walking-第8章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



are　driven　to　their　country　pastures　before　the　end　of　May；

though　I　have　heard　of　one　unnatural　farmer　who　kept　his　cow　in

the　barn　and　fed　her　on　hay　all　the　year　round。　So；　frequently；

the　Society　for　the　Diffusion　of　Useful　Knowledge　treats　its

cattle。



A　man's　ignorance　sometimes　is　not　only　useful；　but

beautifulwhile　his　knowledge；　so　called；　is　oftentimes　worse

than　useless；　besides　being　ugly。　Which　is　the　best　man　to　deal

withhe　who　knows　nothing　about　a　subject；　and；　what　is

extremely　rare；　knows　that　he　knows　nothing；　or　he　who　really

knows　something　about　it；　but　thinks　that　he　knows　all？



My　desire　for　knowledge　is　intermittent；　but　my　desire　to　bathe

my　head　in　atmospheres　unknown　to　my　feet　is　perennial　and

constant。　The　highest　that　we　can　attain　to　is　not　Knowledge；　but

Sympathy　with　Intelligence。　I　do　not　know　that　this　higher

knowledge　amounts　to　anything　more　definite　than　a　novel　and

grand　surprise　on　a　sudden　revelation　of　the　insufficiency　of　all

that　we　called　Knowledge　beforea　discovery　that　there　are　more

things　in　heaven　and　earth　than　are　dreamed　of　in　our　philosophy。

It　is　the　lighting　up　of　the　mist　by　the　sun。　Man　cannot　KNOW　in

any　higher　sense　than　this；　any　more　than　he　can　look　serenely

and　with　impunity　in　the　face　of　the　sun：　〃You　will　not　perceive

that；　as　perceiving　a　particular　thing；〃　say　the　Chaldean

Oracles。



There　is　something　servile　in　the　habit　of　seeking　after　a　law

which　we　may　obey。　We　may　study　the　laws　of　matter　at　and　for　our

convenience；　but　a　successful　life　knows　no　law。　It　is　an

unfortunate　discovery　certainly；　that　of　a　law　which　binds　us

where　we　did　not　know　before　that　we　were　bound。　Live　free；　child

of　the　mistand　with　respect　to　knowledge　we　are　all　children　of

the　mist。　The　man　who　takes　the　liberty　to　live　is　superior　to

all　the　laws；　by　virtue　of　his　relation　to　the　lawmaker。　〃That　is

active　duty；〃　says　the　Vishnu　Purana；　〃which　is　not　for　our

bondage；　that　is　knowledge　which　is　for　our　liberation：　all　other

duty　is　good　only　unto　weariness；　all　other　knowledge　is　only　the

cleverness　of　an　artist。〃







It　is　remarkable　how　few　events　or　crises　there　are　in　our

histories；　how　little　exercised　we　have　been　in　our　minds；　how

few　experiences　we　have　had。　I　would　fain　be　assured　that　I　am

growing　apace　and　rankly；　though　my　very　growth　disturb　this　dull

equanimitythough　it　be　with　struggle　through　long；　dark；　muggy

nights　or　seasons　of　gloom。　It　would　be　well　if　all　our　lives

were　a　divine　tragedy　even；　instead　of　this　trivial　comedy　or

farce。　Dante；　Bunyan；　and　others　appear　to　have　been　exercised　in

their　minds　more　than　we：　they　were　subjected　to　a　kind　of

culture　such　as　our　district　schools　and　colleges　do　not

contemplate。　Even　Mahomet；　though　many　may　scream　at　his　name；

had　a　good　deal　more　to　live　for；　aye；　and　to　die　for；　than　they

have　commonly。



When；　at　rare　intervals；　some　thought　visits　one；　as　perchance　he

is　walking　on　a　railroad；　then；　indeed；　the　cars　go　by　without

his　hearing　them。　But　soon；　by　some　inexorable　law；　our　life　goes

by　and　the　cars　return。



　　　〃Gentle　breeze；　that　wanderest　unseen；

　　　And　bendest　the　thistles　round　Loira　of　storms；

　　　Traveler　of　the　windy　glens；

　　　Why　hast　thou　left　my　ear　so　soon？〃



While　almost　all　men　feel　an　attraction　drawing　them　to　society；

few　are　attracted　strongly　to　Nature。　In　their　reaction　to　Nature

men　appear　to　me　for　the　most　part；　notwithstanding　their　arts；

lower　than　the　animals。　It　is　not　often　a　beautiful　relation；　as

in　the　case　of　the　animals。　How　little　appreciation　of　the　beauty

of　the　land…　scape　there　is　among　us！　We　have　to　be　told　that　the

Greeks　called　the　world　Beauty；　or　Order；　but　we　do　not　see

clearly　why　they　did　so；　and　we　esteem　it　at　best　only　a　curious

philological　fact。



For　my　part；　I　feel　that　with　regard　to　Nature　I　live　a　sort　of

border　life；　on　the　confines　of　a　world　into　which　I　make

occasional　and　transient　forays　only；　and　my　patriotism　and

allegiance　to　the　state　into　whose　territories　I　seem　to　retreat

are　those　of　a　moss…trooper。　Unto　a　life　which　I　call　natural　I

would　gladly　follow　even　a　will…o'…the…wisp　through　bogs　and

sloughs　unimaginable；　but　no　moon　nor　firefly　has　shown　me　the

causeway　to　it。　Nature　is　a　personality　so　vast　and　universal

that　we　have　never　seen　one　of　her　features。　The　walker　in　the

familiar　fields　which　stretch　around　my　native　town　sometimes

finds　himself　in　another　land　than　is　described　in　their　owners'

