So Professor
White we're even. You were wrong about the post-hole and I was wrong about the poison ivy.
By now I was getting disgusted with the whole business, particularly the references in
Walden to the house and its location. There were too many contradictions and too many
pieces of the puzzle left over. Why not check Thoreau's Journals that record the two years
he lived at Walden Pond and see how they coordinate with Walden, I decided.
Choosing from Walden his reference to "a mink steals out of the marsh before my
door and seizes a frog by the shore" as the most dependable spoke in the wheel whose
turning led always away from the cairn in determining the original location of the house,
I matched it against the same passage in his Journal.
The Walden passage read, word for word, "As I sit at my window this summer
afternoon, hawks are circling about my clearing; the tantivy of wild pigeons, flying by
twos and threes athwart my view, or perching restless on the white pine boughs behind my
house, gives a voice to the air; a fish hawk dimples the glassy surface of the pond and
brings up a fish;" (and here's the key that opened the door to all the debating)
"a mink steals out of the marsh before my door and seizes a frog by the shore; the
sedge is bending under the weight of the reed-birds flitting hither and thither; and for
the last half-hour I have heard the rattle of railroad cars, now dying away and then
reviving like the beat of a partridge...." Can't you just live this scene with
Thoreau, its casual detail makes it so life-like. Let's see what his Journals for that
period say about it.
How odd! Thoreau wrote but little in his Journals while living at Walden Pond. However,
for August 6, 1845 was recorded the essence of what I quoted from Walden, except for the
words "a mink steals out of the marsh before my door and seizes a frog by the shore;
the sedge is bending under the weight of the reed-birds flitting hither and thither."
How odd that no mention of the mink and the reed-birds is found in his Journals!
But wait! It's not odd. Rather, it's most revealing! I should have discovered this much
earlier. Henry David Thoreau did not write Walden while living at Walden Pond. While
there, he wrote "A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers". Walden was written
about 1849 and was published in 1854, seven years after he had left Walden Pond.
Taking the scanty Journals he kept while living at the pond, Thoreau blew them up to
book proportions with the aid of his memory and imagination. To do so required the
addition of a great many extra details. Consequently, while Thoreau writes in Walden,
"a mink steals out of a marsh", in reality it is not what he actually saw from
his window, but only a figment of his imagination or his memory of such an incident
observed as he stood by Walden's shore. My questioning the authenticity of Walden's
details may be shocking to those who consider it as a sort of literary Bible. But this
questioning was necessary in order to determine whether I was on the right track. It
proved I was not.
That settled it. No need of my seeking the answer from Henry Thoreau's writings alone.
I wrote to Aaron Bagg saying that it seemed to me a waste of time to expect that Henry
Thoreau's recorded references to his house and its location would lead me to the solution.
"This has got to be done the hard way," I wrote. "I'm going to start
from scratch."
And "scratch" it was, in a big way.
CHAPTER IV: THOREAU'S "ONE THOUSAND OLD
BRICK" SITE DISCOVERED (Return to Top)
Walden Pond reservation is property of the State of Massachusetts, under the
jurisdiction of the Middlesex County Commissioners. Mr. Fred Hart is the overseer. I now
asked for and obtained permission from the proper authorities to carry out excavation work
in the vicinity of the cairn.
Purchasing a pocket compass, a ninety-eight cent G.I. trench shovel, getting a couple
more longer and stronger probing rods and several pairs of canvas gloves-
but now I was
questioning my immunity to poison ivy- I headed for Walden Pond the morning of October
18th. Thought I, "Where there's smoke there's fire. Guess I'll see what burns around
the spot where Mrs. Wheeler located the brick pieces."
It didn't take much digging to find an answer. In an area eight feet long, three feet
wide in its greatest width, and from two to seven inches beneath the surface of the
ground, I found one hundred pieces of brick ranging from three quarters of an inch to a
third of a brick in size. "Such luck- such gold!" I shouted to myself.
Taking the fragments, I hastened to Cambridge in the afternoon and had Mr. Carleton of
the New England Brick Company check them for age. He found them to be old water-struck,
hand-made brick.
"Could they be a century and a half old?", I asked hesitantly, fearing a
negative answer.
"Easily", Mr. Carleton replied.
If ever there was a time when I desired to embrace a fellow man, it was then. Mr.
Carleton went on to tell the history of brick and pottery, even reading from the ninth
chapter of Genesis to prove his point and show that brick was one of mankind's first
products. Mr. Carleton also told why some of the brick fragments I found had retained
their solid state while others found were decomposed.
"You see," he said, "all bricks entering a kiln get off to an equal
start. Made of the same ingredients, there is no such thing as a poor brick at the
beginning. It's the positions they retain while being baked that determines the quality of
brick. Those receiving the most heat shrink and condense into a more solid and better
product than those further from the heat. Consequently they are impervious to frost and
cold weather. They could remain buried one thousand years only to be removed in perfect
shape. But it is not so with the brick not properly cooked. They come out larger in size,
are porous and are no match for cold weather and frosts." Here he summed up this
biographical study of brick with a philosophical comparison of a brick's beginning with
that of mankind. "We, too, start life as equals. I believe they credit but ten per
cent of our being at the time of birth to heredity, while the remaining ninety per cent is
the character which we as individuals are to mold. Of course, you will say, the brick had
no choice of position when placed in the kiln. That's true, but neither do we pick our
parents or the station in life we desire to start from. As we develop we may choose the
plan we desire to occupy and strive to achieve it. In this respect we have a decided
advantage over the brick. You will find, son, the overall pattern of man, nature and beast
is the same, the difference being in the modifications essential to adapt each to his
environment".
"Most interesting", I commented.
Then, philosophy not being uppermost in my mind at the time, I remarked how late it was
getting, thanked Mr. Carleton for his invaluable information and departed for Walden Pond.
My luck seemed to have run out. Further digging in the vicinity of the brick vein
produced no new evidence. I didn't complain though; for I knew that I had in my possession
brick which Henry David Thoreau had handled and used. "Wait," I told myself.
"Had these pieces played a part in the construction of the chimney?" Examining
the collection more carefully I found no evidence of mortar on them. As the soil I removed
them from showed no other evidence I knew that I had not discovered the original location
of the house. Nor could I honestly say that the brick had seen service in the chimney. Yet
I was sure that these pieces were of the "one thousand old brick" which Thoreau
had purchased for four dollars in order to build his chimney. I had worked it out that
Henry Thoreau in carrying his brick from where he had piled them to where they were to be
used had slipped or dropped a load of them on this spot. Picking up the undamaged brick,
he had left the useless pieces where they had fallen, for erosion and slope-wash to shield
and keep for me.
