Cape Cod
- Sprache:
- Englisch
- Status:
- Vollständiges Werk
- Autorschaft:
- Vom Autor verfasst
- Zustand des Textes:
- Kein Scanrauschen festgestellt (automatische Messung über den ganzen Text, nicht von Hand geprüft)
- Umfang:
- ~76.200 Wörter · 362 Passagen
Dieses Werk zitieren
- APAHenry David Thoreau. (n.d.). Cape Cod. Digital reproduction: SigPhi. https://sigphiai.com/de/works/thoreau/cape-cod
- MLAHenry David Thoreau. Cape Cod. Digital reproduction, SigPhi, https://sigphiai.com/de/works/thoreau/cape-cod.
- ChicagoHenry David Thoreau. Cape Cod. Digital reproduction, SigPhi. https://sigphiai.com/de/works/thoreau/cape-cod.
Angabe der Ausgabe, die SigPhi wiedergibt: SigPhi ist ihre digitale Reproduktion, nicht der Verlag. Das Erscheinungsjahr steht nicht in den Metadaten (daher „n.d.“), und der Übersetzer erscheint nur, wenn er verzeichnet ist.
Wovon es handelt
Das Buch, das Thoreau aus vier Reisen nach Cape Cod zwischen 1849 und 1857 machte: das düsterste und das vergnüglichste seiner Bücher.
Kontext und Geschichte
Es beginnt mit einer Szene, die den Ton bestimmt: am Tage seiner Ankunft ist eben ein Schiff mit irischen Auswanderern gestrandet, und der Strand liegt voller Leichen, die die Leute identifizieren. Von da an geht Thoreau die äußere Küste ab, die zum offenen Ozean hin, und schreibt über den Sand, die Wildheit des Meeres, die Schiffbrüche, die Bewohner — Fischer, Austernstecher, ein Alter, der ihm großartige Lügen auftischt — und über den Bewuchs, der sich hält, wo kein Boden ist. Die Natur hier ist nicht die von „Walden“: sie tröstet niemanden und ist nicht für uns gemacht. Erschienen ist es nach seinem Tode, 1865, und es ist das Buch, in dem sein trockener Humor am deutlichsten hervortritt.
Redaktioneller Kontext, keine zitierfähige Quelle: anders als die Passagen des Werks lassen sich diese Angaben nicht am Korpus überprüfen.
absorb the greater part of the old clothes of the Cape, leaving but few rags for the pedlers. The wind-mills on the hills,—large weather-stained octagonal structures,—and the salt-works scattered all along the shore, with their long rows of vats resting on piles driven into the marsh, their low, turtle-like roofs, and their slighter wind-mills, were novel and interesting objects to an inlander. The sand by the road-side was partially covered with bunches of a moss-like plant, _Hudsonia tomentosa_, which a woman in the stage told us was called “poverty-grass,” because it grew where nothing else would. I was struck by the pleasant equality which reigned among the stage company, and their broad and invulnerable good-humor. They were what is called free and easy, and met one another to advantage, as men who had at length learned how to live. They appeared to know each other when they were strangers, they were so simple and downright. They were well met, in an unusual sense, that is, they met as well as they could meet, and did not seem to be troubled with any impediment. They were not afraid nor ashamed of one another, but were contented to make just such a company as the ingredients allowed. It was evident that the same foolish respect was not here claimed for mere wealth and station that is in many parts of New England; yet some of them were the “first people,” as they are called, of the various towns through which we passed. Retired sea-captains, in easy circumstances, who talked of farming as sea-captains are wont; an erect, respectable, and trustworthy-looking man, in his wrapper, some of the salt of the earth, who had formerly been the salt of the sea; or a more courtly gentleman, who, perchance, had been a representative to the General Court in his day; or a broad, red-faced Cape Cod man, who had seen too many storms to be easily irritated; or a fisherman’s wife, who had been waiting a week for a coaster to leave Boston, and had at…