walking-第6章

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Indian　even　because　he　redeems　the　meadow；　and　so　makes　himself

stronger　and　in　some　respects　more　natural。　I　was　surveying　for　a

man　the　other　day　a　single　straight　line　one　hundred　and

thirty…two　rods　long；　through　a　swamp　at　whose　entrance　might

have　been　written　the　words　which　Dante　read　over　the　entrance　to

the　infernal　regions；〃Leave　all　hope；　ye　that　enter〃that　is；

of　ever　getting　out　again；　where　at　one　time　I　saw　my　employer

actually　up　to　his　neck　and　swimming　for　his　life　in　his

property；　though　it　was　still　winter。　He　had　another　similar

swamp　which　I　could　not　survey　at　all；　because　it　was　completely

under　water；　and　nevertheless；　with　regard　to　a　third　swamp；

which　I　did　SURVEY　from　a　distance；　he　remarked　to　me；　true　to

his　instincts；　that　he　would　not　part　with　it　for　any

consideration；　on　account　of　the　mud　which　it　contained。　And　that

man　intends　to　put　a　girdling　ditch　round　the　whole　in　the　course

of　forty　months；　and　so　redeem　it　by　the　magic　of　his　spade。　I

refer　to　him　only　as　the　type　of　a　class。



The　weapons　with　which　we　have　gained　our　most　important

victories；　which　should　be　handed　down　as　heirlooms　from　father

to　son；　are　not　the　sword　and　the　lance；　but　the　bushwhack；　the

turf…cutter；　the　spade；　and　the　bog　hoe；　rusted　with　the　blood　of

many　a　meadow；　and　begrimed　with　the　dust　of　many　a　hard…fought

field。　The　very　winds　blew　the　Indian's　cornfield　into　the

meadow；　and　pointed　out　the　way　which　he　had　not　the　skill　to

follow。　He　had　no　better　implement　with　which　to　intrench　himself

in　the　land　than　a　clam…shell。　But　the　farmer　is　armed　with　plow

and　spade。



In　literature　it　is　only　the　wild　that　attracts　us。　Dullness　is

but　another　name　for　tameness。　It　is　the　uncivilized　free　and

wild　thinking　in　Hamlet　and　the　Iliad；　in　all　the　scriptures　and

mythologies；　not　learned　in　the　schools；　that　delights　us。　As　the

wild　duck　is　more　swift　and　beautiful　than　the　tame；　so　is　the

wildthe　mallardthought；　which　'mid　falling　dews　wings　its　way

above　the　fens。　A　truly　good　book　is　something　as　natural；　and　as

unexpectedly　and　unaccountably　fair　and　perfect；　as　a　wild…flower

discovered　on　the　prairies　of　the　West　or　in　the　jungles　of　the

East。　Genius　is　a　light　which　makes　the　darkness　visible；　like

the　lightning's　flash；　which　perchance　shatters　the　temple　of

knowledge　itselfand　not　a　taper　lighted　at　the　hearthstone　of

the　race；　which　pales　before　the　light　of　common　day。



English　literature；　from　the　days　of　the　minstrels　to　the　Lake

PoetsChaucer　and　Spenser　and　Milton；　and　even　Shakespeare；

includedbreathes　no　quite　fresh　and；　in　this　sense；　wild

strain。　It　is　an　essentially　tame　and　civilized　literature；

reflecting　Greece　and　Rome。　Her　wilderness　is　a　green　wood；　her

wild　man　a　Robin　Hood。　There　is　plenty　of　genial　love　of　Nature；

but　not　so　much　of　Nature　herself。　Her　chronicles　inform　us　when

her　wild　animals；　but　not　when　the　wild　man　in　her；　became

extinct。



The　science　of　Humboldt　is　one　thing；　poetry　is　another　thing。

The　poet　today；　notwithstanding　all　the　discoveries　of　science；

and　the　accumulated　learning　of　mankind；　enjoys　no　advantage　over

Homer。



Where　is　the　literature　which　gives　expression　to　Nature？　He

would　be　a　poet　who　could　impress　the　winds　and　streams　into　his

service；　to　speak　for　him；　who　nailed　words　to　their　primitive

senses；　as　farmers　drive　down　stakes　in　the　spring；　which　the

frost　has　heaved；　who　derived　his　words　as　often　as　he　used

themtransplanted　them　to　his　page　with　earth　adhering　to　their

roots；　whose　words　were　so　true　and　fresh　and　natural　that　they

would　appear　to　expand　like　the　buds　at　the　approach　of　spring；

though　they　lay　half　smothered　between　two　musty　leaves　in　a

libraryaye；　to　bloom　and　bear　fruit　there；　after　their　kind；

annually；　for　the　faithful　reader；　in　sympathy　with　surrounding

Nature。



I　do　not　know　of　any　poetry　to　quote　which　adequately　expresses