That evening there appeared in the Concord Journal a most interesting request.
THOREAU UNDERGROUND
The "Concord Chamber of Commerce" has received a request for a photograph of
the grave of Henry D. Thoreau from a woman in Baltimore who writes:
"My son was the only one saved when his B-17
crashed near Assens, Denmark. He feels deeply indebted to his rescuer who was a member of
the Danish underground. The only things he has asked for are some American cigars and a picture of the
tomb of Thoreau. 'I know I shall never visit your great country, but if I could I would make a pilgrimage
on bare feet, the last few miles to Concord, Mass.,' he writes."
The Journal is trying to answer the request from this brave Danish brother, in
the name of the Concord Board of Trade, even if it necessitates the taking of pictures at
the grave. Has anyone a suggestion to help us?
I wrote to Mr. Kent, the editor of the Concord Journal and told him that the day
"Thoreau Underground" appeared in his paper I had had the good fortune to find
pieces of Thoreau's "One thousand old brick." I had no picture of Thoreau's
grave other than my deeply embedded mental picture from many visits to Author's Ridge, in
Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, where Thoreau is buried. As there was no way of conveying my
mental picture to this courageous Dane, I suggested I would like to contribute a piece of
Thoreau's "One thousand old brick" to be included with the picture of Thoreau's
grave. My contribution was never accepted.
On Sunday, October 21st, I went again to Walden Pond. While seeking a likely spot to
dig, I recalled the controversy that had centered about the four granite posts set out a
dozen or so years earlier by a visitor to this "shrine" marking what he presumed
to be the four corners of Thoreau's house. Fifty odd feet to the rear and northwest of the
cairn is what appears to be a place dug in the side of the hill at one time to level it
off for building purposes. It is just the right size to accommodate nicely a house the
size of Henry Thoreau's. It was here that the granite posts had been erected. Because of
its isolated and concealed position I had eliminated this spot long before as one ever
having supported the house. Nevertheless it intrigued me.
My first shoveling in its area produced brick fragments! I spent the day, digging
there. Also the morning of the following Sunday. Within an area twelve feet square and
from two to seven inches deep, I removed several thousand pieces of brick, most of which
were small in size. Digging was difficult because of a network of roots that hat grown
over and clung to almost every one of the brick particles.
"Strange that the party who set out the granite posts hadn't noticed this
brick," I puzzled.
Here again I found no evidence of mortar on the brick fragments. Undoubtedly this was
where the load of "one thousand old brick" had been piles or dumped when first
brought to the pond. The smallness of the fragments seemed to further verify this, they
being similar in size to what would be chipped from brick when dumped in a pile and
handled. It seemed to indicate that Henry Thoreau must have leveled out this spot himself.
Possibly he had intended at first to build there, only to decide differently later.
Perhaps he had meant to make a garden of it, or to use it as a place for piling extra fire
wood. Perhaps he had used the soil for filling or banking purposes where he had built; or
his privy could have occupied the spot. Your guess is as good as mine.
Probing about this area revealed no sign of the chimney's foundation. I was satisfied
that the brick were first piled here and then carried towards the spot where I had found
the other fragments. Having thus made up my mind as to the course that Henry Thoreau had
apparently followed while traversing from the brick pile to the house, I pursued it with
vigor.
CHAPTER V: HENRY DAVID THOREAU JR. VISITS ME (Return to Top)
On Sunday afternoon, October 28, I struck a solid object embedded about a foot in the
ground, beneath the stump of a white pine tree. This stump was several feet to the rear
and west of the cairn. Approaching it as I had dozens of similar objects with an attitude
of "here I go again," I brought up a large quantity of plaster in the first
shovelful of dirt. "Eureka!" I shouted, "this is it!" Shaking all over
with enthusiasm I rushed two ten-quart pails to the spot and dug feverishly, but
carefully. Much plaster and a number of large pieces of brick with mortar on them came to
light. What is more, I found several old, badly rusted, hand-made square nails. Within 15
minutes time I had one pail filled with pieces of plaster and the other with brick. Some
of the evidence was smoke-blackened, proving it had been exposed to fire. "Right from
the very fireplace itself!" I concluded. Further digging led me under the roots of
the stump. "What a seal of authenticity!" I smiled.
"What are you digging for?" inquired a young voice.
Looking up startled, I found two army sergeants viewing my labors. Bedecked in campaign
ribbons, a presidential unit citation and the insignia of the Army Air Force, they lent an
air of security to the scene. Even so, this was not the time to make public my good
fortune. Skirting about their question by asking one myself, I said, "Welcome home,
fellows. Been back long?"
One of them was a six-foot, rather slender, good-looking young man who seemed unusually
interested in what I was doing. Courteously, but insistently, he plied me with questions
concerning Henry Thoreau and his life at Walden Pond. Fearing that I might accidentally
reveal my discovery, I parried his questions with observations on the beauty of this fall
day and the like. Apparently, realizing that he was annoying me with his questions, he
apologized:
"Sorry to bother you, sir, but you see, I am a distant relative of Henry David
Thoreau. I live in California and I am on my way home from the European Theatre of
Operations. I have never been here before- may never get here again- so naturally I am
anxious to learn what I can of Walden."
"You mind my asking your name?" I inquired.
"I am Henry David Thoreau, Jr.", he replied.
I don't know what held me steady on my feet on hearing this. The first person to
witness the first evidence ever found at Walden Pond of Henry David Thoreau's house was
Henry David Thoreau, Jr. What a colossal coincidence!
Before I could recover from this pleasant shock we were interrupted by,
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Robbins! Say, you're the most persistent fellow."
Turning about, I found Mr. and Mrs. Wallace Conant, of Concord, and three guests of
theirs approaching. Things were happening fast- too fast to control. I wasn't anxious for
witnesses quite so soon; but here they were, and maybe it was all for the best
I said to Mr. Conant, "I would like to have you meet Sgt. Henry David Thoreau,
Jr." Mr. Conant very cordially accepted Sgt. Thoreau's hand in both his, saying,
"How do you do, Mr. Thoreau." Then, while still grasping Sgt. Thoreau's hand,
turned to the other soldier and with his dry Yankee humor asked, "- and who is this,
Ralph Waldo Emerson?"
