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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heart of Nature, by Francis Younghusband
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Heart of Nature
+       or, The Quest for Natural Beauty
+
+Author: Francis Younghusband
+
+Release Date: November 9, 2008 [EBook #27213]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF NATURE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ruth Hart
+
+
+
+
+[Note:  for this online edition I have moved the Table of Contents to
+the beginning of the text and added three asterisks to mark breaks
+between sections.  I have also made the following spelling
+changes:  latitute to latitude and mountain ash berberis to mountain
+ash berberries]
+
+
+
+THE HEART OF NATURE
+
+OR
+
+THE QUEST FOR NATURAL BEAUTY
+
+
+BY SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND
+K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E.
+PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY
+AUTHOR OF "THE HEART OF A CONTINENT"
+
+
+LONDON
+JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
+1921
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+Preface ix-x
+Introduction xv-xxviii
+
+PART I
+
+Chapter I. The Sikkim Himalaya.  The sacred Ganges--A beneficent
+power--Beauty of the plains--First sight of the Himalaya 3-12
+
+Chapter II. The Teesta Valley.  Mystery of the forest--The gorges
+--Sequestered glens 13-19
+
+Chapter III. The Forest.  Butterflies--Ferns--Orchids--Flower
+friends--Rhododendrons--Temperate vegetation--Primulas--Artic
+vegetation--The range of vegetation 20-37
+
+Chapter IV. The Denizens of the Forest.  Butterflies--Moths--Birds
+--Reptiles--Mammals--Animal beauty--Primitive man--Higher races
+38-54
+
+Chapter V. The Sum Impression.  Two views of Nature--Variety of
+life--Intensity of life--The battle of life--Adaptation and selection
+--Purposiveness--Purposeful structures--Interdependence--Organising
+Activity--Gradation--Care of offspring--the Activity not mechanical
+but Spiritual--Nature's end--a Common aspiration 55-85
+
+Chapter VI. Kinchinjunga.  The foothills--Darjiling--A vision of the
+mountain--Full view--Mountain grandeur--Dawn on the mountain
+--Sunset on the mountain 86-99
+
+Chapter VII. High Solitudes.  Kashmir--Barren mountains--Dazzling
+peaks--Purity of beauty 100-108
+
+Chapter VIII. The Heavens.  Desert sunsets--Tibetan sunsets--The
+stars--The whole universe our home--A Heavenly Presence 109-120
+
+Chapter IX. Home Beauty.  One's own country--Woman's beauty
+--Love and beauty--Their Divine Source--Wedding--Divine union
+--The Inmost Heart of Nature 121-134
+
+Chapter X. The Nature of Nature.  A spiritual background--Purpose
+in Nature--Higher beings--No confining plan--Immanent Spirit
+--Collective personality--England a Person--Nature a Person--Moved
+by an ideal--The ideal in plants--The ideal in animals--The ideal in
+the world 135-160
+
+Chapter XI. Nature's Ideal.  Battling with physical Nature--Battling
+with man--In tune with Nature--At the heart of the Universe is
+Love--Divine fellowship is Nature's Ideal 161-171
+
+Chapter XII. The Heart of Nature.  Picturing the Ideal--The Ideal
+Man--Man and woman--Perfecting the Ideal--Discipline necessary
+--Leadership--Nature's method--Our own responsibility--The
+lovability of nature--God at the Heart of Nature 172-192
+
+PART II
+
+Natural Beauty and Geography
+
+Presidential Address to the Royal Geographical Society 195-216
+
+An Address to the Union Society of University College, London
+217-235
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+The value of Knowledge and Character is duly impressed upon us.
+Of the value of Freedom we are told so much that we have come to
+regard it as an end in itself instead of only a means, or necessary
+condition. But Beauty we are half-inclined to connect with the
+effeminate. Poetry, Music, and Literature are under suspicion with
+the average English schoolboy, whose love of manliness he will
+share with nothing else. Yet love of Beauty persists in spite of all
+discouragement, and will not be suppressed. Natural Beauty,
+especially, insists on a place in our affections, derived originally
+from Love, and essentially and inseparably connected with it,
+Natural Beauty acknowledges supremacy to Love alone. And it
+deserves our generous recognition, for it is wholesome and
+refreshing for our souls.
+
+The acute observation and telling description of Natural Beauty is at
+least as necessary for the enjoyment of life as the pursuit of Natural
+Science to which so much attention is paid. For the concern of the
+former is the character, and of the latter only the cause of natural
+phenomena; and of the two, character is the more important. It is,
+indeed, high time that we Englishmen were more awake than we are
+to the value of Natural Beauty. For we are born lovers of Nature,
+and no more poetic race than ourselves exists. Our country at its best,
+on an early summer day, is the loveliest little home in all the world.
+And we go out from this island home of ours to every land. We have
+unrivalled opportunities, therefore, of seeing innumerable types of
+natural objects. By observing Nature in so many different aspects,
+and by comparing our impressions with one another, we ought to
+understand Nature better than any other race. And by entering more
+readily into communion with her we, better than others, should
+realise the Beauty she possesses.
