Walking

IwishtospeakawordforNature,forabsoluteFreedomandWildness,ascontrastedwithafreedomandculturemerelycivil,—toregardmanasaninhabitant,orapartandparcelofNature,ratherthanamemberofsociety.Iwishtomakeanextremestatement,ifsoImaymakeanemphaticone,forthereareenoughchampionsofcivilization:theministerandtheschoolcommitteeandeveryoneofyouwilltakecareofthat. IhavemetwithbutoneortwopersonsinthecourseofmylifewhounderstoodtheartofWalking,thatis,oftakingwalks—whohadagenius,sotospeak,forsauntering,whichwordisbeautifullyderived“fromidlepeoplewhorovedaboutthecountry,intheMiddleAges,andaskedcharity,underpretenseofgoingàlaSainteTerre,”totheHolyLand,tillthechildrenexclaimed,“TheregoesaSainte-Terrer,”aSaunterer,aHoly-Lander.TheywhonevergototheHolyLandintheirwalks,astheypretend,areindeedmereidlersandvagabondsbuttheywhodogotherearesaunterersinthegoodsense,suchasImean.Some,however,wouldderivethewordfromsansterrewithoutlandorahome,which,therefore,inthegoodsense,willmean,havingnoparticularhome,butequallyathomeeverywhere.Forthisisthesecretofsuccessfulsauntering.Hewhositsstillinahouseallthetimemaybethegreatestvagrantofallbutthesaunterer,inthegoodsense,isnomorevagrantthanthemeanderingriver,whichisallthewhilesedulouslyseekingtheshortestcoursetothesea.ButIpreferthefirst,which,indeed,isthemostprobablederivation.Foreverywalkisasortofcrusade,preachedbysomePetertheHermitinus,togoforthandreconquerthisHolyLandfromthehandsoftheInfidels. Itistrue,wearebutfaint-heartedcrusaders,eventhewalkers,nowadays,whoundertakenopersevering,never-endingenterprises.Ourexpeditionsarebuttours,andcomeroundagainateveningtotheoldhearth-sidefromwhichwesetout.Halfthewalkisbutretracingoursteps.Weshouldgoforthontheshortestwalk,perchance,inthespiritofundyingadventure,nevertoreturn,—preparedtosendbackourembalmedheartsonlyasrelicstoourdesolatekingdoms.Ifyouarereadytoleavefatherandmother,andbrotherandsister,andwifeandchildandfriends,andneverseethemagain,—ifyouhavepaidyourdebts,andmadeyourwill,andsettledallyouraffairs,andareafreemanthenyouarereadyforawalk. Tocomedowntomyownexperience,mycompanionandI,forIsometimeshaveacompanion,takepleasureinfancyingourselvesknightsofanew,orratheranold,order—notEquestriansorChevaliers,notRittersorRiders,butWalkers,astillmoreancientandhonorableclass,Itrust.ThechivalricandheroicspiritwhichoncebelongedtotheRiderseemsnowtoresidein,orperchancetohavesubsidedinto,theWalker—nottheKnight,butWalkerErrant.Heisasortoffourthestate,outsideofChurchandStateandPeople. Wehavefeltthatwealmostalonehereaboutspracticedthisnobleartthough,totellthetruth,atleastiftheirownassertionsaretobereceived,mostofmytownsmenwouldfainwalksometimes,asIdo,buttheycannot.Nowealthcanbuytherequisiteleisure,freedom,andindependencewhicharethecapitalinthisprofession.ItcomesonlybythegraceofGod.ItrequiresadirectdispensationfromHeaventobecomeawalker.YoumustbebornintothefamilyoftheWalkers.Ambulatornascitur,nonfit.Someofmytownsmen,itistrue,canrememberandhavedescribedtomesomewalkswhichtheytooktenyearsago,inwhichtheyweresoblessedastolosethemselvesforhalfanhourinthewoodsbutIknowverywellthattheyhaveconfinedthemselvestothehighwayeversince,whateverpretensionstheymaymaketobelongtothisselectclass.Nodoubttheywereelevatedforamomentasbythereminiscenceofapreviousstateofexistence,wheneventheywereforestersandoutlaws. “Whenhecametogrenewode, Inamerymornynge, Thereheherdethenotessmall Ofbyrdesmerysyngynge. “Itisferregone,saydRobyn, ThatIwaslasthere Melystealytellfortoshote