Baker Farm

Sometimes I rambled to pine groves, standing like temples, or like fleets at sea, full-rigged, with wavy boughs, and rippling with light, so soft and green and shady that the Druids would have forsaken their oaks to worship in them; or to the cedar wood beyond Flint's Pond, where the trees, covered with hoary blue berries, spiring higher and higher, are fit to stand before Valhalla, and the creeping juniper covers the ground with wreaths full of fruit; or to swamps where the usnea lichen hangs in festoons from the white spruce trees, and toadstools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like butterflies or shells, vegetable winkles; where the swamp-pink and dogwood grow, the red alderberry glows like eyes of imps, the waxwork grooves and crushes the hardest woods in its folds, and the wild holly berries make the beholder forget his home with their beauty, and he is dazzled and tempted by nameless other wild forbidden fruits, too fair for mortal taste. Instead of calling on some scholar, I paid many a visit to particular trees, of kinds which are rare in this neighborhood, standing far away in the middle of some pasture, or in the depths of a wood or swamp, or on a hilltop; such as the black birch, of which we have some handsome specimens two feet in diameter; its cousin, the yellow birch, with its loose golden vest, perfumed like the first; the beech, which has so neat a bole and beautifully lichen-painted, perfect in all its details, of which, excepting scattered specimens, I know but one small grove of sizable trees left in the township, supposed by some to have been planted by the pigeons that were once baited with beechnuts near by; it is worth the while to see the silver grain sparkle when you split this wood; the bass; the hornbeam; the Celtis occidentalis, or false elm, of which we have but one well-grown; some taller mast of a pine, a shingle tree, or a more perfect hemlock than usual, standing like a pagoda in the midst of the woods; and many others I could mention. These were the shrines I visited both summer and winter.

Once it chanced that I stood in the very abutment of a rainbow's arch, which filled the lower stratum of the atmosphere, tinging the grass and leaves around, and dazzling me as if I looked through colored crystal. It was a lake of rainbow light, in which, for a short while, I lived like a dolphin. If it had lasted longer it might have tinged my employments and life. As I walked on the railroad causeway, I used to wonder at the halo of light around my shadow, and would fain fancy myself one of the elect. One who visited me declared that the shadows of some Irishmen before him had no halo about them, that it was only natives that were so distinguished. Benvenuto Cellini tells us in his memoirs, that, after a certain terrible dream or vision which he had during his confinement in the castle of St. Angelo a resplendent light appeared over the shadow of his head at morning and evening, whether he was in Italy or France, and it was particularly conspicuous when the grass was moist with dew. This was probably the same phenomenon to which I have referred, which is especially observed in the morning, but also at other times, and even by moonlight. Though a constant one, it is not commonly noticed, and, in the case of an excitable imagination like Cellini's, it would be basis enough for superstition. Beside, he tells us that he showed it to very few. But are they not indeed distinguished who are conscious that they are regarded at all?

I set out one afternoon to go a-fishing to Fair Haven, through the woods, to eke out my scanty fare of vegetables. My way led through Pleasant Meadow, an adjunct of the Baker Farm, that retreat of which a poet has since sung, beginning,--

"Thy entry is a pleasant field,

Which some mossy fruit trees yield

Partly to a ruddy brook,

By gliding musquash undertook,

And mercurial trout,

Darting about."

I thought of living there before I went to Walden. I "hooked" the apples, leaped the brook, and scared the musquash and the trout. It was one of those afternoons which seem indefinitely long before one, in which many events may happen, a large portion of our natural life, though it was already half spent when I started. By the way there came up a shower, which compelled me to stand half an hour under a pine, piling boughs over my head, and wearing my handkerchief for a shed; and when at length I had made one cast over the pickerelweed, standing up to my middle in water, I found myself suddenly in the shadow of a cloud, and the thunder began to rumble with such emphasis that I could do no more than listen to it. The gods must be proud, thought I, with such forked flashes to rout a poor unarmed fisherman. So I made haste for shelter to the nearest hut, which stood half a mile from any road, but so much the nearer to the pond, and had long been uninhabited:--

"And here a poet builded,

In the completed years,

For behold a trivial cabin

That to destruction steers."

