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Start listening today at P-O-D-C-A-S-T-L-I-B-R-A-R-Y. .org. Chapter 11. Higher Laws.
As I came home through the woods with my string of fish trailing my pole, it being now quite dark. I cut a glimpse of a woodchuck stealing across my path, and felt a strange thrill of savage delight, and was strongly tempted to seize and devour him raw, not that I was hungry then, except for that wildness which he represented. Once or twice, however, while I lived at the pond, I found myself ranging the woods like a half-starved hound with a strange abandonment, seeking some kind of venison which I might devour, and no morsel could have been too savage for me. The wildest scenes had become unaccountably familiar.
I found in myself and still find an instinct toward a higher, or as it is named, spiritual life. As do most men, and another toward a primitive rank and savage one. And I reverents them both. I love the wild not less than the good.
The wildness and adventure that are in fishing still recommended to me. I like sometimes to take, rank, hold, on life, and spend my day more as the animals do. Perhaps I have owed to this employment and to hunting, when quite young, my close acquaintance with nature. They early introduce us to and detain us in scenery with which otherwise at that age we should have little acquaintance.
Fishermen, hunters, woodchoppers, and others, spending their lives in the fields and woods, in a peculiar sense, a part of nature themselves, are often in a more favorable mood for observing her. In the intervals of their pursuits than the philosophers or poets even, who approach her with expectation. She is not afraid to exhibit herself to them. The traveler on the prairie is naturally a hunter, on the headwaters of the Missouri and Columbia, a trapper, and at the falls of St.
Mary of Fisherman. He who is only a traveler learns things at secondhand and by the haves, and is poor authority. We are most interested when science reports that those men already know practically or instinctively, for that alone is a true humanity or account of human experience. They mistake who assert that the Yankee has few amusements, because he has not so many public holidays, and men and boys do not play so many games as they do in England, for here the more primitive but solitary amusements of hunting, fishing, and the like, have not yet given place to the former.
Almost every new England boy among my contemporaries shouldered a fouling-piece between the ages of ten and fourteen, and his hunting and fishing grounds were not limited like the preserves of an English nobleman, but were more boundless even than those of a savage. No wonder then that he did not often or stay to play on the common. But already a change is taking place, owing not to an increased humanity, but to an increased scarcity of game, for perhaps the hunter is the greatest friend of the animals hunted, not accepting the humane society. Moreover, when at the pond I wished sometimes to add fish to my fair for variety.
I have actually fished for the same kind of necessity that the first fishers did. Whatever humanity I might conjure up against it was all factitious, and concerned my philosophy more than my feelings. I speak of fishing only now, for I had long felt differently about fouling, and sold my gun before I went to the woods, not that I am less humane than others, but I did not perceive that my feelings were much affected. I did not pity the fishes nor the worms.
This was habit. As for fouling, during the last years that I carried a gun, my excuse was that I was studying ornithology, and not only knew our rare birds. But I confess that I am now inclined to think that there is a finer way of studying ornithology than this. It requires so much closer attention to the habits of the birds, that if for that reason only I have been willing to omit the gun.
Yet not withstanding the objection on the score of humanity, I am compelled to doubt if equally valuable sports are ever substituted for these, and when some of my friends have asked me anxiously about their voice, whether they should let them hunt, I have answered, yes. Remembering that it was one of the best parts of my education. Make them hunters, though sportsmen only at first, if possible, might he hunters at last. So that they shall not find game large enough for them in this or any vegetable wilderness.
Hunters, as well as fishers of men. Thus far, I am of the opinion of Chaucer's none, who, yeave not of the text a pulled hen that saith that hunters been not holy men. There is a period in the history of the individual as of the race, when the hunters are the best men, as the Algonquins called them. We cannot but pity the boy who has never fired a gun.
He is no more humane. While his education has been sadly neglected. This was my answer with respect to those youths who were bent on this pursuit, trusting that they would soon outgrow it. No humane being, past the thoughtless age of boyhood, will wantonly murder any creature which holds its life by the same tenured that he does.
The hair in its extremity cries like a child. I warn you, mothers, that my sympathies do not always make the usual philanthropic distinctions. Such is oftenest of the young man's introduction to the forest, in the most original part of himself. He goes thither at first as a hunter, and fissure.
Until at last, if he has the seeds of a better life in him, he distinguishes his proper objects as a poet, or naturalist it may be, and leaves the gun and fishpole behind. The mass of men are still and always young in this respect. In some countries, a hunting person is no uncommon sight. Such a one might make a good shepherd's dog, but is far from being the good shepherd.
