the complete writings-3-第16章

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ation　teaches　us　that　a　tree　is　given　powerful　instincts；　which　would　almost　appear　to　amount　to　judgment　in　some　cases；　to　provide　for　its　own　wants　and　necessities。〃

Here　our　study　must　cease。　　When　the　primitive　man　comes　into　literature；　he　is　no　longer　primitive。




VI

CAMPING　OUT

It　seems　to　be　agreed　that　civilization　is　kept　up　only　by　a　constant　effort：　Nature　claims　its　own　speedily　when　the　effort　is　relaxed。　If　you　clear　a　patch　of　fertile　ground　in　the　forest；　uproot　the　stumps；　and　plant　it；　year　after　year；　in　potatoes　and　maize；　you　say　you　have　subdued　it。　　But；　if　you　leave　it　for　a　season　or　two；　a　kind　of　barbarism　seems　to　steal　out　upon　it　from　the　circling　woods；　coarse　grass　and　brambles　cover　it；　bushes　spring　up　in　a　wild　tangle；　the　raspberry　and　the　blackberry　flower　and　fruit；　and　the　humorous　bear　feeds　upon　them。　　The　last　state　of　that　ground　is　worse　than　the　first。

Perhaps　the　cleared　spot　is　called　Ephesus。　　There　is　a　splendid　city　on　the　plain；　there　are　temples　and　theatres　on　the　hills；　the　commerce　of　the　world　seeks　its　port；　the　luxury　of　the　Orient　flows　through　its　marble　streets。　　You　are　there　one　day　when　the　sea　has　receded：　the　plain　is　a　pestilent　marsh；　the　temples；　the　theatres；　the　lofty　gates　have　sunken　and　crumbled；　and　the　wild…brier　runs　over　them；　and；　as　you　grow　pensive　in　the　most　desolate　place　in　the　world；　a　bandit　lounges　out　of　a　tomb；　and　offers　to　relieve　you　of　all　that　which　creates　artificial　distinctions　in　society。　　The　higher　the　civilization　has　risen；　the　more　abject　is　the　desolation　of　barbarism　that　ensues。　　The　most　melancholy　spot　in　the　Adirondacks　is　not　a　tamarack…swamp；　where　the　traveler　wades　in　moss　and　mire；　and　the　atmosphere　is　composed　of　equal　active　parts　of　black…flies；　mosquitoes；　and　midges。　　It　is　the　village　of　the　Adirondack　Iron…Works；　where　the　streets　of　gaunt　houses　are　falling　to　pieces；　tenantless；　the　factory…wheels　have　stopped；　the　furnaces　are　in　ruins；　the　iron　and　wooden　machinery　is　strewn　about　in　helpless　detachment；　and　heaps　of　charcoal；　ore；　and　slag　proclaim　an　arrested　industry。　　Beside　this　deserted　village；　even　Calamity　Pond；　shallow；　sedgy；　with　its　ragged　shores　of　stunted　firs；　and　its　melancholy　shaft　that　marks　the　spot　where　the　proprietor　of　the　iron…works　accidentally　shot　himself；　is　cheerful。

The　instinct　of　barbarism　that　leads　people　periodically　to　throw　aside　the　habits　of　civilization；　and　seek　the　freedom　and　discomfort　of　the　woods；　is　explicable　enough；　but　it　is　not　so　easy　to　understand　why　this　passion　should　be　strongest　in　those　who　are　most　refined；　and　most　trained　in　intellectual　and　social　fastidiousness。　Philistinism　and　shoddy　do　not　like　the　woods；　unless　it　becomes　fashionable　to　do　so；　and　then；　as　speedily　as　possible；　they　introduce　their　artificial　luxuries；　and　reduce　the　life　in　the　wilderness　to　the　vulgarity　of　a　well…fed　picnic。　　It　is　they　who　have　strewn　the　Adirondacks　with　paper　collars　and　tin　cans。　　The　real　enjoyment　of　camping　and　tramping　in　the　woods　lies　in　a　return　to　primitive　conditions　of　lodging；　dress；　and　food；　in　as　total　an　escape　as　may　be　from　the　requirements　of　civilization。　　And　it　remains　to　be　explained　why　this　is　enjoyed　most　by　those　who　are　most　highly　civilized。　　It　is　wonderful　to　see　how　easily　the　restraints　of　society　fall　off。　　Of　course　it　is　not　true　that　courtesy　depends　upon　clothes　with　the　best　people；　but；　with　others；　behavior　hangs　almost　entirely　upon　dress。　　Many　good　habits　are　easily　got　rid　of　in　the　woods。　　Doubt　sometimes　seems　to　be　felt　whether　Sunday　is　a　legal　holiday　there。　　It　becomes　a　question　of　casuistry　with　a　clergyman　whether　he　may　shoot　at　a　mark　on　Sunday；　if　none　of　his　congregation　are　present。　　He　intends　no　harm：　he　only　gratifies　a　curiosity　to　see　if　he　can　hit　the　mark。　　Where　shall　he　draw　the　line？　　Doubtless　he　might　throw　a　stone　at　a　chipmunk；　or　shout　at　a　loon。　　Might　he　fire　at　a　mark　with　an　air…gun　that　makes　no　noise？　　He　will　not　fish　or　hunt　on　Sunday　（although　he　is　no　more　likely　to　catch　anything　that　day　than　on　any　other）；　but　may　he　eat　trout　that　the　guide　has　caught　on　Sunday；　if　the　guide　swears　he　caught　them　Saturday　night？　　Is　there　such　a　thing　as　a　vacation　in　religion？　　How　much　of　our　virtue　do　we　owe　to　inherited　habits？