Poor Sgt. Thoreau! He blushed, and, fumbling about for his army identification tag
said, "My name is Henry David Thoreau, Jr. Here; see for yourself."
Sure enough, it read;
Henry D. Thoreau, Jr.
19132462 T-43-43 B
Henry D. Thoreau
2479 N. Highland Ave.
Altadena, Calif. P.
We stared at one another, amazed that this could really be true. Finally I suggested
that they all gather around the pine stump while I continued my digging. As I added more
brick and plaster to the pails, they overflowed onto the ground, making as fascinating a
sight as I ever had seen. As Sgt. Thoreau and his soldier companion turned to leave, I
suggested that they each take a piece of brick with them as a memento of this day. They
were pleased at the idea, and did so gratefully.
When Mr. and Mrs. Conant and their party had departed and my composure was restored, I
collected my working tools and sat down on the ground to rest and review this eventful
day. Little had I realized when I awoke that morning what was in store for me. It is well
I hadn't. Certainly I wouldn't have been up to it.
Sitting relaxed and admiring my collection of debris, I wouldn't have exchanged it at
that moment for its weight in gems. After all, gems can be replaced; but when a piece of
brick or plaster or nail from Thoreau's house gets lost there is no replacing it. I
couldn't help but think what a revealing story the big, smoke-blackened, mortar-scarred
brick now crowning the pail could tell if only it had eyes, ears and a voice. It could
answer many of the questions which never will be answered. Henry David Thoreau's true
personality, the very heart of the man would be known. His moods, his friends and their
conversations, the food he prepared, habits he kept, his communion with his nature
friends- even the consideration he had shown this brick by finding a place in the chimney
where it would be best fitted. The story that brick could tell if it could but speak! But
the scars that it bore disclosed the part it had played in sheltering Henry David Thoreau.
The coolness of the twilight air chilled me and checked my philosophical mood. It was
just as well, for I was tired and hungry- yes, very weary, too.
The following morning I returned to complete my digging about the tree stump. In the
afternoon my friends, Lt. Commander and Mrs. McIlwaine, drove up from Lexington and
photographed brick and plaster that I had uncovered but had not removed from its virgin
positions. Some of these pictures showed evidence beneath the stump itself.
On Sunday, November 4th, we had an unseasonable snow storm. It covered everything with
a two to three inch depth of wet snow. Aaron Bagg drove down from Holyoke in the morning;
and in the afternoon Aaron, John Lambert Jr. of Concord, and I went to Walden Pond. John
is with the Division of Forestry, a branch of the Massachusetts Department of
Conservation, and was well qualified to determine the age of this tree stump. Carefully
and methodically, John went about analyzing the problem while our three heads and necks
acted as catch basins for the wet snow, converting it into little rivulets of icy water
that trickled down the course of our spines. At last John was ready with his answer.
"Eighty-eight years- a year one way or the other," he said. Slapping Aaron on
the back, I said, "Hear that fella! For all but ten of the ninety-eight years since
the house was moved away, the brick and plaster evidence has been protected by the spread
of that tree's roots. Let the doubters try and discount such evidence!"
In November, 1869, Edmund Stuart Hotham, of New York, a young theological student,
built himself a cabin at Walden and lived there until May 18, 1870. As this was twelve
years after the tree began to grow over the brick and plaster evidence, it eliminated the
possibility of its connection with Hotham's cabin. As to the location to where Hotham
built Channing records: "Hotham's cabin was by the pond on the bank, in front of
Henry's."
Several days later I dug in a spot two to three feet northeast of the tree stump and at
a foot depth I found pieces of old window glass, bluish in color, and uneven in thickness.
One piece still retained putty at its edge. Here I also found glass similar to that used
in a thin tumbler, as well as glass pieces that could have come from a vase or jar. I
found more nails also.
By now I had thoroughly sifted the soil around and adjacent to the pine tree stump and
had been well rewarded for my efforts. But the much sought chimney foundation was nowhere
in evidence.
Meeting Mr. Conant at the Concord library one evening, I told him that I doubted if I
would ever locate the foundation. "I have been all over the hillside with probing
rods and shovels, blistered my hands, found much evidence of the house and the work it
involved, but no sign of the chimney foundation," I said ruefully. "It just
doesn't make sense. We know the chimney had a foundation and foundations aren't salvaged
when buildings are moved."
CHAPTER VI: CHIMNEY FOUNDATION DISCOVERED (Return to Top)
Armistice Day came on Sunday. It was a rainy, raw day- no fit day to spend at Walden
Pond. But the season was late. Regardless of the rain I had to make the most of what
little time remained before cold weather should freeze the soil and terminate my
excavating.
Digging several feet back of the cairn, in a place where I had probed many times before
without finding evidence, I was surprised at the number of nails and pieces of nails I
found after digging a foot deep. Thought I, "Erosion has been unusually generous
here." Pushing my probing rod down until it had penetrated to more than two feet, I
struck something solid. Debating whether or not I should dig that deep- for surely nothing
constructive could be found so deeply embedded - reluctantly I dug until I saw a large,
fairly flat boulder. Pushing my rod in several directions handy to the boulder, I struck
other solid objects. "Could this be it?" I wondered. A crescendo of enthusiasm
seized me as I uncovered another boulder, bound to the first one with lime mortar! Further
digging revealed the southwest corner of the much debated, long sought, foundation to
Henry David Thoreau's house chimney. By now it was nearly dark; and, as I carefully
refilled my diggings I realized that I had been unusually fortunate in pushing my rod down
where I had. Had it been four inches further to the southwest I would have missed my goal
entirely.
That evening I called Aaron Bagg, told him of my good fortune and asked him to come
down in the morning and we would uncover the foundation together.
Jubilantly we began our work on Monday morning. We had to approach the foundation
cautiously with our digging as we did not know its size or exact position. This day also
was rainy and raw, but it didn't dampen our spirit. By evening earth that for nearly a
century had covered the top of the remains of the chimney's foundation was removed
revealing the answer to the true location of Thoreau's Walden house.
