THE VILLAGE
AFTER hoeing, or perhaps
reading and writing, in the fore-
noon, I usually bathed
again in the pond, swimming across
one of its coves for a
stint, and washed the dust of labor
from my person, or
smoothed out the last wrinkle which
study had made, and for
the afternoon was absolutely free.
Every day or two I
strolled to the village to hear some of
the gossip which is
incessantly going on there, circulating
either from mouth to
mouth, or from newspaper to news-
paper, and which, taken in
homoeopathic doses, was really
as refreshing in its way
as the rustle of leaves and the peeping
of frogs. As I walked in
the woods to see the birds and squir-
rels, so I walked in the
village to see the men and boys;
instead of the wind
among the pines I heard the carts rattle.
In one direction from my
house there was a colony of musk-
rats in the river
meadows; under the grove of elms and button-
woods in the other
horizon was a village of busy men, as
curious to me as if they
had been prairie-dogs, each sitting
at the mouth of its
burrow, or running over to a neighbor's to
gossip. I went there
frequently to observe their habits. The
village appeared to me a
great news room; and on one side,
to support it, as once
at Redding & Company's on State
Street, they kept nuts
and raisins, or salt and meal and other
groceries. Some have
such a vast appetite for the former com-
modity, that is, the
news, and such sound digestive organs,
that they can sit
forever in public avenues without stirring,
and let it simmer and
whisper through them like the Etesian
winds, or as if inhaling
ether, it only producing numbness and
insensibility to pain,
otherwise it would often be painfu?
to hear, without
affecting the consciousness T hardly ever
151
152 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
failed, when I rambled
through the village, to see a row of
such worthies, either
sitting on a ladder sunning themselves,
with their bodies
inclined forward and their eyes glancing
along the line this way
and that, from time to time, with a
voluptuous expression,
or else leaning against a barn with
their hands in their
pockets, like caryatides, as if to prop it
up. They, being commonly
out of doors, heard whatever was
in the wind. These are
the coarsest mills, in which all gossip
is first rudely digested
or cracked up before it is emptied
into finer and more
delicate hoppers within doors. I ob-
served that the vitals
of the village were the grocery, the
bar-room, the
post-office, and the bank; and, as a necessary
part of the machinery,
they kept a bell, a big gun, and a fire-
engine, at convenient
places ; and the houses were so arranged
as to make the most of
mankind, in lanes and fronting one
another, so that every
traveller had to run the gauntlet, and
every man, woman, and
child might get a lick at him. Of
course, those who were
stationed nearest to the head of the
line, where they could
most see and be seen, and have the
first blow at him, paid
the highest prices for their places;
and the few straggling
inhabitants in the outskirts, where
long gaps in the line
began to occur, and the traveller could
get over walls or turn
aside into cow-paths, and so escape,
paid a very slight
ground or window tax. Signs were hung
out on all sides to
allure him; some to catch him by the
appetite, as the tavern
and victualling cellar; some by the
fancy, as the dry goods
store and the jeweller's; and others
by the hair or the feet
or the skirts, as the barber, the shoe-
maker, or the tailor.
Besides, there was a still more terrible
standing invitation to
call at every one of these houses, and
company expected about
these times. For the most part I
escaped wonderfully from
these dangers, either by proceed-
ing at once boldly and
without deliberation to the goal, as
is recommended to those
who run the gauntlet, or by keep-
ing my thoughts on high
things, like Orpheus, who, "loudly
singing the praises of
the gods to his lyre, drowned the voices
WALDEN 153
of the Sirens, and kept
out of danger." Sometimes I bolted
suddenly, and nobody
could tell my whereabouts, for I did
not stand much about
gracefulness, and never hesitated at a
gap in a fence. I was
even accustomed to make an irruption
into some houses, where
I was well entertained, and after
learning the kernels and
very last sieveful of news, what
had subsided, the
prospects of war and peace, and whether
the world was likely to
hold together much longer, I was
let out through the rear
avenues, and so escaped to the woods
again.
It was very pleasant,
when I stayed late in town, to launch
myself into the night,
especially if it was dark and tem-
pestuous, and set sail
from some bright village parlor or
lecture room, with a bag
of rye or Indian meal upon my
shoulder, for my snug
harbor in the woods, having made all
tight without and
withdrawn under hatches with a merry
crew of thoughts,
leaving only my outer man at the helm, or
even tying up the helm
when it was plain sailing. I had many
a genial thought by the
cabin fire "as I sailed." I was>never
cast away nor distressed
in any weather, though I encoun-
tered some severe
storms. It is darker in the woods, even in
common nights, than most
suppose. I frequently had to
look up at the opening
between the trees above the path in
order to learn my route,
and, where there was no cart-path,
to feel with my feet the
faint track which I had worn, or
steer by the known
relation of particular trees which I felt
with my hands, passing
between two pines for instance, not
more than eighteen
inches apart, in the midst of the woods,
invariably, in the
darkest night. Sometimes, after coming
home thus late in a dark
and muggy night, when my feet
felt the path which my
eyes could not see, dreaming and
absent-minded all the
way, until I was aroused by having to
raise my hand to lift
the latch, I have not been able to recall
a single step of my
walk, and I have thought that perhaps
my body would find its
way home if its master should forsake
it, as the hand finds
its way to the mouth without assistance.
