I asked the reader to post his email as a comment on the original article, but then I figured I would just put it in a brand new one. His note made me think that I hadn’t expressed myself very well, so I want to elaborate. Here’s his email:

Dear Mr. Meador,

I’ve been reading your Refractor post dated July 10, 2008, in which you express doubt of Thoreau’s virginity. Personally, of course, I have no way of knowing whether Thoreau was a lifelong virgin or not, although I plan to read Walter Harding’s biography of Thoreau which, according to another Web site, describes him as such. The reason I’m writing to you, however, is to say that I find your reasoning curious or, if you will, “slightly bizarre.” You state that:

“I couldn’t believe that anyone who hadn’t devoted their life to priesthood, a convent, or a monastery would ever maintain a strict code of sexual abstinence. It’s not that I’m pushing promiscuity, but I am at the core a scientist, and Darwin’s work is always at the back of my mind. In other words, humans reproduce through sexual intercourse, so a lifetime spent without a single sexually intimate relationship is slightly bizarre.”

What I find curious about this is that Darwin’s Origin of Species was published only two and a half years before Thoreau’s death. I doubt Darwin’s ideas could have had much impact on Thoreau’s way of life (unlike today, after 150 years). To see someone in Thoreau’s time who is a lifelong virgin as not fulfilling their “survival of the fittest” role is a conceptual mismatch. The reason Darwin’s thinking was so revolutionary is that people didn’t think in such terms before his book.

With consideration,
Gordon W (name abbreviated for privacy)

Here’s my response to Gordon:

Hi Gordon,

Thanks for writing. It seems that my point was miscommunicated. I don’t think that Social Darwinism will ever be a sufficient paradigm to explain human life or behavior, so I didn’t mean that Thoreau wasn’t “fit” in that sense. Furthermore, I didn’t mean to suggest that Darwin’s work has influenced the way that people live, or the way they make conscious decisions.

What I meant was that lifelong abstinence is simply unnatural. A person has to actively oppose their natural instincts in order to fulfill such a goal. Most people who make the claim are lying (like Tolstoy — as I wrote in the post: “Tolstoy preached celibacy, but fathered something like 13 children.”). And most people who actually go through with it are doing so for religious reasons (i.e. – priests and nuns).

The reason I even mentioned Darwin was to clarify how lifelong celibacy is unnatural. It’s more a sign of fear over the power of sexuality, a neurosis brought on by the repression of sexual feelings and acts. This relates to the incidence of child molestation among Catholic priests, men who never progressed past adolescent sexual maturity.

I’m not as concerned with whether or not Thoreau was actually a virgin as I am about the underlying psychology behind his writing and philosophy. If he was really so guarded as to avoid sexual (or even chaste romantic relationships) in life, then his worldview was inevitably incomplete — and that will color how I interpret his work.

I still haven’t returned to Walden, partly because of how serious I am about my point here. Forced virginity is one of the tools employed by Islamic Fundamentalists to make suicide bombers! Remember how the authoritarian government in Orwell’s masterpiece 1984 uses sexual deprivation to stir up fervent nationalism? Coincidence? No way!

Anyways, please share your thoughts!

However, one thing keeps stopping me. I read Into The Wild by Jon Krakauer a few weeks ago (the basis for the recent film). In the book, the author is very careful to attribute Chris McCandless’ action to his literary inspirations, namely Tolstoy, Jack London, and Thoreau. Krakauer also clearly points out the paradox of basing your moral code on the writings of people who didn’t follow their own advice, so to speak. According to Krakauer, London was a terrible drunk who only visited Alaska once or twice before killing himself. Tolstoy preached celibacy, but fathered something like 13 children.

Thoreau, on the other hand, died a virgin (a real-life, 44-year-old virgin, to be exact). Reading this tainted all my thoughts. I did a sort of double take. I couldn’t believe that anyone who hadn’t devoted their life to priesthood, a convent, or a monastery would ever maintain a strict code of sexual abstinence. It’s not that I’m pushing promiscuity, but I am at the core a scientist, and Darwin’s work is always at the back of my mind. In other words, humans reproduce through sexual intercourse, so a lifetime spent without a single sexually intimate relationship is slightly bizarre.

In McCandless’ case, he was in denial because of family history (read the book or watch the movie to learn more about this), and ultimately he was holding himself, friends, and family to unreasonable moral standards. I don’t know Thoreau’s story as well, but I can’t take him very seriously anymore. From now on, I can’t think of his philosophy as complete or worthwhile, since it was based on a lifestyle that lacked an extremely vital portion of human nature.

Still, there are some interesting statements in Walden, like this: “In the long run men hit only what they aim at. Therefore, though they should fail immediately, they had better aim at something high” (p. 22). I guess in retrospect it’s a pretty general quote, but in the context of the book, it sounded very inspirational. I think I interpreted it as applying to mankind as well as individuals. I connected it with my recent thoughts about how most attempts to improve or “fix” the world are futile. We may never find a solution to all the grandest problems. But that doesn’t disqualify the need to search. It surely doesn’t mean we should cause any less of a stir in telling the world that it is a fucked up, wretched placed. In fact, it gives us greater reason to do so.

Thoreau’s quote is an anchor for this line of thought, if taken with a dose of skepticism. After all, people reach some great places and accomplishments that they never expected or imagined. That doesn’t mean that we should not shoot for a goal. It does mean that our plans are usually shattered or diverted. But we keep striving for progress, for justice, for truth. We can’t rid ourselves of hope.

And I can’t escape the nagging feeling that I should finish reading Walden.