+
+I am conscious of having myself made most inadequate use of the
+splendid opportunities my travels afforded me of seeing the Beauty
+of Nature. So I am all the more anxious that those following after
+me should not, by like omission, commit the same sin against
+themselves and against our country. We owe it to ourselves and to
+mankind to give full rein to our instinctive love of Natural Beauty,
+and to train and refine every inclination and capacity we have for
+appreciating it till we are able to see all those finer glories of which
+we now discern only the first faint glow.
+
+And if any other country excel us in appreciation, then it behoves us
+to brace ourselves up to emulate and surpass that country, and learn
+how to understand Nature better and see more Beauty. For in love of
+Natural Beauty, and in capacity for communicating that love,
+England ought to be preeminent. She above every other country
+should come nearest to the Heart of Nature.
+
+     F. E. Y.
+_June,_ 1921.
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+Town children let loose in a meadow dash with shouts of joy to
+pluck the nearest flowers. They ravenously pick handfuls and
+armfuls as if they could never have enough. They are exactly like
+animals in the desert rushing to water. They are satisfying a great
+thirst in their souls--the thirst for Beauty. Some of us remember, too,
+our first sight of snowy mountains in the Alps or in the Himalaya.
+We recall how our spirits _leaped_ to meet the mountains, how we
+gasped in wonder and greedily feasted our eyes on the glorious
+spectacle. In such cases as these there is something in the natural
+object that appeals to something in us. Something in us rushes out to
+meet the something in the natural object. A responsive chord is
+struck. A relationship is established. We and the natural object come
+into harmony with one another. We have recognised in the flower,
+the mountain, the landscape, something that is the same as what is in
+ourselves. We fall in love with the natural object. A marriage takes
+place. Our soul is wedded to the soul of the natural object. And at
+the very moment of wedding Beauty is born. It springs from Love,
+just as Love itself originally sprang from the wedding of primitive
+man and woman.
+
+In this process all will depend upon the mood. If we are not in the
+mood for it, we are unreceptive of Nature's impressions, and we are
+irresponsive. We do not come into touch with Nature. Consequently
+we see no Beauty. But if we are in a sensitive and receptive mood, if
+our minds are not preoccupied, and if our soul is open to the
+impressions which Nature is ever raining on it, then we respond to
+Nature's appeal. We feel ourselves in tune with her. We come into
+communion with her, and we see Beauty.
+
+If we are ourselves feeling sad and sorrowful when we look out on
+Nature, and there all should happen to be bright and gay, we shall
+feel out of harmony with Nature, we shall not feel in touch with her,
+and we shall not see Beauty.
+
+On the other hand, when we are in a glad and overflowing mood we
+shall be extraordinarily responsive to Nature's appeal, and see
+Beauty in a rugged, leafless oak tree or a poor old woman at the
+corner of some mean street. And if when we are in such a mood
+Nature happens to be at her best and brightest, as on some spring
+morning, the Beauty we shall then see will be overpowering, and we
+shall scarcely be able to contain ourselves for ecstasy of joy.
+
+We shall have discovered an identity between what is in Nature and
+what is in us. In looking on Nature, we shall have been introduced
+into a Presence, greater than ourselves but like ourselves, which stirs
+in us this which we feel. When we see Beauty in Nature we are
+discovering that Nature is not merely a body, but _has_ or _is_ a
+soul. And the joy we feel is produced by the satisfaction our soul
+feels in coming into touch and harmony with this soul of Nature.
+Our soul is recognising samenesses between what is in it and what is
+in the soul of Nature, and feels joy in the recognition.
+
+And the instinct of fellowship with our kind impels us to
+communicate to others what we ourselves have felt. We want to tell
+others what we have seen and what we have experienced.
+
+We long, too, to share the joy which others also must have felt in
+contemplating Nature. We want especially to know and feel what
+those with far more sensitive souls than our own--the great poets,
+painters, and musicians--have felt. So we communicate our feelings
+to others; and we communicate with others, either personally or
+through their books or pictures or music, so that we may find out
+from them what more to look for, and may know better how to look
+for it. By so doing, our souls become more sensitive to the
+impressions of Nature, and we are better able to express those
+impressions. Our power of vision increases. Our soul's eye acquires
+a keener insight and sees deeper into the soul of Nature. We are able
+to enter more into the spirit of Nature, and the spirit of Nature is able
+to enter more into us. We arrive at a completer understanding
+between ourselves and Nature, are more in harmony with her, and
+consequently see more Beauty.
+
+We see, indeed, what Nature really is. We see the reality behind the
+appearance--the content within the outward form. We are not for the
+moment concerned with the _cause_ but with the _character_ of
+Nature. We see the "I" behind the outward manifestation and
+representation. And if we have sympathy and understanding enough
+and are able truly to enter into the soul of Nature, we shall see the
+real "I" behind the common everyday "I"--just as the few who
+intimately know some great man see the real man behind the man
+who appears in the public eye--the real Beaconsfield or Kitchener
+behind the Beaconsfield or Kitchener of the daily press. And, as we
+see more of this real "I" in Nature and are better able to get in touch
+and harmony with her, so shall we see greater Beauty in Nature.
