《瓦尔登湖 》作者:亨利·戴维·梭罗【完结】_派派后花园

用户中心 游戏论坛 社区服务
发帖 回复
阅读:8142 回复:28

[Articles Enjoy] 《瓦尔登湖 》作者:亨利·戴维·梭罗【完结】

刷新数据 楼层直达
JessieAqua

ZxID:17264177


等级: 热心会员
举报 只看该作者 20楼  发表于: 2014-08-21 0

The Pond in Winter

冬天的湖  

AFTER A STILL winter night I awoke with the impression that some question had been put to me, which I had been endeavoring in vain to answer in my sleep, as what — how — when — where? But there was dawning Nature, in whom all creatures live, looking in at my broad windows with serene and satisfied face, and no question on her lips. I awoke to an answered question, to Nature and daylight. The snow lying deep on the earth dotted with young pines, and the very slope of the hill on which my house is placed, seemed to say, Forward! Nature puts no question and answers none which we mortals ask. She has long ago taken her resolution. "O Prince, our eyes contemplate with admiration and transmit to the soul the wonderful and varied spectacle of this universe. The night veils without doubt a part of this glorious creation; but day comes to reveal to us this great work, which extends from earth even into the plains of the ether.(1)"
Then to my morning work. First I take an axe and pail and go in search of water, if that be not a dream. After a cold and snowy night it needed a divining-rod to find it. Every winter the liquid and trembling surface of the pond, which was so sensitive to every breath, and reflected every light and shadow, becomes solid to the depth of a foot or a foot and a half, so that it will support the heaviest teams, and perchance the snow covers it to an equal depth, and it is not to be distinguished from any level field. Like the marmots in the surrounding hills, it closes its eyelids and becomes dormant for three months or more. Standing on the snow-covered plain, as if in a pasture amid the hills, I cut my way first through a foot of snow, and then a foot of ice, and open a window under my feet, where, kneeling to drink, I look down into the quiet parlor of the fishes, pervaded by a softened light as through a window of ground glass, with its bright sanded floor the same as in summer; there a perennial waveless serenity reigns as in the amber twilight sky, corresponding to the cool and even temperament of the inhabitants. Heaven is under our feet is well as over our heads.
Early in the morning, while all things are crisp with frost, men come with fishing-reels and slender lunch, and let down their fine lines through the snowy field to take pickerel and perch; wild men, who instinctively follow other fashions and trust other authorities than their townsmen, and by their goings and comings stitch towns together in parts where else they would be ripped. They sit and eat their luncheon in stout fear-naughts (2) on the dry oak leaves on the shore, as wise in natural lore as the citizen is in artificial. They never consulted with books, and know and can tell much less than they have done. The things which they practice are said not yet to be known. Here is one fishing for pickerel with grown perch for bait. You look into his pail with wonder as into a summer pond, as if he kept summer locked up at home, or knew where she had retreated. How, pray, did he get these in midwinter? Oh, he got worms out of rotten logs since the ground froze, and so he caught them. His life itself passes deeper in nature than the studies of the naturalist penetrate; himself a subject for the naturalist. The latter raises the moss and bark gently with his knife in search of insects; the former lays open logs to their core with his axe, and moss and bark fly far and wide. He gets his living by barking trees. Such a man has some right to fish, and I love to see nature carried out in him. The perch swallows the grub-worm, the pickerel swallows the perch, and the fisher-man swallows the pickerel; and so all the chinks in the scale of being are filled.
When I strolled around the pond in misty weather I was sometimes amused by the primitive mode which some ruder fisherman had adopted. He would perhaps have placed alder branches over the narrow holes in the ice, which were four or five rods apart and an equal distance from the shore, and having fastened the end of the line to a stick to prevent its being pulled through, have passed the slack line over a twig of the alder, a foot or more above the ice, and tied a dry oak leaf to it, which, being pulled down, would show when he had a bite. These alders loomed through the mist at regular intervals as you walked half way round the pond.
Ah, the pickerel of Walden! When I see them lying on the ice, or in the well which the fisherman cuts in the ice, making a little hole to admit the water, I am always surprised by their rare beauty, as if they were fabulous fishes, they are so foreign to the streets, even to the woods, foreign as Arabia to our Concord life. They possess a quite dazzling and transcendent beauty which separates them by a wide interval from the cadaverous cod and haddock whose fame is trumpeted in our streets. They are not green like the pines, nor gray like the stones, nor blue like the sky; but they have, to my eyes, if possible, yet rarer colors, like flowers and precious stones, as if they were the pearls, the animalized nuclei or crystals of the Walden water. They, of course, are Walden all over and all through; are themselves small Waldens in the animal kingdom, Waldenses.(3) It is surprising that they are caught here — that in this deep and capacious spring, far beneath the rattling teams and chaises and tinkling sleighs that travel the Walden road, this great gold and emerald fish swims. I never chanced to see its kind in any market; it would be the cynosure of all eyes there. Easily, with a few convulsive quirks, they give up their watery ghosts, like a mortal translated before his time to the thin air of heaven.
As I was desirous to recover the long lost bottom of Walden Pond, I surveyed it carefully, before the ice broke up, early in '46, with compass and chain and sounding line. There have been many stories told about the bottom, or rather no bottom, of this pond, which certainly had no foundation for themselves. It is remarkable how long men will believe in the bottomlessness of a pond without taking the trouble to sound it. I have visited two such Bottomless Ponds in one walk in this neighborhood. Many have believed that Walden reached quite through to the other side of the globe. Some who have lain flat on the ice for a long time, looking down through the illusive medium, perchance with watery eyes into the bargain, and driven to hasty conclusions by the fear of catching cold in their breasts, have seen vast holes "into which a load of hay might be driven," if there were anybody to drive it, the undoubted source of the Styx and entrance to the Infernal Regions from these parts. Others have gone down from the village with a "fifty-six" and a wagon load of inch rope, but yet have failed to find any bottom; for while the "fifty-six" was resting by the way, they were paying out the rope in the vain attempt to fathom their truly immeasurable capacity for marvellousness. But I can assure my readers that Walden has a reasonably tight bottom at a not unreasonable, though at an unusual, depth. I fathomed it easily with a cod-line and a stone weighing about a pound and a half, and could tell accurately when the stone left the bottom, by having to pull so much harder before the water got underneath to help me. The greatest depth was exactly one hundred and two feet; to which may be added the five feet which it has risen since, making one hundred and seven. This is a remarkable depth for so small an area; yet not an inch of it can be spared by the imagination. What if all ponds were shallow? Would it not react on the minds of men? I am thankful that this pond was made deep and pure for a symbol. While men believe in the infinite some ponds will be thought to be bottomless.
A factory-owner, hearing what depth I had found, thought that it could not be true, for, judging from his acquaintance with dams, sand would not lie at so steep an angle. But the deepest ponds are not so deep in proportion to their area as most suppose, and, if drained, would not leave very remarkable valleys. They are not like cups between the hills; for this one, which is so unusually deep for its area, appears in a vertical section through its centre not deeper than a shallow plate. Most ponds, emptied, would leave a meadow no more hollow than we frequently see. William Gilpin,(4) who is so admirable in all that relates to landscapes, and usually so correct, standing at the head of Loch Fyne, in Scotland, which he describes as "a bay of salt water, sixty or seventy fathoms deep, four miles in breadth," and about fifty miles long, surrounded by mountains, observes, "If we could have seen it immediately after the diluvian crash, or whatever convulsion of nature occasioned it, before the waters gushed in, what a horrid chasm must it have appeared!
"So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,
Capacious bed of waters."(5)
But if, using the shortest diameter of Loch Fyne, we apply these proportions to Walden, which, as we have seen, appears already in a vertical section only like a shallow plate, it will appear four times as shallow. So much for the increased horrors of the chasm of Loch Fyne when emptied. No doubt many a smiling valley with its stretching cornfields occupies exactly such a "horrid chasm," from which the waters have receded, though it requires the insight and the far sight of the geologist to convince the unsuspecting inhabitants of this fact. Often an inquisitive eye may detect the shores of a primitive lake in the low horizon hills, and no subsequent elevation of the plain has been necessary to conceal their history. But it is easiest, as they who work on the highways know, to find the hollows by the puddles after a shower. The amount of it is, the imagination give it the least license, dives deeper and soars higher than Nature goes. So, probably, the depth of the ocean will be found to be very inconsiderable compared with its breadth.
As I sounded through the ice I could determine the shape of the bottom with greater accuracy than is possible in surveying harbors which do not freeze over, and I was surprised at its general regularity. In the deepest part there are several acres more level than almost any field which is exposed to the sun, wind, and plow. In one instance, on a line arbitrarily chosen, the depth did not vary more than one foot in thirty rods; and generally, near the middle, I could calculate the variation for each one hundred feet in any direction beforehand within three or four inches. Some are accustomed to speak of deep and dangerous holes even in quiet sandy ponds like this, but the effect of water under these circumstances is to level all inequalities. The regularity of the bottom and its conformity to the shores and the range of the neighboring hills were so perfect that a distant promontory betrayed itself in the soundings quite across the pond, and its direction could be determined by observing the opposite shore. Cape becomes bar, and plain shoal, and valley and gorge deep water and channel.
When I had mapped the pond by the scale of ten rods to an inch, and put down the soundings, more than a hundred in all, I observed this remarkable coincidence. Having noticed that the number indicating the greatest depth was apparently in the centre of the map, I laid a rule on the map lengthwise, and then breadthwise, and found, to my surprise, that the line of greatest length intersected the line of greatest breadth exactly at the point of greatest depth, notwithstanding that the middle is so nearly level, the outline of the pond far from regular, and the extreme length and breadth were got by measuring into the coves; and I said to myself, Who knows but this hint would conduct to the deepest part of the ocean as well as of a pond or puddle? Is not this the rule also for the height of mountains, regarded as the opposite of valleys? We know that a hill is not highest at its narrowest part.
Of five coves, three, or all which had been sounded, were observed to have a bar quite across their mouths and deeper water within, so that the bay tended to be an expansion of water within the land not only horizontally but vertically, and to form a basin or independent pond, the direction of the two capes showing the course of the bar. Every harbor on the sea-coast, also, has its bar at its entrance. In proportion as the mouth of the cove was wider compared with its length, the water over the bar was deeper compared with that in the basin. Given, then, the length and breadth of the cove, and the character of the surrounding shore, and you have almost elements enough to make out a formula for all cases.
In order to see how nearly I could guess, with this experience, at the deepest point in a pond, by observing the outlines of a surface and the character of its shores alone, I made a plan of White Pond, which contains about forty-one acres, and, like this, has no island in it, nor any visible inlet or outlet; and as the line of greatest breadth fell very near the line of least breadth, where two opposite capes approached each other and two opposite bays receded, I ventured to mark a point a short distance from the latter line, but still on the line of greatest length, as the deepest. The deepest part was found to be within one hundred feet of this, still farther in the direction to which I had inclined, and was only one foot deeper, namely, sixty feet. Of course, a stream running through, or an island in the pond, would make the problem much more complicated.
If we knew all the laws of Nature, we should need only one fact, or the description of one actual phenomenon, to infer all the particular results at that point. Now we know only a few laws, and our result is vitiated, not, of course, by any confusion or irregularity in Nature, but by our ignorance of essential elements in the calculation. Our notions of law and harmony are commonly confined to those instances which we detect; but the harmony which results from a far greater number of seemingly conflicting, but really concurring, laws, which we have not detected, is still more wonderful. The particular laws are as our points of view, as, to the traveller, a mountain outline varies with every step, and it has an infinite number of profiles, though absolutely but one form. Even when cleft or bored through it is not comprehended in its entireness.
What I have observed of the pond is no less true in ethics. It is the law of average. Such a rule of the two diameters not only guides us toward the sun in the system and the heart in man, but draws lines through the length and breadth of the aggregate of a man's particular daily behaviors and waves of life into his coves and inlets, and where they intersect will be the height or depth of his character. Perhaps we need only to know how his shores trend and his adjacent country or circumstances, to infer his depth and concealed bottom. If he is surrounded by mountainous circumstances, an Achillean shore,(6) whose peaks overshadow and are reflected in his bosom, they suggest a corresponding depth in him. But a low and smooth shore proves him shallow on that side. In our bodies, a bold projecting brow falls off to and indicates a corresponding depth of thought. Also there is a bar across the entrance of our every cove, or particular inclination; each is our harbor for a season, in which we are detained and partially land-locked. These inclinations are not whimsical usually, but their form, size, and direction are determined by the promontories of the shore, the ancient axes of elevation. When this bar is gradually increased by storms, tides, or currents, or there is a subsidence of the waters, so that it reaches to the surface, that which was at first but an inclination in the shore in which a thought was harbored becomes an individual lake, cut off from the ocean, wherein the thought secures its own conditions — changes, perhaps, from salt to fresh, becomes a sweet sea, dead sea, or a marsh. At the advent of each individual into this life, may we not suppose that such a bar has risen to the surface somewhere? It is true, we are such poor navigators that our thoughts, for the most part, stand off and on upon a harborless coast, are conversant only with the bights of the bays of poesy, or steer for the public ports of entry, and go into the dry docks of science, where they merely refit for this world, and no natural currents concur to individualize them.
As for the inlet or outlet of Walden, I have not discovered any but rain and snow and evaporation, though perhaps, with a thermometer and a line, such places may be found, for where the water flows into the pond it will probably be coldest in summer and warmest in winter.(7) When the ice-men were at work here in '46-7, the cakes sent to the shore were one day rejected by those who were stacking them up there, not being thick enough to lie side by side with the rest; and the cutters thus discovered that the ice over a small space was two or three inches thinner than elsewhere, which made them think that there was an inlet there. They also showed me in another place what they thought was a "leach-hole," through which the pond leaked out under a hill into a neighboring meadow, pushing me out on a cake of ice to see it. It was a small cavity under ten feet of water; but I think that I can warrant the pond not to need soldering till they find a worse leak than that. One has suggested, that if such a "leach-hole" should be found, its connection with the meadow, if any existed, might be proved by conveying some, colored powder or sawdust to the mouth of the hole, and then putting a strainer over the spring in the meadow, which would catch some of the particles carried through by the current.
While I was surveying, the ice, which was sixteen inches thick, undulated under a slight wind like water. It is well known that a level cannot be used on ice. At one rod from the shore its greatest fluctuation, when observed by means of a level on land directed toward a graduated staff on the ice, was three quarters of an inch, though the ice appeared firmly attached to the shore. It was probably greater in the middle. Who knows but if our instruments were delicate enough we might detect an undulation in the crust of the earth? When two legs of my level were on the shore and the third on the ice, and the sights were directed over the latter, a rise or fall of the ice of an almost infinitesimal amount made a difference of several feet on a tree across the pond. When I began to cut holes for sounding there were three or four inches of water on the ice under a deep snow which had sunk it thus far; but the water began immediately to run into these holes, and continued to run for two days in deep streams, which wore away the ice on every side, and contributed essentially, if not mainly, to dry the surface of the pond; for, as the water ran in, it raised and floated the ice. This was somewhat like cutting a hole in the bottom of a ship to let the water out. When such holes freeze, and a rain succeeds, and finally a new freezing forms a fresh smooth ice over all, it is beautifully mottled internally by dark figures, shaped somewhat like a spider's web, what you may call ice rosettes, produced by the channels worn by the water flowing from all sides to a centre. Sometimes, also, when the ice was covered with shallow puddles, I saw a double shadow of myself, one standing on the head of the other, one on the ice, the other on the trees or hillside.
While yet it is cold January, and snow and ice are thick and solid, the prudent landlord comes from the village to get ice to cool his summer drink; impressively, even pathetically, wise, to foresee the heat and thirst of July now in January — wearing a thick coat and mittens! When so many things are not provided for. It may be that he lays up no treasures in this world which will cool his summer drink in the next.(8) He cuts and saws the solid pond, unroofs the house of fishes, and carts off their very element and air, held fast by chains and stakes like corded wood, through the favoring winter air, to wintry cellars, to underlie the summer there. It looks like solidified azure, as, far off, it is drawn through the streets. These ice-cutters are a merry race, full of jest and sport, and when I went among them they were wont to invite me to saw pit-fashion with them, I standing underneath.
In the winter of '46-7 there came a hundred men of Hyperborean (9) extraction swoop down on to our pond one morning, with many carloads of ungainly-looking farming tools — sleds, plows, drill-barrows, turf-knives, spades, saws, rakes, and each man was armed with a double-pointed pike-staff, such as is not described in the New-England Farmer or the Cultivator.(10) I did not know whether they had come to sow a crop of winter rye, or some other kind of grain recently introduced from Iceland. As I saw no manure, I judged that they meant to skim the land, as I had done, thinking the soil was deep and had lain fallow long enough. They said that a gentleman farmer, who was behind the scenes, wanted to double his money, which, as I understood, amounted to half a million already; but in order to cover each one of his dollars with another, he took off the only coat, ay, the skin itself, of Walden Pond in the midst of a hard winter. They went to work at once, plowing, barrowing, rolling, furrowing, in admirable order, as if they were bent on making this a model farm; but when I was looking sharp to see what kind of seed they dropped into the furrow, a gang of fellows by my side suddenly began to hook up the virgin mould itself, with a peculiar jerk, clean down to the sand, or rather the water — for it was a very springy soil — indeed all the terra firma there was — and haul it away on sleds, and then I guessed that they must be cutting peat in a bog. So they came and went every day, with a peculiar shriek from the locomotive, from and to some point of the polar regions, as it seemed to me, like a flock of arctic snow-birds. But sometimes Squaw Walden had her revenge, and a hired man, walking behind his team, slipped through a crack in the ground down toward Tartarus, and he who was so brave before suddenly became but the ninth part of a man, almost gave up his animal heat, and was glad to take refuge in my house, and acknowledged that there was some virtue in a stove; or sometimes the frozen soil took a piece of steel out of a plowshare, or a plow got set in the furrow and had to be cut out.
To speak literally, a hundred Irishmen, with Yankee overseers, came from Cambridge every day to get out the ice. They divided it into cakes by methods too well known to require description, and these, being sledded to the shore, were rapidly hauled off on to an ice platform, and raised by grappling irons and block and tackle, worked by horses, on to a stack, as surely as so many barrels of flour, and there placed evenly side by side, and row upon row, as if they formed the solid base of an obelisk designed to pierce the clouds. They told me that in a good day they could get out a thousand tons, which was the yield of about one acre. Deep ruts and "cradle-holes" were worn in the ice, as on terra firma, by the passage of the sleds over the same track, and the horses invariably ate their oats out of cakes of ice hollowed out like buckets. They stacked up the cakes thus in the open air in a pile thirty-five feet high on one side and six or seven rods square, putting hay between the outside layers to exclude the air; for when the wind, though never so cold, finds a passage through, it will wear large cavities, leaving slight supports or studs only here and there, and finally topple it down. At first it looked like a vast blue fort or Valhalla;(11) but when they began to tuck the coarse meadow hay into the crevices, and this became covered with rime and icicles, it looked like a venerable moss-grown and hoary ruin, built of azure-tinted marble, the abode of Winter, that old man we see in the almanac — his shanty, as if he had a design to estivate with us. They calculated that not twenty-five per cent of this would reach its destination, and that two or three per cent would be wasted in the cars. However, a still greater part of this heap had a different destiny from what was intended; for, either because the ice was found not to keep so well as was expected, containing more air than usual, or for some other reason, it never got to market. This heap, made in the winter of '46-7 and estimated to contain ten thousand tons, was finally covered with hay and boards; and though it was unroofed the following July, and a part of it carried off, the rest remaining exposed to the sun, it stood over that summer and the next winter, and was not quite melted till September, 1848. Thus the pond recovered the greater part.
Like the water, the Walden ice, seen near at hand, has a green tint, but at a distance is beautifully blue, and you can easily tell it from the white ice of the river, or the merely greenish ice of some ponds, a quarter of a mile off. Sometimes one of those great cakes slips from the ice-man's sled into the village street, and lies there for a week like a great emerald, an object of interest to all passers. I have noticed that a portion of Walden which in the state of water was green will often, when frozen, appear from the same point of view blue. So the hollows about this pond will, sometimes, in the winter, be filled with a greenish water somewhat like its own, but the next day will have frozen blue. Perhaps the blue color of water and ice is due to the light and air they contain, and the most transparent is the bluest. Ice is an interesting subject for contemplation. They told me that they had some in the ice-houses at Fresh Pond five years old which was as good as ever. Why is it that a bucket of water soon becomes putrid, but frozen remains sweet forever? It is commonly said that this is the difference between the affections and the intellect.
Thus for sixteen days I saw from my window a hundred men at work like busy husbandmen, with teams and horses and apparently all the implements of farming, such a picture as we see on the first page of the almanac; and as often as I looked out I was reminded of the fable of the lark and the reapers, or the parable of the sower, and the like; and now they are all gone, and in thirty days more, probably, I shall look from the same window on the pure sea-green Walden water there, reflecting the clouds and the trees, and sending up its evaporations in solitude, and no traces will appear that a man has ever stood there. Perhaps I shall hear a solitary loon laugh as he dives and plumes himself, or shall see a lonely fisher in his boat, like a floating leaf, beholding his form reflected in the waves, where lately a hundred men securely labored.
Thus it appears that the sweltering inhabitants of Charleston and New Orleans, of Madras and Bombay and Calcutta,(12) drink at my well. In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagvat-Geeta,(13) since whose composition years of the gods have elapsed, and in comparison with which our modern world and its literature seem puny and trivial; and I doubt if that philosophy is not to be referred to a previous state of existence, so remote is its sublimity from our conceptions. I lay down the book and go to my well for water, and lo! There I meet the servant of the Bramin, priest of Brahma and Vishnu and Indra,(14) who still sits in his temple on the Ganges (15) reading the Vedas, or dwells at the root of a tree with his crust and water jug. I meet his servant come to draw water for his master, and our buckets as it were grate together in the same well. The pure Walden water is mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges. With favoring winds it is wafted past the site of the fabulous islands of Atlantis and the Hesperides,(16) makes the periplus of Hanno,(17) and, floating by Ternate and Tidore (18) and the mouth of the Persian Gulf, melts in the tropic gales of the Indian seas, and is landed in ports of which Alexander (19) only heard the names.