So the Muse fables. But therein, as I found, dwelt now John Field, an Irishman, and his wife, and several children, from the broad-faced boy who assisted his father at his work, and now came running by his side from the bog to escape the rain, to the wrinkled, sibyl-like, cone-headed infant that sat upon its father's knee as in the palaces of nobles, and looked out from its home in the midst of wet and hunger inquisitively upon the stranger, with the privilege of infancy, not knowing but it was the last of a noble line, and the hope and cynosure of the world, instead of John Field's poor starveling brat. There we sat together under that part of the roof which leaked the least, while it showered and thundered without. I had sat there many times of old before the ship was built that floated his family to America. An honest, hard-working, but shiftless man plainly was John Field; and his wife, she too was brave to cook so many successive dinners in the recesses of that lofty stove; with round greasy face and bare breast, still thinking to improve her condition one day; with the never absent mop in one hand, and yet no effects of it visible anywhere. The chickens, which had also taken shelter here from the rain, stalked about the room like members of the family, too humanized, methought, to roast well. They stood and looked in my eye or pecked at my shoe significantly. Meanwhile my host told me his story, how hard he worked "bogging" for a neighboring farmer, turning up a meadow with a spade or bog hoe at the rate of ten dollars an acre and the use of the land with manure for one year, and his little broad-faced son worked cheerfully at his father's side the while, not knowing how poor a bargain the latter had made. I tried to help him with my experience, telling him that he was one of my nearest neighbors, and that I too, who came a-fishing here, and looked like a loafer, was getting my living like himself; that I lived in a tight, light, and clean house, which hardly cost more than the annual rent of such a ruin as his commonly amounts to; and how, if he chose, he might in a month or two build himself a palace of his own; that I did not use tea, nor coffee, nor butter, nor milk, nor fresh meat, and so did not have to work to get them; again, as I did not work hard, I did not have to eat hard, and it cost me but a trifle for my food; but as he began with tea, and coffee, and butter, and milk, and beef, he had to work hard to pay for them, and when he had worked hard he had to eat hard again to repair the waste of his system -- and so it was as broad as it was long, indeed it was broader than it was long, for he was discontented and wasted his life into the bargain; and yet he had rated it as a gain in coming to America, that here you could get tea, and coffee, and meat every day. But the only true America is that country where you are at liberty to pursue such a mode of life as may enable you to do without these, and where the state does not endeavor to compel you to sustain the slavery and war and other superfluous expenses which directly or indirectly result from the use of such things. For I purposely talked to him as if he were a philosopher, or desired to be one. I should be glad if all the meadows on the earth were left in a wild state, if that were the consequence of men's beginning to redeem themselves. A man will not need to study history to find out what is best for his own culture. But alas! the culture of an Irishman is an enterprise to be undertaken with a sort of moral bog hoe. I told him, that as he worked so hard at bogging, he required thick boots and stout clothing, which yet were soon soiled and worn out, but I wore light shoes and thin clothing, which cost not half so much, though he might think that I was dressed like a gentleman (which, however, was not the case), and in an hour or two, without labor, but as a recreation, I could, if I wished, catch as many fish as I should want for two days, or earn enough money to support me a week. If he and his family would live simply, they might all go a-huckleberrying in the summer for their amusement. John heaved a sigh at this, and his wife stared with arms a-kimbo, and both appeared to be wondering if they had capital enough to begin such a course with, or arithmetic enough to carry it through. It was sailing by dead reckoning to them, and they saw not clearly how to make their port so; therefore I suppose they still take life bravely, after their fashion, face to face, giving it tooth and nail, not having skill to split its massive columns with any fine entering wedge, and rout it in detail; -- thinking to deal with it roughly, as one should handle a thistle. But they fight at an overwhelming disadvantage -- living, John Field, alas! without arithmetic, and failing so.

"Do you ever fish?" I asked. "Oh yes, I catch a mess now and then when I am lying by; good perch I catch. -- "What's your bait?" "I catch shiners with fishworms, and bait the perch with them." "You'd better go now, John," said his wife, with glistening and hopeful face; but John demurred.