Here another extraordinary coincidence presented itself. Henry Thoreau wrote in his
1845 Journal, "Left house on account of plastering, Wednesday, November 12th, at
night, returned Saturday December 6th." One hundred years to the day the Walden house
was finished (for its construction was not completed until it was plastered) its chimney
foundation was brought to light. It was not constructed of boulders alone, for the
northeast corner was formed from broken brick that could not be used in the chimney. Also,
throughout the foundation, brick was used for wedging purposes, or filling spaces its
size. Lime mortar was not used throughout, only in key positions such as the corners of
the foundation and between boulders and brick to bind them together. The same pattern is
found in the cellar walls of the "Texas House" which Thoreau and his father
built six months before Thoreau went to Walden. The Thoreau family was living in the
"Texas House" at the time Henry undertook his Walden enterprise. The remains of
the chimney foundation is nearly a perfect five foot square. The hearth and the top layer
of the chimney foundation were found to be missing. This substantiated Ellery Channing's
opinion that they had been removed by Hugh Whelan.
Tuesday morning Aaron and I continued our digging. In the afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Allen
French, Mrs. Caleb Wheeler and Mr. Wallace Conant came to witness the discovery. This
being another day of intermittent showers, pictures Aaron took of the group developed
poorly.
Although the weather for several days couldn't decide what it wanted to do, by
Wednesday morning it had made a decision. And what a wet one! Intense showers spotted the
morning. As the newspapers predicted rain for Thursday, I decided I shouldn't wait for
good weather to take pictures. Aaron had gone home Tuesday night. My brother, Leonard,
went to the pond this morning and between showers proceeded with the work of removing soil
from about the boulders so they would photograph well. I made arrangements with Miss
Marcia Webber, of Bedford, Mass., a young, attractive and excellent photographer, to take
pictures that afternoon. It was after 3 P.M. when Miss Webber got her equipment set up.
The weather by then was the worst I had encountered at any time during my work at Walden
Pond. Mr. Conant, my brother and I held three umbrellas over Miss Webber and her equipment
while she worked. But here again good fortune smiled my way. The rain on the foundation
made it glisten and the sun's absence eliminated any chance of shadows about the boulders.
The prints were of unusual quality and detail.
Thursday morning I returned to Walden and took compass readings of the chimney
foundation's position. Then, placing a painter's drop-cloth over and around the
foundation, I covered it carefully with its soil, packing it down and leveling it off so
that little evidence of this excavating should remain. As I proceeded with these last
physical efforts connected with research on the subject, I made a mental picture of the
foundation- a deeply and permanently embedded picture of its location, size, depth and
structure.
Shortly after finishing my Walden Pond work I chanced to meet Ezra Nudkins on Concord's
Mill-dam. "Ezra", I said, "how did that little verse you made up about
Thoreau's cairn being in the wrong place go?"
Ezra chuckled. Then ribbing me with his elbow he said, "Say, that was cute, eh?
Listen:
For a hundred years we've tipped out hat
To a site where Henry's hut ne'er sat."
"Well, Ezra," I said, "you change the last line so it reads, 'To the
site where Henry's house had sat', and it will not only be cute- but also correct."
"Shucks, no!" said Ezra, "Who'da thunk it- well I'll be -
aw shucks
no!"
CHAPTER VII: SUGGESTIONS FOR A NEW WALDEN
MEMORIAL (Return to Top)
During the winter months that followed many suggestions were advanced as to the proper
means of preserving the chimney foundation and marking the site of the Walden house.
All suggestions were given due consideration by competent architects. There were those
who would like to have built a replica of the house. This was an excellent idea but proves
impractical. The location being off in the woods and on unpatrolled land afforded no
protection against vandalism. (In 1845 its location was its protection.) There were others
who would have liked to have the chimney foundation uncovered so that it would be visible
to visitors. While this suggestion appeared to be a simple solution to the problem, it
proves otherwise. First the chimney foundation would have to be uncovered. Then it would
have to be carefully removed, each boulder and brick being marked to insure its position
when being relaid. A four foot rubble foundation would then be laid beneath the base of
the chimney foundation. The chimney foundation would then be relaid. But in relaying the
chimney foundation cement would have to be used extensively about the boulders and bricks
to prevent water from settling between them and freezing during the winter. When it was
realized that the visitor would see as much cement as he would chimney foundation, this
plan lost its favor. Besides, visitors would decide to place their stones on the chimney
foundation rather than the cairn. Or they would chip pieces from the brick used in the
chimney foundation for keepsakes. Then again this plan would encourage youthful Walden
bathers to toss the stones from the cairn into the pit and onto the chimney foundation,
burying it from sight. Still again someone suggested this plan would be hazardous to
Walden's summer amorous parties- what if petters should stumble into this pit?
"Would serve them right," grumbled a person whose age disposed him against
these more youthful activities.
"Let us put an iron grill over the open pit," suggested another.
"And put Thoreau beneath bars? Not on your life!" replied someone
indignantly. It was suggested that the chimney foundation be placed in the Concord
Antiquarian.
"How much significance would Lincoln's cabin present if it stood on Boston's
Common?" demanded another. He continued, "If we move, or disturb, the chimney
foundation of Thoreau's Walden house, we disturb the very soul of Thoreau. If Thoreau had
not made his Walden Pond experiment his name would be obscure today. Five hundred years
from now Concord will be famous because of Thoreau and his Walden- and not because of the
Old North Bridge. The Walden Thoreau memorial must preserve the chimney foundation, mark
the site of Thoreau's house and be in keeping with Thoreau's simplicity and ideals."
Before those interested became too involved with final plans for a Walden Thoreau
memorial, some concern had to be given to the means of financing it. Consensus of opinion
agrees that this would prove no problem. But after writing and contacting several
organizations that support and sponsor the preservation of historical buildings and
antiquities, it was discovered they could not assist in financing a Walden Thoreau
memorial. Many of these organizations invest only in projects over which they can have
control. Walden Pond being part of a state reservation would not permit private
enterprise.
A friend suggested that I write to a very prominent New York citizen who had shown much
interest in the past in such undertakings. However, my friend cautioned me that the New
York person might prove to be a very caustic correspondent if he was not taken with my
idea. This I learned to be the truth. My letter to this party stated that I had discovered
Thoreau's Walden home site and that he might be able to assist in suggesting some form of
appropriate memorial. I also enclosed a clipping of the Concord Journal which had a
picture of me standing in the open pit beside the chimney foundation. Two weeks later I
received his answer:
New York
N.Y.
Mr. Roland Wells Robbins
January 17, 1946
R.F.D. No. 1
Concord, Mass.