Notes
1. from the Harivansa, 5th century Hindu epic poem
2. heavy woolen coat
3. Waldenses/Waldensians, late 12th century religious Protestant group, Peter Waldo of Lyons gave away his property, preached poverty as the way to perfection.
4. William Gilpin (1724-1804) English naturalist
5. John Milton (1608-1674) English poet, excerpt from Paradise Lost
6. Achilles, hero of Greek legends, came from a mountainous region
7. reference to Matthew, 6:19-20
8. in Greek mythology, a tribe from the far north
9. Ice from Walden and other New England ponds was harvested by Boston's "Ice King", Frederic Tudor (1783-1864), who made a lot of money selling ice, locally in the summer, and also in places like the Caribbean and Europe. He also used the ice shipped south to ship tropical fruits north.
10. The New England Farmer and Horticultural Journal, 1822-1846, first agricultural journal in New England, or the Boston Cultivator or the New England Cultivator
11. in Norse mythology, the hall of Odin, home to warriors killed in battle
12. Madras, Bombay, and Calcutta purchased ice from New England
13. Bhagavad Gita - ancient Sanskrit scriptures of India (with 18 chapters)
14. three Hindu gods
15. major river flowing east through the plains of northern India into Bangladesh
16. in Greek mythology, islands west of the Mediterranian Sea
17. follows route of Carthaginin statesman & explorer Hanno, 3rd cent. B.C.
18. islands south of the Philippines
19. Alexander the Great (356-323 BC), Greek king, conquered most of the world known to the ancient Greeks
睡过了一个安静的冬天的夜晚,而醒来时,印象中伤佛有什么问题在问我,而在睡眠之中,我曾企图回答,却又回答不了——什么——如何——何时——何处?可这是黎明中的大自然,其中生活着一切的生物,她从我的大窗户里望进来,脸色澄清,心满意足,她的嘴唇上并没有问题。醒来便是大自然和天光,这便是问题的答案。雪深深地积在大地,年幼的松树点点在上面,而我的木屋所在的小山坡似乎在说:“开步走!”大自然并不发问,发问的是我们人类,而它也不作回答。它早就有了决断了。“啊,王子,我们的眼睛察审而羡慕不置,这宇宙的奇妙而多变的景象便传到了我们的灵魂中。无疑的,黑夜把这光荣的创造遮去了一部分;可是,白昼再来把这伟大作品启示给我们,这伟大作品从地上伸展,直到太空中。”①
① 引自印度史诗《摩呵婆罗多》。
于是我干我的黎明时的工作。第一,我拿了一把斧头和桶子找水去,如果我不是在做梦。过了寒冷的、飘雪的一夜之后,要一根魔杖才有办法找到水呢。水汪汪的微抖的湖水,对任何呼吸都异常地敏感,能反映每一道光和影,可是到了冬天,就冻结了一英尺,一英尺半,最笨重的牲畜它也承受得住,也许冰上还积了一英尺深的雪,使你分别不出它是湖还是平地。像周围群山中的土拨鼠,它阖上眼睛,要睡三个月或三个月不止。
站在积雪的平原上,好像在群山中的牧场上,我先是穿过一英尺深的雪,然后又穿过一英尺厚的冰,在我的脚下开一个窗,就跪在那里喝水,又望入那安静的鱼的客厅,那儿充满了一种柔和的光,仿佛是透过了一层磨砂玻璃照进去的似的,那细沙的底还跟夏天的时候一样,在那里一个并无波涛而有悠久澄清之感的,像琥珀色一样的黄昏正统治着,和那里的居民的冷静与均衡气质却完全协调。天空在我脚下,正如它之又在我们头上。
每天,很早的时候,一切都被严寒冻得松脆,人们带了钓竿和简单的午饭,穿过雪地来钓鲜鱼和梭鱼;这些野性未驯的人们,并不像他们城里的人,他们本能地采用另外的生活方式,相信另外的势力,他们这样来来去去,就把许多城市部分地缝合在一起了,否则的话,城市之间还是分裂的。他们穿着结实的粗呢大衣坐在湖岸上,在干燥的橡树叶上吃他们的饭餐,他们在自然界的经验方面,同城里人在虚伪做作方面一样聪明。他们从来不研究书本,所知道和所能说的,比他们所做的少了许多。他们所做的事据说还没有人知道。这里有一位,是用大鲈鱼来钓梭鱼的。你看看他的桶子,像看到了一个夏天的湖沼一样,何等惊人啊,好像他把夏天锁在他的家里了,或者是他知道夏天躲在什么地方。你说,在仲冬,他怎么能捉到这么多?啊,大地冻了冰,他从朽木之中找出了虫子来,所以他能捕到这些鱼。他的生活本身,就在大自然深处度过的,超过了自然科学家的钻研深度;他自己就应该是自然科学家的一个研究专题。科学家轻轻地把苔藓和树皮,用刀子挑起,来寻找虫子;而他却用斧子劈到树木中心,苔藓和树皮飞得老远。他是靠了剥树皮为生的。这样一个人就有了捕鱼权了,我爱见大自然在他那里现身。鲈鱼吃了螬蛴,梭鱼吃了鲈鱼,而渔夫吃了梭鱼;生物等级的所有空位就是这样填满的。
当我在有雾的天气里,绕着湖阔步时,有时我很有兴味地看到了一些渔人所采取的原始的生活方式。也许他在冰上掘了许多距离湖岸相等的小窟窿,各自距离四五杆,把白杨枝横在上面,用绳子缚住了桠枝,免得它被拉下水去,再在冰上面一英尺多的地方把松松的钓丝挂在白杨枝上,还缚了一张干燥的橡叶,这样钓丝给拉下去的时候,就表明鱼已上钩了。这些白杨枝显露在雾中,距离相等,你绕湖边走了一半时,便可以看到。
啊,瓦尔登的梭鱼!当我躺在冰上看它们,或者,当我望进渔人们在冰上挖掘的井,那些通到水中去的小窟窿的时候,我常常给它们的稀世之美弄得惊异不止,好像它们是神秘的鱼,街上看不到,森林中看不到,正如在康科德的生活中看不到阿拉伯一样。他们有一种异常炫目、超乎自然的美,这使它们跟灰白色的小鳕鱼和黑线鳕相比,不啻天渊之别,然而后者的名誉,却传遍了街道。它们并不绿得像松树,也不灰得像石块,更不是蓝得像天空的;然而,我觉得它们更有稀世的色彩,像花,像宝石,像珠子,是水中的动物化了的核或晶体。它们自然是彻头彻尾的瓦尔登;在动物界之中,它们自身就是一个个小瓦尔登,这许多的瓦尔登啊!惊人的是它们在这里被捕到,——在这深而且广的水中,远远避开了瓦尔登路上旅行经过的驴马,轻便马车和铃儿叮当的雪车,这伟大的金色的翠玉色的鱼游泳着。这一种鱼我从没有在市场上看到过;在那儿,它必然会成众目之所瞩注。很容易的,只用几下痉挛性的急转,它们就抛弃了那水露露的鬼影,像一个凡人还没有到时候就已升上了天。
因为我渴望着把的相传早已失去的湖底给予恢复,我在一八四六年初,在溶冰之前就小心地勘察了它,用了罗盘,绞链和测水深的铅锤。关于这个湖底,或者说,关于这个湖的无底,已经有许多故事传涌,那许多故事自然是没有根据的。人们并不去探查湖底,就立刻相信它是无底之湖,这就奇怪极了。我在这一带的一次散步中曾跑到两个这样的无底湖边。许多人非常之相信,认为瓦尔登一直通到地球的另外一面。有的人躺卧在冰上,躺了很久,通过那幻觉似的媒介物而下瞰,也许还望得眼中全是水波,但是他们怕伤风,所以很迅速地下了结论,说他们看到了许多很大的洞穴,如果真有人会下去填塞干草,“其中不知道可以塞进多少干草”,那无疑是冥河的入口,从这些入口可以通到地狱的疆域里去。另外有人从村里来,驾了一头五十六号马,绳子装满了一车,然而找不出任何的湖底;因为,当五十六号在路边休息时,他们把绳子放下水去,要测量它的神奇不可测量,结果是徒然。可是,我可以确切地告诉读者,瓦尔登有一个坚密得合乎常理的湖底,虽然那深度很罕见,但也并非不合理。我用一根钓鳕鱼的钓丝测量了它,这很容易,只需在它的一头系一块重一磅半的石头,它就能很准确地告诉我这石头在什么时候离开了湖底,因为在它下面再有湖水以前,要把它提起来得费很大力气。最深的地方恰恰是一百零二英尺;还不妨加入后来上涨的湖水五英尺,共计一百零七英尺。湖面这样小,而有这样的深度,真是令人惊奇,然而不管你的想象力怎样丰富,你不能再减少它一英寸。如果一切的湖都很浅,那又怎么样呢?难道它不会在人类心灵上反映出来吗?我感激的是这一个湖,深而纯洁,可以作为一个象征。当人们还相信着无限的时候,就会有一些湖沼被认为是无底的了。
一个工厂主,听说了我所发现的深度之后,认为这不是真实的,因为根据他熟悉水闸的情况而言,细沙不能够躺在这样峻削的角度上。可是最深的湖,按它的面积的比例来看,也就不像大多数人想象的那么深了,如果抽干了它的水来看一看,留下的并不是一个十分深透的山谷。它们不是像山谷似的杯形,因为这一个湖,就它的面积来说已经深得出奇了,通过中心的纵切面却只是像一只浅盘子那样深。大部分湖沼抽干了水,剩下来的是一片草地,并不比我们时常看到的低洼。威廉·吉尔平在描写风景时真是出色,而且总是很准确的,站在苏格兰的费因湖湾的尖端上,他描写道,“这一湾盐水,六七十英寻深,四英里阔,”约五十英里长,四面全是高山,他还加以评论:“如果我们能在洪水泛滥,或者无论大自然的什么痉挛造成它的时候,在那水流奔湍入内以前,这一定是何等可怕的缺口啊!”
“高耸的山峰升得这高, 低洼的湖底沉得这低, 阔而广,好河床——。”①
① 引自米尔顿《失乐园》第7卷288- 290行。
可是,如果我们把费因湖湾的最短一条直径的比例应用在瓦尔登上,后者我们已经知道,纵切面只不过是一只浅盘形,那末,它比瓦尔登还浅了四倍。要是费因湖湾的水一古脑儿倒出来,那缺口的夸大了的可怕程度就是这样。无疑问的,许多伸展着玉米田的笑眯眯的山谷,都是急流退去以后露出的“可怕的缺口”,虽然必须有地质学家的洞察力与远见才能使那些始料所未及的居民们相信这个事实。在低低的地平线上的小山中,有鉴识力的眼睛可以看出一个原始的湖沼来,平原没有必要在以后升高,来掩盖它的历史。但是像在公路上做过工的人一样,都很容易知道,大雨以后,看看泥水潭就可以知道哪里是洼地。这意思就是说,想象力,要允许它稍稍放纵一下,就要比自然界潜下得更低,升起得更高。所以,海洋的深度,要是和它的面积一比,也许是浅得不足道也。
我已经在冰上测量了湖的深度,现在我可以决定湖底的形态了,这比起测量没有冻冰的港湾来要准确得多,结果我发现它总的说来是规则的,感到吃惊。在最深的部分,有数英亩地是平坦的,几乎不下于任何阳光下、和风中那些被耕植了的田野。有一处,我任意地挑了一条线,测量了三十杆,可是深浅的变化不过一英尺;一般他说来,在靠近湖心的地方,向任何方向移动,每一百英尺的变化,我预先就可以知道,不过是三四英寸上下的深浅。有人惯于说,甚至在这样平静的、沙底的湖中有着深而危险的窟窿,可是若有这种情况,湖水早把湖底的不平一律夷为平底了。湖底的规则性,它和湖岸以及邻近山脉的一致性,都是这样地完美,远处的一个湖湾,从湖的对面都可以测量出来,观察一下它的对岸,已可以知道它的方向。岬角成了沙洲和浅滩,溪谷和山峡成了深水与湖峡。
当我以十杆比一英寸的比例画了湖的图样,在一百多处记下了它们的深度,我更发现了这惊人的一致性了。发现那记录着最大深度的地方恰恰在湖心,我用一根直尺放在最长的距离上画了一道线,又放在最宽阔的地方画了一道线,真使人暗暗吃惊,最深处正巧在两线的交点,虽然湖的中心相当平坦,湖的轮廓却不很规则,而长阔的悬殊是从凹处量出来的,我对我自己说道,谁知道是否这暗示了海洋最深处的情形之正如一个湖和一个泥水潭的情形一样呢?这一个规律是否也适用于高山,把高山与山谷看作是相对的?我们知道一个山的最狭的地方并不一定是它的最高处。
五个凹处中有三个,我全去测量过,口上有一个沙洲,里面却是深水,可是那沙洲的目的,不仅是为了面积上扩张,也为了向深处扩张,形成一个独立的湖沼似的盆地,而两个岬角正表明了沙洲的方位。海岸上的每一个港埠的入口处也都有一个沙洲。正如凹处的口上,阔度大于它的长度,沙洲上的水,在同比例度内,比盆地的水更深。所以把凹处的长阔数和周遭的湖岸的情形告诉给你之后,你就几乎有充分的材料,可以列出公式,凡是这一类情况都用得上它。
我用这些经验来测量湖的最深处,就凭着观察它的平面轮廓和它的湖岸的特性,为了看看我测量的准确程度如何,我画出了一张白湖的平面图,白湖幅员占四十一英亩左右,同这个湖一样,其中没有岛,也没有出入口:因为最阔的一道线和最狭的一道线相当接近,就在那儿,两个隔岸相望的岬角在彼此接近,而两个相对的沙洲彼此远距,我就在最狭的线上挑了一个点,却依然交叉在最长的一条线上的,作为那里是最深处。最深处果然离这一个点不到一百英尺,在我定的那个方向再过去一些的地方,比我预测的深一英尺,也就是说,六十英尺深。自然,要是有泉水流入,或者湖中有一个岛屿的话,问题就比较复杂了。
如果我们知道大自然的一切规律,我们就只要明白一个事实,或者只要对一个现象作忠实描写,就可以举一反三,得出一切特殊的结论来了。现在我们只知道少数的规律,我们的结论往往荒谬,自然罗,这并不是因为大自然不规则,或混乱,这是因为我们在计算之中,对于某些基本的原理,还是无知之故。我们所知道的规则与和谐,常常局限于经我们考察了的一些事物;可是有更多数的似乎矛盾而实在却呼应着的法则,我们只是还没有找出来而已,它们所产生的和谐却是更惊人的。我们的特殊规律都出于我们的观点,就像从一个旅行家看来,每当他跨出一步,山峰的轮廓就要变动一步,虽然绝对的只有一个形态,却有着无其数的侧页。即使裂开了它,即使钻穿了它,也不能窥见其全貌。
据我所观察,湖的情形如此,在伦理学上又何尝不如此。这就是平均律。这样用两条直径来测量的规律,不但指示了我们观察天体中的太阳系,还指示了我们观察人心,而且就一个人的特殊的日常行为和生活潮流组成的集合体的长度和阔度,我们也可以画两条这样的线,通到他的凹处和入口,那两条线的交叉点,便是他的性格的最高峰或最深处了。也许我们只要知道这人的河岸的走向和他的四周环境,我们便可以知道他的深度和那隐藏着的底奥。如果他的周围是多山的环境,湖岸险巇,山峰高高耸起,反映在胸际,他一定是一个有着同样的深度的人。可是一个低平的湖岸,就说明这人在另一方面也肤浅。在我们的身体上,一个明显地突出的前额,表示他有思想的深度。在我们的每一个凹处的入口,也都有一个沙洲的,或者说,我们都有特殊的倾向;每一个凹处,都在一定时期内,是我们的港埠,在这里我们特别待得长久,几乎永久给束缚在那里。这些倾向往往不是古怪可笑的,它们的形式、大小、方向,都取决于岸上的岬角,亦即古时地势升高的轴线。当这一个沙洲给暴风雨,潮汐或水流渐渐加高,或者当水位降落下去了,它冒出了水面时,起先仅是湖岸的一个倾向,其中隐藏着思想,现在却独立起来了,成了一个湖沼,和大海洋隔离了,在思想获得它自己的境界之后,也许它从咸水变成了淡水,也许成了一个淡海,死海,或者一个沼泽。而每一个人来到尘世,我们是否可以说,就是这样的一个沙洲升到了水面上?这是真的,我们是一些可怜的航海家,我们的思想大体说来都有点虚无缥缈,在一个没有港口的海岸线上,顶多和有诗意的小港汊有些往还,不然就驶入公共的大港埠,驶进了科学这枯燥的码头上,在那里他们重新拆卸组装,以适应世俗,并没有一种潮流使它们同时保持其独立性。
至于瓦尔登湖水的出入口呢,除了雨雪和蒸发,我并没有发现别的,虽然用一只温度表和一条绳子也许可以寻得出这样的地点来,因为在水流入湖的地方在夏天大约是最冷而冬天大约最温暖。一八四六——一八四七年派到这里来掘冰块的人,有一天,他们正在工作,把一部分的冰块送上岸去,而囤冰的商人拒绝接受,因为这一部分比起其他的来薄了许多,挖冰的工人便这样发现了,有一小块地区上面的冰比其余的冰都薄了两三英寸,他们想这地方一定有一个入口了。另外一个地方他们还指给我看过,他们认为那是一个“漏洞”,湖水从那里漏出去,从一座小山下经过,到达邻近的一处草地,他们让我待在一个冰块上把我推过去看。在水深十英尺之处有一个小小的洞穴;可是我敢保证,不将它填补都可以,除非以后发现更大的漏洞。有人主张,如果确有这样的大“漏洞”,如果它和草地确有联系的话,这是可以给予证明的,只要放下一些有颜色的粉末或木屑在这个漏洞口,再在草地上的那些泉源口上放一个过滤器,就一定可以找到一些被流水夹带而去的屑粒了。
当我勘察的时候,十六英寸厚的冰层,也像水波一样,会在微风之下有些波动。大家都知道在冰上,酒精水准仪是不能用的。在冰上,摆一根刻有度数的棒,再把酒精水准仪放在岸上,对准它来观察,那未离岸一杆处,冰层的最大的波动有四分之三英寸,尽管冰层似乎跟湖岸是紧接着的。在湖心的波动,恐怕更大。谁知道呢?如果我们的仪器更精密的话,我们还可以测出地球表面的波动呢。当我的水准仪的三只脚,两只放在岸上,一只放在冰上,而在第三只脚上瞄准并观察时,冰上的极微小的波动可以在湖对岸的一棵树上,变成数英尺的区别。当我为了测量水深,而开始挖洞之时,深深的积雪下面,冰层的上面有三四英寸的水,是积雪使冰下沉了几英寸;水立刻从窟窿中流下去,引成深深的溪流,一连流了两天才流完,把四周的冰都磨光了,湖面变得干燥,这虽然不是主要的,却也是很重要的原因;因为,当水流下去的时候,它提高了,浮起了冰层。这好像是在船底下挖出一个洞,让水流出去,当这些洞又冻结了,接着又下了雨,最后又来了次新的冰冻,全湖上都罩上一层新鲜光滑的冰面,冰的内部就有了美丽的网络的形状,很像是黑色的蜘蛛网,你不妨称之为玫瑰花形的冰球,那是从四方流到中心的水流所形成的。也有一些时候,当冰上有浅浅的水潭时,我能看到我自己的两个影子,一个重叠在另一个上面,一个影子在冰上,一个在树木或山坡的倒影上。
还在寒冷的一月份中,冰雪依然很厚很坚固的时候,一些精明的地主老爷已经从村中来拿回冰去,准备冰冻夏天的冷饮了;现在只在一月中,就想到了七月中的炎热和口渴了,这样的聪明给人留下深刻的印象,甚至使人觉得可悲,——现在,他还穿着厚大衣,戴着皮手套呢!况且有那么多的事情,他都没有一点儿准备。他也许还没有在这个世界上准备了什么可贵的东西,让他将来在另一世界上可以作为夏天的冷饮的。他砍着锯着坚固的冰,把鱼住宅的屋顶给拆掉了,用锁链把冰块和寒气一起,像捆住木料一样地捆绑了起来,用车子载走,经过有利的寒冷的空气,运到了冬天的地窖中,在那里,让它们静待炎夏来临。当它们远远地给拖过村子的时候,看起来仿佛是固体化的碧空。这些挖冰的都是快活的人,充满了玩笑和游戏精神,每当我来到他们中间的时候,他们常常请求我站在下面,同他们一上一下地用大锯来锯冰。
在一八四六——一八四七年的冬季,来了一百个出身于北极的人,那天早晨,他们涌到了这湖滨来,带来了好几车笨重的农具,雪车,犁耙,条播机,轧草机,铲子,锯子,耙子,每一个人还带着一柄两股叉,这种两股叉,就是《新英格兰农业杂志》或《农事杂志》上都没有描写过的。我不知道他们的来意是否为了播种冬天的黑麦,或是播种什么新近从冰岛推销过来的新种子。由于没有看到肥料,我判断他们和我一样,大约不预备深耕了,以为泥土很深,已经休闲得够久了。他们告诉我,有一位农民绅士,他自己没有登场,想使他的钱财加一倍,那笔钱财,据我所知,大约已经有五十万了;现在为了在每一个金元之上,再放上一个金元起见,他剥去了,是的,剥去了瓦尔登湖的唯一的外衣,不,剥去了它的皮,而且是在这样的严寒的冬天里!他们立刻工作了,耕着,耙着,滚着,犁着,秩序井然,好像他们要把这里变成一个模范的农场:可是正在我睁大了眼睛看他们要播下什么种子的时候,我旁边的一群人突然开始钩起那处女地来了,猛的一动,就一直钩到沙地上,或者钩到水里,因为这是一片很松软的土地,——那儿的一切的大地都是这样,——立刻用一辆雪车把它载走了,那时候我猜想,他们一定是在泥沼里挖泥炭吧。他们每天这样来了,去了,火车发出了锐叫声,好像他们来自北极区,又回到北极区,我觉得就像一群北冰洋中的雪鹀一样的。有时候,瓦尔登这印第安女子复仇了,一个雇工,走在队伍后面的,不留神滑入了地上一条通到冥府去的裂缝中,于是刚才还勇敢无比的人物只剩了九分之一的生命,他的动物的体温几乎全部消失了,能够躲入我的木屋中,算是他的运气,他不能不承认火炉之中确有美德;有时候,那冰冻的土地把犁头的一只钢齿折断了;有时,犁陷在犁沟中了,不得不把冰挖破才能取出来。
老老实实他说,是一百个爱尔兰人,由北方佬监工带领,每天从剑桥来这里挖冰。他们把冰切成一方块一方块,那方法是大家都知道的,无须描写的了,这些冰块放在雪车上,车到了岸边,迅疾地拖到一个冰站上,那里再用马匹拖的铁手、滑车、索具搬到一个台上,就像一桶一桶面粉一样,一块一块排列着,又一排一排地叠起来,好像他们要叠一个耸入云霄的方塔的基础一样。他们告诉我,好好地工作一天,可以挖起一千吨来,那是每一英亩地的出产数字。深深的车辙和安放支架的摇篮洞,都在冰上出现,正如在大地上一样,因为雪车在上面来回的次数走得多了,而马匹就在挖成桶形的冰块之中吃麦子。他们这样在露天叠起了一堆冰块来,高三十五英尺,约六七杆见方,在外面一层中间放了干草,以排除空气;因为风虽然空前料峭,还可以在中间找到路线,裂出很大的洞来,以致这里或那里就没有什么支撑了,到最后会全部倒翻。最初,我看这很像一个巨大的蓝色的堡垒,一个伐尔哈拉殿堂①;可是他们开始把粗糙的草皮填塞到隙缝中间去了,于是上面有了白霜和冰柱,看起来像一个古色古香的,生满了苔藓的灰白的废墟,全部是用蓝色大理石构成的冬神的住所,像我们在历本上看到的画片一样,——他的陋室,好像他计划同我们一起度过夏季。据他们的估计,这中间百分之二十五到不了目的地,百分之二、三将在车子中损失。然而这一堆中,更大的一部分的命运和当初的原意不同;因为这些冰或者是不能保藏得像意想的那么好,它里面有比之一般更多的空气,或者是由于另外的原因,这一部分冰就一直没能送到市场上。这一堆,在一八四六——一八四七年垒起来的,据估计共有一万吨重,后来用于草和木板钉了起来,第二年七月开了一次箱,一部分拿走了,其余的就曝露在太阳底下,整个夏天,站着度过去了,这年的冬天,也还是度过去了,直到一八四八年的九月,它还没有全部溶化掉。最后,湖还是把它们的一大部分收了回来。
① 北欧神话中沃丁神接待战死者英灵的殿堂。
像湖水一样,瓦尔登的冰,近看是绿的,可是从远处望去,它蓝蓝的很美,你很容易就辨别出来了,那是河上的白冰,或是四分之一英里外的湖上的只是微绿的冰,而这是瓦尔登的冰。有时候,从挖冰人的雪车上,有一大块冰掉在村中街道上,躺在那里有一星期,像一块很大的翡翠,引起所有过路人的兴趣。我注意到瓦尔登的一个部分,它的水是绿的,一俟冻结之后,从同一观察点望去,它成了蓝色。所以在湖边的许多低洼地,有时候,在冬天,充满了像它一样的绿色的水,可是到了第二天,我发现它们已冻成了蓝色的冰。也许水和冰的蓝色是由它们所包含的光和空气造成的,最透明的,也就是最蓝的。冰乃是沉思的一个最有趣的题目。他们告诉我,他们有一些冰,放在富莱喜湖的冰栈中已有五年,还是很好的冰。为什么一桶水放久了要臭,而冻冰以后,却永远甘美呢?一般人说这正如情感和理智之间的不同。
所以一连十六天,我从我的窗口,看到一百个人,忙忙碌碌,像农夫一样地工作,成群结队,带着牲口和显然一应俱全的农具,这样的图画我们常常在历书的第一页上看到的;每次从窗口望出去,我常常想到云雀和收割者的寓言,或者那撒播者的譬喻,等等;现在,他们都走掉了,大约又过了三十天之后,我又从这同一窗口,眺望纯粹的海绿色的水了,它反映着云和树木,把它蒸发的水汽寂寥地送上天空,一点也看不出曾经有人站在它的上面。也许我又可以听到一只孤独的潜水鸟钻入水底,整理羽毛,放声大笑,或许我可以看到一个孤独的渔夫坐在船上,扁舟一叶,而他的形态倒映在这一面水波上,可是不久以前就在这里,有一百个人安全地站着工作过呢。
似乎紧跟着将要有查尔斯顿和新奥尔良,马德拉斯,孟买和加尔各答的挥汗如雨的居民,在我的井中饮水。在黎明中我把我的智力沐浴在《对话录》的宏伟宇宙的哲学中,自从这一部史诗完成了之后,神仙的岁月也不知已逝去了多少,而和它一比较,我们的近代世界以及它的文学显得多么地猥琐而藐小啊;我还怀疑,这一种哲学是否不仅仅限于从前的生存状态,它的崇高性,距离着我们的观点是这样地遥远啊!我放下了书本,跑到我的井边去喝水。瞧啊!在那里,我遇到了婆罗门教的仆人,梵天和毗瑟奴和因陀罗的僧人,他还是坐在恒河上,他的神庙中,读着他们的吠陀经典,或住在一棵树的根上,只有一些面包屑和一个水钵。我遇到他的仆人来给他的主人汲水,我们的桶子好像在同一井内碰撞。瓦尔登的纯粹的水已经和恒河的圣水混合了。柔和的风吹送着,这水波流过了阿特兰蒂斯①和海斯贝里底斯②这些传说中的岛屿,流过饭能,流过特尔纳特,蒂达尔③和波斯湾的入口,在印度洋的热带风中汇流,到达连亚历山大也只听到过名字的一些港埠。
① 传说中西方的一个岛屿,后因地震沉入海洋。
② 希腊罗马神话中西方一个产金苹果的花园。
③ 特尔纳特,蒂达尔是当时荷属东印度群岛中的两个岛屿的名字。现属印度尼西亚。

