16-the pond in winter-第1节

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　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Pond　in　Winter



　　　　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。〃

　　　　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　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。　　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；　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　mus