Atthedonnedere.” IthinkthatIcannotpreservemyhealthandspirits,unlessIspendfourhoursadayatleast—anditiscommonlymorethanthat—saunteringthroughthewoodsandoverthehillsandfields,absolutelyfreefromallworldlyengagements.Youmaysafelysay,Apennyforyourthoughts,orathousandpounds.WhensometimesIamremindedthatthemechanicsandshopkeepersstayintheirshopsnotonlyalltheforenoon,butalltheafternoontoo,sittingwithcrossedlegs,somanyofthem—asifthelegsweremadetositupon,andnottostandorwalkupon—Ithinkthattheydeservesomecreditfornothavingallcommittedsuicidelongago. I,whocannotstayinmychamberforasingledaywithoutacquiringsomerust,andwhensometimesIhavestolenforthforawalkattheeleventhhour,orfouro’clockintheafternoon,toolatetoredeemtheday,whentheshadesofnightwerealreadybeginningtobemingledwiththedaylight,havefeltasifIhadcommittedsomesintobeatonedfor,—IconfessthatIamastonishedatthepowerofendurance,tosaynothingofthemoralinsensibility,ofmyneighborswhoconfinethemselvestoshopsandofficesthewholedayforweeksandmonths,aye,andyearsalmosttogether.Iknownotwhatmannerofstufftheyareof—sittingtherenowatthreeo’clockintheafternoon,asifitwerethreeo’clockinthemorning.Bonapartemaytalkofthethree-o’clock-in-the-morningcourage,butitisnothingtothecouragewhichcansitdowncheerfullyatthishourintheafternoonoveragainstone’sselfwhomyouhaveknownallthemorning,tostarveoutagarrisontowhomyouareboundbysuchstrongtiesofsympathy.Iwonderthataboutthistime,orsaybetweenfourandfiveo’clockintheafternoon,toolateforthemorningpapersandtooearlyfortheeveningones,thereisnotageneralexplosionheardupanddownthestreet,scatteringalegionofantiquatedandhouse-brednotionsandwhimstothefourwindsforanairing—andsotheevilcureitself. Howwomankind,whoareconfinedtothehousestillmorethanmen,standitIdonotknowbutIhavegroundtosuspectthatmostofthemdonotstanditatall.When,earlyinasummerafternoon,wehavebeenshakingthedustofthevillagefromtheskirtsofourgarments,makinghastepastthosehouseswithpurelyDoricorGothicfronts,whichhavesuchanairofreposeaboutthem,mycompanionwhispersthatprobablyaboutthesetimestheiroccupantsareallgonetobed.ThenitisthatIappreciatethebeautyandthegloryofarchitecture,whichitselfneverturnsin,butforeverstandsoutanderect,keepingwatchovertheslumberers. Nodoubttemperament,and,aboveall,age,haveagooddealtodowithit.Asamangrowsolder,hisabilitytositstillandfollowindooroccupationsincreases.Hegrowsvespertinalinhishabitsastheeveningoflifeapproaches,tillatlasthecomesforthonlyjustbeforesundown,andgetsallthewalkthatherequiresinhalfanhour. ButthewalkingofwhichIspeakhasnothinginitakintotakingexercise,asitiscalled,asthesicktakemedicineatstatedhours—astheswingingofdumb-bellsorchairsbutisitselftheenterpriseandadventureoftheday.Ifyouwouldgetexercise,goinsearchofthespringsoflife.Thinkofaman’sswingingdumb-bellsforhishealth,whenthosespringsarebubblingupinfar-offpasturesunsoughtbyhim! Moreover,youmustwalklikeacamel,whichissaidtobetheonlybeastwhichruminateswhenwalking.WhenatraveleraskedWordsworth’sservanttoshowhimhermaster’sstudy,sheanswered,“Hereishislibrary,buthisstudyisoutofdoors.” Livingmuchoutofdoors,inthesunandwind,willnodoubtproduceacertainroughnessofcharacter—willcauseathickercuticletogrowoversomeofthefinerqualitiesofournature,asonthefaceandhands,orasseveremanuallaborrobsthehandsofsomeoftheirdelicacyoftouch.Sostayinginthehouse,ontheotherhand,mayproduceasoftnessandsmoothness,nottosaythinnessofskin,accompaniedbyanincreasedsensibilitytocertainimpressions.Perhapsweshouldbemoresusceptibletosomeinfluencesimportanttoourintellectualandmoralgrowth,ifthesunhadshoneandthewindblownonusalittlelessandnodoubtitisanicemattertoproportionrightlythethickandthinskin.Butmethinksthatisascurfthatwillfallofffastenough—thatthenaturalremedyistobefoundintheproportionwhichthenightbearstotheday,thewintertothesummer,thoughttoexperience.Therewillbesomuchthemoreairandsunshineinourthoughts.Thecallouspalmsofthelaborerareconversantwithfinertissuesofself-respectandheroism,whosetouchthrillstheheart,thanthelanguidfingersofidleness.Thatismeresentimentalitythatliesabedbydayandthinksitselfwhite,farfromthetanandcallusofexperience. Whenwewalk,wenaturallygotothefieldsandwoods:whatwouldbecomeofus,ifwewalkedonlyinagardenoramall?Evensomesectsofphilosophershavefeltthenecessityofimportingthewoodstothemselves,sincetheydidnotgotothewoods.