JessieAqua

ZxID:17264177


等级: 热心会员
举报 只看该作者 21楼  发表于: 2014-08-21 0

Spring


春天
"One attraction in coming to the woods to live was that I should
have leisure and opportunity to see the Spring come in."
THE OPENING OF large tracts by the ice-cutters commonly causes a pond to break up earlier; for the water, agitated by the wind, even in cold weather, wears away the surrounding ice. But such was not the effect on Walden that year, for she had soon got a thick new garment to take the place of the old. This pond never breaks up so soon as the others in this neighborhood, on account both of its greater depth and its having no stream passing through it to melt or wear away the ice. I never knew it to open in the course of a winter, not excepting that of '52-3, which gave the ponds so severe a trial. It commonly opens about the first of April, a week or ten days later than Flint's Pond and Fair Haven, beginning to melt on the north side and in the shallower parts where it began to freeze. It indicates better than any water hereabouts the absolute progress of the season, being least affected by transient changes of temperature. A severe cold of a few days duration in March may very much retard the opening of the former ponds, while the temperature of Walden increases almost uninterruptedly. A thermometer thrust into the middle of Walden on the 6th of March, 1847, stood at 32°, or freezing point; near the shore at 33°; in the middle of Flint's Pond, the same day, at 32?° at a dozen rods from the shore, in shallow water, under ice a foot thick, at 36°. This difference of three and a half degrees between the temperature of the deep water and the shallow in the latter pond, and the fact that a great proportion of it is comparatively shallow, show why it should break up so much sooner than Walden. The ice in the shallowest part was at this time several inches thinner than in the middle. In midwinter the middle had been the warmest and the ice thinnest there. So, also, every one who has waded about the shores of the pond in summer must have perceived how much warmer the water is close to the shore, where only three or four inches deep, than a little distance out, and on the surface where it is deep, than near the bottom. In spring the sun not only exerts an influence through the increased temperature of the air and earth, but its heat passes through ice a foot or more thick, and is reflected from the bottom in shallow water, and so also warms the water and melts the under side of the ice, at the same time that it is melting it more directly above, making it uneven, and causing the air bubbles which it contains to extend themselves upward and downward until it is completely honeycombed, and at last disappears suddenly in a single spring rain. Ice has its grain as well as wood, and when a cake begins to rot or "comb," that is, assume the appearance of honeycomb, whatever may be its position, the air cells are at right angles with what was the water surface. Where there is a rock or a log rising near to the surface the ice over it is much thinner, and is frequently quite dissolved by this reflected heat; and I have been told that in the experiment at Cambridge to freeze water in a shallow wooden pond, though the cold air circulated underneath, and so had access to both sides, the reflection of the sun from the bottom more than counterbalanced this advantage. When a warm rain in the middle of the winter melts off the snow-ice from Walden, and leaves a hard dark or transparent ice on the middle, there will be a strip of rotten though thicker white ice, a rod or more wide, about the shores, created by this reflected heat. Also, as I have said, the bubbles themselves within the ice operate as burning-glasses to melt the ice beneath.
The phenomena of the year take place every day in a pond on a small scale. Every morning, generally speaking, the shallow water is being warmed more rapidly than the deep, though it may not be made so warm after all, and every evening it is being cooled more rapidly until the morning. The day is an epitome of the year. The night is the winter, the morning and evening are the spring and fall, and the noon is the summer. The cracking and booming of the ice indicate a change of temperature. One pleasant morning after a cold night, February 24th, 1850, having gone to Flint's Pond to spend the day, I noticed with surprise, that when I struck the ice with the head of my axe, it resounded like a gong for many rods around, or as if I had struck on a tight drum-head. The pond began to boom about an hour after sunrise, when it felt the influence of the sun's rays slanted upon it from over the hills; it stretched itself and yawned like a waking man with a gradually increasing tumult, which was kept up three or four hours. It took a short siesta at noon, and boomed once more toward night, as the sun was withdrawing his influence. In the right stage of the weather a pond fires its evening gun with great regularity. But in the middle of the day, being full of cracks, and the air also being less elastic, it had completely lost its resonance, and probably fishes and muskrats could not then have been stunned by a blow on it. The fishermen say that the "thundering of the pond" scares the fishes and prevents their biting. The pond does not thunder every evening, and I cannot tell surely when to expect its thundering; but though I may perceive no difference in the weather, it does. Who would have suspected so large and cold and thick-skinned a thing to be so sensitive? Yet it has its law to which it thunders obedience when it should as surely as the buds expand in the spring. The earth is all alive and covered with papillae. The largest pond is as sensitive to atmospheric changes as the globule of mercury in its tube.
One attraction in coming to the woods to live was that I should have leisure and opportunity to see the Spring come in. The ice in the pond at length begins to be honeycombed, and I can set my heel in it as I walk. Fogs and rains and warmer suns are gradually melting the snow; the days have grown sensibly longer; and I see how I shall get through the winter without adding to my wood-pile, for large fires are no longer necessary. I am on the alert for the first signs of spring, to hear the chance note of some arriving bird, or the striped squirrel's chirp, for his stores must be now nearly exhausted, or see the woodchuck venture out of his winter quarters. On the 13th of March, after I had heard the bluebird, song sparrow, and red-wing, the ice was still nearly a foot thick. As the weather grew warmer it was not sensibly worn away by the water, nor broken up and floated off as in rivers, but, though it was completely melted for half a rod in width about the shore, the middle was merely honeycombed and saturated with water, so that you could put your foot through it when six inches thick; but by the next day evening, perhaps, after a warm rain followed by fog, it would have wholly disappeared, all gone off with the fog, spirited away. One year I went across the middle only five days before it disappeared entirely. In 1845 Walden was first completely open on the 1st of April; in '46, the 25th of March; in '47, the 8th of April; in '51, the 28th of March; in '52, the 18th of April; in '53, the 23d of March; in '54, about the 7th of April.
Every incident connected with the breaking up of the rivers and ponds and the settling of the weather is particularly interesting to us who live in a climate of so great extremes. When the warmer days come, they who dwell near the river hear the ice crack at night with a startling whoop as loud as artillery, as if its icy fetters were rent from end to end, and within a few days see it rapidly going out. So the alligator comes out of the mud with quakings of the earth. One old man, who has been a close observer of Nature, and seems as thoroughly wise in regard to all her operations as if she had been put upon the stocks when he was a boy, and he had helped to lay her keel — who has come to his growth, and can hardly acquire more of natural lore if he should live to the age of Methuselah (1) — told me — and I was surprised to hear him express wonder at any of Nature's operations, for I thought that there were no secrets between them — that one spring day he took his gun and boat, and thought that he would have a little sport with the ducks. There was ice still on the meadows, but it was all gone out of the river, and he dropped down without obstruction from Sudbury, where he lived, to Fair Haven Pond, which he found, unexpectedly, covered for the most part with a firm field of ice. It was a warm day, and he was surprised to see so great a body of ice remaining. Not seeing any ducks, he hid his boat on the north or back side of an island in the pond, and then concealed himself in the bushes on the south side, to await them. The ice was melted for three or four rods from the shore, and there was a smooth and warm sheet of water, with a muddy bottom, such as the ducks love, within, and he thought it likely that some would be along pretty soon. After he had lain still there about an hour he heard a low and seemingly very distant sound, but singularly grand and impressive, unlike anything he had ever heard, gradually swelling and increasing as if it would have a universal and memorable ending, a sullen rush and roar, which seemed to him all at once like the sound of a vast body of fowl coming in to settle there, and, seizing his gun, he started up in haste and excited; but he found, to his surprise, that the whole body of the ice had started while he lay there, and drifted in to the shore, and the sound he had heard was made by its edge grating on the shore — at first gently nibbled and crumbled off, but at length heaving up and scattering its wrecks along the island to a considerable height before it came to a standstill.
At length the sun's rays have attained the right angle, and warm winds blow up mist and rain and melt the snowbanks, and the sun, dispersing the mist, smiles on a checkered landscape of russet and white smoking with incense, through which the traveller picks his way from islet to islet, cheered by the music of a thousand tinkling rills and rivulets whose veins are filled with the blood of winter which they are bearing off.
Few phenomena gave me more delight than to observe the forms which thawing sand and clay assume in flowing down the sides of a deep cut on the railroad through which I passed on my way to the village, a phenomenon not very common on so large a scale, though the number of freshly exposed banks of the right material must have been greatly multiplied since railroads were invented. The material was sand of every degree of fineness and of various rich colors, commonly mixed with a little clay. When the frost comes out in the spring, and even in a thawing day in the winter, the sand begins to flow down the slopes like lava, sometimes bursting out through the snow and overflowing it where no sand was to be seen before. Innumerable little streams overlap and interlace one with another, exhibiting a sort of hybrid product, which obeys half way the law of currents, and half way that of vegetation. As it flows it takes the forms of sappy leaves or vines, making heaps of pulpy sprays a foot or more in depth, and resembling, as you look down on them, the laciniated, lobed, and imbricated thalluses of some lichens; or you are reminded of coral, of leopard's paws or birds' feet, of brains or lungs or bowels, and excrements of all kinds. It is a truly grotesque vegetation, whose forms and color we see imitated in bronze, a sort of architectural foliage more ancient and typical than acanthus, chiccory, ivy, vine, or any vegetable leaves; destined perhaps, under some circumstances, to become a puzzle to future geologists. The whole cut impressed me as if it were a cave with its stalactites laid open to the light. The various shades of the sand are singularly rich and agreeable, embracing the different iron colors, brown, gray, yellowish, and reddish. When the flowing mass reaches the drain at the foot of the bank it spreads out flatter into strands, the separate streams losing their semi-cylindrical form and gradually becoming more flat and broad, running together as they are more moist, till they form an almost flat sand, still variously and beautifully shaded, but in which you can trace the original forms of vegetation; till at length, in the water itself, they are converted into banks, like those formed off the mouths of rivers, and the forms of vegetation are lost in the ripple marks on the bottom.
The whole bank, which is from twenty to forty feet high, is sometimes overlaid with a mass of this kind of foliage, or sandy rupture, for a quarter of a mile on one or both sides, the produce of one spring day. What makes this sand foliage remarkable is its springing into existence thus suddenly. When I see on the one side the inert bank — for the sun acts on one side first — and on the other this luxuriant foliage, the creation of an hour, I am affected as if in a peculiar sense I stood in the laboratory of the Artist who made the world and me — had come to where he was still at work, sporting on this bank, and with excess of energy strewing his fresh designs about. I feel as if I were nearer to the vitals of the globe, for this sandy overflow is something such a foliaceous mass as the vitals of the animal body. You find thus in the very sands an anticipation of the vegetable leaf. No wonder that the earth expresses itself outwardly in leaves, it so labors with the idea inwardly. The atoms have already learned this law, and are pregnant by it. The overhanging leaf sees here its prototype. Internally, whether in the globe or animal body, it is a moist thick lobe, a word especially applicable to the liver and lungs and the leaves of fat ([letters of the Greek alphabet], labor, lapsus, to flow or slip downward, a lapsing; [letters of the Greek alphabet], globus, lobe, globe; also lap, flap, and many other words); externally a dry thin leaf, even as the f and v are a pressed and dried b. The radicals of lobe are lb, the soft mass of the b (single lobed, or B, double lobed), with the liquid l behind it pressing it forward. In globe, glb, the guttural gadds to the meaning the capacity of the throat. The feathers and wings of birds are still drier and thinner leaves. Thus, also, you pass from the lumpish grub in the earth to the airy and fluttering butterfly. The very globe continually transcends and translates itself, and becomes winged in its orbit. Even ice begins with delicate crystal leaves, as if it had flowed into moulds which the fronds of waterplants have impressed on the watery mirror. The whole tree itself is but one leaf, and rivers are still vaster leaves whose pulp is intervening earth, and towns and cities are the ova of insects in their axils.
When the sun withdraws the sand ceases to flow, but in the morning the streams will start once more and branch and branch again into a myriad of others. You here see perchance how blood-vessels are formed. If you look closely you observe that first there pushes forward from the thawing mass a stream of softened sand with a drop-like point, like the ball of the finger, feeling its way slowly and blindly downward, until at last with more heat and moisture, as the sun gets higher, the most fluid portion, in its effort to obey the law to which the most inert also yields, separates from the latter and forms for itself a meandering channel or artery within that, in which is seen a little silvery stream glancing like lightning from one stage of pulpy leaves or branches to another, and ever and anon swallowed up in the sand. It is wonderful how rapidly yet perfectly the sand organizes itself as it flows, using the best material its mass affords to form the sharp edges of its channel. Such are the sources of rivers. In the silicious matter which the water deposits is perhaps the bony system, and in the still finer soil and organic matter the fleshy fibre or cellular tissue. What is man but a mass of thawing clay? The ball of the human finger is but a drop congealed. The fingers and toes flow to their extent from the thawing mass of the body. Who knows what the human body would expand and flow out to under a more genial heaven? Is not the hand a spreading palm leaf with its lobes and veins? The ear may be regarded, fancifully, as a lichen, umbilicaria, on the side of the head, with its lobe or drop. The lip — labium, from labor (?) — laps or lapses from the sides of the cavernous mouth. The nose is a manifest congealed drop or stalactite. The chin is a still larger drop, the confluent dripping of the face. The cheeks are a slide from the brows into the valley of the face, opposed and diffused by the cheek bones. Each rounded lobe of the vegetable leaf, too, is a thick and now loitering drop, larger or smaller; the lobes are the fingers of the leaf; and as many lobes as it has, in so many directions it tends to flow, and more heat or other genial influences would have caused it to flow yet farther.
Thus it seemed that this one hillside illustrated the principle of all the operations of Nature. The Maker of this earth but patented a leaf. What Champollion (2) will decipher this hieroglyphic for us, that we may turn over a new leaf at last? This phenomenon is more exhilarating to me than the luxuriance and fertility of vineyards. True, it is somewhat excrementitious in its character, and there is no end to the heaps of liver, lights, and bowels, as if the globe were turned wrong side outward; but this suggests at least that Nature has some bowels, and there again is mother of humanity. This is the frost coming out of the ground; this is Spring. It precedes the green and flowery spring, as mythology precedes regular poetry. I know of nothing more purgative of winter fumes and indigestions. It convinces me that Earth is still in her swaddling-clothes, and stretches forth baby fingers on every side. Fresh curls spring from the baldest brow. There is nothing inorganic. These foliaceous heaps lie along the bank like the slag of a furnace, showing that Nature is "in full blast" within. The earth is not a mere fragment of dead history, stratum upon stratum like the leaves of a book, to be studied by geologists and antiquaries chiefly, but living poetry like the leaves of a tree, which precede flowers and fruit — not a fossil earth, but a living earth; compared with whose great central life all animal and vegetable life is merely parasitic. Its throes will heave our exuviae from their graves. You may melt your metals and cast them into the most beautiful moulds you can; they will never excite me like the forms which this molten earth flows out into. And not only it, but the institutions upon it are plastic like clay in the hands of the potter.
