The Vagabond in Literature — Context and Discussion

Defining the Vagabond Temperament

Rickett's method is to isolate a shared 'wandering instinct' that manifests differently in each writer. He distinguishes between physical wandering—actual travel and rootlessness—and intellectual wandering, a restlessness of mind that rebels against 'the routine and conventions of ordinary life.' The author does not claim this instinct is universal or even admirable in all cases; rather, he presents it as a lens for understanding certain literary forces. The foreword makes clear that the book 'does not pretend to be exhaustive,' and the reader is invited to see these essays as suggestive rather than definitive. Rickett's own voice is measured, avoiding hyperbole, and he grounds his claims in specific biographical details rather than abstract theory.

Thoreau and the Art of Consolation

In the excerpt on Thoreau, Rickett focuses on the writer's rapport with children, using an anecdote about little Edward Emerson spilling huckleberries. Thoreau comforts the boy by explaining that 'Nature had provided that little boys and girls should now and then stumble and sow the berries.' This moment reveals Thoreau's ability to transform mishap into natural lesson. Rickett then draws a parallel to Lewis Carroll and Thackeray, arguing that a fondness for children often accompanies reserve in adults. He writes that such fondness is 'much the same in quality as the fondness for animals'—a preference for the 'fresh, unsophisticated, and elemental.' This observation is typical of Rickett's approach: he uses a small, concrete incident to illuminate a broader temperamental trait.

The Limits of Sociability

Rickett challenges the assumption that being good with children proves sociability. He cites Thackeray's 'moroseness and reserve' and Lewis Carroll's shyness as counterexamples. The author's tone becomes pointed: 'A good deal of nonsense is talked about the purity and innocence of childhood.' He dismisses the 'morbidly sentimental atmosphere' that turns children into 'little prigs or little hypocrites.' What attracts genuine child-lovers, he insists, is 'naturalness and simplicity,' not moral purity. This argumentative edge shows Rickett willing to push against conventional wisdom. He grounds his claim in the observation that children, like animals, represent 'the frank predominance of the instinctive life'—a quality the vagabond writer himself often embodies.

The Role of Biographical Detail

Throughout the excerpts, Rickett relies on testimony from contemporaries. He quotes Moncure Conway describing Thoreau's 'inexhaustible' resources for entertainment, and Emerson's daughter asking 'Whom shall we ask?' to which Emerson replies 'All children from six to sixty.' These details are not mere color; they serve as evidence for Rickett's thesis about the vagabond's relation to society. The author does not fabricate or embellish—he lets the anecdotes speak. His own commentary is restrained, often no more than a sentence linking the incident to his larger argument. This method gives the book a documentary quality, as if Rickett is assembling a case file on the vagabond temperament. Readers interested in how literary criticism can be built from small, telling moments will find much to study here.

Rickett's study is best approached as a series of temperamental portraits rather than a systematic argument. The reader should expect digression and incompleteness—the author admits as much. Pay attention to the quoted voices of contemporaries, for they carry the weight of evidence. The book rewards those who enjoy biographical criticism that treats writers as complex individuals, not mere producers of texts. It is a work of sympathy and discernment, not hagiography.

That afternoon, rain blurred the windows while I followed Compton-Rickett’s vagabonds through Borrow’s restless lanes, thinking how some writers wander through walls of convention sideways. Later, half-awake, I drifted into The Early Short Fiction of Edith Wharton — Part 2 — Reading Companion and felt her characters’ quiet rebellions — less footloose, but just as stubbornly unhousebroken.