The shower was now over, and a rainbow above the eastern woods promised a fair evening; so I took my departure. When I had got without I asked for a drink, hoping to get a sight of the well bottom, to complete my survey of the premises; but there, alas! are shallows and quicksands, and rope broken withal, and bucket irrecoverable. Meanwhile the right culinary vessel was selected, water was seemingly distilled, and after consultation and long delay passed out to the thirsty one -- not yet suffered to cool, not yet to settle. Such gruel sustains life here, I thought; so, shutting my eyes, and excluding the motes by a skilfully directed undercurrent, I drank to genuine hospitality the heartiest draught I could. I am not squeamish in such cases when manners are concerned.

As I was leaving the Irishman's roof after the rain, bending my steps again to the pond, my haste to catch pickerel, wading in retired meadows, in sloughs and bog-holes, in forlorn and savage places, appeared for an instant trivial to me who had been sent to school and college; but as I ran down the hill toward the reddening west, with the rainbow over my shoulder, and some faint tinkling sounds borne to my ear through the cleansed air, from I know not what quarter, my Good Genius seemed to say -- Go fish and hunt far and wide day by day -- farther and wider -- and rest thee by many brooks and hearth-sides without misgiving. Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth. Rise free from care before the dawn, and seek adventures. Let the noon find thee by other lakes, and the night overtake thee everywhere at home. There are no larger fields than these, no worthier games than may here be played. Grow wild according to thy nature, like these sedges and brakes, which will never become English bay. Let the thunder rumble; what if it threaten ruin to farmers' crops? That is not its errand to thee. Take shelter under the cloud, while they flee to carts and sheds. Let not to get a living be thy trade, but thy sport. Enjoy the land, but own it not. Through want of enterprise and faith men are where they are, buying and selling, and spending their lives like serfs.

O Baker Farm!

"Landscape where the richest element

Is a little sunshine innocent." ...

"No one runs to revel

On thy rail-fenced lea." ...

"Debate with no man hast thou,

With questions art never perplexed,

As tame at the first sight as now,

In thy plain russet gabardine dressed." ...

"Come ye who love,

And ye who hate,

Children of the Holy Dove,

And Guy Faux of the state,

And hang conspiracies

From the tough rafters of the trees!"

Men come tamely home at night only from the next field or street, where their household echoes haunt, and their life pines because it breathes its own breath over again; their shadows, morning and evening, reach farther than their daily steps. We should come home from far, from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day, with new experience and character.

Before I had reached the pond some fresh impulse had brought out John Field, with altered mind, letting go "bogging" ere this sunset. But he, poor man, disturbed only a couple of fins while I was catching a fair string, and he said it was his luck; but when we changed seats in the boat luck changed seats too. Poor John Field! -- I trust he does not read this, unless he will improve by it -- thinking to live by some derivative old-country mode in this primitive new country -- to catch perch with shiners. It is good bait sometimes, I allow. With his horizon all his own, yet he a poor man, born to be poor, with his inherited Irish poverty or poor life, his Adam's grandmother and boggy ways, not to rise in this world, he nor his posterity, till their wading webbed bog-trotting feet get talaria to their heels.

 

有时我徜徉到松树密林下，它们很像高峙的庙字，又像海上装备齐全的舰队，树枝像波浪般摇曳起伏，还像涟漪般闪烁生光，看到这样柔和而碧绿的浓荫，便是德罗依德也要放弃他的橡树林而跑到它们下面来顶礼膜拜了，有时我跑到了茀灵特湖边的杉木林下，那些参天大树上长满灰白色浆果，它们越来越高，便是移植到伐尔哈拉去都毫无愧色，而杜松的盘绕的藤蔓，累累结着果实，铺在地上；有时，我还跑到沼泽地区去，那里的松萝地衣像花彩一样从云杉上垂悬下来，还有一些菌子，它们是沼泽诸神的圆桌，摆设在地面，更加美丽的香章像蝴蝶或贝壳点缀在树根；在那里淡红的石竹和山茱萸生长着，红红的桤果像妖精的眼睛似地闪亮，蜡蜂在攀援时，最坚硬的树上也刻下了深槽而破坏了它们，野冬青的浆果美得更使人看了流连忘返；此外还有许许多多野生的不知名的禁果将使他目眩五色，它们太美了，不是人类应该尝味的。我并没有去访问哪个学者，我访问了一棵棵树，访问了在附近一带也是稀有的林木，它们或远远地耸立在牧场的中央，或长在森林、沼泽的深处，或在小山的顶上；譬如黑桦木，我就看到一些好标本，直径有两英尺：还有它们的表亲黄桦木，宽弛地穿着金袍，像前述的那种一样地散发香味，又如山毛榉，有这样清洁的树干，美丽地绘着苔藓之色，处处美妙呵，除了一些散在各地的样本，在这乡镇一带，我只知道有一个这样的小小的林子，树身已相当大了，据说还是一些被附近山毛榉的果实吸引来的鸽子播下的种子；当你劈开树木的时候，银色的细粒网闪发光，真值得鉴赏；还有，椴树，角树；还有学名为 Celtis occidentalis的假榆树，那就只有一棵是长得好的；还有，可以作挺拔的桅杆用的高高的松树，以及作木瓦用的树；还有比一般松树更美妙的我们的铁杉，像一座宝塔一样矗立在森林中；还有我能提出的许多别的树。在夏天和冬天，我便访问这些神庙。