Ere long, not only on these banks, but on every hill and plain and in every hollow, the frost comes out of the ground like a dormant quadruped from its burrow, and seeks the sea with music, or migrates to other climes in clouds. Thaw with his gentle persuasion is more powerful than Thor (3) with his hammer. The one melts, the other but breaks in pieces.
When the ground was partially bare of snow, and a few warm days had dried its surface somewhat, it was pleasant to compare the first tender signs of the infant year just peeping forth with the stately beauty of the withered vegetation which had withstood the winter — life-everlasting, goldenrods, pinweeds, and graceful wild grasses, more obvious and interesting frequently than in summer even, as if their beauty was not ripe till then; even cotton-grass, cat-tails, mulleins, johnswort, hard-hack, meadow-sweet, and other strong-stemmed plants, those unexhausted granaries which entertain the earliest birds — decent weeds, at least, which widowed Nature wears. I am particularly attracted by the arching and sheaf-like top of the wool-grass; it brings back the summer to our winter memories, and is among the forms which art loves to copy, and which, in the vegetable kingdom, have the same relation to types already in the mind of man that astronomy has. It is an antique style, older than Greek or Egyptian. Many of the phenomena of Winter are suggestive of an inexpressible tenderness and fragile delicacy. We are accustomed to hear this king described as a rude and boisterous tyrant; but with the gentleness of a lover he adorns the tresses of Summer.
At the approach of spring the red squirrels got under my house, two at a time, directly under my feet as I sat reading or writing, and kept up the queerest chuckling and chirruping and vocal pirouetting and gurgling sounds that ever were heard; and when I stamped they only chirruped the louder, as if past all fear and respect in their mad pranks, defying humanity to stop them. No, you don't — chickaree — chickaree. They were wholly deaf to my arguments, or failed to perceive their force, and fell into a strain of invective that was irresistible.
The first sparrow of spring! The year beginning with younger hope than ever! The faint silvery warblings heard over the partially bare and moist fields from the bluebird, the song sparrow, and the red-wing, as if the last flakes of winter tinkled as they fell! What at such a time are histories, chronologies, traditions, and all written revelations? The brooks sing carols and glees to the spring. The marsh hawk, sailing low over the meadow, is already seeking the first slimy life that awakes. The sinking sound of melting snow is heard in all dells, and the ice dissolves apace in the ponds. The grass flames up on the hillsides like a spring fire — "et primitus oritur herba imbribus primoribus evocata"(4)— as if the earth sent forth an inward heat to greet the returning sun; not yellow but green is the color of its flame; — the symbol of perpetual youth, the grass-blade, like a long green ribbon, streams from the sod into the summer, checked indeed by the frost, but anon pushing on again, lifting its spear of last year's hay with the fresh life below. It grows as steadily as the rill oozes out of the ground. It is almost identical with that, for in the growing days of June, when the rills are dry, the grass-blades are their channels, and from year to year the herds drink at this perennial green stream, and the mower draws from it betimes their winter supply. So our human life but dies down to its root, and still puts forth its green blade to eternity.
Walden is melting apace. There is a canal two rods wide along the northerly and westerly sides, and wider still at the east end. A great field of ice has cracked off from the main body. I hear a song sparrow singing from the bushes on the shore — olit, olit, olit-chip, chip, chip, che char-che wiss, wiss, wiss. He too is helping to crack it. How handsome the great sweeping curves in the edge of the ice, answering somewhat to those of the shore, but more regular! It is unusually hard, owing to the recent severe but transient cold, and all watered or waved like a palace floor. But the wind slides eastward over its opaque surface in vain, till it reaches the living surface beyond. It is glorious to behold this ribbon of water sparkling in the sun, the bare face of the pond full of glee and youth, as if it spoke the joy of the fishes within it, and of the sands on its shore — a silvery sheen as from the scales of a leuciscus,(5) as it were all one active fish. Such is the contrast between winter and spring. Walden was dead and is alive again. But this spring it broke up more steadily, as I have said.
The change from storm and winter to serene and mild weather, from dark and sluggish hours to bright and elastic ones, is a memorable crisis which all things proclaim. It is seemingly instantaneous at last. Suddenly an influx of light filled my house, though the evening was at hand, and the clouds of winter still overhung it, and the eaves were dripping with sleety rain. I looked out the window, and lo! Where yesterday was cold gray ice there lay the transparent pond already calm and full of hope as in a summer evening, reflecting a summer evening sky in its bosom, though none was visible overhead, as if it had intelligence with some remote horizon. I heard a robin in the distance, the first I had heard for many a thousand years, methought, whose note I shall not forget for many a thousand more — the same sweet and powerful song as of yore. O the evening robin, at the end of a New England summer day! If I could ever find the twig he sits upon! I mean he; I mean the twig. This at least is not the Turdus migratorius. The pitch pines and shrub oaks about my house, which had so long drooped, suddenly resumed their several characters, looked brighter, greener, and more erect and alive, as if effectually cleansed and restored by the rain. I knew that it would not rain any more. You may tell by looking at any twig of the forest, ay, at your very wood-pile, whether its winter is past or not. As it grew darker, I was startled by the honking of geese flying low over the woods, like weary travellers getting in late from Southern lakes, and indulging at last in unrestrained complaint and mutual consolation. Standing at my door, I could bear the rush of their wings; when, driving toward my house, they suddenly spied my light, and with hushed clamor wheeled and settled in the pond. So I came in, and shut the door, and passed my first spring night in the woods.
In the morning I watched the geese from the door through the mist, sailing in the middle of the pond, fifty rods off, so large and tumultuous that Walden appeared like an artificial pond for their amusement. But when I stood on the shore they at once rose up with a great flapping of wings at the signal of their commander, and when they had got into rank circled about over my head, twenty-nine of them, and then steered straight to Canada, with a regular honk from the leader at intervals, trusting to break their fast in muddier pools. A "plump" of ducks rose at the same time and took the route to the north in the wake of their noisier cousins.
For a week I heard the circling, groping clangor of some solitary goose in the foggy mornings, seeking its companion, and still peopling the woods with the sound of a larger life than they could sustain. In April the pigeons were seen again flying express in small flocks, and in due time I heard the martins twittering over my clearing, though it had not seemed that the township contained so many that it could afford me any, and I fancied that they were peculiarly of the ancient race that dwelt in hollow trees ere white men came. In almost all climes the tortoise and the frog are among the precursors and heralds of this season, and birds fly with song and glancing plumage, and plants spring and bloom, and winds blow, to correct this slight oscillation of the poles and preserve the equilibrium of nature.
As every season seems best to us in its turn, so the coming in of spring is like the creation of Cosmos out of Chaos and the realization of the Golden Age.(6) —
"Eurus ad Auroram Nabathaeaque regna recessit,
Persidaque, et radiis juga subdita matutinis."
"The East-Wind withdrew to Aurora and the Nabathean kingdom,
And the Persian, and the ridges placed under the morning rays.
. . . . . . .
Man was born. Whether that Artificer of things,
The origin of a better world, made him from the divine seed;
Or the earth, being recent and lately sundered from the high
Ether, retained some seeds of cognate heaven."(7)
A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten on the influx of better thoughts. We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities, which we call doing our duty. We loiter in winter while it is already spring. In a pleasant spring morning all men's sins are forgiven. Such a day is a truce to vice. While such a sun holds out to burn, the vilest sinner may return. Through our own recovered innocence we discern the innocence of our neighbors. You may have known your neighbor yesterday for a thief, a drunkard, or a sensualist, and merely pitied or despised him, and despaired of the world; but the sun shines bright and warm this first spring morning, recreating the world, and you meet him at some serene work, and see how it is exhausted and debauched veins expand with still joy and bless the new day, feel the spring influence with the innocence of infancy, and all his faults are forgotten. There is not only an atmosphere of good will about him, but even a savor of holiness groping for expression, blindly and ineffectually perhaps, like a new-born instinct, and for a short hour the south hill-side echoes to no vulgar jest. You see some innocent fair shoots preparing to burst from his gnarled rind and try another year's life, tender and fresh as the youngest plant. Even he has entered into the joy of his Lord. Why the jailer does not leave open his prison doors — why the judge does not dismis his case — why the preacher does not dismiss his congregation! It is because they do not obey the hint which God gives them, nor accept the pardon which he freely offers to all.
"A return to goodness produced each day in the tranquil and beneficent breath of the morning, causes that in respect to the love of virtue and the hatred of vice, one approaches a little the primitive nature of man, as the sprouts of the forest which has been felled. In like manner the evil which one does in the interval of a day prevents the germs of virtues which began to spring up again from developing themselves and destroys them.
"After the germs of virtue have thus been prevented many times from developing themselves, then the beneficent breath of evening does not suffice to preserve them. As soon as the breath of evening does not suffice longer to preserve them, then the nature of man does not differ much from that of the brute. Men seeing the nature of this man like that of the brute, think that he has never possessed the innate faculty of reason. Are those the true and natural sentiments of man?"(8)
"The Golden Age was first created, which without any avenger
Spontaneously without law cherished fidelity and rectitude.
Punishment and fear were not; nor were threatening words read
On suspended brass; nor did the suppliant crowd fear
The words of their judge; but were safe without an avenger.
Not yet the pine felled on its mountains had descended
To the liquid waves that it might see a foreign world,
And mortals knew no shores but their own.
. . . . . . .
There was eternal spring, and placid zephyrs with warm
Blasts soothed the flowers born without seed."(9)
On the 29th of April, as I was fishing from the bank of the river near the Nine-Acre-Corner bridge, standing on the quaking grass and willow roots, where the muskrats lurk, I heard a singular rattling sound, somewhat like that of the sticks which boys play with their fingers, when, looking up, I observed a very slight and graceful hawk, like a nighthawk, alternately soaring like a ripple and tumbling a rod or two over and over, showing the under side of its wings, which gleamed like a satin ribbon in the sun, or like the pearly inside of a shell. This sight reminded me of falconry and what nobleness and poetry are associated with that sport. The Merlin it seemed to me it might be called: but I care not for its name. It was the most ethereal flight I had ever witnessed. It did not simply flutter like a butterfly, nor soar like the larger hawks, but it sported with proud reliance in the fields of air; mounting again and again with its strange chuckle, it repeated its free and beautiful fall, turning over and over like a kite, and then recovering from its lofty tumbling, as if it had never set its foot on terra firma. It appeared to have no companion in the universe — sporting there alone — and to need none but the morning and the ether with which it played. It was not lonely, but made all the earth lonely beneath it. Where was the parent which hatched it, its kindred, and its father in the heavens? The tenant of the air, it seemed related to the earth but by an egg hatched some time in the crevice of a crag; — or was its native nest made in the angle of a cloud, woven of the rainbow's trimmings and the sunset sky, and lined with some soft midsummer haze caught up from earth? Its eyry now some cliffy cloud.
Beside this I got a rare mess of golden and silver and bright cupreous fishes, which looked like a string of jewels. Ah! I have penetrated to those meadows on the morning of many a first spring day, jumping from hummock to hummock, from willow root to willow root, when the wild river valley and the woods were bathed in so pure and bright a light as would have waked the dead, if they had been slumbering in their graves, as some suppose. There needs no stronger proof of immortality. All things must live in such a light. O Death, where was thy sting? O Grave, where was thy victory, then?(10)
Our village life would stagnate if it were not for the unexplored forests and meadows which surround it. We need the tonic of wildness — to wade sometimes in marshes where the bittern and the meadow-hen lurk, and hear the booming of the snipe; to smell the whispering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary fowl builds her nest, and the mink crawls with its belly close to the ground. At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be infinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature. We must be refreshed by the sight of inexhaustible vigor, vast and titanic features, the sea-coast with its wrecks, the wilderness with its living and its decaying trees, the thunder-cloud, and the rain which lasts three weeks and produces freshets. We need to witness our own limits transgressed, and some life pasturing freely where we never wander. We are cheered when we observe the vulture feeding on the carrion which disgusts and disheartens us, and deriving health and strength from the repast. There was a dead horse in the hollow by the path to my house, which compelled me sometimes to go out of my way, especially in the night when the air was heavy, but the assurance it gave me of the strong appetite and inviolable health of Nature was my compensation for this. I love to see that Nature is so rife with life that myriads can be afforded to be sacrificed and suffered to prey on one another; that tender organizations can be so serenely squashed out of existence like pulp — tadpoles which herons gobble up, and tortoises and toads run over in the road; and that sometimes it has rained flesh and blood! With the liability to accident, we must see how little account is to be made of it. The impression made on a wise man is that of universal innocence. Poison is not poisonous after all, nor are any wounds fatal. Compassion is a very untenable ground. It must be expeditious. Its pleadings will not bear to be stereotyped.
Early in May, the oaks, hickories, maples, and other trees, just putting out amidst the pine woods around the pond, imparted a brightness like sunshine to the landscape, especially in cloudy days, as if the sun were breaking through mists and shining faintly on the hillsides here and there. On the third or fourth of May I saw a loon in the pond, and during the first week of the month I heard the whip-poor-will, the brown thrasher, the veery, the wood pewee, the chewink, and other birds. I had heard the wood thrush long before. The phoebe had already come once more and looked in at my door and window, to see if my house was cavern-like enough for her, sustaining herself on humming wings with clinched talons, as if she held by the air, while she surveyed the premises. The sulphur-like pollen of the pitch pine soon covered the pond and the stones and rotten wood along the shore, so that you could have collected a barrelful. This is the "sulphur showers" we hear of. Even in Calidas'(11) drama of Sacontala,(12) we read of "rills dyed yellow with the golden dust of the lotus." And so the seasons went rolling on into summer, as one rambles into higher and higher grass.
Thus was my first year's life in the woods completed; and the second year was similar to it. I finally left Walden September 6th, 1847.

