Free Genius of Place by Justin Martin Page B

character of Sartor Resartus is a German philosopher named Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, which translates roughly to “God-born devildung.” Unable to find a proper course in life, Teufelsdröckh leads a dissolute youth, something that certainly resonated with Olmsted. The character also finds himself unable to achieve blind religious faith—check. He even woos a beautiful woman from a prominent family only to be rebuffed, an episode that reminded Olmsted of his own courtship of Miss B.
    Teufelsdröckh’s ultimate conclusion: All is chaos, and one’s only option is to construct meaning, as best as possible. He chooses to do so through work. And not just any kind of work, but rather work that has helping others as its stated goal. For Olmsted, this peculiar piece of British metafiction was like a grand theory of everything. In two separate
letters written from Fairmount that summer, Olmsted referred to himself as having “faith” in being a farmer. The word choice is no accident. He’d failed to confirm his faith during the recent New Haven revival. But to Olmsted, Sartor Resartus suggested another route to salvation. He could throw himself into work, meaningful work, as a farmer.
    â€œUp, up! Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy whole might,” writes Carlyle. “Work while it is called To-day, for the Night cometh wherein no man can work.” Olmsted was so taken with this passage that he copied it into a letter to his brother.
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    Of course, late nights might be devoted to reading about farming and the spiritual benefits of labor, but by day, there was actual work to be done. Geddes was a demanding boss. He had strong views about the best and most efficient means of doing any given task. Olmsted learned how to prepare soil and plant seed and tend crops. He learned how to use various implements such as tills and hoes and harrows and how to do so the right way.
    A special challenge was washing and shearing sheep. Olmsted wrestled for the better part of a morning with Maggie, a large and unruly prize Merino. He grew exhausted, was soon covered in dirt, but he didn’t give up. Finally, he emerged victorious with exactly four pounds and seven ounces of fleece.
    The long hours of farmwork were followed by a ritual that Olmsted found immensely appealing. Geddes ended each day by scrubbing up and sitting down to a large and sumptuous meal. It was often lamb or veal, fresh milk flowed freely, and there might be a currant pie for dessert. Sometimes there were even pineapples, an exotic delicacy grown in hothouses on neighboring farms. The table was set with “silver forks every day,” Olmsted noted with wonder. Subsistence farming, this was not.
    At dinner, Geddes invariably held forth on a variety of topics. He was a man of broad interests who made a point of staying informed about issues of the larger world, far beyond the realm of farming. In 1846, war had just broken out between the United States and Mexico. Geddes believed that both armies (all the world’s armies, for that matter) should be disbanded. He was an avid follower of Elihu Burritt, a blacksmith
who was one of the founders of the pacifist movement. Just as the food at Fairmount wasn’t typical, Olmsted noted, neither was the conversational fare.
    Like his father, Geddes was also involved in the community. During Olmsted’s stay at Fairmount, Geddes was overseeing the construction of a plank road connecting several nearby small towns with Syracuse, New York, a major center. This was one of the first plank roads in the United States. It was a critical piece of economic development; without this modern road, the region was in danger of becoming isolated. Geddes was taking the lead in making sure his fellow farmers had a modern trade route to transport their goods to market. The plank road was the younger Geddes’s Erie Canal.
    Olmsted took measure of all to which he was exposed during