有一次巧极了，我就站在一条彩虹的桥墩上，这条虹罩在大气的下层，给周围的草叶都染上了颜色，使我眼花缭乱，好像我在透视一个彩色的晶体。这里成了一个虹光的湖沼，片刻之间，我生活得像一只海豚。要是它维持得更长久一些，那色彩也许就永远染在我的事业与生命上了。而当我在铁路堤道上行走的时候，我常常惊奇地看到我的影子周围，有一个光轮，不免自以为也是一个上帝的选民了。有一个访客告诉我，他前面的那些爱尔兰人的影子周围并没有这种光轮，只有土生的人才有这特殊的标识。班文钮托·切利尼在他的回忆录中告诉过我们，当他被禁闭在圣安琪罗宫堡中的时候，在他有了一个可怕的梦或幻景之后，就见一个光亮的圆轮罩在他自己的影子的头上了，不论是黎明或黄昏，不论他是在意大利或法兰西；尤其在草上有露珠的时候，那光轮更清楚。这大约跟我说起的是同样的现象，它在早晨显得特别清楚，但在其余的时间，甚至在月光底下，也可以看到。虽然经常都如此，却从没有被注意，对切利尼那样想象力丰富的人，这就足以构成迷信的基础了。他还说，他只肯指点给少数人看，可是，知道自己有着这种光轮的人，难道真的是卓越的吗？

有一个下午我穿过森林到美港去钧鱼，以弥补我的蔬菜的不足。我沿路经过了快乐草地，它是和倍克田庄紧相连的，有个诗人曾经歌唱过这僻隐的地方，这样开头：

“入口是愉快的田野，

那里有些生苔的果树，

让出一泓红红的清溪，

水边有闪逃的麝香鼠，

还有水银似的鳟鱼啊，

游来游去。”

还在我没有住到瓦尔登之前，我曾想过去那里生活。我曾去“钩”过苹果，纵身跃过那道溪，吓唬过麝香鼠和鳟鱼。在那些个显得漫长、可以发生许多事情的下午中间的一个，当我想到该把大部分时间用于大自然的生活，因而出动之时，这个下午已过去了一半。还在途中呢，就下了阵雨，使我不得不在一棵松树下躲了半个小时，我在头顶上面，搭了一些树枝，再用手帕当我的遮盖；后来我索性下了水，水深及腰，我在梭鱼草上垂下了钓丝，突然发现我自己已在一块乌云底下，雷霆已开始沉重地擂响，我除了听他的，没有别的办法了。我想，天上的诸神真神气，要用这些叉形的闪光来迫害我这个可怜的没有武装的渔人，我赶紧奔到最近一个茅屋中去躲，那里离开无论哪一条路，都是半英里，它倒是跟湖来得近些，很久以来就没有人在那里住了：

“这里是诗人所建，

在他的风烛残年，

看这小小的木屋，

也有毁灭的危险。”