I　am　not　at　all　sure　whether　this　desire　to　camp　outside　of　civilization　is　creditable　to　human　nature；　or　otherwise。　　We　hear　sometimes　that　the　Turk　has　been　merely　camping　for　four　centuries　in　Europe。　　I　suspect　that　many　of　us　are；　after　all；　really　camping　temporarily　in　civilized　conditions；　and　that　going　into　the　wilderness　is　an　escape；　longed　for；　into　our　natural　and　preferred　state。　　Consider　what　this　〃　camping　out　〃　is；　that　is　confessedly　so　agreeable　to　people　most　delicately　reared。　　I　have　no　desire　to　exaggerate　its　delights。

The　Adirondack　wilderness　is　essentially　unbroken。　　A　few　bad　roads　that　penetrate　it；　a　few　jolting　wagons　that　traverse　them；　a　few　barn…like　boarding…houses　on　the　edge　of　the　forest；　where　the　boarders　are　soothed　by　patent　coffee；　and　stimulated　to　unnatural　gayety　by　Japan　tea；　and　experimented　on　by　unique　cookery；　do　little　to　destroy　the　savage　fascination　of　the　region。　　In　half　an　hour；　at　any　point；　one　can　put　himself　into　solitude　and　every　desirable　discomfort。　　The　party　that　covets　the　experience　of　the　camp　comes　down　to　primitive　conditions　of　dress　and　equipment。　　There　are　guides　and　porters　to　carry　the　blankets　for　beds；　the　raw　provisions；　and　the　camp　equipage；　and　the　motley　party　of　the　temporarily　decivilized　files　into　the　woods；　and　begins；　perhaps　by　a　road；　perhaps　on　a　trail；　its　exhilarating　and　weary　march。　　The　exhilaration　arises　partly　from　the　casting　aside　of　restraint；　partly　from　the　adventure　of　exploration；　and　the　weariness；　from　the　interminable　toil　of　bad　walking；　a　heavy　pack；　and　the　grim　monotony　of　trees　and　bushes；　that　shut　out　all　prospect；　except　an　occasional　glimpse　of　the　sky。　　Mountains　are　painfully　climbed；　streams　forded；　lonesome　lakes　paddled　over；　long　and　muddy　〃carries〃　traversed。　Fancy　this　party　the　victim　of　political　exile；　banished　by　the　law；　and　a　more　sorrowful　march　could　not　be　imagined；　but　the　voluntary　hardship　becomes　pleasure；　and　it　is　undeniable　that　the　spirits　of　the　party　rise　as　the　difficulties　increase。

For　this　straggling　and　stumbling　band　the　world　is　young　again：　it　has　come　to　the　beginning　of　things；　it　has　cut　loose　from　tradition；　and　is　free　to　make　a　home　anywhere：　the　movement　has　all　the　promise　of　a　revolution。　　All　this　virginal　freshness　invites　the　primitive　instincts　of　play　and　disorder。　　The　free　range　of　the　forests　suggests　endless　possibilities　of　exploration　and　possession。　Perhaps　we　are　treading　where　man　since　the　creation　never　trod　before；　perhaps　the　waters　of　this　bubbling　spring；　which　we　deepen　by　scraping　out　the　decayed　leaves　and　the　black　earth；　have　never　been　tasted　before；　except　by　the　wild　denizens　of　these　woods。　　We　cross　the　trails　of　lurking　animals；paths　that　heighten　our　sense　of　seclusion　from　the　world。　　The　hammering　of　the　infrequent　woodpecker；　the　call　of　the　lonely　bird；　the　drumming　of　the　solitary　partridge；all　these　sounds　do　but　emphasize　the　lonesomeness　of　nature。　　The　roar　of　the　mountain　brook；　dashing　over　its　bed　of　pebbles；　rising　out　of　the　ravine；　and　spreading；　as　it　were；　a　mist　of　sound　through　all　the　forest　（continuous　beating　waves　that　have　the　rhythm　of　eternity　in　them）；　and　the　fitful　movement　of　the　air…　tides　through　the　balsams　and　firs　and　the　giant　pines；how　these　grand　symphonies　shut　out　the　little　exasperations　of　our　vexed　life！　It　seems　easy　to　begin　life　over　again　on　the　simplest　terms。　Probably　it　is　not　so　much　the　desire　of　the　congregation　to　escape　from　the　preacher；　or　of　the　preacher　to　escape　from　himself；　that　drives　sophisticated　people　into　the　wilderness；　as　it　is　the　unconquered　craving　for　primitive　simplicity；　the　revolt　against　the　everlasting　dress…parade　of　our　civilization。　　From　this　monstrous　pomposity　even　the　artificial　rusticity　of　a　Petit　Trianon　is　a　relief。　　It　was　only　human　nat