Notes
1. "Methuselah lived 969 years, and then he died.", Genesis 5:27
2. Jean Francois Champollion (1790-1832) French Egyptologist & linguist, first deciphered Egyption hieroglyphics in 1798-1822
3. in Norse mythology, god of war & thunder
4. "And for the first time the grass rises, called forth by the first rains" - Marcus Terrentius Varro (116-27? B.C.) Roman author
5. a minnow
6. in Greek mythology, the creation of the universe
7. Ovid (43 B.C.-7 A.D.) Roman poet, from Metamorphoses
8. Meng-tse (372?-287? B.C.) Chinese philosopher, follower of Confucius
9. Ovid (43 B.C.-7 A.D.) Roman poet, from Metamorphoses
10. 1 Corinthians 15:55
11. Calidas or Kalidasa - 5th century Hindu dramatist and poet
12. Sacontala; or the Fatal Ring, translated from the sanscrit by Sir William Jones, 1789
掘冰人的大量挖掘,通常使得一个湖沼的冰解冻得早一些;因为即使在寒冷的气候中,给风吹动了的水波,都能够消蚀它周围的冰块。可是这一年,瓦尔登没有受到这种影响,因为它立刻穿上了新的一层厚冰,来替代那旧的一层。这一个湖,从不像邻近的那些湖沼的冰化得那样早,因为它深得多,而且底下并没有流泉经过,来溶化或耗损上面的冰。我从没有见它在冬天里爆开过;只除了一八五二——一八五三年的冬季,那个冬季给许多湖沼这样严重的一次考验。它通常在四月一口开冻,比茀灵特湖或美港迟一星期或十天,从北岸,和一些浅水的地方开始,也正是那里先行冻结起来的。它比附近任何水波更切合时令,指示了季节的绝对进度,毫不受温度变幻不定的影响。三月里严寒了几天,便能延迟其他湖沼的开冻日了,但瓦尔登的温度却几乎没有中断地在增高。
一八四七年三月六日,一只温度表插入心,得三十二度,或冰点,湖岸附近,得三十三度;同日,在弗灵特湖心,得三十二度半;离岸十二杆的浅水处,在一英尺厚的冰下面,得三十六度。后者湖中,浅水深水的温度相差三度半,而事实上这一个湖大部分都是浅水,这就可以说明为什么它的化冰日期要比瓦尔登早得多了。那时,最浅水中的冰要比湖心的冰薄上好几英寸。仲冬,反而是湖心最温暖,那儿的冰最薄。同样,夏季里在湖岸附近,涉水而过的人都知道的,靠湖沼的水要温暖得多,尤其是只三、四英寸水的地方,游泳出去远了一点,深水的水面也比深水深处温暖得多。而在春天,阳光不仅在温度逐渐增加的天空与大地上发挥它的力量,它的热量还透过了一英尺或一英尺以上的厚冰,在浅水处更从水底反射到上面,使水波温暖了,并且溶化了冰的下部,同时从上面,阳光更直接地溶化了冰,使它不均匀了,凸起了气泡,升上又降下,直到后来全部成了蜂窝,到最后一阵春雨,它们全部消失。冰,好比树木一样,也有纹理,当一个冰块开始溶化,或蜂窝化了,不论它在什么地位,气泡和水面总是成直角地相连的。在水面下有一块突出的岩石或木料时,它们上面的冰总要薄得多,往往给反射的热力所溶解;我听说,在剑桥曾有过这样的试验,在一个浅浅的木制的湖沼中冻冰,用冷空气在下面流过,使得上下都可以发生影响,而从水底反射上来的太阳的热量仍然可以胜过这种影响。当仲冬季节下了一阵温暖的雨,溶解了上带雪的冰,只在湖心留着一块黑色而坚硬的透明的冰,这就会出现一种腐化的,但更厚的自冰,约一杆或一杆多阔,沿湖岸都是,正是这反射的热量所形成的。还有是我已经说起过的,冰中间的气泡像凸透镜一样从下面起来溶解冰。
这一年四季的现象,每天在湖上变化着,但规模很小。一般说来,每天早晨,浅水比深水温暖得更快,可是到底不能温暖得怎样,而每天黄昏,它却也冷得更快,直到早晨。一天正是一年的缩影。夜是冬季,早晨和傍晚是春秋,中午是夏季。冰的爆裂声和隆隆声在指示着温度的变化。一八五〇年二月二十四日,一个寒冷的夜晚过去后,在令人愉快的黎明中,我跑到茀灵特湖去消磨这一天,惊异地发现我只用斧头劈了一下冰,便像敲了锣一样,声音延展到好几杆远,或者也可以说,好像我打响了一只绷得紧紧的鼓。太阳升起以后大约一个小时,湖感受到斜斜地从山上射下来的阳光的热力了,开始发出隆隆的声响;它伸懒腰,打呵欠,像一个才醒过来的人,闹声渐渐越来越响,这样继续了三四个小时。正午是睡午觉的时候,可是快到傍晚的时候,太阳收回它的影响,隆隆声又响起来了。在正常的天气中,每天,湖发射了它的黄昏礼炮,很有定时。只是在正午,裂痕已经太多,空气的弹性也不够,所以它完全失去了共鸣,鱼和麝鼠大约都不会听到而被震动得呆住的。渔夫们说,“湖的雷鸣”吓得鱼都不敢咬钩了。湖并不是每晚都打雷的,我也不知道该什么时候期待它的雷鸣,可是,虽然我不能从气候中感到什么不同,有时还是响起来了。谁想得到这样大,这样冷,这样厚皮的事物,竟然这样的敏感?然而,它也有它的规律,它发出雷声是要大家服从它,像蓓蕾应该在春天萌芽一样。周身赘疣的大地生机蓬勃。对于大气的变化,最大的湖也敏感得像管往中的水银。
吸引我住到森林中来的是我要生活得有闲暇,并有机会看到春天的来临。最后,湖中的冰开始像蜂房那样了,我一走上去,后跟都陷进去了。雾,雨,温暖的太阳慢慢地把雪溶化了;你感觉到白昼已延长得多,我看到我的燃料已不必增添,尽够过冬,现在已经根本不需要生个旺火了。我注意地等待着春天的第一个信号,倾听着一些飞来鸟雀的偶然的乐音,或有条纹的松鼠的啁啾,因为它的储藏大约也告罄了吧,我也想看——看土拨鼠如何从它们冬蛰的地方出现。三月十三日,我已经听到青鸟、篱雀和红翼鸫,冰那时却还有一英尺厚。因为天气更温暖了,它不再给水冲掉,也不像河里的冰那样地浮动,虽然沿岸半杆阔的地方都已经溶化,可是湖心的依然像蜂房一样,饱和着水,六英寸深的时候,还可以用你的脚穿过去;可是第二天晚上,也许在一阵温暖的雨和紧跟着的大雾之后,它就全部消失,跟着雾一起走掉,迅速而神秘地给带走了。有一年,我在湖心散步之后的第五天,它全部消隐了。一八四五年,瓦尔登在四月一日全部开冻;四六年,三月二十五日;四七年,四月八日;五一年,三月二十八日;五二年,四月十八日;五三年,三月二十三日;五四年,大约在四月七日。
凡有关于河和湖的开冻,春光之来临的一切琐碎事,对我们生活在这样极端的气候中的人,都是特别地有趣的。当比较温和的日子来到的时候,住在河流附近的人,晚间能听到冰裂开的声响,惊人的吼声,像一声大炮,好像那冰的锁链就此全都断了,几天之内,只见它迅速地消溶。正像鳄鱼从泥土中钻了出来,大地为之震动。有一位老年人,是大自然的精密的观察家,关于大自然的一切变幻,似乎他有充分的智慧,好像他还只是一个孩子的时候,大自然给放在造船台上,而他也帮助过安置她的龙骨似的,——他现在已经成长了,即使他再活下去,活到玛土撒拉①那样的年纪,也不会增加多少大自然的知识了。
① 《圣经》中最长寿的人。据《创世纪》第5章第27节,玛士撒拉共活了969岁。
他告诉我,有一个春季的日子里,他持熗坐上了船,想跟那些野鸭进行竞技,——听到他居然也对大自然的任何变幻表示惊奇,我感到诧异,因为我想他跟大自然之间一定不会有任何秘密了。那时草原上还有冰,可是河里完全没有了,他毫无阻碍地从他住的萨德伯里地方顺流而下,到了美港湖,在那里,他突然发现大部分还是坚实的冰。这是一个温和的日子,而还有这样大体积的冰残留着,使他非常惊异。因为看不到野鸭,他把船藏在北部,或者说,湖中一个小岛的背后,而他自己则躲在南岸的灌木丛中,等待它们。离岸三四杆的地方,冰已经都溶化掉了,有着平滑而温暖的水,水底却很泥泞,这正是鸭子所喜爱的,所以他想,不久一定会有野鸭飞来。他一动不动地躺卧在那里,大约已有一个小时了,他听到了一种低沉,似乎很远的声音,出奇地伟大而给人留下深刻的印象,那是从来没有听到过的,慢慢地上涨而加强,仿佛它会有一个全宇宙的,令人难忘的音乐尾声一样,一种愠郁的激撞声和吼声,由他听来,仿佛一下子大群的飞禽要降落到这里来了,于是他抓住了熗,急忙跳了起来,很是兴奋;可是他发现,真是惊奇的事,整整一大块冰,就在躺卧的时候却行动起来了,向岸边流动,而他所听到的正是它的边沿摩擦湖岸的粗厉之声,——起先还比较的温和,一点一点地咬着,碎落着,可是到后来却沸腾了,把它自己撞到湖岸上,冰花飞溅到相当的高度,才又落下而复归于平静。
终于,太阳的光线形成了直角,温暖的风吹散了雾和雨,更溶化了湖岸上的积雪,雾散后的太阳,向着一个褐色和白色相间隔的格子形的风景微笑,而且熏香似的微雾还在缭绕呢。旅行家从一个小岛屿寻路到另一个小岛屿,给一千道淙淙的小溪和小涧的音乐迷住了,在它们的脉管中,冬天的血液畅流,从中逝去。
除了观察解冻的泥沙流下铁路线的深沟陡坡的形态以外,再没有什么现象更使我喜悦的了,我行路到村中去,总要经过那里,这一种形态,不是常常能够看到像这样大的规模的,虽然说,自从铁路到处兴建以来,许多新近曝露在外的铁路路基都提供了这种合适的材料。那材料是各种粗细不同的细沙,颜色也各不相同,往往还要包含一些泥土。当霜冻到了春天里又重新涌现的时候,甚至还在冬天冰雪未溶将溶的时候呢,沙子就开始流下陡坡了,好像火山的熔岩,有时还穿透了积雪而流了出来,泛滥在以前没有见过沙子的地方。无数这样的小溪流,相互地叠起,交叉,展现出一种混合的产物,一半服从着流水的规律,一半又服从着植物的规律。因为它流下来的时候,那状态颇像萌芽发叶,或藤蔓的蔓生,造成了许多软浆似的喷射,有时深达一英尺或一英尺以上,你望它们的时候,形态像一些苔藓的条裂的、有裂片的、叠盖的叶状体;或者,你会想到珊瑚,豹掌,或鸟爪,或人脑,或脏腑,或任何的分泌。这真是一种奇异的滋育,它们的形态和颜色,或者我们从青铜器上看到过模仿,这种建筑学的枝叶花簇的装饰比古代的茛苕叶,菊苣,常春藤,或其他的植物叶更古,更典型;也许,在某种情形之下,会使得将来的地质学家百思不得其解了。这整个深沟给了我深刻的印象,好像这是一个山洞被打开而钟乳石都曝露在阳光之下。沙子的各种颜色,简直是丰富,悦目,包含了铁的各种不同的颜色,棕色的,灰色的,黄色的,红色的。当那流质到了路基脚下的排水沟里,它就平摊开来而成为浅滩,各种溪流已失去了它们的半圆柱形,越来越平坦而广阔了,如果更湿润一点,它们就更加混和在一起,直到它们形成了一个几乎完全平坦的沙地,却依旧有千变万化的、美丽的色调,其中你还能看出原来的植物形态;直到后来,到了水里,变成了沙岸,像一些河口上所见的那样,这时才失去植物的形态,而变为沟底的粼粼波纹。
整个铁路路基约二十英尺到四十英尺高,有时给这种枝叶花簇的装饰所覆盖,或者说,这是细沙的裂痕吧,在其一面或两面都有,长达四分之一英里,这便是一个春日的产品。这些沙泥枝叶的惊人之处,在于突然间就构成了。当我在路基的一面,因为太阳是先照射在一面的,看到的是一个毫无生气的斜面,而另外的一面上,我却看到了如此华丽的枝叶,它只是一小时的创造,我深深地被感动了,仿佛在一种特别的意义上来说,我是站在这个创造了世界和自己的大艺术家的画室中,——跑到他正在继续工作的地点去,他在这路基上嬉戏,以过多的精力到处画下了他的新颖的图案。我觉得我仿佛和这地球的内脏更加接近起来,因为流沙呈叶形体,像动物的心肺一样。在这沙地上,你看到会出现叶子的形状。难怪大地表现在外面的形式是叶形了,因为在它内部,它也在这个意念之下劳动着。原子已经学习了这个规律,而孕育在它里面了。高挂在树枝上的叶子在这里看到它的原形了。无论在地球或动物身体的内部,都有润湿的,厚厚的叶,这一个字特别适用于肝,肺和脂肪叶(它的字源,labor,lapsus,是飘流,向下流,或逝去的意思;globus,是1obe(叶),globe(地球)的意思;更可以化出lap(叠盖),flap(扁宽之悬垂物)和许多别的字〕,而在外表上呢,一张干燥的薄薄的leaf(叶子),便是那f音,或V音,都是一个压缩了的干燥的b音。叶片lobe这个字的辅音是lb,柔和的b音(单叶片的,B是双叶片的)有流音l陪衬着,推动了它。在地球globe一个字的glb中,g这个喉音用喉部的容量增加了字面意义。鸟雀的羽毛依然是叶形的,只是更干燥,更薄了。这样,你还可以从土地的粗笨的蛴螬进而看到活泼的,翩跹的蝴蝶。我们这个地球变幻不已,不断地超越自己,它也在它的轨道上扑动翅膀。甚至冰也是以精致的晶体叶子来开始的,好像它流进一种模型翻印出来的,而那模型便是印在湖的镜面上的水草的叶子。整个一棵树,也不过是一张叶于,而河流是更大的叶子,它的叶质是河流中间的大地,乡镇和城市是它们的叶腋上的虫卵。
而当太阳西沉时,沙停止了流动,一到早晨,这条沙溪却又开始流动,一个支流一个支流地分成了亿万道川流。也许你可以从这里知道血管是如何形成的,如果你仔细观察,你可以发现,起初从那溶解体中,有一道软化的沙流,前面有一个水滴似的顶端,像手指的圆圆的突出部分,缓慢而又盲目地向下找路,直到后来因为太阳升得更高了,它也有了更多的热力和水分,那流质的较大的部分就为了要服从那最呆滞的部分也服从的规律,和后者分离了,脱颖而出,自己形成了一道弯弯曲曲的渠道或血管,从中你可以看到一个银色的川流,像闪电般地闪耀,从一段泥沙形成的枝叶,闪到另一段,而又总是不时地给细沙吞没。神奇的是那些细沙流得既快,又把自己组织得极为完美,利用最好的材料来组成渠道的两边。河流的源远流长正是这样的一回事。大约骨骼的系统便是水分和硅所形成的,而在更精细的泥土和有机化合物上,便形成了我们的肌肉纤维或纤维细胞。人是什么,还不是一团溶解的泥上?人的手指足趾的顶点只是凝结了的一滴。
手指和足趾从身体的溶解体中流出,流到了它们的极限。在一个更富生机的环境之中,谁知道人的身体会扩张和流到如何的程度?手掌,可不也像一张张开的棕桐叶的有叶片和叶脉的吗?耳朵,不妨想象为一种苔藓,学名Umbilicaria,挂在头的两侧,也有它的叶片似的耳垂或者滴。唇——字源labium,大约是从labor(劳动)化出来的——便是在口腔的上下两边叠着悬垂着的。鼻子,很明显,是一个凝聚了的水滴,或钟乳石。下巴是更大的一滴了,整个面孔的水滴汇合在这里。面颊是一个斜坡,从眉毛上向山谷降下,广布在颧骨上。每一张草叶的叶片也是一滴浓厚的在缓缓流动的水滴,或大或小;叶片乃是叶的手指,有多少叶片,便说明它企图向多少方向流动,如果它有更多的热量或别种助长的影响,它就流得更加远了。
这样看来,这一个小斜坡已图解了大自然的一切活动的原则。地球的创造者只专利一个叶子的形式。哪一个香波利盎①能够为我们解出这象形文字的意义,使我们终于能翻到新的一叶去呢?这一个现象给我的欣喜,更甚于一个丰饶多产的葡萄园。
①香波利盎(1778- 1867),法国考古学家。