缪斯女神如此寓言。可是我看到那儿现在住着一个爱尔兰人，叫约翰·斐尔德，还有他的妻子和好几个孩子，大孩子有个宽阔的脸庞，已经在帮他父亲做工了，这会儿他也从沼泽中奔回家来躲雨，小的婴孩满脸皱纹，像先知一样，有个圆锥形的脑袋，坐在他父亲的膝盖上像坐在贵族的宫廷中，从他那个又潮湿又饥饿的家里好奇地望着陌生人，这自然是一个婴孩的权利，他却不知道自己是贵族世家的最后一代，他是世界的希望，世界注目的中心，并不是什么约翰·斐尔德的可怜的、饥饿的小子。我们一起坐在最不漏水的那部分屋顶下，而外面却是大雨又加大雷，我从前就在这里坐过多少次了，那时载了他们这一家而飘洋过海到美国来的那条船还没有造好呢。这个约翰·斐尔德显然是一个老实、勤恳，可是没有办法的人；他的妻子呢，她也是有毅力的，一连不断地在高高的炉子那儿做饭；圆圆的、油腻的脸，露出了胸，还在梦想有一天要过好日子呢，手中从来不放下拖把，可是没有一处看得到它发生了作用。小鸡也躲雨躲进了屋，在屋子里像家人一样大模大样地走来走去，跟人类太相似了，我想它们是烤起来也不会好吃的。它们站着，望着我的眼睛，故意来啄我的鞋子。同时，我的主人把他的身世告诉了我，他如何给邻近一个农夫艰苦地在沼泽上工作，如何用铲子或沼泽地上用的锄头翻一片草地，报酬是每英亩十元，并且利用土地和肥料一年，而他那个个子矮小、有宽阔的脸庞的大孩子就在父亲身边愉快地工作，并不知道他父亲接洽的是何等恶劣的交易。我想用我的经验来帮助他，告诉他我们是近邻，我呢，是来这儿钓鱼的，看外表，好比是一个流浪人，但也跟他一样，是个自食其力的人；还告诉他我住在一座很小的、光亮的、干净的屋子里，那造价可并不比他租用这种破房子一年的租费大；如果他愿意的话，他也能够在一两个月之内，给他自己造起一座皇宫来；我是不喝茶，不喝咖啡，不吃牛油，不喝牛奶，也不吃鲜肉的，因此我不必为了要得到它们而工作；而因为我不拼命工作，我也就不必拼命吃，所以我的伙食费数目很小；可是因为他一开始就要茶、咖啡、牛油、牛奶和牛肉，他就不得不拼命工作来偿付这一笔支出，他越拼命地工作，就越要吃得多，以弥补他身体上的消耗，——结果开支越来越大，而那开支之大确实比那时日之长更加厉害了，因为他不能满足，一生就这样消耗在里面了，然而他还认为，到美国来是一件大好事，在这里你每天可以吃到茶，咖啡和肉。可是那唯一的真正的美国应该是这样的一个国家，你可以自由地过一种生活，没有这些食物也能过得好，在这个国土上，并不需要强迫你支持奴隶制度，不需要你来供养一场战争，也不需要你付一笔间接或直接的因为这一类事情而付的额外费用。我特意这样跟他说，把他当成一个哲学家，或者当他是希望做一个哲学家的人。我很愿意让这片草原荒芜下去，如果是因为人类开始要赎罪，而后才有这样的结局的。一个人不必去读了历史，才明白什么东西对他自己的文化最有益。可是，唉！一个爱尔兰人的文化竟是用一柄沼泽地带用的锄头似的观念来开发的事业。我告诉他，既然在沼泽上拼命做苦工，他必须有厚靴子和牢固衣服，它们很快就磨损破烂了，我却只穿薄底鞋和薄衣服，价值还不到他的一半，在他看来我倒是穿得衣冠楚楚，像一个绅士（事实上，却并不是那样），而我可以不花什么力气，像消遣那样用一两小时的时间，如果我高兴的话，捕捉够吃一两天的鱼，或者赚下够我一星期花费的钱。如果他和他的家庭可以简单地生活，他们可以在夏天，都去拣拾越橘，以此为乐。听到这话，约翰就长叹一声，他的妻子两手叉腰瞪着我，似乎他们都在考虑，他们有没有足够的资金来开始过这样的生活，或者学到的算术是不是够他们把这种生活坚持到底。在他们看来，那是依靠测程和推算，也不清楚这样怎么可以到达他们的港岸；于是我揣想到了，他们还是会勇敢地用他们自己的那个方式来生活，面对生活，竭力奋斗，却没法用任何精锐的楔子楔入生活的大柱子，裂开它，细细地雕刻；——他们想到刻苦地对付生活，像人们对付那多刺的蓟草一样。可是他们是在非常恶劣的形势下面战斗的，——唉，约翰· 斐尔德啊！不用算术而生活，你已经一败涂地了。