My dear Mr. Robbins:
Please excuse my delay in answering your letter but I have been trying to find out who
this man Thoreau was whose grave you have been trying to discover. None of my
acquaintances in the New York Fire Department ever heard of him. I stopped in at a branch
library. There they told me they had heard the name and thought he was a writer who used
to write special articles for the now defunct Evening World. Following up this literary
lead I asked some literary people. One person said he had been gardener for Guy Lowell and
another one told me he was a founder of the "Do What You Please Club." From this
you can see that Thoreau's name is not well known in New York, although he may have been a
prominent enough citizen of Concord to justify a national society to perpetuate his name.
I think that you have a literary detective in Boston who could be much more valuable to
you in this connection than I can. I beg to refer you to ________________ Boston, Mass.
Yours sincerely,
___________________
I answered this New York letter:
R.F.D. #1
Concord, Massachusetts
Sunday, January 20, 1946
___________________
___________________
New York, N. Y.
My dear ___________________:
I was profoundly disappointed, yet mildly surprised, to learn that members of the New
York Fire Department had yet to become acquainted with the name Thoreau. You see, I am not
a Concordian- don't even live in the town- but rather in the bordering town of Lincoln,
Mass. None of my people ever lived in Concord and like myself knew much about the place
other than what was read from history and books on American literature. My education, I
shamefully admit, was limited to one year of high school and part of this education was a
product of a Maine rural school. I am not a scholar, and by profession I operate a small
and successful domestic window cleaning and painting business- yet even I had heard of
Henry Thoreau long before I began kicking up Concord dust. I don't say all I heard was
pleasant but nevertheless I had heard of the man.
Many people find food for a youthful ambition by chasing fire engines. As for me, my
youthful ambition was to become better acquainted with some of those who preceded me and
lent a hand in building traditions that have stabilized our way of living. Made no
difference what field they operated in as long as their part was important to the pattern.
So my spare time is spent in roaming around cemeteries introducing myself to some of
the immortal names we are all familiar with. It is surprising, how the great people who
paved the way for us, and who would never have had the time to converse with us when they
carried their load of flesh, literally beg and crave your companionship today. They will
talk on anything- particularly about themselves. They will give you an insight into the
problems that confronted them and answer any question you might put to them.
It was on one of these grave-digging pilgrimages that I became acquainted with Henry
Thoreau. I have spent many enjoyable and refreshing visits with Henry since then. (He
insists that I call him Henry.) The things I have learned about that man one would never
imagine. Believe me, no man was ever so misunderstood or bore so much undeserving
humiliation, according to him. He asked but one favor of me- pleaded that I go out to
Walden Pond and uncover the foundation to his hut's chimney so the professors of
literature and followers of his philosophy could concentrate on his writings without
interrupting their studies with bickerings on the true location of the hut.
I carefully followed his instructions and, sure enough, had no trouble locating the
chimney's foundation after six months of blistering excavation work.
Henry doesn't know I am trying to make arrangements to preserve and properly present
this five by five square of boulders to the many thousands of tourists who annually visit
Walden Pond to pay their respects to him. I want to surprise him. But at this date the
surprise in store for Thoreau is that vandals and souvenir hunters will dismantle the much
discussed, long sought chimney foundation come spring thaw. They hover around like locust
and I and my wet shammy can't hold them off once my strong ally, Jack Frost, deserts me.
I am sending you a copy of Henry Thoreau's Walden for your acquaintances in the New
York Fire Department. Also a copy of my "Thru The Covered Bridge," a book of
rural poems I wrote while barnstorming around Vermont trying to make a living. I also
enclose three copies of my "Story of The Minute Man" which Mr.
___________ has broadcast three times within the year, once a coast to coast
hook-up.
You will note that I am the author, poet, historian, research collaborator, editor,
publisher and distributor in the case of all my literary work. This is the way it has had
to be in the past and undoubtedly will be with my story 'House Hunting for Henry David
Thoreau." Nevertheless, if my good health continues, I expect by spring to have
accumulated the means to publish the story- and let me assure you, it is anything but
dull, even for firemen. It will include invaluable photographs of which I alone have title
to.
Before the ink of the first copies of this story has set I will forward same to your
acquaintances in the New York Fire Department.
In the meantime if I get to New York (and I never have been there) I will be glad to
talk to the city's firemen about my friend, Henry Thoreau. And tell of my visits with
Henry and show slides pertaining to the work and discoveries on the hut's location
controversy.
Until then
Yours for a more Thoreau New York Fire
Department.
(Sgd.) Roland Wells Robbins
On February 1st, 1946 the morning mail included a large manila envelope addressed to:
Mr. Henry David Thoreau
c/o Master Roland Wells Robbins
Lincoln, Mass.
Opening it I found an 8- x 12-inch piece of white cardboard on which was printed in red
lettering:
This serves to remind
Henry David Thoreau
That he is a loyal member of the
Do what you please club
I thanked my correspondent with:
R.F.D. #1
Concord, Mass.
February 3, 1946
My Dear ___________________,
Your certificate of membership to the "Do What You Please Club" for Henry
David Thoreau arrived save and sound this morning. The was a most pleasant surprise, as I
secretly had expected the certificate to be an honorary membership to the New York Fire
Department for my friend.
Nevertheless I hastened over to Sleepy Hollow
Cemetery and lifting back the two-foot
blanket of snow, I presented it to Henry. You should have seen his joy when learning of
you thoughtfulness. 'Twas though he had at last been well rewarded for the load of abuse
his narrow, sloping shoulders had supported for the past century.
I couldn't but help recall a similar scene that took place this past Xmas when I handed
an unfortunate waif a ragged, headless doll. (It was all I had to offer.) Turning her
drawn, dejected face to me, it suddenly was aglow with a new life and spirit as she
thanked me with, "Gee, mister, ain't it the most beautiful doll in the world!"
You know, I can't but help feel I, too, will share this honorary degree with Henry for
the small part I played in bringing it about.
It takes me back some twenty years to the day I was rewarded for my first sincere
effort in life when receiving my Tenderfoot Badge I became a full-fledged Boy Scout.
In behalf of Henry David Thoreau, I enclose our deepest appreciations for your interest
in our problems, and assure you we won't again beseech you with the problems of our
future.
Thoreauly yours
(Sgd.) Roland Wells Robbins
Fortunately, by now the Middlesex County Commissioners, who have jurisdiction over the
Walden Pond State Reservation, had appropriated one thousand dollars towards a Walden Pond
Thoreau memorial. Nevertheless, my New York adversary and I continued our saucy sparring.