+
+If we have petty, meagre souls we shall find little in common with
+the great soul of Nature, and consequently see only shallow Beauty.
+If we have great souls we shall have more in common and see more
+Beauty. But to arrive at a full understanding of the real Nature we
+must observe her from every point of view and see her in all her
+aspects. Only so shall we be able to understand her real self and see
+her full Beauty. And her aspects and the points of view from which
+we may observe them change so incessantly that the greatest of us
+falters. The more we see of Nature, the more we find there is to
+understand. And the more we understand Nature and commune with
+her, the more Beauty do we find there is to see. So to arrive at a
+complete understanding of Nature and see all her Beauty is beyond
+the capacity of us finite men.
+
+Yet we are impelled to go on striving to see all we can. And in the
+following pages an attempt is made to show how, more Beauty in
+Nature may be discovered.
+
+Often in the Himalaya I have watched an eagle circling overhead. I
+have sat on the mountain-side and watched it sail majestically along
+in graceful curves and circles, and with perfect ease and poise. Far
+above the earth it would range, and seemingly without exertion glide
+easily over tracts that we poor men could only enter by prodigious
+effort. Captivated by its grace of motion, and jealous of its freedom,
+I would for hours watch it. And this eagle I knew, from the height
+and distance from which it would swoop down on its prey, to be
+possessed of eyesight of unrivalled keenness in addition to its
+capacity for movement.
+
+So this bird had opportunities such as no human being--not even an
+airman--has of seeing the earth and what is on it. At will it could
+glide over the loftiest mountain ranges. At will it could sail above
+the loveliest valleys. At will it could perch upon any chosen point
+and observe things at close range. In a single day this one eagle
+might have seen the finest natural scenery in the world--the highest
+mountain, the most varied forest, thickly populated plains and bare,
+open plains, peoples, animals, birds, insects, trees, flowers, all of the
+most varied description. In one day, and in the ordinary course of its
+customary circlings and sailings, it might have seen what men come
+from the ends of the Earth to view, and are content if they see only a
+hundredth part of what the eagle sees every day.
+
+From its mountain eerie in Upper Sikkim it might have seen the rose
+of dawn flushing the snowy summits of Kinchinjunga, and far away
+Mount Everest. And soaring aloft, the eagle might have looked out
+over the populous plains of India and seen, like silver streaks, the
+rivers flowing down from the Himalaya to join in the far distance
+the mighty Mother Ganges. Then its eye might have ranged over the
+vast forest which clothes in dense green mantle the plain at the foot
+of the mountains from Nepal to Bhutan and Assam, and from the
+plain spreads up on the mountain-sides themselves and reaches to
+the very borders of eternal snow. Over this vast forest with its
+treasures of tree and plant, animal and insect life, tropical, temperate,
+and alpine, the eagle might have soared; and then, passing over the
+Himalayan watershed, have looked down upon the treeless, open,
+undulating, almost uninhabited plain of Tibet, and in the distance
+seen the great Brahmaputra River, which, circling round Bhutan,
+cuts clean through the Himalaya and, turning westward, also joins
+the Ganges.
+
+In the whole world no more wonderful natural scenery is to be found.
+And the eagle with no unusual effort could see it all in a single day,
+and see it with a distinctness of sight no man could equal. But keen
+though its eyesight was and wide though its range, the eagle in all
+that beautiful region would see not a single beauty. Neither in the
+sunrise, nor in the snowy mountains, nor in the luxuriant tropical
+forest, nor in the flowers, the birds, the butterflies, nor in the people
+and animals, nor in the cataracts and precipices would it see any
+beauty whatever. The mountain would be to it a mere outline, the
+forests a patch of green, the rivers streaks of white, the animals just
+possible items of food. The eagle would see much, but it would see
+no beauty.
+
+Perhaps we shall understand why it is that the eagle with these
+unbounded opportunities sees no beauty if we consider the case of a
+little midge buzzing round a man's body. The midge is roughly in
+about the same relation to the body of a man that the eagle is to the
+body of the Earth. The midge in its hoverings sees vast tracts of the
+human body; sees the features--the nose, the eye, the mouth; sees the
+trunk and the limbs and the head. But even in the most beautiful of
+men it would see no beauty. And it would see no beauty because it
+would have no soul to understand expression. It might be hovering
+round the features of a man when the smile on his lips and the
+exaltation in his eyes were expressive of the highest ecstasy of soul,
+but the midge would see no beauty in those features because it had
+not the soul to enter into the soul of the man and understand the
+expression on his face. All the little shades and gradations and tones
+and lights in the features of the man would be quite meaningless to
+the midge because it would know nothing of the man's soul, of
+which the features and the changes and variations in them were the
+outward manifestation. The midge would know nothing of the
+reality of the man which lay hidden behind the appearance.