I have been surprised to consider that the only obvious employment except wood-chopping, ice-cutting, or the like business, whichever to my knowledge detained at Walden Pond for a whole half-day any of my fellow citizens, whether fathers or children of the town, with just one exception, was fishing. Commonly they did not think that they were lucky or well-paid for their time unless they got a long string of fish, though they had the opportunity of seeing the pond all the while. They might go there a thousand times before the sediment of fishing would sink to the bottom and leave their purpose pure, but no doubt such a clarifying process would be going on all the while. The governor and his council faintly remembered the pond, for they went to fishing there when they were boys.
But now they are too old and dignified to go a fishing, and so they know it no more, forever. Yet even they expect to go to heaven at last. If the legislature regards it, it is chiefly to regulate the number of hooks to be used there, but they know nothing about the hook of hooks with which to angle for the pond itself, impaling the legislature for a bait. Thus even in civilized communities, the embryo man passes through the hunter stage of development.
I have found repeatedly of late years that I cannot fish without falling a little in self-respect. I have tried it again and again. I have skill at it, and like many of my fellows, a certain instinct for it which revives from time to time, but always when I have done, I feel that it would have been better if I had not fished. Hey, Ontario, come on down to Ben M.
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Yet with every year I am less a fisherman, though without more humanity or even wisdom. At present I am no fisherman at all. But I see that if I were to live in a wilderness, I should again be tempted to become a fisher and hunter in earnest. Beside, there is something essentially unclean about this diet and all flesh.
And I begin to see where housework commences and whence the endeavor which costs so much to wear a tidy and respectable appearance each day to keep the house sweet and free from all ill odors and sites. Having been my own butcher in scullion and cook, as well as the gentleman for whom the dishes were served up, I can speak from an unusually complete experience. The practical objection to animal food in my case was its uncleanness. And besides when I had caught and cleaned and cooked and eaten my fish, they seemed not to have fed me essentially.
It was insignificant and unnecessary and cost more than it came to. A little brad or a few potatoes would have done as well, with less trouble and filth. Like many of my contemporaries I had rarely for many years used animal food, or tea or coffee, etc. Not so much because of any ill effects which I had traced to them, as because they were not agreeable to my imagination.
The repugnance to animal food is not the effect of experience, but is an instinct. It appeared more beautiful to live low and fair hard in many respects. And though I never did so, I went far enough to please my imagination. I believe that every man who has ever been earnest to preserve his higher or poetic faculties in the best condition has been particularly inclined to abstain from animal food and from much food of any kind.
It is a significant fact, stated by entomologists. I find it in Kirby and Spess, that some insects in their perfect state, though furnished with organs of feeding, make no use of them. And they lay it down as a general rule that almost all insects in this state eat much less than that of larvae. The voracious caterpillar when transformed into a butterfly, and the gluttonous maggot when become a fly, content themselves with a drop or two of honey or some other sweet liquid.
The abdomen under the wings of the butterfly still represents the larva. This is the tidbit which tempts his insectivorous fate. The gross feeder is a man in the larva state, and there are whole nations in that condition, nations without fancy or imagination, whose vast abdomens betray them. It is hard to provide and cook so simple and clean a diet as we'll not offend the imagination.
But this I think is to be fed when we feed the body. They should both sit down at the same table, yet perhaps this may be done. The fruits eaten temperately need not make us ashamed of our appetites nor interrupt the worthiest pursuits. But put an extra condiment into your dish and it will poison you.
It is not worth the while to live by rich cookery. Most men would feel shame if caught preparing with their own hands precisely such a dinner, whether of animal or vegetable food, as is every day prepared for them by others. Yet till this is otherwise we are not civilized. And if gentlemen and ladies are not true, men and women.
This certainly suggests what changes to be made. It may be vain to ask why the imagination will not be reconciled to flesh and fat. I am satisfied that it is not. Is it not a reproach that man is a carnivorous animal?
True he can and does live, in a great measure, by preying on other animals. But this is a miserable way. As anyone who will go to snaring rabbits or slaughtering lambs may learn, and he will be regarded as a benefactor of his race who shall teach man to confine himself to a more innocent and wholesome diet. Whatever my own practice may be, I have no doubt that it is a part of the destiny of the human race in its gradual improvement to leave off eating animals, as surely as the savage tribes have left off eating each other when they came in contact with the more civilized.