真的,性质上这是分泌,而肝啊,肺脏啊,肠子啊,多得无底,好像大地的里面给翻了出来;可是这至少说明了大自然是有肠子的,又是人类的母亲。这是从地里出来的霜;这是春天。正如神话先于正式的诗歌,它先于青青的春天,先于百花怒放的春天。我知道再没有一种事物更能荡涤冬天的雾霭和消化不良的了。它使我相信,大地还在襁褓之中,还在到处伸出它的婴孩的手指。从那最光秃的额头上冒出了新的鬈发。世上没有一物是无机的。路基上的叶形的图案,仿佛是锅炉中的熔滓,说明大自然的内部“烧得火旺”。大地不只是已死的历史的一个片段,地层架地层像一本书的层层叠叠的书页,主要让地质学家和考古学家去研究;大地是活生生的诗歌,像一株树的树叶,它先于花朵,先于果实;——不是一个化石的地球,而是一个活生生的地球;和它一比较,一切动植物的生命都不过寄生在这个伟大的中心生命上。它的剧震可以把我们的残骸从它们的坟墓中曝露出来。你可以把你的金属熔化了,把它们铸成你能铸成的最美丽的形体来;可是不能像这大地的溶液所形成的图案那样使我兴奋。还不仅是它,任何制度,都好像放在一个陶器工人手上的一块粘土,是可塑的啊。
不多久,不仅在这些湖岸上,在每一个小山,平原和每一个洞窟中,都有霜从地里出来了,像一个四足动物从冬眠中醒了过来一样,在音乐声中寻找着海洋,或者要迁移到云中另外的地方。柔和劝诱的溶雪,比之用锤子的雷神,力量大得多。这一种是溶解,那另一种却把它击成碎片。
土地上有一部分已没有了积雪,一连几个温暖的日子把它的表面晒得相当的干燥了,这时的赏心悦目之事是用这新生之年的婴孩期中各种初生的柔和的现象,来同那些熬过了冬天的一些苍老的植物的高尚的美比较,——长生草,黄色紫菀,针刺草和别种高雅的野草,往往在这时比它们在夏季里更加鲜明,更加有味,好像它们的美非得熬过了冬才到达成熟时期似的:甚至棉花草,猫尾草,毛蕊花,狗尾草,绣线草,草原细草,以及其他有强壮草茎的植物,这些都是早春的飞鸟之无穷的谷仓,——至少是像像样样的杂草,它们是大自然过冬的点缀。我特别给羊毛草的穹隆形的禾束似的顶部所吸引;它把夏天带到冬日我们的记忆中,那种形态,也是艺术家所喜欢描绘的,而且在植物王国中,它的形式和人心里的类型的关系正如星象学与人的心智的关系一样。它是比希腊语或埃及语更古老的一种古典风格。许多冬天的现象偏偏暗示了无法形容的柔和,脆弱的精致。我们常听人把冬天描写成一个粗莽狂烈的暴君:其实它正用情人似的轻巧的手脚在给夏天装饰着鬈发呢。
春天临近时,赤松鼠来到了我的屋子底下,成双作对,正当我静坐阅读或写作的时候,它们就在我脚下,不断地发出最奇怪的卿卿咕咕的叫声,不断地长嘶短鸣,要是我蹬了几脚,叫声就更加高,好像它们的疯狂的恶作剧已经超过了畏惧的境界,无视于人类的禁令了。你别——叽喀里一叽喀里地叫。对于我的驳斥,它们听也不听,它们不觉得我声势汹汹,反而破口大骂,弄得我毫无办法。
春天的第一只麻雀!这一年又在从来没有这样年轻的希望之中开始了!最初听到很微弱的银色的啁啾之声传过了一部分还光秃秃的,润湿的田野,那是发自青鸟、篱雀和红翼鸫的,仿佛冬天的最后的雪花在叮当地飘落!在这样的一个时候,历史、编年纪、传说,一切启示的文字又算得了什么!小溪向春天唱赞美诗和四部曲。沼泽上的鹰隼低低地飞翔地草地上,已经在寻觅那初醒的脆弱的生物了。在所有的谷中,听得到溶雪的滴答之声,而湖上的冰在迅速地溶化。小草像春火在山腰燃烧起来了,——“et primitus oritur herba imbribus primoribus evocata,”①——好像大地送上了一个内在的热力来迎候太阳的归来;而火焰的颜色,不是黄的,是绿的,——永远的青春的象征,那草叶,像一根长长的绿色缎带,从草地上流出来流向夏季。是的,它给霜雪阻拦过,可是它不久又在向前推进,举起了去年的干草的长茎,让新的生命从下面升起来。它像小泉源的水从地下淙淙的冒出来一样。它与小溪几乎是一体的,因为在六月那些长日之中,小溪已经干涸了,这些草叶成了它的小道,多少个年代来,牛羊从这永恒的青色的溪流上饮水,到了时候,刈草的人把它们割去供给冬天的需要。我们人类的生命即使绝灭,只是绝灭不了根,那根上仍能茁生绿色的草叶,至于永恒。
①拉丁文,春雨带来一片新绿。
瓦尔登湖迅速地溶冰了。靠北,靠西有一道两杆阔的运河,流到了东西更阔。一大部分的冰从它的主体上裂开了。我听到一只篱雀在岸上灌木林中唱着,——欧利,欧利,欧利,——吉泼,吉泼,吉泼,诧,却尔,——诧,维斯,维斯,维斯。它也在帮忙破裂冰块,冰块边沿的那样巨大的曲线是何等的潇洒,跟湖岸多少有着呼应,可是要规则得多了!这是出奇的坚硬,因为最近曾有一度短短的严寒时期,冰上都有着波纹,真像一个皇宫的地板。可是风徒然向东拂过它不透光的表面,直到吹皱那远处活的水波。看这缎带似的水在阳光底下闪耀,真是太光辉灿烂了,湖的颜容上充满了快活和青春,似乎它也说明了游鱼之乐,以及湖岸上的细沙的欢恰。这是银色的鱼岁鱼鱼鳞上的光辉,整个湖仿佛是一条活跃的鱼。冬天和春天的对比就是这样。瓦尔登死而复生了。可是我已经说过,这一个春天湖开冻得更为从容不迫。
从暴风雪和冬天转换到晴朗而柔和的天气,从黑暗而迟缓的时辰转换到光亮和富于弹性的时刻,这种转化是一切事物都在宣告着的很值得纪念的重大转变。最后它似乎是突如其来的。突然,注入的光明充满了我的屋子,虽然那时已将近黄昏了,而且冬天的灰云还布满天空,雨雪之后的水珠还从檐上落下来。我从窗口望出去,瞧!昨天还是灰色的寒冰的地方,横陈着湖的透明的皓体,已经像一个夏日的傍晚似的平静,充满了希望,在它的胸怀上反映了一个夏季的夕阳天,虽然上空还看不到这样的云彩,但是它仿佛已经和一个远远的天空心心相印了。我听到有一只知更鸟在远处叫,我想,我好像有几千年没有听到它了。虽然它的乐音是再过几千年我也决不会忘记的,——它还是那样甜蜜而有力量,像过去的歌声一样。啊,黄昏的知更乌,在新英格兰的夏日的天空下!但愿我能找到他栖立的树枝!我指的是他;我说的是那树枝。至少这不是Turdus migratorius①。我的屋子周围的苍松和矮橡树,垂头丧气已久,突然又恢复了它们的好些个性,看上去更光亮,更苍翠,更挺拔,更生气蓬勃了,好像它们给雨水有效地洗过,复苏了一样。我知道再不会下雨。看看森林中任何一个枝桠,是的,看看你那一堆燃料,你可以知道冬天过去没有。天色渐渐黑下来,我给飞鹅的映声惊起,它们低飞过森林,像疲倦的旅行家,从南方的湖上飞来,到得已经迟了,终于大诉其苦,而且互相安慰着。站在门口,我能听到它们拍翅膀的声音;而向我的屋子方向近来时,突然发现了我的灯火,喋喋的声浪忽然静下来,它们盘旋而去,停在湖上。于是我回进屋子里,关上门,在森林中度过我的第一个春宵。
① 候鸟。
在黎明中,我守望着雾中的飞鹅,在五十杆以外的湖心游泳,它们这样多,这样乱,瓦尔登仿佛成了一个供它们嬉戏的人造池。可是,等到我站到湖岸上,它们的领袖发出一个信号,全体拍动了翅膀,便立时起飞,它们列成一队形,就在我头顶盘旋一匝,一共二十九只,直向加拿大飞去,它们的领袖每隔一定的间歇便发出一声唳叫,好像通知它们到一些比较混浊的湖中去用早饭。一大堆野鸭也同时飞了起来,随着喧闹的飞鹅向北飞去。
有一星期,我听到失群的孤鹅在雾蒙蒙的黎明中盘旋,摸索,叫唳,寻找它的伴侣,给予森林以超过它能负担的音响。四月中看得到鸽子了,一小队一小队迅速飞过:到一定的时候我听到小燕儿在我的林中空地上吱吱叫,虽然我知道飞燕在乡镇并不是多得让我在这里也可以有一两只,但是我想这种小燕儿也许是古代的苗裔,在白人来到之前,它们就在树洞中居住了。几乎在任何地区,乌龟和青蛙常常是这一季节的前驱者和传信使,而鸟雀歌唱着飞,闪着它们的羽毛,植物一跃而起,花朵怒放,和风也吹拂,以调正两极的振摆,保持大自然的平衡。
每一个季节,在我看来,对于我们都是各极其妙的;因此春大的来临,很像混沌初开,宇宙创始,黄金时代的再现。——
“Eurus ad Auroram Nabathaeaque regna recessit, Persldaque,et radiis juga subdita matutinis。”
“东风退到曙光和拿巴沙王国②,
② 阿拉伯古国,在巴勒斯坦之东及东南方,约建于公元前312年,公元106年成为罗马的一个省。
波斯,和臵于黎明光芒下的山冈。 ………… 人诞生了。究竟是万物的创造主, 为创始更好世界,以神的种子创造人; 还是为了大地,新近才从高高的太空 坠落,保持了一些天上的同类种族。”①
① 这首诗引自罗马诗人奥维德(公元前43- 约公元17)的《变形记》第1卷,后面还有一段诗也引自它的第1卷。
一场柔雨,青草更青。我们的展望也这样,当更好的思想注入其中,它便光明起来。我们有福了,如果我们常常生活在“现在”,对任何发生的事情,都能善于利用,就像青草承认最小一滴露水给它的影响;别让我们惋惜失去的机会,把时间耗费在抱怨中,而要认为那是尽我们的责任。春天已经来到了,我们还停留在冬天里。在一个愉快的春日早晨,一切人类的罪恶全部得到了宽赦。这样的一个日子是罪恶消融的日子。阳光如此温暖,坏人也会回头。由于我们自己恢复了纯洁,我们也发现了邻人的纯洁。也许,在昨天,你还把某一个邻居看做贼子醉鬼,或好色之徒,不是可怜他,就是轻视他,对世界你也是非常悲观;可是太阳照耀得光亮而温和,在这个春天的第一个黎明,世界重新创造,你碰到他正在做一件清洁的工作,看到他的衰颓而淫欲的血管中,静静的欢乐涨溢了,在祝福这一个新日子,像婴孩一样纯洁地感受了春天的影响,他的一切错误你一下子都忘记了。不仅他周身充满着善意,甚至还有一种圣洁的风味缭绕着,也许正盲目地无结果地寻求着表现,好像有了一种新的本能,片刻之间,向阳的南坡上便没有任何庸俗的笑声回荡。你看到他纠曲的树皮上有一些纯洁的芽枝等着茁生,要尝试这一年的新生活,这样柔和,新鲜,有如一株幼树。他甚至于已经进入了上帝的喜悦中间。为什么狱吏不把牢狱的门打开,——为什么审判官不把他手上的案件撤销,——为什么布道的人不叫会众离去;这是因为这些人不服从上帝给他们的暗示,也因为他们不愿接受上帝自由地赐给一切人的大赦。
“牛山之木尝美矣,以其效于大国也。斧斤伐之可以为美乎?是其日夜之所息,雨露之所润,非无萌孽之生焉。牛羊之从而牧之,是以若彼之濯濯也。人见其濯濯也,以为未尝有材焉,此岂山之性也哉。”
“虽存乎人者,岂无仁义之心哉。其所以放其良心者,亦犹斧斤之于木也。旦旦而伐之,可为美乎?其日夜之所息,平旦之气,其好恶与人相近也者几希?则其旦昼之所为,有梏亡之矣。梏之反复,则其夜气不足以存,夜气不足以存,则其违禽兽不远矣。人见其禽兽也,而以为未尝有才焉者,是岂人之情也哉。”②
② 《孟子·告子章句》(上)。梭罗是引用鲍蒂尔的译文的,不太准确,尚能达意。
黄金时代初创时,世无复仇者, 没有法律而自动信守忠诚和正直, 没有刑名没有恐惧,从来也没有。 恐吓文字没铸在黄铜上高高挂起,乞援者也不焦虑审判者口头的话, 一切都平安,世无复仇者。 高山上还没有松树被砍伐下来, 水波可以流向一个异国的世界, 人类除了自己的海岸不知有其他。 ………… 春光永不消逝,徐风温馨吹拂, 抚育那不须播种自然生长的花朵。
在四月二十九日,我在九亩角桥附近的河岸上钓鱼,站在飘摇的草和柳树的根上,那里躲着一些麝鼠。我听到了一种奇特的响声,有一点像小孩子用他们的手指来玩的木棒所发出来的声音,这时我抬头一看,我看到了一只很小、很漂亮的鹰,模样像夜鹰,一忽儿像水花似的飞旋,一忽儿翻跟斗似的落下一两杆,如是轮流,展示了它的翅膀的内部,在日光下闪闪如一条缎带,或者说像一只贝壳内层的珠光。这一副景象使我想起了放鹰捕禽的技术,关于这一项运动曾经伴随着何等崇高的意兴,抒写过多少诗歌啊。这好像可以称为鴥隼了,我倒是不在乎它的名字。这是我所看见过的最灵活的一次飞翔。它并不像一只蝴蝶那样翩跹,也不像较大的那一些鸷鹰似的扶摇,它在太空中骄傲而有信心地嬉戏,发出奇异的咯咯之声,越飞越高,于是一再任意而优美地下降,像鸢鸟般连连翻身,然后又从它在高处的翻腾中恢复过来,好像它从来不愿意降落在大地上,看来在天空之中,鸷鸟之不群兮,——它独自在那里嬉戏,除了空气和黎明之外,它似乎也不需要一起游戏的伴侣。它并不是孤寂的,相形之下,下面的大地可是异常地孤寂。孵养它的母亲在什么地方呢?它的同类呢,它的天空中的父亲呢?它是空中的动物,似乎它和大地只有一个关系,就是有过那样的一个蛋,什么时候在巉岩的裂隙中被孵了一下;难道说它的故乡的巢穴是在云中一角,是以彩虹作边沿,以夕阳天编成,并且用从地面浮起的一阵仲夏的薄雾来围绕住的吗?它的猛禽巢在悬岩似的云中。
此外,我居然捕到了很难得的一堆金色银色闪闪发光的杯形鱼,看来很像一串宝石。啊!我在许多早春的黎明深入过这些个草地,从一个小丘跳到另一个小丘,从一枝柳树的根,到达另一枝柳树的根,当时野性的河谷和森林都沐浴在这样纯净、这样璀璨的光芒中,如果死者真像人家设想过的,都不过在坟墓中睡着了觉,那他们都会给唤醒过来的。不需要更有力的证据来证明不朽了!一切事物都必须生活在这样的一道光芒下。啊,死亡,你的针螯在何处?啊,坟墓,你的胜利又在哪儿呢?
如果没有一些未经探险的森林和草原绕着村庄,我们的乡村生活将是何等的凝滞。我们需要旷野来营养,——有时跋涉在潜伏着山鸡和鹭鸶的沼泽地区,听鹬声,有时嗅嗅微语着的菅草,在那里只有一些更野更孤独的鸟筑了它的巢,而貂鼠爬来了,它肚皮贴着地,爬行着。在我们热忱地发现和学习一切事物的同时,我们要求万物是神秘的,并且是无法考察的,要求大陆和海洋永远地狂野,未经勘察,也无人测探,因为它们是无法测探的。我们决不会对大自然感到厌倦。我们必须从无穷的精力,广大的巨神似的形象中得到焕发,必须从海岸和岸上的破舟碎片,从旷野和它的生意盎然的以及腐朽林木,从雷云,从连下三个星期致成水灾的雨,从这一切中得到精神的焕发。我们需要看到我们突破自己的限度,需要在一些我们从未漂泊过的牧场上自由地生活。当我们观察到使我们作呕和沮丧的腐尸给鸷鹰吃掉的时候,我们高兴起来了,它们是能从这里面得到健康和精力的。回到我的木屋去的路中,在一个洞穴里面有一匹死马,往往能逼得我绕道而行,特别在晚上空气很闷的时候,但是它使我相信大自然的强壮胃口与不可侵犯的健康,这却给了我一个很好的补偿。我爱看大自然充满了生物,能受得住无数生灵相互残杀的牺牲与受苦,组织薄弱的,就像软浆一样地给澄清,给榨掉了——苍鹭一口就吞下了蝌蚪,乌龟和虾蟆在路上给车轮碾死,有时候,血肉会像雨点一样落下来!既然这样容易遭遇不测啊,我们必须明白,不要过于介意。在一个智慧者的印象中,宇宙万物是普遍无知的。毒药反而不一定是毒的,受伤反而不一定是致命的。恻隐之心是一个很不可靠的基础。它是稍纵即逝的。它的诉诸同情的方法不能一成不变。
五月初,橡树、山核桃树、枫树和别的树才从沿湖的松林中发芽抽叶,给予风景一个阳光似的光辉,特别在多云的日子里,好像太阳是透过云雾而微弱地在小山的这里那里照耀的。五月三日或四日,我在湖中看到了一只潜水鸟。在这一个月的第一个星期中,我听到了夜鹰,棕色的鸫鸟,画眉,小鹟,雀子和其他的飞禽。林中的画眉我是早已听到了的。鹟鸟又到我的门窗上来张张望望,要看看我这一座木屋能不能够做它的桌,它翅膀急促地拍动着,停在空中,爪子紧紧地抓着,好像它是这样地抓住了空气似的,同时它仔仔细细地观察了我的屋子。苍松的硫磺色的花粉不久就铺满了湖面和圆石以及沿湖的那些腐朽了的树木,因此你可以用桶来满满地装上一桶。这就是我们曾经听到过的所谓“硫磺雨”。甚至在迦梨陀娑①的剧本《沙恭达罗》中,我们就读到,“莲花的金粉把小河染黄了。”便这样,季节流驶,到了夏天,你漫游在越长越高的丰草中了。
① 印度古代剧作家。约生于4到5世纪。《沙恭达罗》是他的代表作。
我第一年的林中生活便这样说完了,第二年和它有点差不多。最后在一八四七年的九月六日,我离开了瓦尔登。