+
+It is the same with the eagle in respect to natural features as it is with
+the midge in respect to the features of the man. The eagle sees only
+the bare outward appearance of Nature, and sees no meaning in her
+features. It has no soul to enter into the soul of Nature and
+understand what the natural features are expressing. The delicate
+lights and shades and changes on the face of Nature have no
+meaning for it. It sees the bare appearance. It sees nothing of the
+reality behind the appearance. It has no soul to wed to the soul of
+Nature. It therefore sees no beauty.
+
+But now supposing that among all the midges that buzz about a man
+there happened to be an artist-midge with exceeding sensitiveness of
+soul, one which was able to recognise a fundamental identity of life
+between it and the man, one which was able to recognise
+samenesses of feelings and emotions and aspirations, and by
+recognition of the samenesses between it and the man enter into the
+very life and soul of the man, then that midge would be able to
+understand all the varying expressions on the face of the man, and
+by understanding those expressions see their beauty.
+
+We cannot expect an eagle in a similar way to have that
+sensitiveness of soul which would enable it to enter into the soul of
+Nature, understand Nature, and so see its Beauty. But what we
+cannot expect of the eagle we can expect of man. We can expect an
+Artist to appear who will be to the Earth what the artist-midge was
+to the man.
+
+Man does to some extent enter into the soul of Nature. He has
+_some_ understanding of Nature. He sees Beauty; and whenever he
+sees Beauty in Nature he is in touch with the soul of Nature. Even
+ordinary men see some of the Beauty of Nature and have some
+feeling of kinship with her. They have something in common
+between their soul and the soul of Nature. They have the sense of
+more in common between them and Nature than a midge has
+between it and a man.
+
+And in a delicately sensitive man such as an artist--painter, poet, or
+musician--this sense of kinship with Nature is highly developed. In
+regard to his relationship with Nature he is like the finely sensitive
+and cultured artist-midge would be in regard to a man--the midge
+who, through understanding the inner soul and character of the man,
+was able to read the expression on his features and see their beauty.
+
+What we ordinary men have to do, and what we especially want
+those gifted with unusually sensitive souls to do, is to bear in mind
+the difficulties which the midge has in understanding us and in
+seeing any beauty in us, and the way in which it would have to train
+and cultivate its faculties before it could ever hope to understand the
+expression on our features--to bear this in mind, and then to take
+ourselves in hand and develop the soul within us till it is fine enough
+and great enough to enter into the great soul of Nature.
+
+The sense of Beauty we all possess in some slight degree is in itself
+a proof that behind the outward appearance of Nature there is a
+spiritual reality--an "I"--just as behind the outward appearance of the
+man which the artist-midge sees there is the "I" of the man. And by
+cultivating this sense--that is, by training and developing our
+capacity to see deeper into the heart of Nature, see more significance
+and meaning in each shade and change of her features, and read
+more understandingly what is going on deep within her soul--we
+shall enable ourselves to see a fuller and richer Natural Beauty.
+
+So we look forward to the appearance among us of a great Artist
+who, born with an exceptionally sensitive soul, will deliberately
+heighten and intensify this sensitiveness, learn what others have
+experienced, compare notes with them, and train himself to detect
+the significance of every slightest indication which Nature gives of
+the workings of the soul within her; and then, recognising the
+sameness between his own feelings and the feelings of Nature, will
+fall deeply in love with her, give himself up utterly to her, marry her,
+and in their marriage give birth to Beauty of surpassing richness and
+intensity.
+
+What we await, then, is an Artist with a soul worthy of being
+wedded to Nature. Puny, shallow artists will not be able to see much
+more of Nature than a midge sees of a man. What we want is a man
+with the physique, the abounding health and spirits, the fine intellect,
+the poetic power and imagination, the love of animals and his
+fellow-men, the skill, fitness, and gay courage of a Julian Grenfell.
+We want a man with the opportunities he had of mixing from
+childhood in London and in country houses with every grade and
+condition of men, with statesmen, soldiers, men of art, hunting men,
+racing men, schoolboys, undergraduates, literary men, gamekeepers,
+old family retainers--every kind and sort of human being. We want a
+man of such qualifications combined with the qualifications of a
+Darwin--with his love of natural history, his power of close and
+accurate observation, his genius for drawing right inferences from
+what he observed, his wide knowledge of Nature in her many
+manifestations, his sympathetic touch with every plant and animal,
+and his warm, affectionate nature in all human intercourse.
+
+We want, in fact, a Naturalist-Artist--a combination of Julian
+Grenfell and Darwin. And this is no outrageously impossible, but a
+very likely and fitting combination. For Julian Grenfell wrote great
+poetry even in the trenches in Flanders between the two battles of
+Ypres. And with his love of country life, shooting, fishing, and
+hunting, his inclination might very easily have been directed
+towards natural history. If it had been and the opportunity had
+offered, we might have had the very type of Naturalist-Artist we are
+now awaiting. He would have had the physical fitness and capacity
+to endure hardships which are required for travel in parts of the
+Earth where the Natural Beauty is finest, and he would have had, too,
+the sensitiveness of soul to receive impressions and the power of
+expressing himself so that others might share with him the
+impressions he had felt. If after passing through the earlier stages of
+shooting and hunting birds and animals he had come to the more
+profitable stage of observing them, and had devoted to the
+observation of their habits and ways of life the same skill and
+acumen which he had shown in hunting them, he might, with his
+innate and genuine love of animals, very well have become a great
+naturalist as well as what he was--a great sportsman and a writer of
+great poetry.