This time I started the action:
R.F.D. #1
Concord, Mass.
April 18, 1946
___________________
___________________
New York, N. Y.
Dear ___________________:
Imagine my surprise when a recent mail brought an invitation for me to address the New
York Thoreau Fellowship the evening of May 2 at the Museum of Natural History. I
understand the purpose of this meeting will be to open the National Thoreau Memorial Fund
campaign.
Naturally I seized this opportunity to vacation three days from my window-cleaning
work, and make this first trip to your big city.
Being my first attempt at public speaking, I will not venture to predict my delivery.
However, 1 promise not to preach on the virtues of Henry's philosophy. Rather my sermon
will deal with the value of having a hobby.
This should prove an excellent opportunity for you to gather invaluable information on
the literary world's man Friday for the New York Fire Department, as well as acquaint you
with the necessity of your sponsorship for this worthy cause.
May I welcome you as my guest?
Very truly yours,
(Sgd.) Roland Wells Robbins
P.S.
By the way, it wasn't I who discovered Thoreau's body, his grave, or the pie-tin over
which he toasted his corn-bread, as has so erroneously been credited to me-
nor am I
acquainted with their discoverer. My discovery being limited to the remains of his hut's
chimney foundation at Walden Pond.
Be seeing you May 2nd.
My New York correspondent didn't accept my invitation to hear me speak. He did,
however, accept my invitation to continue with our bickering. And he did a real good job
of it:
____________________
____________________
New York, N. Y.
May 9, 1946
My dear Mr. Robbins,
I am sorry that I could not accommodate you with bed and breakfast on May 2nd, which I
knew was why you wrote, but under the circumstances there were no vacancies in this hotel.
I hope that you did not attempt to receive any instruction from ___________________ on
public speaking because of all people he is the most awful speaker I have ever heard. In
the early days when he did not have photographs, before I told him how to photograph, he
tried to dodge many ripe eggs. Then after he became more efficient at taking photographs
the public spared the screen because they wanted to see the pictures. However, my mentor
in public speaking was Chief Massasoit, who taught me not to say too much. I was never
pelted with eggs because I always stayed in the back and ran the projector and threw my
voice from the screen. This has two advantages. I did not need an operator and I did not
have to put on a white front. The latter two has found extremely expensive as he had to
hire a man to run the pictures, and during the paper scarcity he often found it hard to
get shirt fronts.
If you are in the window cleaning business I wish you would clean office windows
sometime because I have never seen such a grimy office in my life.
Yours sincerely,
___________________
I answered the best I could with:
R.F.D. #1
Concord, Mass.
May 12, 1946.
___________________
New York, N.Y.
My dear ______________,
Your letter sure made me blush with shame. Little did I realize you would see through
my guise for conniving a meal and night's lodging from you while in New York. You did,
however, slip on the date as it wasn't May 2nd I had in mind but rather the week-end.
Nevertheless I was successful in using my self-pity to good advantage. I snared a
fellow from Forest Hills. He took royal care of me and didn't for a minute catch on to my
act- although at times I think he was suspicious. I did miss you at the lecture though,
and delayed its start for thirty minutes in the hope that some local fire delayed
you
presence temporarily.
You know, you and I have much in common- even though it isn't Henry Thoreau. For
instance, you saw through the paper shirt front guise that ________________ has been
getting away with for years. You're the only one wise to __________________ conservatism
(it's his Yankee background, you know) . To be sure, the paper shortage would have proved
a calamity to ___________________ if it hadn't been for me. My experience in the
window-cleaning and paint cleaning business proved invaluable in renovating these false
fronts. I beg you not to mention this to him as he's very touchy in this respect.
Very truly yours,
(Sgd.) Roland Wells Robbins
CHAPTER VIII: NEW DISCOVERIES (Return to Top)
BY May the warm spring air had thawed and dried the soil at Walden and I returned and
continued my investigation. More nails were located about the site of the Walden house and
I discovered the foundation for the northwest corner of the house.
I had been intrigued by an area just back of the site where the chimney foundation was
discovered. This area was banked on three sides and was about 8 feet wide and 10 feet
long. According to the early sketches of Thoreau's Walden home and its woodshed, as well
as the evidence I had found, this area fitted perfectly into the pattern and excavation
should prove it to be the site of the woodshed.
Memorial Day morning I picked lady-slippers, violets and ferns from about the site of
the Walden house and taking them to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery placed them upon Thoreau's
grave. I realized it was unlawful to pick flowers on the Walden Pond State Reservation.
But then, this was Memorial Day, and I was sentimental. While at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery I
met two people who hat not been on speaking terms with each other for several years.
Individually they conversed with me.
I watched as they decorated the same grave, neither speaking to the other. How ironic,
decorating the dead, yet not speaking to the living.
Memorial Day afternoon I returned to Walden and began excavating along the banked area
where, I presumed, the woodshed had stood. My physical efforts were well rewarded. Digging
along the crest of the banked area I removed from two of its sides thirty old and rusted
square nails, of assorted sizes, as well as a piece of lead that showed knife lines across
it. Most of the evidence had been buried about a foot in the soil. Later it was determined
that the lead piece might have furnished Thoreau with sinkers for his fish lines. Also the
lead piece could have been used by Thoreau for a base over which leather etc. were cut.
Returning to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery Memorial Day evening, I found a garland of field
flowers had been placed around my small bouquet. Together they made a simple and fitting
Memorial Day token to Henry Thoreau. Later I learned Mrs. Caleb Wheeler had been
responsible for the garland, a practice she had been carrying on for some time. Yet these
small mementos alone were the only consideration shown Henry Thoreau on Memorial Day, a
day given to "In memory of." Does he not deserve a wider recognition on Memorial
Day from the many who have derived a personal and guiding comfort from his writings? There
are those who believe, "Thoreau would prefer it that way". If that be true, then
neither would Thoreau approve of the Walden cairn. Still the Walden cairn has had far more
stones placed upon it than has Thoreau's grave had flowers- and the grave is ten years the
senior.