JessieAqua

ZxID:17264177


等级: 热心会员
举报 只看该作者 22楼  发表于: 2014-08-22 0
Conclusion结束语  
"To the dark immensity of material Nature's indifference we can oppose only the brief light, like a lamp in a cabin of our consciousness; the invigorating benison of Walden is to make us feel that the contest is equal, and fair." - John Updike
TO THE SICK the doctors wisely recommend change of air and scenery. Thank Heaven, here is not all the world. The buckeye does not grow in New England, and the mockingbird is rarely heard here. The wild goose is more of a cosmopolite than we; he breaks his fast in Canada, takes a luncheon in the Ohio, and plumes himself for the night in a southern bayou. Even the bison, to some extent, keeps pace with the seasons cropping the pastures of the Colorado only till a greener and sweeter grass awaits him by the Yellowstone. Yet we think that if rail fences are pulled down, and stone walls piled up on our farms, bounds are henceforth set to our lives and our fates decided. If you are chosen town clerk, forsooth, you cannot go to Tierra del Fuego (1) this summer: but you may go to the land of infernal fire nevertheless. The universe is wider than our views of it.
Yet we should oftener look over the tafferel (2) of our craft, like curious passengers, and not make the voyage like stupid sailors picking oakum.(3) The other side of the globe is but the home of our correspondent. Our voyaging is only great-circle sailing, and the doctors prescribe for diseases of the skin merely. One hastens to southern Africa to chase the giraffe; but surely that is not the game he would be after. How long, pray, would a man hunt giraffes if he could? Snipes and woodcocks also may afford rare sport; but I trust it would be nobler game to shoot one's self. —
"Direct your eye right inward, and you'll find
A thousand regions in your mind
Yet undiscovered. Travel them, and be
Expert in home-cosmography."(4)
What does Africa — what does the West stand for? Is not our own interior white on the chart? Black though it may prove, like the coast, when discovered. Is it the source of the Nile, or the Niger, or the Mississippi, or a Northwest Passage around this continent, that we would find? Are these the problems which most concern mankind? Is Franklin (5) the only man who is lost, that his wife should be so earnest to find him? Does Mr. Grinnell (6) know where he himself is? Be rather the Mungo Park,(7) the Lewis and Clark (8) and Frobisher,(9) of your own streams and oceans; explore your own higher latitudes — with shiploads of preserved meats to support you, if they be necessary; and pile the empty cans sky-high for a sign. Were preserved meats invented to preserve meat merely? Nay, be a Columbus to whole new continents and worlds within you, opening new channels, not of trade, but of thought. Every man is the lord of a realm beside which the earthly empire of the Czar is but a petty state, a hummock left by the ice. Yet some can be patriotic who have no self-respect, and sacrifice the greater to the less. They love the soil which makes their graves, but have no sympathy with the spirit which may still animate their clay. Patriotism is a maggot in their heads.What was the meaning of that South-Sea Exploring Expedition,(10) with all its parade and expense, but an indirect recognition of the fact that there are continents and seas in the moral world to which every man is an isthmus or an inlet, yet unexplored by him, but that it is easier to sail many thousand miles through cold and storm and cannibals, in a government ship, with five hundred men and boys to assist one, than it is to explore the private sea, the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean of one's being alone.
"Erret, et extremos alter scrutetur Iberos.
Plus habet hic vitae, plus habet ille vi?."(11)
Let them wander and scrutinize the outlandish Australians.
I have more of God, they more of the road.(12)
It is not worth the while to go round the world to count the cats in Zanzibar. Yet do this even till you can do better, and you may perhaps find some "Symmes' Hole"(13) by which to get at the inside at last. England and France, Spain and Portugal, Gold Coast and Slave Coast, all front on this private sea; but no bark from them has ventured out of sight of land, though it is without doubt the direct way to India. If you would learn to speak all tongues and conform to the customs of all nations, if you would travel farther than all travellers, be naturalized in all climes, and cause the Sphinx (14) to dash her head against a stone, even obey the precept of the old philosopher, and Explore thyself. Herein are demanded the eye and the nerve. Only the defeated and deserters go to the wars, cowards that run away and enlist. Start now on that farthest western way, which does not pause at the Mississippi or the Pacific, nor conduct toward a wornout China or Japan, but leads on direct, a tangent to this sphere, summer and winter, day and night, sun down, moon down, and at last earth down too.
It is said that Mirabeau (15) took to highway robbery "to ascertain what degree of resolution was necessary in order to place one's self in formal opposition to the most sacred laws of society." He declared that "a soldier who fights in the ranks does not require half so much courage as a footpad" — "that honor and religion have never stood in the way of a well-considered and a firm resolve." This was manly, as the world goes; and yet it was idle, if not desperate. A saner man would have found himself often enough "in formal opposition" to what are deemed "the most sacred laws of society," through obedience to yet more sacred laws, and so have tested his resolution without going out of his way. It is not for a man to put himself in such an attitude to society, but to maintain himself in whatever attitude he find himself through obedience to the laws of his being, which will never be one of opposition to a just government, if he should chance to meet with such.
I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there. Perhaps it seemed to me that I had several more lives to live, and could not spare any more time for that one. It is remarkable how easily and insensibly we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves. I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door to the pond-side; and though it is five or six years since I trod it, it is still quite distinct. It is true, I fear, that others may have fallen into it, and so helped to keep it open. The surface of the earth is soft and impressible by the feet of men; and so with the paths which the mind travels. How worn and dusty, then, must be the highways of the world, how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity! I did not wish to take a cabin passage, but rather to go before the mast and on the deck of the world, for there I could best see the moonlight amid the mountains. I do not wish to go below now.
I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.
It is a ridiculous demand which England and America make, that you shall speak so that they can understand you. Neither men nor toadstools grow so. As if that were important, and there were not enough to understand you without them. As if Nature could support but one order of understandings, could not sustain birds as well as quadrupeds, flying as well as creeping things, and hush and whoa, which Bright (16) can understand, were the best English. As if there were safety in stupidity alone. I fear chiefly lest my expression may not be extra-vagant enough, may not wander far enough beyond the narrow limits of my daily experience, so as to be adequate to the truth of which I have been convinced. Extra vagance! It depends on how you are yarded. The migrating buffalo, which seeks new pastures in another latitude, is not extravagant like the cow which kicks over the pail, leaps the cowyard fence, and runs after her calf, in milking time. I desire to speak somewhere without bounds; like a man in a waking moment, to men in their waking moments; for I am convinced that I cannot exaggerate enough even to lay the foundation of a true expression. Who that has heard a strain of music feared then lest he should speak extravagantly any more forever? In view of the future or possible, we should live quite laxly and undefined in front, our outlines dim and misty on that side; as our shadows reveal an insensible perspiration toward the sun. The volatile truth of our words should continually betray the inadequacy of the residual statement. Their truth is instantly translated; its literal monument alone remains. The words which express our faith and piety are not definite; yet they are significant and fragrant like frankincense to superior natures.
Why level downward to our dullest perception always, and praise that as common sense? The commonest sense is the sense of men asleep, which they express by snoring. Sometimes we are inclined to class those who are once-and-a-half-witted with the half-witted, because we appreciate only a third part of their wit. Some would find fault with the morning red, if they ever got up early enough. "They pretend," as I hear, "that the verses of Kabir have four different senses; illusion, spirit, intellect, and the exoteric doctrine of the Vedas";(17) but in this part of the world it is considered a ground for complaint if a man's writings admit of more than one interpretation. While England endeavors to cure the potato-rot, will not any endeavor to cure the brain-rot, which prevails so much more widely and fatally?
I do not suppose that I have attained to obscurity, but I should be proud if no more fatal fault were found with my pages on this score than was found with the Walden ice. Southern customers objected to its blue color, which is the evidence of its purity, as if it were muddy, and preferred the Cambridge ice, which is white, but tastes of weeds. The purity men love is like the mists which envelop the earth, and not like the azure ether beyond.
Some are dinning in our ears that we Americans, and moderns generally, are intellectual dwarfs compared with the ancients, or even the Elizabethan men. But what is that to the purpose? A living dog is better than a dead lion.(18) Shall a man go and hang himself because he belongs to the race of pygmies, and not be the biggest pygmy that he can? Let every one mind his own business, and endeavor to be what he was made.
Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed and in such desperate enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away. It is not important that he should mature as soon as an apple tree or an oak. Shall he turn his spring into summer? If the condition of things which we were made for is not yet, what were any reality which we can substitute? We will not be shipwrecked on a vain reality. Shall we with pains erect a heaven of blue glass over ourselves, though when it is done we shall be sure to gaze still at the true ethereal heaven far above, as if the former were not?
There was an artist in the city of Kouroo who was disposed to strive after perfection. One day it came into his mind to make a staff. Having considered that in an imperfect work time is an ingredient, but into a perfect work time does not enter, he said to himself, It shall be perfect in all respects, though I should do nothing else in my life. He proceeded instantly to the forest for wood, being resolved that it should not be made of unsuitable material; and as he searched for and rejected stick after stick, his friends gradually deserted him, for they grew old in their works and died, but he grew not older by a moment. His singleness of purpose and resolution, and his elevated piety, endowed him, without his knowledge, with perennial youth. As he made no compromise with Time, Time kept out of his way, and only sighed at a distance because he could not overcome him. Before he had found a stock in all respects suitable the city of Kouroo was a hoary ruin, and he sat on one of its mounds to peel the stick. Before he had given it the proper shape the dynasty of the Candahars was at an end, and with the point of the stick he wrote the name of the last of that race in the sand, and then resumed his work. By the time he had smoothed and polished the staff Kalpa was no longer the pole-star; and ere he had put on the ferule and the head adorned with precious stones, Brahma had awoke and slumbered many times. But why do I stay to mention these things? When the finishing stroke was put to his work, it suddenly expanded before the eyes of the astonished artist into the fairest of all the creations of Brahma. He had made a new system in making a staff, a world with full and fair proportions; in which, though the old cities and dynasties had passed away, fairer and more glorious ones had taken their places. And now he saw by the heap of shavings still fresh at his feet, that, for him and his work, the former lapse of time had been an illusion, and that no more time had elapsed than is required for a single scintillation from the brain of Brahma to fall on and inflame the tinder of a mortal brain. The material was pure, and his art was pure; how could the result be other than wonderful?
No face which we can give to a matter will stead us so well at last as the truth. This alone wears well. For the most part, we are not where we are, but in a false position. Through an infirmity of our natures, we suppose a case, and put ourselves into it, and hence are in two cases at the same time, and it is doubly difficult to get out. In sane moments we regard only the facts, the case that is. Say what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth is better than make-believe. Tom Hyde, the tinker, standing on the gallows, was asked if he had anything to say. "Tell the tailors," said he, "to remember to make a knot in their thread before they take the first stitch." His companion's prayer is forgotten.
However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man's abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace. The town's poor seem to me often to live the most independent lives of any. Maybe they are simply great enough to receive without misgiving. Most think that they are above being supported by the town; but it oftener happens that they are not above supporting themselves by dishonest means, which should be more disreputable. Cultivate poverty like a garden herb, like sage. Do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends. Turn the old; return to them. Things do not change; we change. Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts. God will see that you do not want society. If I were confined to a corner of a garret all my days, like a spider, the world would be just as large to me while I had my thoughts about me. The philosopher (19) said: "From an army of three divisions one can take away its general, and put it in disorder; from the man the most abject and vulgar one cannot take away his thought." Do not seek so anxiously to be developed, to subject yourself to many influences to be played on; it is all dissipation. Humility like darkness reveals the heavenly lights. The shadows of poverty and meanness gather around us, "and lo! Creation widens to our view."(20) We are often reminded that if there were bestowed on us the wealth of Croesus,(21) our aims must still be the same, and our means essentially the same. Moreover, if you are restricted in your range by poverty, if you cannot buy books and newspapers, for instance, you are but confined to the most significant and vital experiences; you are compelled to deal with the material which yields the most sugar and the most starch. It is life near the bone where it is sweetest. You are defended from being a trifler. No man loses ever on a lower level by magnanimity on a higher. Superfluous wealth can buy superfluities only. Money is not required to buy one necessary of the soul.
I live in the angle of a leaden wall, into whose composition was poured a little alloy of bell-metal. Often, in the repose of my mid-day, there reaches my ears a confused tintinnabulum (22) from without. It is the noise of my contemporaries. My neighbors tell me of their adventures with famous gentlemen and ladies, what notabilities they met at the dinner-table; but I am no more interested in such things than in the contents of the Daily Times. The interest and the conversation are about costume and manners chiefly; but a goose is a goose still, dress it as you will. They tell me of California and Texas, of England and the Indies, of the Hon. Mr. — of Georgia or of Massachusetts, all transient and fleeting phenomena, till I am ready to leap from their court-yard like the Mameluke bey.(23) I delight to come to my bearings — not walk in procession with pomp and parade, in a conspicuous place, but to walk even with the Builder of the universe, if I may — not to live in this restless, nervous, bustling, trivial Nineteenth Century, but stand or sit thoughtfully while it goes by. What are men celebrating? They are all on a committee of arrangements, and hourly expect a speech from somebody. God is only the president of the day, and Webster (24) is his orator. I love to weigh, to settle, to gravitate toward that which most strongly and rightfully attracts me — not hang by the beam of the scale and try to weigh less — not suppose a case, but take the case that is; to travel the only path I can, and that on which no power can resist me. It affords me no satisfaction to commerce to spring an arch before I have got a solid foundation. Let us not play at kittly-benders.(25) There is a solid bottom everywhere. We read that the traveller asked the boy if the swamp before him had a hard bottom. The boy replied that it had. But presently the traveller's horse sank in up to the girths, and he observed to the boy, "I thought you said that this bog had a hard bottom." "So it has," answered the latter, "but you have not got half way to it yet." So it is with the bogs and quicksands of society; but he is an old boy that knows it. Only what is thought, said, or done at a certain rare coincidence is good. I would not be one of those who will foolishly drive a nail into mere lath and plastering; such a deed would keep me awake nights. Give me a hammer, and let me feel for the furring. Do not depend on the putty. Drive a nail home and clinch it so faithfully that you can wake up in the night and think of your work with satisfaction — a work at which you would not be ashamed to invoke the Muse. So will help you God, and so only. Every nail driven should be as another rivet in the machine of the universe, you carrying on the work.
Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth. I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance, and obsequious attendance, but sincerity and truth were not; and I went away hungry from the inhospitable board. The hospitality was as cold as the ices. I thought that there was no need of ice to freeze them. They talked to me of the age of the wine and the fame of the vintage; but I thought of an older, a newer, and purer wine, of a more glorious vintage, which they had not got, and could not buy. The style, the house and grounds and "entertainment" pass for nothing with me. I called on the king, but he made me wait in his hall, and conducted like a man incapacitated for hospitality. There was a man in my neighborhood who lived in a hollow tree. His manners were truly regal. I should have done better had I called on him.
How long shall we sit in our porticoes practising idle and musty virtues, which any work would make impertinent? As if one were to begin the day with long-suffering, and hire a man to hoe his potatoes; and in the afternoon go forth to practise Christian meekness and charity with goodness aforethought! Consider the China pride and stagnant self-complacency of mankind. This generation inclines a little to congratulate itself on being the last of an illustrious line; and in Boston and London and Paris and Rome, thinking of its long descent, it speaks of its progress in art and science and literature with satisfaction. There are the Records of the Philosophical Societies, and the public Eulogies of Great Men! It is the good Adam contemplating his own virtue. "Yes, we have done great deeds, and sung divine songs, which shall never die" — that is, as long as we can remember them. The learned societies and great men of Assyria — where are they? What youthful philosophers and experimentalists we are! There is not one of my readers who has yet lived a whole human life. These may be but the spring months in the life of the race. If we have had the seven-years' itch, we have not seen the seventeen-year locust yet in Concord. We are acquainted with a mere pellicle of the globe on which we live. Most have not delved six feet beneath the surface, nor leaped as many above it. We know not where we are. Beside, we are sound asleep nearly half our time. Yet we esteem ourselves wise, and have an established order on the surface. Truly, we are deep thinkers, we are ambitious spirits! As I stand over the insect crawling amid the pine needles on the forest floor, and endeavoring to conceal itself from my sight, and ask myself why it will cherish those humble thoughts, and bide its head from me who might, perhaps, be its benefactor, and impart to its race some cheering information, I am reminded of the greater Benefactor and Intelligence that stands over me the human insect.
There is an incessant influx of novelty into the world, and yet we tolerate incredible dulness. I need only suggest what kind of sermons are still listened to in the most enlightened countries. There are such words as joy and sorrow, but they are only the burden of a psalm, sung with a nasal twang, while we believe in the ordinary and mean. We think that we can change our clothes only. It is said that the British Empire is very large and respectable, and that the United States are a first-rate power. We do not believe that a tide rises and falls behind every man which can float the British Empire like a chip, if he should ever harbor it in his mind. Who knows what sort of seventeen-year locust will next come out of the ground? The government of the world I live in was not framed, like that of Britain, in after-dinner conversations over the wine.
The life in us is like the water in the river. It may rise this year higher than man has ever known it, and flood the parched uplands; even this may be the eventful year, which will drown out all our muskrats. It was not always dry land where we dwell. I see far inland the banks which the stream anciently washed, before science began to record its freshets. Every one has heard the story which has gone the rounds of New England, of a strong and beautiful bug which came out of the dry leaf of an old table of apple-tree wood, which had stood in a farmer's kitchen for sixty years, first in Connecticut, and afterward in Massachusetts — from an egg deposited in the living tree many years earlier still, as appeared by counting the annual layers beyond it; which was heard gnawing out for several weeks, hatched perchance by the heat of an urn. Who does not feel his faith in a resurrection and immortality strengthened by hearing of this? Who knows what beautiful and winged life, whose egg has been buried for ages under many concentric layers of woodenness in the dead dry life of society, deposited at first in the alburnum of the green and living tree, which has been gradually converted into the semblance of its well-seasoned tomb — heard perchance gnawing out now for years by the astonished family of man, as they sat round the festive board — may unexpectedly come forth from amidst society's most trivial and handselled furniture, to enjoy its perfect summer life at last!
I do not say that John or Jonathan (26) will realize all this; but such is the character of that morrow which mere lapse of time can never make to dawn. The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.