If one listens to the faintest but constant suggestions of his genius, which are certainly true, he sees not to what extremes or even insanity at may lead him. And yet that way, as he grows more resolute and faithful, his road lies. The faintest assured objection, which one healthy man feels, will at length prevail over the arguments and customs of mankind. No man ever followed his genius till it misled him.
Though the result were bodily weakness, yet perhaps no one can say that the consequences were to be regretted. For these were a life in conformity to higher principles. If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal, that is your success. All nature is your congratulation, and you have caused momentarily to bless yourself.
The greatest gains and values are farthest from being appreciated. We easily come to doubt if they exist. We soon forget them. They are the highest reality.
Perhaps the facts most astounding and most real are never communicated by man to man. The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched. Yet for my part, I was never unusually squeamish.
I could sometimes eat a fried rat with a good relish if it were necessary. I am glad to have drunk water so long, for the same reason that I prefer the natural sky to an opium eater's heaven. I would feign keep sober always, and there are infinite degrees of drunkenness. I believe that water is the only drink for a wise man.
Wine is not so noble a liquor. And think of dashing the hopes of a morning with a cup of warm coffee, or of an evening with a dish of tea. Ah, how low I fall when I am tempted by them. Even music may be intoxicating.
Such apparently slight causes destroy Greece and Rome, and will destroy England and America. Of all, ebriosity. Who does not prefer to be intoxicated by the air he breathes? I have found it to be the most serious objection to coarse labors long continued.
That they compelled me to eat and drink coarsely also. Hey Ontario, come on down to Ben M. Giam Casino and check out our newest exclusive, The Price Is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out.
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Not because I'm wiser than I was, but I'm obliged to confess, because, however much it is to be regretted, with years, I have grown more coarse and indifferent. Perhaps these questions are entertained only in youth, as most believe of poetry. My practice is nowhere. My opinion is here.
Nevertheless, I'm far from regarding myself as one of those privileged ones to whom the Ved refers when it says that, he who has true faith in the omnipresent Supreme Being may eat all that exists. That is, is not bound to inquire what is his food or who prepares it, and even in their case, it is to be observed, as a Hindu commentator has remarked, that the Vedant limits this privilege to the time of distress. Who has not sometimes derived an inexpressible satisfaction from his food, in which appetite had no share? I have been thrilled to think that I owed a mental perception to the commonly gross sense of taste, that I have been inspired through the palate, that some berries which I had eaten on a hillside had fed my genius.
The soul, not being mistress of herself, says Cheng Tzu. One looks and one does not see. One listens and one does not hear, one eats, and one does not know the savor of food. He who distinguishes the true savor of his food can never be a glutton.
He who does not, cannot be otherwise. A Puritan may go to his brown bread crust with as gross an appetite as ever an aldermen to his turtle, not that food which enter into the mouth, defileth a man, but the appetite with which it is eaten. It is neither the quality nor the quantity but the devotion to the sensual savors, when that which is eaten is not avian'd to sustain our animal or inspire our spiritual life, but food for the worms that possess us. If the hunter has a taste for mud turtles, musk rats, and other such savage tidbits, the fine lady indulges a taste for jelly made of a calves foot or for sardines from over the sea, and they are even.
He goes to the millpond she to her preserve pot. The wonder is how they, how you and I, can live this slimy, beastly life eating and drinking. Our whole life is startlingly moral. There is never an instance truce between virtue and vice.
Goodness is the only investment that never fails. In the music of the harp which trembles round the world, it is the insisting on this which thrills us. The harp is the traveling patterer for the universe's insurance company, recommending its laws and our little goodness is all the assessment that we pay. Though the youth at last grows indifferent, the laws of the universe are not indifferent, what are forever on the side of the most sensitive?
Listen to every zephyr for some reproof, for it is surely there, and he is unfortunate who does not hear it. We cannot touch a string or move a stop, but the charming moral transfixes us. Many, an irksome noise, go a long way off, is heard as music, a proud, sweet satire on the meanness of our lives. We are conscious of an animal in us, which awakens in proportion as our higher nature slumbers.
It is reptile and sensual, and perhaps cannot be wholly expelled, like the worms which, even in life and health, occupy the bodies. Possibly we may withdraw from it, but never change its nature. I fear that it may enjoy a certain health of its own, that we may be well, yet not pure. The other day I picked up the lower jaw of a hog, with white and sound teeth and tusks, which suggested that there was an animal health and vigor distinct from the spiritual.