+
+It is for the advent of such Naturalist-Artist that we wait. But we
+have to prepare the way for him and do our share in helping to
+produce him. And this will now be my endeavour, for it so happens
+that I have been blessed with opportunities--some of my own
+making, some provided for me--of seeing Nature on a larger scale
+and under more varied aspects than falls to the lot of most men. I am
+ashamed when I reflect how little use I have made of those
+opportunities--how little I was prepared and trained to make the
+most of them. But this at least I can do: I can point out to the coming
+Artist those parts of the world where he is likely to see the Beauty of
+Nature most fully, and in greatest variety.
+
+With this end in view I shall begin with the Sikkim Himalaya, over
+which the eagle flew, because it contains within a small area a
+veritable compendium of Nature. Rising directly out of the plains of
+India, practically within the tropics, these mountains rise far above
+the limits of perpetual snow. Their base is covered with luxuriant
+vegetation of a truly tropical character, and this vegetation extends
+through all the ranges from tropical to temperate and arctic. The
+animal, bird, and insect life does the same. And here also are to be
+found representative men of every clime. Similarly does the natural
+scenery vary from plain to highest mountain. There are roaring
+torrents and wide, placid rivers. The Sikkim Himalaya, looking
+down on the plains of India on the one side and the steppes of Tibet
+on the other, is the most suitable place I know for a study of Natural
+Beauty.
+
+But there are beauties in Kashmir and in the great Karakoram
+Mountains behind Kashmir which are not found in Sikkim. And
+there are beauties in the Desert which are not found in either Sikkim
+or Kashmir. So I must take the Artist to these regions also.
+
+And I choose Sikkim and Kashmir because these are easily
+accessible regions to which men with a thirst for Beauty can return
+again and again, till they are saturated with the atmosphere and have
+imbibed the true spirit of the region--till they have realised how
+much these natural features express sentiments which they, too, are
+wanting to express--their aspirations for the highest and purest, their
+longing for repose, their delight in warmth and affection, or
+whatever their sentiment might be. Thousands of Englishmen,
+cultured Indians, and travellers from all over the world, visit the
+Himalaya every year--some for sport, some for health, some for
+social enjoyment. Amongst these may be our Naturalist-Artist who
+year after year, drawn to Sikkim and Kashmir by his love of Natural
+Beauty, would learn to know Nature in the wonderfully varied
+aspects under which she is to be seen in those favoured regions, who
+would come into ever-deepening communion with her, would yearly
+see more Beauty in her, and would communicate to us the
+enjoyment he had felt.
+
+But Natural Beauty includes within its scope a great deal more than
+only natural scenery. It includes the beauty of all natural
+objects--men and women as well as mountains, animals, and plants. So these
+also the Artist will have to keep within his purview. And his love of
+Nature, and consequently his capacity for seeing Natural Beauty,
+will be all the surer if he uses his head as well as his heart in
+forming his final conception of her--that is to say, his final for the
+moment, as no man ever has or _can_ come to a literally final
+conception of Nature. So the Artist will pause now and then to test
+his view of Nature in the light of pure reason. For he will be well
+enough aware that neither Love nor Beauty can be perfect unless it
+be irradiated with Truth, and the three he will ever strive to keep
+together.
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+THE HEART OF NATURE
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE SIKKIM HIMALAYA
+
+The Sikkim Himalaya is a region first brought prominently into
+notice by the writings of Sir Joseph Hooker, the great naturalist, who
+visited it in 1848. It lies immediately to the east of Nepal, and can
+now be reached by a railway which ascends the outer range to
+Darjiling. It is drained by the Teesta River, up the main valley of
+which a railway runs for a short distance. The region is therefore
+easily accessible. For the purposes of this book it may be taken to
+include the flat open forest and grass-covered tract known as the
+Terai, immediately at the base of the mountain. This is only a few
+hundreds of feet above sea-level, so that from there to the summit of
+the Himalaya there is a rise of nearly 28,000 feet in about seventy
+miles. The lower part is in the 26th degree of latitude, so that the
+heat is tropical. And as the region comes within the sweep of the
+monsoon from the Bay of Bengal, there is not only great heat in the
+plains and lower valleys, but great moisture as well. The
+mountain-sides are in consequence clothed with a luxuriant vegetation.
+
+To enter this wonderful region the traveller has first to cross the
+Ganges--the sacred river of the Hindus. Great rivers have about
+them a fascination all their own. They produce in us a sense of
+everlastingness and irresistibility. The Ganges, more than a mile
+wide, comes sweeping along in deep majestic flood from the far
+distance to the far distance, on and on unendingly, from all time to
+all time, and in such depth and volume that nothing human can
+withstand it. In the dry season, when it is low and the sun is shining,
+it is placid and benign with a bright and smiling countenance.