In May T. Mott Shaw of Concord, a prominent architect, proposed a Walden Thoreau
memorial that came close to meeting with everyone's approval. Mr. Shaw suggested that
granite posts three feet high be set on the four corners of the house site. Where the door
to the house originally stood two more granite posts would be set. A wrought iron chain
would sag between the granite posts, leaving an entrance to the enclosed house site
between the granite posts marking the door. At the opposite end of the enclosed area over
the remains of the chimney foundation, large, flat-surfaced, field boulders would be
embedded about one foot, rising six inches above the soil. On the center boulder an
inscription would be cut stating that "beneath these boulders lies Thoreau's chimney
foundation." There would also be inscribed some appropriate passage from Walden. The
original position of Thoreau's woodshed would be marked by four, foot high, granite posts
set out on the four corners of its site. The woodshed area would not be enclosed with
chains.
Mr. Shaw's proposed memorial provided the requirements essential to protect, yet not
disturb the remains, and would present to the visitor the actual site and the significance
of the smallness of Thoreau's Walden house. Mr. Shaw's plan was in keeping with the Walden
environs and would convey to the visitor the thought-provoking fact that from this ten by
fifteen foot area- an area smaller than the modern single car garage - such great literary
work came to the world.
I spent the morning of July 4th, the one hundred and first anniversary of Thoreau's
moving into his Walden home, digging in the area of the woodshed. My physical efforts were
again well rewarded. I located the southeast corner foundation of the woodshed. It was a
foot and a half in the soil and was constructed of bricks and stone. Phoning Mrs. Allen
French and Mrs. Caleb Wheeler I asked if they would care to witness the discovery before I
carefully covered it again. It was not convenient for Mrs. French. But Mrs. Wheeler and
her son Warren came out to Walden and witnessed the evidence. Both shared my belief that
it was the foundation for the southeast corner of Thoreau's woodshed.
What a contrast the one hundred and first anniversary presented to the one hundredth
anniversary of Thoreau's settling in his Walden home. There was no pilgrimage to Walden
this year, no readings. Alas, the morning brought no visitors to the cairn. The 1945
centennial service would have to suffice until the one hundred and tenth, or maybe the one
hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary.
When Mrs. Wheeler and her son Warren had departed and I had covered up my digging, I
sat down and reminisced for several minutes. I recalled the 1945 commemorative exercises -
how Mr. Allen French had stood just to the rear of the cairn as he presided. Then, when
the controversy as to the true site of Thoreau's Walden house was being discussed, Mr.
French had stepped back several paces, opened his shooting-stick, a form of walking-stick
that can be opened and used as a seat, and relaxed. What a furore I would have created if
at the height of that discussion I could have stepped forward and said, "Ladies and
gentlemen, debate the subject no further. Mr. French has placed his shooting-stick above
the remains of the chimney foundation itself!" Yet, if I had possessed this knowledge
a year earlier, there would have been no need of the debating.
Miss Louise Stimson of Concord made an excellent miniature model of the Walden Thoreau
memorial as proposed by T. Mott Shawl It was so lifelike that one would imagine himself
standing before the finished and dedicated Walden memorial.
On July 13th the National Thoreau Society convened in Concord. The business meeting was
held in the vestry of the First Parish Meeting House. Miss Stimson's model of the proposed
Walden Thoreau memorial was exhibited. I exhibited many of the relics that I had found at
Walden, as well as all the photographs taken of the work and statements by those who had
participated.
The Thoreau Society's morning business meeting was followed by an interesting talk
given by Prof. Walter Richard Eaton of Yale. At the afternoon session I spoke of my
research and excavating at Walden, showing slides of the work and outlining its results.
At the conclusion of my talk the proposed Walden Thoreau memorial plans were fumed over to
those assembled for discussion. T. Mott Shaw's suggestion met the hearty approval of all.
The only discussion centered on the proposed inscriptions. Naturally there were many
different views as to appropriate inscriptions. It was voted to have the National Thoreau
Society provide the boulder and its inscription, which was to be centered over the remains
of Thoreau's chimney foundation.
To carry out T. Mott Shaw's proposed plan for a Walden Thoreau memorial would
necessitate the moving of stones from the rear of the calm to new positions nearer the
cairn's front. This was essential, as twenty-five per cent of the cairn actually occupied
part of the ten by fifteen foot area where Thoreau built his house. (Bronson Alcott, often
accused of being incorrect and impractical, certainly knew what he was doing when he
carries the first stones for the calm from Walden's shore and placed them on the true site
of Thoreau's house.)
CHAPTER IX: THOREAU'S CELLAR HOLE (Return to Top)
TUESDAY morning, Aug. 13, Raymond Emerson of Concord, a grandson of Ralph Waldo
Emerson, and I visited the Middlesex County Commissioners and asked permission to move the
rear section of the cairn that rested on the site of the house to a position nearer the
cairn's front; also to open the "six feet square by seven deep" cellar hole that
Thoreau had dug in the sandy soil beneath his house to store his potatoes. It was expected
that many more relics would be discovered in the cellar. Permission was granted.
Saturday morning, August 31, I went to Walden and began moving stones from the rear of
the cairn to positions nearer the front and to the left of the large boulder that holds
the inscribed plaque. In an hour's time I had cleared stones from two feet of the area to
be cleared. Digging out a stone, half the size of a football, from the sandy soil at the
bottom of the cairn, I was startled to find the name "Mr. and Mrs. G. T. Pratt -
1878" printed with black paint on its underside. Replacing it in the position it
had occupied, I hastened home and telephoned Mrs. Allen French, Mrs. Leslie Anderson, Mrs.
Caleb Wheeler and Rothwell MacRae, all of Concord. They arrived shortly and Mrs. Anderson
and Rothwell MacRae took pictures of the inscribed stone and its position at the bottom of
the cairn. Continuing with the moving of the cairn's stones, I found many more with
inscriptions. By noon their total was fourteen. In the afternoon Anton Kovar, a member of
the National Thoreau Society, Mrs. Leslie Anderson and Miss Evelyn Knowlton arrived and
helped with the work. By evening a total of thirty stones with inscriptions on them had
been removed from the bottom of the cairn. Mrs. Anderson photographed them. Then the
stones were hidden in the brush for the night.
Sunday morning I met Anton Kovar in Concord Center and we drove to Walden and continued
with the work of moving the cairn from the area of Thoreau's house site. By noon the work
was completed. Eight more inscribed stones had been found. Of the thirty-eight inscribed
stones removed from the bottom of the cairn, apparently twenty-seven had been placed there
by a group of visitors who had made a pilgrimage to the pond in 1878. This was evident as
the inscribed names and dates on the twenty-seven stones had been printed with black paint
and by the same person. Having been protected from the elements by being buried face down
in the sandy soil, much of the black printing retained a gloss.
