It is because I have been tempered by the coldness of the night that I
am not overwhelmed by the heat of the day. Because the night is dark
and cool and sweet I see the true colours of the day, and the noon sun
does not dazzle me. The tramp's eyes open and then they open again: at
midday his eyes are wider than those of indoor folk. He is nearer to
the birds because he has slept with them in the bush. They also are
nearer to him, for the night has left her mysterious traces upon his
face and garments, something which humans cannot see, not even the
tramp himself, but which the wild things recognise right enough.
The tramp walks. His road is one that may only be walked upon. People
on wheels are never on it: at least, I never met a wheel person who
had seen on either side of the road what the tramp sees--and a road is
not only a path, but that which is about it. The wheel is the great
enemy of Nature, whether it be the wheel of a machine or of a vehicle.
Nature abhors wheels. She will not be wooed by cyclists, motorists,
goggled motor-cyclists, and the rest: she is not like a modern young
lady who, despite ideals, _must_ marry, and will take men as they are
found in her day and generation.
The woman of the woods who dresses herself in flowers, and whose voice
is as birds' songs, is the same yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow--not
new-fangled. You must go to her; she will not come to you. You must
live as she does.
Therefore the tramp moves _naturally_, on his feet. He comes into
step. And sleeping out of doors, living in the sun, eating forest
berries, washing in the stream or in the sea, all these are part of a
coming into step.
How this _coming back_ develops the temperament! I left the town
timid, almost a townsman, expecting not only the dangers that were but
also all those that were not. I half believed all the tales by which
stay-at-home people tried to warn or frighten me. Though taking the
road with every aspect of carelessness and boldness, I confessed to my
heart that I was a coward. Then came my first week's tramping, and I
emerged a different man. I felt bold. A few days later still I nursed
a stick in my hand, saying, "If a robber comes, let him come! We'll
have a struggle." Leaving the town I scanned the faces of the
passers-by apprehensively, and said "Good-morning" or "Good-evening"
very meekly to all dangerous-looking persons, but a fortnight later
I was even strutting on the road with a smile almost malicious on my
lips.
I felt myself growing wilder. The truth broke upon me in an
introspective moment one morning as I was nearing Sotchi. I felt I had
changed. I stopped to take stock of my new life and ways. I had been
living in the forest and on the seashore, away from mankind, on
Nature's gifts. All my days from dawn to sunset I hunted for food. My
life was food-hunting. I certainly wrote not a line and thought less.
In my mind formed only such elementary ideas as "Soon more grapes,"
"These berries are not the best," "More walnuts," "Oh, a spring; I
must drink there."
Something from the ancient past was awakened. I saw a bunch of wild
grapes, my heart leapt, and without a thought I jumped to it and took
it. Or I saw a fresh trickling stream pouring over the ledges of the
rocks, and I rushed and pressed my lips to the bubbling water. There
was no intermediary between Nature's gifts and the man who needed
them. Wish was translated into act without the aid of thought.
One day I was lost in the forest among the giant tangles and I was not
at all anxious to find the way out again. Perhaps I might have
lived there all the Autumn, and only when the berries and nuts were
exhausted and the cold winter winds sought me out should I come
skulking back to the haunts of men like some wild animal made tame by
Winter.
I was aware, therefore, of a new experience, a modification in
personality, a change of rhythm. I was walking with Nature, marching
with her, with all her captains the great trees and her infantry the
little bushes, and I caught in my ears her marching music. I was
thrilled by the common chord that makes crowds act as one man, that in
this case made my heart beat in unison with all the wild things. I may
as well say at once I love them all and am ready to live with them and
for them.
V