+Stately temples, set amidst sacred groves and graceful palms, lighten
+the banks. On the broad steps of the bathing ghats are assembled
+crowds of pious worshippers in clothes of every brilliant hue. The
+river has an aspect of kindliness and geniality and life-givingness.
+Its waters and rich silt have brought plenty to many a barren acre,
+and the dwellers on its banks know well that it issues from the holy
+Himalaya.
+
+But the Ganges is not always in this gracious mood, and does not
+always wear this kindly aspect. In the rainy season it is a thing of
+terror. Overhead black, thundery clouds sweep on for days and
+weeks together towards the mountains. There is not a glimpse of sun.
+The rain descends as a deluge. The river is still further swollen by
+the melting of the snow on the Himalaya, and now comes swirling
+along in dark and angry mood, rising higher and higher in its banks,
+eating into them, and threatening to overtop them and carry death
+and destruction far and wide. Men no longer go down to meet it.
+They shrink back from it. They uneasily watch it till the fulness of
+its strength is spent and it has returned to its normal beneficent
+aspect.
+
+No wonder such a river is regarded as sacred. To the more primitive
+people it is literally a living person--and a person who may be
+propitiated, a person who may do them harm if they annoy him, and
+do them good if they make themselves agreeable to him and furnish
+him with what he wants. To the cultured Hindus it is an object of the
+deepest reverence. If they can bathe in its waters their sins are
+washed away. If after death their ashes can be cast on its broad
+bosom, they will be secure of everlasting bliss. From perhaps the
+earliest days of our race, for some hundreds of thousands of years,
+men may have lived upon its banks. For it was in the forests beside
+great rivers, in a warm and even climate, that primitive men must
+have lived. They would have launched their canoes upon its waters,
+and used it as their only pathway of communication with one
+another. And always they would have looked upon it with mingled
+awe and affection. Besides the sun it would have been the one great
+natural object which would attract their attention. Insensibly the
+sight of that ever-rolling flood must have deeply affected them.
+They must have come to love it as they beheld it through the greater
+part of the year. The sight of its destructive power may have made
+them recoil for a time in fear and awe. But this would be forgotten
+as the flood subsided, and the river was again smooth and smiling
+and passing peacefully along before them.
+
+So men do not run away from it. They gather to it. They build great
+cities on its banks, and come from great distances to see it. They
+perform pilgrimages every year in thousands to the spot where it
+issues from the Himalaya. And they penetrate even to its source far
+back and high up in the mountains.
+
+To the most enlightened, also, the Ganges should be an object of
+reverence for its antiquity, for its future, and for its power. From the
+surface of the Bay of Bengal the sun's rays have drawn particles of
+water into the atmosphere. Currents in the air have carried them for
+hundreds of miles over the sea and over the plains of Bengal, till the
+chill of the Himalaya Mountains has caused them to condense and
+fall in snow and rain. But some have been carried farther. They have
+been transported right over the Himalaya at a height of at least
+20,000 feet, till they have finally fallen in Tibet. It is a striking fact
+that some of the water in the Ganges is from rivers in Tibet which
+have cut their way clean through the mighty range of the Himalaya.
+The Arun River, for example, rises in Tibet and cuts through the
+Himalaya by a deep gorge in the region between Mount Everest and
+Kinchinjunga. These rivers are, indeed, much older than the
+mountains. They were running their course before the Himalaya
+were upheaved, and they kept wearing out a channel for themselves
+as the mountains rose and slowly over-towered them.
+
+Reverence, therefore, is due to the Ganges on account of its vast
+antiquity. Reverence also is due because it will flow on like now for
+hundreds of thousands and perhaps for millions of years to come.
+Round and round in never-ceasing cycle the water is drawn up from
+the ocean, is carried along in the clouds, descends upon the
+mountains, and gathers in the Ganges to flow once more into the sea.
+The Ganges may gradually change its course as it eats into first one
+bank and then the other. But it will flow on and on and on for as far
+into the future as the human eye can ken.
+
+And its power, so terrifying to primitive man--even to us at times
+--will become more and more a power for good. Already great canals
+have been taken from its main stream and its tributaries, and
+millions of acres have been irrigated by its water, thus helping to
+bring to birth great crops of wheat and rice, cotton, sugar-cane, and
+oil-seeds. Schemes for utilising the water-power in its fall through
+the mountains by converting it into electric power are in
+contemplation, so that railways may be run by it and power for great
+industries be furnished. Once more, too, the course of the river may
+become a line of communication as sea-planes are used to fly from
+town to town and alight upon its surface.
+
+So as we come to know the river in its deepest significance, our
+impression of its everlastingness and its irresistible power remains.
+But our sense of fear diminishes. We feel that the river is ready to
+co-operate with us. That it is capable of being taken in hand and led.
+That its power is not essentially destructive but beneficent. That
+there is in it almost inexhaustible capacity for helping plant and
+beast and man. And that it is a friend and anxious to help us.