Notes
1. Spanish for "Land of Fire" - southern tip of South America
2. the upper part of a ship's stern
3. Used for ship caulking, Oakum consists of fibers from old rope mixed with tar, picking okum is tedious & dull work
4. William Habbington (1605-1664), from To My Honoured Friend Sir Ed. P. Knight
5. John Franklin (1786-1847) English explorer, died searching for the American Northwest Passage
6. Henry Grinnell (1799-1874) led American expedition to find Franklin
7. Mungo Park (1771-1806) Scottish explorer of Africa
8. In 1803, Thomas Jefferson sent Merriwether Lewis (1774-1809) and William Clark (1770-1838) to explore the American west
9. Martin Frobisher (1535-1594?) English explorer, looked for the Northwest Passage
10. U.S. Navy expedition, explored the South Pacific and Antarctic Oceans 1838-1842
11. Claudian (370?-405) Roman poet, The Old Man of Verona
12. Thoreau's translation changes "Iberians" to "Australians"
13. John Symmes claimed that "the earth is hollow and habitable within"
14. in Greek mythology, winged monster who killed herself
15. Honore Riqueti, Count de Marabeau (1749-1791) French revolutionary
16. common name for an ox
17. Joseph Héliodore Sagesse Vertu Garcin de Tassy (1794-1878) History of Hindu Literature; Kabir was a 15th century Indian mystic
18. The Bible, Ecclesiastes 9:4
19. Confucius (551?-487? B.C.) Chinese philosopher and teacher, Analects
20. Joseph Blanco White (1775-1841) English poet, Night and Death
21. 6th cent. B.C. king in Asia Minor, known for his wealth
22. the sound of bells
23. Mamelukes were a warrior caste who ruled Egypt and Syria 1250-1517. As part of the Ottoman empire, Egypt had 24 districts, each governed by a Mameluke bey, formerly called an emir.
24. Daniel Webster (1782-1842) U.S. Senator from Mass, famous orator
25. Walking or running on flexible ice just strong enough to support a person's weight
26. stage characters used to represent people of England and America
生了病的话,医生要明智地劝告你转移个地方,换换空气。谢天谢地,世界并不限于这里。七叶树没有在新英格兰生长,这里也难得听到模仿鸟①。野鹅比起我们来更加国际化,它们在加拿大用早饭,在俄亥俄州吃中饭,夜间到南方的河湾上去修饰自己的羽毛。甚至野牛也相当地追随着时令节气,它在科罗拉多牧场上吃草,一直吃到黄石公园又有更绿更甜的草在等待它的时候。然而我们人却认为,如果拆掉栏杆或篱笆,在田园周围砌上石墙的话,我们的生活可就有了界限,我们的命运方能安定。如果你被挑选为市镇的办事员,那你今夏就不能到火地岛去旅行,但你很可能到地狱的火里去。宇宙比我们看到的还要来得大呵。
① 产于美国南部的模仿鸟,善于模仿别种鸟的叫声。
然而我们应该更经常地像好奇的旅行家一样在船尾浏览周遭的风景,不要一面旅行,一面却像愚蠢的水手,只顾低头撕麻絮。其实地球的另一面也不过是和我们通信的人家。我们的旅行只是兜了一个大圈子,而医生开方子,也只能医治你的皮肤病。有人赶到南非洲去追逐长颈鹿,实在他应该追逐的不是这种动物。你说一个人又有多久的时候追逐长颈鹿呢!猎鹬鸟捉土拨鼠也是罕有的游戏了,我认为熗击你自己会是更崇高的一项运动。——
“快把你的视线转向内心, 你将发现你心中有一千处 地区未曾发现。那末去旅行, 成为家庭宇宙志的地理专家。”②
② 引自威廉·哈平顿(1605- 1654)的诗《致友人》。
非洲是什么意思,——西方又代表什么呢?在我们的内心的地图上,可不是一块空白吗?一旦将它发现,它还不是像海岸一样,是黑黑的吗?是否要我们去发现尼罗河的河源,或尼日尔河的,或密西西比河的源头,或我们这大陆上的西北走廊呢?难道这些是跟人类最有关系的问题吗?弗兰克林爵士③是否是这世上唯一失踪了的北极探险家,因此他的太太必须这样焦急地找寻他呢。
③ 弗兰克林爵士(1786- 1847),英国的北极探险家。失踪后,格林奈尔先生组织了搜寻队。
格林奈尔先生是否知道他自己在什么地方?让你自己成为考察自己的江河海洋的门戈·派克①、刘易士②、克拉克③和弗罗比秀④之流吧;去勘探你自己的更高纬度去吧,——必要的话,船上装足了罐头肉,以维持你的生命,你还可以把空罐头堆得跟天空一样高,作为标志之用。发明罐头肉难道仅仅是为了保藏肉类吗?不,你得做一个哥伦布,寻找你自己内心的新大陆和新世界,开辟海峡,并不是为了做生意,而是为了思想的流通。每个人都是自己领域中的主人,沙皇的帝国和这个领域一比较,只成了蕞尔小国,一个冰天雪地中的小疙瘩。然而有的人就不知道尊重自己,却奢谈爱国,而为了少数人的缘故,要大多数人当牺牲品。他们爱上他们将来要葬身的土地,却不理睬使他们的躯体活泼起来的精神。爱国只是他们脑子里的空想。南海探险队是什么意思呢?那样的排场,那样的耗费,间接他说,那只是承认了这样一个事实:在精神生活的世界中,虽然有的是海洋和大陆,其中每一个人只不过是一个半岛和一个岛屿,然而他不去探这个险;他却坐在一只政府拨给他的大船中间,航行经过几千里的寒冷、风暴和吃人生番之地,带着五百名水手和仆人来服侍他;他觉得这比在内心的海洋上探险,比在单独一个人的大西洋和太平洋上探险,倒是容易得多呢。
① 门戈·派克(1771- 1806),苏格兰探险家。
② 刘易士(1774- 1809),美国探险家。
③ 克拉克(1770- 1838),美国探险家。
④ 弗罗比秀(约1535- 1594),英国航海冒险家。
“Erret,et extremos alter scrutetur lberos。 Plus habet hic vitae,plus habet ille viae。”
“让他们去漂泊去考察异邦的澳大利亚人, 我从上帝得到的多,他们得到更多的路。”⑤
⑤ 引自四世纪的拉丁诗人克劳狄恩的《维隆那的老年人》一诗。梭罗的英译文中将西班牙人译作了澳大利亚人。中译文根据英译文译出。
周游全世界,跑到桑给巴尔去数老虎的多少,是不值得的。但没有更好的事情做,这甚至还是值得做的事情,也许你能找到“薛美斯⑥的洞”,从那里你最后可以进入到你内心的深处。英国、法国、西班牙、葡萄牙、黄金海岸、奴隶海岸,都面对着内心的海洋;可是从那里出发,都可以直航印度,却没有哪一条船敢开出港湾,远航到茫茫不见大陆的内心海洋上。尽管你学会了一切方言,习惯了一切风俗,尽管你比一切旅行家旅行得更远,适应了一切的气候和水土,连那斯芬克斯⑦也给你气死撞碎在石上了,你还是要听从古代哲学家的一句话,“到你内心去探险。”这才用得到眼睛和脑子。只有败军之将和逃兵才能走上这个战场,只有懦夫和逃亡者才能在这里入伍。现在就开始探险吧,走上那最远的西方之路,这样的探险并不停止在密西西比,或太平洋,也不叫你到古老的中国或日本去,这个探险一往无前,好像经过大地的一条切线,无论冬夏昼夜,日落月殁,都可以作灵魂的探险,一直探到最后地球消失之处。
⑥ 约翰·薛美斯曾著文论证地球是空心的。
⑦ 希腊神话,带翼的狮身女怪,传说他常叫过路行人猜谜,猜不出即遭杀害。
据说米拉波①到大路上试验了一次剪径的行为,“来测验一下,正式违抗社会最神圣的法律到底需要多少程度的决心”。他后来宣称“战场上的士兵所需要的勇气只有剪径强盗的一半”,——还说,“荣誉和宗教不能拦阻住一个审慎而坚定的决心。”而在这个世界上,米拉波总算是个男子汉了;可是这很无聊,即使他并不是无赖。一个比较清醒的人将发现自己“正式违抗”所谓“社会最神圣的法律”的次数是太多了,因为他服从一些更加神圣的法律,他不故意这样做,也已经测验了他自己的决心。其实他不必对社会采取这样的态度,他只要保持原来的态度,仅仅服从他自己的法则,如果他能碰到一个公正的政府,他这样做是不会和它对抗的。
① 米拉波(1749- 1791),法国资产阶级革命时期立宪派领袖之一。
我离开森林,就跟我进入森林,有同样的好理由。我觉得也许还有好几个生命可过,我不必把更多时间来交给这一种生命了。惊人的是我们很容易糊里糊涂习惯于一种生活,踏出一条自己的一定轨迹。在那儿住不到一星期,我的脚就踏出了一条小径,从门口一直通到湖滨;距今不觉五六年了,这小径依然还在。是的,我想是别人也走了这条小径了,所以它还在通行。大地的表面是柔软的,人脚留下了踪迹;同样的是,心灵的行程也留下了路线。想人世的公路如何给践踏得尘埃蔽天,传统和习俗形成了何等深的车辙!我不愿坐在房舱里,宁肯站在世界的桅杆前与甲板上,因为从那里我更能看清群峰中的皓月。我再也不愿意下到舱底去了。
至少我是从实验中了解这个的:一个人若能自信地向他梦想的方向行进,努力经营他所想望的生活,他是可以获得通常还意想不到的成功的。他将要越过一条看不见的界线,他将要把一些事物抛在后面;新的、更广大的、更自由的规律将要开始围绕着他,并且在他的内心里建立起来;或者旧有的规律将要扩大,并在更自由的意义里得到有利于他的新解释,他将要拿到许可证,生活在事物的更高级的秩序中。他自己的生活越简单,宇宙的规律也就越显得简单,寂寞将不成其为寂寞,贫困将不成其为贫困,软弱将不成其为软弱。如果你造了空中楼阁,你的劳苦并不是白费的,楼阁应该造在空中,就是要把基础放到它们的下面去。
英国和美国提出了奇怪可笑的要求,要求你说话必须能被他们理解。人生和毒菌的生长都不是这样听命的。还以为这很重要,好像没有了他们便没有人来理解你了。好像大自然只赞成这样一种理解的能力,它养得活四足动物而并不能养活鸟雀,养活了走兽而养不活飞禽,轻声,别说话和站住的吆喝,好像成了最好的英文,连勃莱特②也能懂得的。
② 俗称,说的是牛。
仿佛只有愚蠢倒能永保安全!我最担心的是我表达的还不够过火呢,我担心我的表达不能超过我自己的日常经验的狭隘范围,来适应我所肯定的真理!过火!这要看你处在什么境地。漂泊的水牛跑到另一个纬度去找新的牧场,并不比奶牛在喂奶时踢翻了铅桶,跳过了牛栏,奔到小牛身边去,来得更加过火。我希望在一些没有束缚的地方说话;像一个清醒的人跟另一些清醒的人那样他说话;我觉得,要给真正的表达奠立一个基础,我还不够过火呢。谁听到过一段音乐就害怕自己会永远说话说得过火呢?为了未来或为了可能的事物,我们应该生活得不太紧张,表面上不要外露,轮廓不妨暧昧而朦胧些,正如我们的影子,对着太阳也会显得不知不觉地汗流浃背的。我们的真实的语言易于蒸发掉,常使一些残余下来的语言变得不适用。它们的真实是时刻改变的;只有它的文字形式还保留着。表达我们的信心和虔诚的文字是很不确定的;它们只对于卓越的人才有意义,其芳馨如乳香。
为什么我们时常降低我们的智力到了愚笨的程度,而又去赞美它为常识?最平常的常识是睡着的人的意识,在他们打鼾中表达出来的。有时我们把难得聪明的人和愚笨的人归为一类,因为我们只能欣赏他们的三分之一的聪明。有人偶然起了一次早,就对黎明的红霞挑剔开了。我还听说过,“他们认为卡比尔①的诗有四种不同的意义;幻觉、精神、智性和吠陀经典的通俗教义。”可是我们这里要是有人给一个作品做了一种以上的解释,大家就要纷纷责难了。英国努力防治土豆腐烂,难道就不努力医治脑子腐烂?而后者实在是更普遍更危险的呢。
① 卡比尔,印度诗人。
我并不是说,我已经变得更深奥了,可是,从我这些印张上找出来的致命缺点如果不比从这的冰上找出来更多的话,我就感觉到很骄做了。你看南方的冰商反对它的蓝色,仿佛那是泥浆,其实这是它纯洁的证明,他们反而看中了剑桥之水,那是白色的,但有一股草腥气。人们所爱好的纯洁是包裹着大地的雾,而不是上面那蓝色的太空。
有人嘀咕着,说我们美国人及一般近代人,和古人比较起来,甚至和伊丽莎白时代的人比较起来,都不过是智力上的矮子罢了。这话什么意思?一只活着的狗总比一头死去的狮子好。难道一个人属于矮子一类便该上吊?为什么他不能做矮子中最长的一人。人人该管他自己的事情,努力于他的职责。
为什么我们这样急于要成功,而从事这样荒唐的事业?如果一个人跟不上他的伴侣们,那也许是因为他听的是另一种鼓声。让他踏着他听到的音乐节拍而走路,不管那拍子如何,或者在多远的地方。他应否像一株苹果树或橡树那样快地成熟,并不是重要的,他该不该把他的春天变作夏天?如果我们所要求的情况还不够条件,我们能用来代替的任何现实又算得了什么呢?我们不要在一个空虚的现实上撞破了船。我们是否要费力去在头顶上面建立一个蓝色玻璃的天空呢,虽然完成后我们还要凝望那遥远得多的真实的天空,把前者视作并未建立过的一样?
在柯洛城中,有一个艺术家,他追求完美。有一天他想做一根手杖。他想,一有时间的因素就不能成为完美的艺术作品,凡是完美作品,其中时间是不存在的,因此他自言自语,哪怕我一生中不再做任何其他的事情,也要把它做得十全十美。他立刻到森林中去找木料,他已决定不用那不合式的材料,就在他寻找着,一根又一根地选不中意而抛掉的这个期间,他的朋友们逐渐地离开了他,因为他们工作到老了之后都死掉了,可是他一点也没老。他一心一意,坚定而又高度虔诚,这一切使他在不知不觉中得到了永久的青春。因为他并不跟时间妥协,时间就站在一旁叹气,拿他没办法。他还没有找到一个完全适用的材料,柯洛城已是古湮的废墟,后来他就坐在废墟上,剥一根树枝的皮。他还没有给它造出一个形状来,坎达哈朝代已经结束了。他用了手杖的尖头,在沙土上写下那个民族的最后一人的名字来,然后他又继续工作。当他磨光了手杖,卡尔伯已经不是北极星了;他还没有装上金箍和饰有宝石的杖头,梵天都已经睡醒过好几次。为什么我要提起这些话呢?最后完成的时候,它突然辉耀无比,成了梵天所创造的世界中间最美丽的一件作品,他在创造手杖之中创造了一个新制度,一个美妙而比例适度的新世界;其间古代古城虽都逝去了,新的更光荣的时代和城市却已代之而兴起。而现在他看到刨花还依然新鲜地堆在他的脚下,对于他和他的工作,所谓时间的流逝只是过眼幻影,时间一点也没逝去,就像梵天脑中闪过的思想立刻就点燃了几人脑中的火绒一样。材料纯粹,他的艺术纯粹;结果怎能不神奇?
我们能给予物质的外貌,最后没有一个能像真理这样于我们有利。只有真理,永不破蔽。大体说来,我们并不存在于这个地方,而是在一个虚设的位置上。只因我们天性脆弱,我们假定了一类情况,并把自己放了进去,这就同时有了两种情况,我们要从中脱身就加倍地困难了。清醒的时候,我们只注意事实,注意实际的情况。你要说你要说的话,别说你该说的话呵。任何真理都比虚伪好。补锅匠汤姆·海德站在断头台上,问他有什么话要说。“告诉裁缝们,”他说,“在缝第一针之前,不要忘记了在他们的线尾打一个结。”他的伴侣的祈祷被忘记了。
不论你的生命如何卑贱,你要面对它,生活它;不要躲避它,更别用恶言咒骂它。它不像你那样坏。你最富的时候,倒是最穷。爱找缺点的人就是到天堂里也找得到缺点。尽管贫困,你要爱你的生活。甚至在一个济贫院里,你也还有愉快,高兴,光荣的时辰。夕阳反射在济贫院的窗上,像射在富户人家窗上一样光亮,在那门前,积雪同在早春溶化。我只看到,一个安心的人,在那里也像在皇官中一样,生活得心满意足而富有愉快的思想。城镇中的穷人,我看,倒往往是过着最独立不羁的生活。也许因为他们很伟大,所以受之无愧。大多数人以为他们是超然的,不靠城镇来支援他们;可是事实上他们是往往用了不正当的手段来对付生活,他们毫不是超脱的,毋宁是不体面的。视贫穷如园中之花草而像圣人一样地耕植它吧!不要找新花样,无论是新朋友或新衣服,来麻烦你自己。找旧的;回到那里去。万物不变;是我们在变。你的衣服可以卖掉,但要保留你的思想。上帝将保证你不需要社会。如果我得整天躲在阁楼的一角,像一只蜘蛛一样,只要我还能思想,世界对于我还是一样地大。哲学家说,“三军可夺帅也,匹夫不可夺志也。”①不要焦虑求发展,不要屈服于玩弄你的影响;这些全是浪费。
① 见《论语》第九章。
卑贱像黑暗,闪耀着极美的光。贫穷与卑贱的阴影围住了我们,“可是瞧啊!我们的眼界扩大了。”我们常常被提醒,即使赐给我们克洛索斯②的巨富,我们的目的一定还是如此,我们的方法将依然故我。况且,你如果受尽了贫穷的限制,例如连书报都买不起了,那时你也不过是被限制于最有意义、最为重要的经验之内了:你不能不跟那些可以产生最多的糖和最多淀粉的物质打交道。最接近骨头地方的生命最甜蜜。你不会去做无聊的事了。在上的人宽宏大度,不会使那在下的人有任何损失。多余的财富只能够买多余的东西,人的灵魂必需的东西,是不需要花钱买的。
②公元前6世纪小亚细亚吕底亚王国极富的国王。
我住在一个铅墙的角隅中,那里已倒人了一点钟铜的合金。常常在我正午休息的时候,一种混乱的叮叮之声从外面传到了我的耳鼓中。这是我同时代人的声音。我的邻居在告诉我他们同那些著名的绅士淑女的奇遇,在夜宴桌上,他们遇见的那一些贵族;我对这些,正如我对《每日时报》的内容,同样不发生兴趣。一般的趣味和谈话资料总是关于服装和礼貌,可是笨鹅总归是笨鹅,随便你怎么打扮它。他们告诉我加利福尼亚和得克萨斯,英国和印度,佐治亚州或马萨诸塞州的某某大人,全是短暂的、瞬息即逝的现象,我几乎要像马穆鲁克③的省长一样从他们的庭院中逃走。
③中世纪埃及的一个骑兵卫队的成员。原是从高加索带到埃及去的奴隶。1254年其中一人夺得埃及王位。马穆鲁克苏丹在埃及一直统治到1517年,被土耳其苏丹推翻。
我愿我行我素,不愿涂脂抹粉,招摇过市,引人注目,即使我可以跟这个宇宙的建筑大师携手共行,我也不愿,——我不愿生活在这个不安的、神经质的、忙乱的、琐细的十九世纪生活中,宁可或立或坐,沉思着,听任这十九世纪过去。人们在庆祝些什么呢?他们都参加了某个事业的筹备委员会,随时预备听人家演说。上帝只是今天的主席,韦勃斯特①是他的演说家。那些强烈地合理地吸引我的事物,我爱衡量它们的分量,处理它们,向它们转移;——决不拉住磅秤的横杆,来减少重量,——不假设一个情况,而是按照这个情况的实际来行事;旅行在我能够旅行的唯一的路上,在那里没有一种力量可以阻止我。我不会在奠定坚实基础以前先造拱门而自满自足。我们不要玩冒险的把戏。什么都得有个结实的基础。我们读到过一个旅行家问一个孩子,他面前的这个沼泽有没有一个坚固的底。孩子说有的。可是,旅行家的马立刻就陷了下去,陷到肚带了,他对孩子说,“我听你说的是这个沼泽有一个坚固的底。”“是有啊,”后者回答,“可是你还没有到达它的一半深呢。”社会的泥泽和流沙也如此。要知道这一点,却非年老的孩子不可。也只有在很难得,很凑巧之中,所想的,所说的那一些事才是好的。我不愿做一个在只有板条和灰浆的墙中钉入一只钉子的人,要是这样做了,那到半夜里我还会睡不着觉。给我一个锤子,让我来摸一摸钉板条。不要依赖表面上涂着的灰浆。锤入一只钉子,让它真真实实地钉紧,那我半夜里醒来了想想都很满意呢,——这样的工作,便是你召唤了文艺女神来看看,也毫无愧色的。这样做上帝才会帮你的忙,也只有这样做你的忙他才帮。每一个锤入的钉子应该作为宇宙大机器中的一部分。你这才是在继续这一个工作。
①韦伯斯特(1782- 1852),美国政治家,演说家。
不必给我爱,不必给我钱,不必给我名誉,给我真理吧。我坐在一张放满了山珍海味的食桌前,受到奉承的招待,可是那里没有真理和诚意;宴罢之后,从这冷淡的桌上归来,我饥饿难当。这种招待冷得像冰。我想不必再用冰来冰冻它们了,他们告诉我酒的年代和美名;可是我想到了一种更古,却又更新、更纯粹、更光荣的饮料,但他们没有,要买也买不到。式样,建筑,庭园和“娱乐”,在我看来,有等于无。我去访问一个国王,他吩咐我在客厅里等他,像一个好客的人。我邻居中有一个人住在树洞里。他的行为才真有王者之风。我要是去访问他,结果一定会好得多。
我们还要有多久坐在走廊中,实行这些无聊的陈规陋习,弄得任何工作都荒诞不堪,还要有多久呢?好像一个人,每天一早就要苦修,还雇了一个人来给他种土豆;到下午,抱着预先想好的善心出去实行基督教徒的温柔与爱心!请想想中国的自大和那种人类的凝滞的自满。这一世代庆幸自己为一个光荣传统的最后一代;而在波士顿、伦敦、巴黎、罗马,想想它们历史多么悠久,它们还在说它们的文学、艺术和科学多么进步而沾沾自喜。有的是哲学学会的记录,对于伟人公开的赞美文章!好一个亚当,在夸耀他自己的美德了。“是的,我们做了伟大的事业了,唱出了神圣的歌了,它们是不朽的,”——在我们能记得它们的时候,自然是不朽的罗。可是古代亚述②的有学问的团体和他们的伟人,——请问现在何在?
② 古代东方一奴隶制国家。
我们是何等年轻的哲学家和实验家啊!我的读者之中,还没有一个人生活过整个人生。这些也许只是在人类的春天的几个月里。即便我们患了七年才治好的癣疥,我们也并没有看见康科德受过的十六年蝗灾。我们只晓得我们所生活的地球上的一张薄膜。大多数人没有深入过水下六英尺,也没有跳高到六英尺以上。我们不知在哪里。况且有差不多一半的时间,我们是沉睡的。可是我们却自以为聪明,自以为在地球上建立了秩序。真的,我们倒是很深刻的思想家,而且我们是有志气的人!我站在林中,看这森林地上的松针之中,蠕蠕爬行着的一只昆虫,看到它企图避开我的视线,自己去藏起来,我便问我自己,为什么它有这样谦逊的思想,要藏起它的头避开我,而我,也许可以帮助它,可以给它这个族类若干可喜的消息,这时我禁不住想起我们更伟大的施恩者,大智慧者,他也在俯视着我们这些宛如虫豸的人。
新奇的事物正在无穷尽地注入这个世界来,而我们却忍受着不可思议的愚蠢。我只要提起,在最开明的国土上,我们还在听怎样的说教就够了。现在还有快乐啊,悲哀啊,这种字眼,但这些都只是用鼻音唱出的赞美诗的叠句,实际上我们所信仰的还是平庸而卑下的。我们以为我们只要换换衣服就行了。据说大英帝国很大,很可敬,而美利坚合众国是一等强国。我们不知道每一个人背后都有潮起潮落,这浪潮可以把大英帝国像小木片一样浮起来,如果他有决心记住这个。谁知道下一次还会发生什么样的十七年蝗灾?我所生活在内的那个世界的政府,并不像英国政府那样,不是在夜宴之后,喝喝美酒并谈谈说说就建立起来的。
我们身体内的生命像河中的水。它可以今年涨得高,高得空前,洪水涨上枯焦的高地;甚至这样的一年也可能是多事之年,把我们所有的麝鼠都淹死。我们生活的地方不一定总是干燥的土地。我看到远远地,在内陆就有些河岸,远在科学还没有记录它们的泛滥之前,就曾受过江河的冲激。大家都听到过新英格兰传说的这个故事,有一只强壮而美丽的爬虫,它从一只古老的苹果木桌子的干燥的活动桌板中爬了出来,那桌于放在一个农夫的厨房中间已经六十年了,先是在康涅狄格州,后来搬到了马萨诸塞州来,那卵还比六十年前更早几年,当苹果树还活着的时候就下在里面了,因为这是可以根据它外面的年轮判断的;好几个星期来,已经听到它在里面咬着了,它大约是受到一只钵头的热气才孵化的。听到了这样的故事之后,谁能不感到增强了复活的信心与不朽的信心呢?这卵已几世代地埋在好几层的、一圈圈围住的木头中间,放在枯燥的社会生活之中,起先在青青的有生命的白木质之间,后来这东西渐渐成了一个风干得很好的坟墓了,——也许它已经咬了几年之久,使那坐在这欢宴的餐桌前的一家子听到声音惊惶失措,——谁知道何等美丽的、有翅膀的生命突然从社会中最不值钱的、人家送的家具中,一下子跳了出来,终于享受了它完美的生命的夏天!
我并不是说约翰或者约纳森这些普通人可以理解所有的这一切;可是时间尽管流逝,而黎明始终不来的那个明天,它具备着这样的特性。使我们失去视觉的那种光明,对于我们是黑暗。只有我们睁开眼睛醒过来的那一天,天才亮了。天亮的日子多着呢。太阳不过是一个晓星。


小白zZ

ZxID:64052858

等级: *
举报 只看该作者 23楼  发表于: 2015-06-29 0
这是一本非常好的书
fanny_zyf

ZxID:18350909

等级: 读书识字
举报 只看该作者 24楼  发表于: 2015-08-11 0
谢谢楼主的分享。
☆气192e

ZxID:42612471

等级: 读书识字
举报 只看该作者 25楼  发表于: 2015-08-12 0
我看过
阳光245a3

ZxID:73581820

等级: 派派新人
举报 只看该作者 26楼  发表于: 2017-01-15 0
这是一本非常好的书
幻城16

ZxID:73666628

等级: 读书识字
举报 只看该作者 27楼  发表于: 2017-01-29 0
有原文书,但一直没看
月离绯

ZxID:523540

等级: 热心会员
我用一转身离开的你,我用一辈子忘记
举报 只看该作者 28楼  发表于: 2020-06-15 0
谢谢分享,没有附件
发帖 回复