deeds；　as　it　were　in　some　faraway　field　on　the　confines　of　the

actual　Concord；　where　her　jurisdiction　ceases；　and　the　idea　which

the　word　Concord　suggests　ceases　to　be　suggested。　These　farms

which　I　have　myself　surveyed；　these　bounds　which　I　have　set　up；

appear　dimly　still　as　through　a　mist；　but　they　have　no　chemistry

to　fix　them；　they　fade　from　the　surface　of　the　glass；　and　the

picture　which　the　painter　painted　stands　out　dimly　from　beneath。

The　world　with　which　we　are　commonly　acquainted　leaves　no　trace；

and　it　will　have　no　anniversary。



I　took　a　walk　on　Spaulding's　Farm　the　other　afternoon。　I　saw　the

setting　sun　lighting　up　the　opposite　side　of　a　stately　pine　wood。

Its　golden　rays　straggled　into　the　aisles　of　the　wood　as　into

some　noble　hall。　I　was　impressed　as　if　some　ancient　and

altogether　admirable　and　shining　family　had　settled　there　in　that

part　of　the　land　called　Concord；　unknown　to　meto　whom　the　sun

was　servantwho　had　not　gone　into　society　in　the　villagewho

had　not　been　called　on。　I　saw　their　park；　their　pleasure…ground；

beyond　through　the　wood；　in　Spaulding's　cranberry…meadow。　The

pines　furnished　them　with　gables　as　they　grew。　Their　house　was

not　obvious　to　vision；　the　trees　grew　through　it。　I　do　not　know

whether　I　heard　the　sounds　of　a　suppressed　hilarity　or　not。　They

seemed　to　recline　on　the　sunbeams。　They　have　sons　and　daughters。

They　are　quite　well。　The　farmer's　cart…path；　which　leads　directly

through　their　hall；　does　not　in　the　least　put　them　out；　as　the

muddy　bottom　of　a　pool　is　sometimes　seen　through　the　reflected

skies。　They　never　heard　of　Spaulding；　and　do　not　know　that　he　is

their　neighbornotwithstanding　I　heard　him　whistle　as　he　drove

his　team　through　the　house。　Nothing　can　equal　the　serenity　of

their　lives。　Their　coat…of…arms　is　simply　a　lichen。　I　saw　it

painted　on　the　pines　and　oaks。　Their　attics　were　in　the　tops　of

the　trees。　They　are　of　no　politics。　There　was　no　noise　of　labor。

I　did　not　perceive　that　they　were　weaving　or　spinning。　Yet　I　did

detect；　when　the　wind　lulled　and　hearing　was　done　away；　the

finest　imaginable　sweet　musical　hum；as　of　a　distant　hive　in

May；　which　perchance　was　the　sound　of　their　thinking。　They　had　no

idle　thoughts；　and　no　one　without　could　see　their　work；　for　their

industry　was　not　as　in　knots　and　excrescences　embayed。



But　I　find　it　difficult　to　remember　them。　They　fade　irrevocably

out　of　my　mind　even　now　while　I　speak；　and　endeavor　to　recall

them　and　recollect　myself。　It　is　only　after　a　long　and　serious

effort　to　recollect　my　best　thoughts　that　I　become　again　aware　of

their　cohabitancy。　If　it　were　not　for　such　families　as　this；　I

think　I　should　move　out　of　Concord。







We　are　accustomed　to　say　in　New　England　that　few　and　fewer

pigeons　visit　us　every　year。　Our　forests　furnish　no　mast　for

them。　So；　it　would　seem；　few　and　fewer　thoughts　visit　each

growing　man　from　year　to　year；　for　the　grove　in　our　minds　is　laid

wastesold　to　feed　unnecessary　fires　of　ambition；　or　sent　to

milland　there　is　scarcely　a　twig　left　for　them　to　perch　on。

They　no　longer　build　nor　breed　with　us。　In　some　more　genial

season；　perchance；　a　faint　shadow　flits　across　the　landscape　of

the　mind；　cast　by　the　WINGS　of　some　thought　in　its　vernal　or

autumnal　migration；　but；　looking　up；　we　are　unable　to　detect　the

substance　of　the　thought　itself。　Our　winged　thoughts　are　turned

to　poultry。　They　no　longer　soa