+
+The Hindus have been right all along in worshipping it. Their
+worship, with tropical luxuriance, may have developed to
+extravagant lengths. But the instinct which promoted this worship
+was perfectly sound. The river bears within its breast great
+life-giving properties, and in worshipping the river the Hindus were
+half-consciously expressing their sense of dependence on these
+life-giving properties, and of affection and gratitude to the river for the
+benefits it conferred. Mere fear of its destructive character--fear
+alone--would not produce the desire for worship. They did and do
+fear the river, but behind the fear is a feeling that it _can_ be
+propitiated, that it _can_ be induced to help man and does not want
+to thwart him. And here they were perfectly right. We are at last
+learning the way by which this may be done, and now see clearly
+what the Hindus only vaguely felt, that the heart of the river is right
+enough--that once it is tamed and trained it can bring untold good to
+man.
+
+This the Artist will readily discern. He will enter into the spirit of
+the river. He will read its true character. Refusing to be terrorised by
+its more tremendous moods, he will exult in its might, and see in it a
+potent agency for good. In these ways the river will make its appeal
+to him; and responding to the appeal, the Artist will see great Beauty
+in the river and describe that Beauty to us.
+
+* * *
+
+Beyond the river, before we reach the mountain, we have to pass
+over absolutely level cultivated plains, without a single eminence in
+sight. To most they would appear dull, monotonous, uninteresting.
+There is no horizon to which the eye can wander and find
+satisfaction in remote distance. There is no hill to which to raise our
+eyes and our souls with them. The outlook is confined within the
+narrowest limits. Palm trees, banyan trees, houses, walled gardens,
+everywhere restrict it. The fields are small, the trees and houses
+numerous. Nothing distant is to be seen. To the European the
+prospect is depressing. But to the Bengali it is his very life. These
+densely inhabited plains are his home. They have, therefore, all the
+attraction which familiar scenes in which men have grown up from
+childhood always have. A Bengali prefers them to high mountains.
+He loves the sight of the brilliant emerald rice-fields, of the tall
+feathery palms, of the shady banyan trees, of the flaming poinsettias,
+the bright marigolds, cannas and bougainvillea, the many-coloured
+crotons and calladiums, the sweet-scented jasmine, oranges,
+tuberoses, and gardenia; and the gaudy jays, the swiftly darting
+parrots, and the playful squirrels. He loves, too, the bathing-pools,
+and the patient oxen, and the cool, sequestered gardens. And he
+loves these things for their very nearness. His attention is not
+distracted to distant horizons and inaccessible heights. All is close to
+the eye and easily visible. His world may be small, but it is all
+within reach. He can know well each tree and flower, each bird and
+animal. It is not a wide and varied life. But it is an intense and very
+vivid life; and to the Bengali, on that account, more preferable. And
+if it is confined it is at least confined in the open air, and in a climate
+of perpetual summer.
+
+* * *
+
+Beyond this highly cultivated and thickly populated part, and still in
+the plains, we come to a wild jungle country which stretches up to
+the foothills, and is swampy, pestilential, and swarming with every
+kind of biting insect. It is a nasty country to travel through. But it
+has its interests. There grow here remarkable grasses, with tall
+straight shoots gracefully bending over at the top from the weight of
+their feathery heads; and so high are these gigantic grasses that they
+often reach above the head of a man on an elephant. The areas
+covered by them are practically impenetrable to men on foot, and
+there is a mysterious feel about this region, for it is the haunt of
+rhinoceros, tigers, and boars. In passing through it we have an
+uneasy feeling that almost anything may appear on the instant, and
+that once we were on foot and away from the path we would be
+irretrievably lost--drowned in a sea of waving grass.
+
+From this sea of grass rise patches of forest and single trees. The
+most prevalent is the Sal tree _(Shorea robusta),_ a magnificent
+gregarious tree with a tall straight stem and thick glossy foliage. But
+the most conspicuous in March and April is the Dák tree _(Butea
+frondosa),_ an ungainly tree, but remarkable for its deep rich scarlet
+flowers, like gigantic sweet-peas but of a thick velvety texture.
+These flowers blossom before the leaves appear, and when the tree
+is in full bloom it looks like a veritable flame in the forest.
+
+Another beautiful tree which is found in this lower part is the
+_Acacia catechu,_ known in Northern India as the Khair tree, and
+found all about the foothills of the Himalaya. Not tall and stately,
+but rather contorted and ample like the oak, it has a graceful feathery
+foliage and a kindly inviting nature.
+
+* * *
+
+Proceeding over these level plains, which as we approach the
+mountains are covered with dense forest, stagnant morasses, and
+trim tea-gardens, we one morning awake to find that over the
+horizon to the north hangs a long cloud-like strip, white suffused
+with pink--level on its lower edge but with the upper edge irregular
+in outline. No one who had not seen snow mountains before would
+suppose for a moment that that strip could be a line of mountain
+summits. For there is not a trace of any connection with the earth.