“你钓过鱼吗？”我问。“啊，钓过，有时我休息的时候，在湖边钓过一点，我钓到过很好的鲈鱼。”“你用什么钓饵！”“我用鱼虫钓银鱼，又用银鱼为饵钓鲈鱼。”“你现在可以去了，约翰，”他的妻子容光焕发、满怀希望他说；可是约翰踌躇着。

阵雨已经过去了，东面的林上一道长虹，保证有个美好的黄昏；我就起身告辞。出门以后，我又向他们要一杯水喝，希望看一看他们这口井的底奥，完成我这一番调查；可是，唉！井是浅的，尽是流沙，绳子是断的，桶子破得没法修了。这期间，他们把一只厨房用的杯子找了出来，水似乎蒸馏过，几经磋商，拖延再三，最后杯子递到口渴的人的手上，还没凉下来，而且又混浊不堪。我想，是这样的脏水在支持这几条生命；于是，我就很巧妙地把灰尘摇到一旁，闭上眼睛，为了那真诚的好客而干杯，畅饮一番。在牵涉到礼貌问题的时候，我在这类事情上，并不苛求。

雨后，当我离开了爱尔兰人的屋子，又跨步到湖边，涉水经过草原上的积水的泥坑和沼泽区的窟窿，经过荒凉的旷野，忽然有一阵子我觉得我急于去捕捉梭鱼的这种心情，对于我这个上过中学、进过大学的人，未免太猥琐了；可是我下了山，向着满天红霞的西方跑，一条长虹挑在我的肩上，微弱的铃声经过了明澈的空气传入我的耳中，我又似乎不知道从哪儿听到了我的守护神在对我说话了，——要天天都远远地出去渔猎，——越远越好，地域越宽广越好，——你就在许多的溪边，许许多多人家的炉边休息，根本不用担心。记住你年轻时候的创造力。黎明之前你就无忧无虑地起来，出发探险去。让正午看到你在另一个湖边。夜来时，到处为家。没有比这里更广大的土地了，也没有比这样做更有价值的游戏了。按照你的天性而狂放地生活，好比那芦苇和羊齿，它们是永远不会变成英吉利干草的啊。让雷霆咆哮，对稼穑有害，这又有什么关系呢？这并不是给你的信息。他们要躲在车下，木屋下，你可以躲在云下。你不要再以手艺为生，应该以游戏为生。只管欣赏大地，可不要想去占有。由于缺少进取心和信心，人们在买进卖出，奴隶一样过着生活哪。

呵，倍克田庄！

以小小烂漫的阳光

为最富丽的大地风光。……

牧场上围起了栏杆，

没有人会跑去狂欢。……

你不曾跟人辩论，

也从未为你的疑问所困，

初见时就这样驯良，

你穿着普通的褐色斜纹。……

爱者来，

憎者亦来，

圣鸽之子，

和州里的戈艾·福克斯，

把阴谋吊在牢固的树枝上！

人们总是夜来驯服地从隔壁的田地或街上，回到家里，他们的家里响着平凡的回音，他们的生命，消蚀于忧愁，因为他们一再呼吸着自己吐出的呼吸；早晨和傍晚，他们的影子比他们每天的脚步到了更远的地方。我们应该从远方，从奇遇、危险和每天的新发现中，带着新经验，新性格而回家来。

我还没有到湖边，约翰·斐尔德已在新的冲动下，跑到了湖边，他的思路变了，今天日落以前不再去沼泽工作了。可是他，可怜的人，只钓到一两条鱼，我却钓了一长串，他说这是他的命运；可是，后来我们换了座位，命运也跟着换了位。可怜的约翰·斐尔德！我想他是不会读这一段话的，除非他读了会有进步，——他想在这原始性的新土地上用传统的老方法来生活，——用银鱼来钓鲈鱼。有时，我承认，这是好钓饵。他的地平线完全属于他所有，他却是一个穷人，生来就穷，继承了他那爱尔兰的贫困或者贫困生活，还继承了亚当的老祖母的泥泞的生活方式，他或是他的后裔在这世界上都不能上升，除非他们的长了蹼的陷在泥沼中的脚，穿上了有翼的靴。