One stone with "F. W. C. Hersey, 1893" printed on it had been inscribed with
red paint. Mrs. Allen French ant Mrs. Caleb Wheeler both were acquainted with the name and
said it was Prof. F. W. C. Hersey of Harvard College, now retired and living in Cambridge.
Of the twenty-seven inscribed stones apparently placed on the cairn in 1878 by a group
on a picnic, or on a pilgrimage to Walden, two were inscribed "Boston Herald"
(the name of a Boston daily newspaper) and "Banner of light." Could it have been
an outing by a newspaper organization? However, Banner of Light took on a more religious
aspect. Among the names inscribed on the 1878 stones were Dr. York, Boston; Giles B.
Stebbins, Detroit, Mich.; Mr. and Mrs. J. F. Gault (O.M.A.), Boston; W. P. McCobb
(O.M.A.); Mr. and Mrs. S. Burrill, Jr. (O.M.A.), Chelsea; G. A. Fuller; J. W. Day; Mr. and
Mrs. Hatch Jr.; Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Currier; and Lutie Blair Murdock. What was the meaning
of O.M.A.?
Having cleared the cairn from the area which Thoreau's house had occupied, we set to
work opening Thoreau's "six feet square by seven deep" cellar hole. The surface
soil of the filled-in cellar hole was a layer of humus which had accumulated during the
twenty-five-year period between the moving of the house in 1847 and the beginning of the
cairn in 1872. Two feet beneath the humus were located bent and rusted square nails,
pieces of plaster, pottery and glass, and wood ashes. Five feet beneath the humus the
sandy soil was mixed with rich soil. As no relics were found much deeper than two feet in
the cellar hole, apparently a load of fill had been carted in and dropped into the cellar
hole after the Walden house was moved to the bean field. The top two feet of fill possibly
came from about the house site, which accounted for the nails, plaster pieces, etc., found
nearer the surface.
Late that afternoon, Walter Harding, Secretary of the National Thoreau Society appeared
with a sleeping-bag strapped to his shoulders and announced he was going to spend the
night there. Walter and Anton Kovar accompanied me to my home and we had supper. Then we
journeyed to the Thoreau Farm, now owned by Mrs. Caleb Wheeler. It was here that Thoreau
was born, though the house in which he was born had later been moved.
Mrs. Wheeler had generously offered to donate the boulder which the National Thoreau
Society would place at Walden. How fitting that this boulder should come from the Thoreau
birthplace! The Thoreau Farm's pastures are littered with granite boulders of all sizes
and shapes. After inspecting many, we decided on a flat surfaced boulder about three feet
long and two feet wide. It weighed about twelve hundred pounds and would insure protection
for the chimney foundation. Later T. Mott Shaw, the architect, and Mr. and Mrs. Allen
French examined the boulder and approved our choice.
Leaving Mrs. Wheeler's, Anton and I drove Walter out to Walden and helped him locate
his sleeping-bag.
Early Monday morning I went to Walden and found Walter digging in the cellar hole.
Enthusiastically he told how he had enjoyed the night- and how he had had a visitor. A
great-great-great-great-etc.-grandson of a fox that had shared the woods with Thoreau had
strolled up to see how he was faring. However, being unaccustomed to the glare of a
flashlight, he had high-footed away before Walter could make his acquaintance.
Thoreau did not have his cellar in the very center of the house. Rather it lay at one
end, between the door and the center of the house. This sort of balanced the fireplace and
hearth which occupied the opposite end. In the very center of the house site was located a
boulder foundation for some sort of a support. It is difficult to imagine why a structure
the size of Thoreau's house required a center support. Nevertheless there is evidence to
show this to be so. In the May 6, 1880 edition of the Concord Freeman there appeared a
Thoreau Annex. Joseph Hosmer, then of Chicago, recalled a day which he had spent with
Thoreau at the Walden house in September, 1845.
"The building was not then finished, the chimney had no beginning-
the sides were
not battered, or the walls plastered. . . . The king-post was an entire tree, extending
from the bottom of the cellar to the ridge-pole, upon which we descended, as the sailors
do, into the hold of a vessel."
To be sure, Hosmer was recalling his visit to Walden thirty five years after it had
taken place. Time distorts memories, particularly where details are concerned. No
foundation for a king-post was found at the bottom of the cellar hole. What could have
been such a foundation was located next to the cellar hole, on the ground level and in the
very center of the house- a logical place for it to be located. Certainly Hosmer's memory
would not have recalled a king-post in the house, and its use as a conveyance, if it had
not existed in some form. However, it is likely that its use in this connection was to and
from the garret which Thoreau mentioned.
Before refilling and closing the cellar hole, Walter Harding wrote a statement
pertaining to its excavation, which statement was signed by all witnesses.
"The undersigned have witnessed the excavation of the cellar-hole of Henry David
Thoreau's Walden cabin on Labor Day, September 2, 1946, by Roland Wells Robbins who
discovered the site of the chimney foundation on November 11, 1945.
Roland Wells Robbins, Lincoln, Mass.
T. Morris Longstreth, Concord, Mass.
Aletta L
French, Concord, Mass.
Wallace B. Conant, Concord, Mass.
Anton Kovar, Arlington, Mass.
Walter Harding, Secretary of the Thoreau Society, Bridgewater Mass.
The above are members of the Thoreau Society. [The three signatures below are of
non-member witnesses.]
Madeline Van Antwerp Huffert, North Bergen, N. J.
Anton M. Huffert, North Bergen, N. J.
Rothwell N. MacRae, Concord, Mass.
Anton Kovar had purchased a long, narrow bottle with a plastic cover, at a Concord
drug-store. Placing the statement in the bottle and screwing the cover on tightly, we
deposited it at about a four-foot depth in the center of the cellar hole.
With the cellar hole nearly two-thirds filled, I was probing and digging to the front
of it, just outside of the house site and in front of where the door had stood. At a depth
of fifteen inches I discovered a large deposit of poorly mixed, unused lime plaster. When
it was uncovered it was found to be seven feet, ten inches long, a foot thick and as wide
in places as three feet. It had been deposited just to the front of where the door stood,
running along the southwest front of the house until it extended three feet and nine
inches beyond the comer. Thoreau could not have mixed his p |