This creature succeeded by other means than temperance and purity. That in which men differ from brute beasts, says mensius, is a thing very inconsiderable. The common herd lose it very soon. Superior men preserve it carefully.
Who knows what sort of life would result if we had attained to purity? If I knew so wise a man as could teach me purity, I would go to seek him forthwith. A command over our passions and over the external senses of the body, and good acts, are declared by the Ved to be indispensable in the mind's approximation to God. Yet the spirit can, for the time, pervade and control every member and function of the body, and transmute what inform is the grossest sensuality into purity and devotion.
The generative energy, which when we are loose, dissipates and makes us unclean, when we are continent, invigorates and inspires us. Chastity is the flowering of man. And what are called genius, heroism, holiness and the like are but various fruits which succeed it. Man flows at once to God, when the channel of purity is open.
By turns our purity inspires and our impurity casts us down. He is blessed to assured that the animal is dying out in him, day by day, and the divine being established. Perhaps there is none but has cause for shame on account of the inferior and brutish nature to which he has allied. I fear that we are such gods, or demigods, only as fawns and satyrs.
The divine allied to beasts, the creatures of appetite, and that to some extent our very life is articrace. How happy is he who hath do place assigned to his beasts and disaforested his mind? Can use this horse, goat, wolf and every beast, and is not as himself to all the rest? Else man not only is the herd of swine those devils too which did incline them to the headlong rage and made them worse.
All sensuality is one, though it takes many forms. All purity is one. It is the same whether a man eat or drink or cohabit or sleep sensually. They are but one appetite, and we only need to see a person do any one of these things to know how great a sensualist he is.
The impure can neither stand nor sit with purity. When the reptile is attacked, at one mouth of his burrow he shows himself at another. How shall a man know if he is chased? He shall not know it.
We have heard of this virtue, but we know not what it is. We speak conformably to the rumour which we have heard. From exertion come wisdom and purity, from sloth and ignorance and sensuality. In the student sensuality is a sluggish habit of mind.
An unclean person is universally a slothful one. One who sits by a stove whom the sun shines on, prostrate, who reposes without being fatigued. If you would avoid uncleanness and all the sins, work earnestly, though it be at cleaning a stable. Nature is hard to be overcome, but she must be overcome.
What avails it that you are Christian, if you are not purer than the heathen, if you deny yourself no more, if you are not more religious? I know of many systems of religion as deemed heathenish, whose precepts fill the reader with shame and provoke him to new endeavours, though it be to the performance of rights merely. I hesitate to say these things, but it is not because of the subject. I care not how obscene my words are, but because I cannot speak of them without betraying my impurity.
We discourse freely without shame, of one form of sensuality, and are silent about another. We are so degraded that we cannot speak simply of the necessary things. The necessary functions of human nature. In earlier ages in some countries, every function was reverently spoken of and regulated by law.
Nothing was too trivial for the Hindu law giver, however offensive it may be to modern taste. He teaches how to eat, drink, cohabit, void excrement and urine and the like, elevating what is mean, and does not falsely excuse himself by calling these things trifles. Every man is the builder of a temple called his body to the god he worships, after a style purely his own, nor can he get off by hammering marble instead. We are all sculptors and painters, and our material is our own flesh and blood and bones.
Any nobleness begins at once to refine a man's features, any meanness or sensuality to imprute them. John Farmer sat at his door one September evening after a hard day's work, his mind still running on his labour more or less. Having bathed, he sat down to recreate his intellectual man. It was a rather cool evening and some of his neighbours were apprehending a frost.
He had not attended to the train of his thoughts long when he heard someone playing on a flute, and that sound harmonized with his mood. Still he thought of his work. But the burden of his thought was, that though this kept running in his head, and he found himself planning and contriving it against his will, yet it concerned him very little. It was no more than the scurf of his skin, which was constantly shuffled off.
But the notes of the flute came home to his ears out of a different sphere from that which he worked in, and suggested work for certain faculties which slumbered in him. They gently did away with the street and the village and the state in which he lived. A voice said to him, why do you stay here and live this mean, moyling life when a glorious existence is possible for you? Those same stars crinkle over other fields than these.
But how to come out of this condition and actually migrate thither? All that he could think of was to practice some new austerity, to let his mind descend into his body and redeem it, and treat himself with ever-increasing respect. End of Chapter 11.