154 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
Several times, when a
visitor chanced to stay into evening,
and it proved a dark
night, I was obliged to conduct him to
the cart-path in the
rear of the house, and then point out to
him the direction he was
to pursue, and in keeping which
he was to be guided
rather by his feet than his eyes. One very
dark night I directed
thus on their way two young men who
had been fishing in the
pond. They lived about a mile off
through the woods, and
were quite used to the route. A day
or two after one of them
told me that they wandered about
the greater part of the
night, close by their own premises,
and did not get home
till toward morning, by which time, as
there had been several
heavy showers in the meanwhile, and
the leaves were very
wet, they were drenched to their skins.
I have heard of many
going astray even in the village streets,
when the darkness was so
thick that you could cut it with
a knife, as the saying
is. Some who live in the outskirts,
having come to town
a-shopp:ng in their wagons, have been
obliged to put up for
the night; and gentlemen and ladies
making a call have gone
half a mile out of their way, feeling
the sidewalk only with
their feet, and not knowing when
they turned. It is a
surprising and memorable, as well as
valuable experience, to
be lost in the woods any time. Often
in a snow-storm, even by
day, one will come out upon a well-
known road and yet find
it impossible to tell which way leads
to the village. Though
he knows that he has travelled it a
thousand times, he
cannot recognize a feature in it, but it is
as strange to him as if
it were a road in Siberia. By night,
of course, the
perplexity is infinitely greater. In our most
trivial walks, we are
constantly, though unconsciously, steer-
ing like pilots by
certain well-known beacons and headlands,
and if we go beyond our
usual course we still carry in our
minds the bearing of
some neighboring cape; and not till
we are completely lost,
or turned round, for a man needs only
to be turned round once
with his eyes shut in this world to be
lost, do we appreciate
the vastness and strangeness of nature.
Every man has to learn
the points of compass again as often as
WALDEN 155
he awakes, whether from
sleep or any abstraction. Not till we
are lost, in other words
not till we have lost the world, do we
begin to find ourselves,
and realize where we are and the
infinite extent of our
relations.
One afternoon, near the
end of the first summer, when I
went to the village to
get a shoe from the cobbler's, I was
seized and put into
jail, because, as I have elsewhere related,
I did not pay a tax to,
or recognize the authority of, the
State which buys and
sells men, women, and children, like
cattle, at the door of
its senate-house. I had gone down to
the woods for other
purposes. But, wherever a man goes, men
will pursue and paw him
with their dirty institutions, and, if
they can, constrain him
to belong to their desperate odd-
fellow society. It is
true, I might have resisted forcibly with
more or less effect,
might have run "amok" against society;
but I preferred that society
should run "amok" against me,
it being the desperate
party. However, I was released the
next day, obtained my
mended shoe, and returned to the
woods in season to get
my dinner of huckleberries on Fair
Haven Hill. I was never
molested by any person but those
who represented the
State. I had no lock nor bolt but for the
desk which held my
papers, not even a nail to put over my
latch or windows. I
never fastened my door night or day,
though I was to be
absent several days; not even when the
next fall I spent a
fortnight in the woods of Maine. And yet
my house was more
respected than if it had been surrounded
by a file of soldiers.
The tired rambler could rest and warm
himself by my fire, the
literary amuse himself with the few
books on my table, or
the curious, by opening my closet
door, see what was left
of my dinner, and what prospect I
had of a supper. Yet,
though many people of every class came
this way to the pond, I
suffered no serious inconvenience from
these sources, and I
never missed anything but one small
book, a volume of Homer,
which perhaps was improperly
gilded, and this I trust
a soldier of our camp has found by
this time. I am
convinced, that if all men were to live as
156 THE WRITINGS OF THOREAU
simply as I then did,
thieving and robbery would be un-
known. These take place
only in communities where some
have got more than is
sufficient while others have not enough.
The Pope's Homers would
soon get properly distributed.
"Nee bella fuerunt,
Faginus astabat dum
scyphus ante dapes."
"Nor wars did men
molest,
When only beechen bowls
were in request."
"You who govern
public affairs, what need have you to em-
ploy punishments? Love
virtue, and the people will be vir-
tuous. The virtues of a
superior man are like the wind; the
virtues of a common man
are like the grass; the grass, when
the wind passes over it,
bends."
ምንም አስተያየቶች የሉም:
አስተያየት ይለጥፉ