“TheyplantedgrovesandwalksofPlatanes,”wheretheytooksubdialesambulationesinporticosopentotheair.Ofcourseitisofnousetodirectourstepstothewoods,iftheydonotcarryusthither.IamalarmedwhenithappensthatIhavewalkedamileintothewoodsbodily,withoutgettingthereinspirit.InmyafternoonwalkIwouldfainforgetallmymorningoccupationsandmyobligationstosociety.ButitsometimeshappensthatIcannoteasilyshakeoffthevillage.ThethoughtofsomeworkwillruninmyheadandIamnotwheremybodyis—Iamoutofmysenses.InmywalksIwouldfainreturntomysenses.WhatbusinesshaveIinthewoods,ifIamthinkingofsomethingoutofthewoods?Isuspectmyself,andcannothelpashudderwhenIfindmyselfsoimplicatedeveninwhatarecalledgoodworks—forthismaysometimeshappen. MyvicinityaffordsmanygoodwalksandthoughforsomanyyearsIhavewalkedalmosteveryday,andsometimesforseveraldaystogether,Ihavenotyetexhaustedthem.Anabsolutelynewprospectisagreathappiness,andIcanstillgetthisanyafternoon.Twoorthreehours’walkingwillcarrymetoasstrangeacountryasIexpectevertosee.AsinglefarmhousewhichIhadnotseenbeforeissometimesasgoodasthedominionsofthekingofDahomey.Thereisinfactasortofharmonydiscoverablebetweenthecapabilitiesofthelandscapewithinacircleoftenmiles’radius,orthelimitsofanafternoonwalk,andthethreescoreyearsandtenofhumanlife.Itwillneverbecomequitefamiliartoyou. Nowadaysalmostallman’simprovements,socalled,asthebuildingofhousesandthecuttingdownoftheforestandofalllargetrees,simplydeformthelandscape,andmakeitmoreandmoretameandcheap.Apeoplewhowouldbeginbyburningthefencesandlettheforeststand!Isawthefenceshalfconsumed,theirendslostinthemiddleoftheprairie,andsomeworldlymiserwithasurveyorlookingafterhisbounds,whileheavenhadtakenplacearoundhim,andhedidnotseetheangelsgoingtoandfro,butwaslookingforanoldpost-holeinthemidstofparadise.Ilookedagain,andsawhimstandinginthemiddleofaboggyStygianfen,surroundedbydevils,andhehadfoundhisboundswithoutadoubt,threelittlestones,whereastakehadbeendriven,andlookingnearer,IsawthatthePrinceofDarknesswashissurveyor. Icaneasilywalkten,fifteen,twenty,anynumberofmiles,commencingatmyowndoor,withoutgoingbyanyhouse,withoutcrossingaroadexceptwherethefoxandtheminkdo:firstalongbytheriver,andthenthebrook,andthenthemeadowandthewood-side.Therearesquaremilesinmyvicinitywhichhavenoinhabitant.FrommanyahillIcanseecivilizationandtheabodesofmanafar.Thefarmersandtheirworksarescarcelymoreobviousthanwoodchucksandtheirburrows.Manandhisaffairs,churchandstateandschool,tradeandcommerce,andmanufacturesandagricultureevenpolitics,themostalarmingofthemall,—Iampleasedtoseehowlittlespacetheyoccupyinthelandscape.Politicsisbutanarrowfield,andthatstillnarrowerhighwayyonderleadstoit.Isometimesdirectthetravelerthither.Ifyouwouldgotothepoliticalworld,followthegreatroad,—followthatmarket-man,keephisdustinyoureyes,anditwillleadyoustraighttoitforit,too,hasitsplacemerely,anddoesnotoccupyallspace.Ipassfromitasfromabeanfieldintotheforest,anditisforgotten.InonehalfhourIcanwalkofftosomeportionoftheearth’ssurfacewhereamandoesnotstandfromoneyear’sendtoanother,andthere,consequently,politicsarenot,fortheyarebutasthecigarsmokeofaman. Thevillageistheplacetowhichtheroadstend,asortofexpansionofthehighway,asalakeofariver.Itisthebodyofwhichroadsarethearmsandlegs—atrivialorquadrivialplace,thethoroughfareandordinaryoftravelers.ThewordisfromtheLatinvillawhichtogetherwithvia,away,ormoreancientlyvedandvella,V