this　yearning　for　the　Wild。　Approached　from　this　side；　the　best

poetry　is　tame。　I　do　not　know　where　to　find　in　any　literature；

ancient　or　modern；　any　account　which　contents　me　of　that　Nature

with　which　even　I　am　acquainted。　You　will　perceive　that　I　demand

something　which　no　Augustan　nor　Elizabethan　age；　which　no

culture；　in　short；　can　give。　Mythology　comes　nearer　to　it　than

anything。　How　much　more　fertile　a　Nature；　at　least；　has　Grecian

mythology　its　root　in　than　English　literature！　Mythology　is　the

crop　which　the　Old　World　bore　before　its　soil　was　exhausted；

before　the　fancy　and　imagination　were　affected　with　blight；　and

which　it　still　bears；　wherever　its　pristine　vigor　is　unabated。

All　other　literatures　endure　only　as　the　elms　which　overshadow

our　houses；　but　this　is　like　the　great　dragon…tree　of　the　Western

Isles；　as　old　as　mankind；　and；　whether　that　does　or　not；　will

endure　as　long；　for　the　decay　of　other　literatures　makes　the　soil

in　which　it　thrives。



The　West　is　preparing　to　add　its　fables　to　those　of　the　East。　The

valleys　of　the　Ganges；　the　Nile；　and　the　Shine　having　yielded

their　crop；　it　remains　to　be　seen　what　the　valleys　of　the　Amazon；

the　Plate；　the　Orinoco；　the　St。　Lawrence；　and　the　Mississippi

will　produce。　Perchance；　when；　in　the　course　of　ages；　American

liberty　has　become　a　fiction　of　the　pastas　it　is　to　some　extent

a　fiction　of　the　presentthe　poets　of　the　world　will　be　inspired

by　American　mythology。



The　wildest　dreams　of　wild　men；　even；　are　not　the　less　true；

though　they　may　not　recommend　themselves　to　the　sense　which　is

most　common　among　Englishmen　and　Americans　today。　It　is　not　every

truth　that　recommends　itself　to　the　common　sense。　Nature　has　a

place　for　the　wild　Clematis　as　well　as　for　the　cabbage。　Some

expressions　of　truth　are　reminiscentothers　merely　SENSIBLE；　as

the　phrase　is；others　prophetic。　Some　forms　of　disease；　even；

may　prophesy　forms　of　health。　The　geologist　has　discovered　that

the　figures　of　serpents；　griffins；　flying　dragons；　and　other

fanciful　embellishments　of　heraldry；　have　their　prototypes　in　the

forms　of　fossil　species　which　were　extinct　before　man　was

created；　and　hence　〃indicate　a　faint　and　shadowy　knowledge　of　a

previous　state　of　organic　existence。〃　The　Hindus　dreamed　that　the

earth　rested　on　an　elephant；　and　the　elephant　on　a　tortoise；　and

the　tortoise　on　a　serpent；　and　though　it　may　be　an　unimportant

coincidence；　it　will　not　be　out　of　place　here　to　state；　that　a

fossil　tortoise　has　lately　been　discovered　in　Asia　large　enough

to　support　an　elephant。　I　confess　that　I　am　partial　to　these　wild

fancies；　which　transcend　the　order　of　time　and　development。　They

are　the　sublimest　recreation　of　the　intellect。　The　partridge

loves　peas；　but　not　those　that　go　with　her　into　the　pot。



In　short；　all　good　things　are　wild　and　free。　There　is　something

in　a　strain　of　music；　whether　produced　by　an　instrument　or　by　the

human　voicetake　the　sound　of　a　bugle　in　a　summer　night；　for

instancewhich　by　its　wildness；　to　speak　without　satire；　reminds

me　of　the　cries　emitted　by　wild　beasts　in　their　native　forests。

It　is　so　much　of　their　wildness　as　I　can　understand。　Give　me　for

my　friends　and　neighbors　wild　men；　not　tame　ones。　The　wildness　of

the　savage　is　but　a　faint　symbol　of　the　awful　ferity　with　which

good　men　and　lovers　meet。



I　love　even　to　see　the　domestic　animals　reassert　their　native

rightsany　evidence　that　they　have　not　wholly　lost　their

original　wild　habits　and　vigor；　as　when　my　neighbor's　cow　breaks

out　of　her　pasture　early　in　the　spring　and　boldly　swims　the

river；　a　cold；　gray　tide；　twenty…five　or　thirty　rods　wide；

swollen　by　the　melted　snow。　It　is　the　buffalo　crossing　the

Mississippi。　This　exploit　confers　some　dignity　on　the　herd　in　my

eyesalready　dignified。　The　seeds　of　instinct　are　preserved

under　the　thick　hides　of　cattle　and　horses；　like　seeds　in　the

bowels　of　the　earth；　an　indefinite　period。



Any　sportiveness　in　cattle　is　unexpected。　I　saw　one　day　a　herd　of

a