+Between it and the earth is nothing but blue haze. And it is so high
+above the horizon that it seems incredible that any such connection
+could exist. Yet no one who _had_ seen snow mountains could
+doubt for an instant that that rose-flushed strip of white was the
+Himalaya. For it possesses two unmistakable characteristics which
+distinguish it from any cloud. Firstly, the lower edge is absolutely
+straight and horizontal: it is exactly parallel with the horizon.
+Secondly, the upper edge is jagged, and the outline of the jaggedness
+cuts clean and perfectly defined against the intense blue of the sky.
+
+No one who knows mountains could doubt that this line was the
+Himalaya, yet every time we see it afresh we marvel more. We
+know for certain that those sharp edges _are_ the summits of
+mountains whose base is on this solid earth. Yet, however sure we
+may be of that fact, we do not cease to wonder. And as we gaze
+upon that line of snowy summits no more--indeed, less--intrinsically
+beautiful than many a cloud, yet unspeakably more significant, we
+are curiously elated. Something in us leaps to meet the mountains.
+And we cannot keep our eyes away. We seem lifted up, and feel
+higher possibilities within ourselves and within the world than we
+had ever known before. As we travel onward we strain to keep the
+mountains continually in sight, for we cannot bear to leave them.
+We feel better men for having seen them, and for the remainder of
+our days we would keep them in continuing remembrance.
+
+* * *
+
+As we come closer under the mountains the base emerges from the
+haze and the line of snowy peaks disappears behind the nearer outer
+ranges. Then we come to these ranges themselves, which rise with
+considerable abruptness out of the level plains with very little
+intermediate modulation of form, and we find them densely clothed
+in forest--true, rich, luxuriant, tropical forest with all the delights of
+glistening foliage, graceful ferns and palms, glorious orchids, and
+brilliant butterflies.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE TEESTA VALLEY
+
+This great forest, which extends for hundreds of miles along the
+slopes of the Himalaya, reaches up from the plains to the snows. In
+the lower part it is a truly tropical forest, and about a tropical forest
+there is something peculiarly mysterious. A strange stillness is over
+all. Not, indeed, the absolute silence of the desert, where literally not
+a sound is heard; for here in the forest, even during the hot noonday
+quiet, there is always the purring of insect life. But that stillness
+when not a leaf moves and no harsh noise is heard, when an
+impressive hush is laid upon the scene and we seem to be in some
+mysterious Presence dominating all about us and rousing our
+expectancy.
+
+A kind of awe seizes us, and with it also comes a keen exhilaration.
+We can see at most for a hundred yards in any direction. But we
+know that the forest extends like this for hundreds of miles. And we
+realise that if we wandered off the track we might never find it again.
+It is all very awe-inspiring, and in some ways frightening. Still, we
+are thrilled by the sight of such a profusion, intensity, and variety of
+life. In this hot, steamy atmosphere plants and trees grow in
+luxuriant abundance. Every inch of soil is occupied. And these
+forests are not like woods in England, which contain only three or
+four species--oaks, beeches, sycamores, etc. In these Sikkim forests
+we seldom see two trees of the same kind standing next each other.
+One tree may be more prevalent than others, but there is always
+great variety in the forms and colours of the stems, the branches, the
+leaves, the flowers, the habit of growth. There are trees of immense
+height with tall, strong, straight stems, and there are shrubs like
+hydrangeas of every size and description. There are climbers as huge
+as cables. And there are gentle little plants hardly rising above the
+ground. There is no end to the variety of plant life, and we have an
+inner spring of delight as we come across treasure after treasure that
+hitherto we had only seen reared with infinite care in some
+expensive hot-house.
+
+And what we see is only, we feel, a stray sample of what there is to
+be seen. What may there not be in those forest depths which we dare
+not enter for fear of losing our way! What other towering forest
+monarchs might we not come across if we plunged into the forest!
+What other exquisite flowers, what insects, what birds, what animals!
+What wealth of insect life may there not be at the tops of the trees
+where the fierce sunshine hidden from us by their leaves is drawing
+out their flowers! What may there not be going on in the ground
+beneath us! We know, that in these forests, perhaps near enough to
+see us, though their forms are hidden by their likeness to their leafy
+surroundings and the dappled sunlight, are animals as various as
+elephants, tigers, leopards, foxes, squirrels, and bats; birds as
+various as hawks, parrots, and finches; and insects from butterflies,
+bees, and wasps to crickets, beetles, and ants. The forest, we know,
+in addition to all the wealth of tree and plant life, is teeming with
+animal and insect life, though of this we are able to see very little, so
+carefully do animals conceal themselves. In the night they emerge,
+and in the morning and evening there is a deafening din of insect life.
+But at noonday there is a soft and solemn hush, and we are tense
+with curiosity to know all that is going on in those mysterious forest
+depths and up among the tree-tops, so close but so impossible of
+access.
+
+The great forest is the very epitome of life. Concentrated here in
+small compass is every form and variety of living thing, from
+lowliest plant to forest monarch, from simplest animalcule to
+elephant, monkey, and man. There is life and abundant life all about
+us. But it is not the noisy, clamorous, obtrusive life of the city. It is a
+still, intense life, full of untold possibilities for good or harm. And
+herein lies its mystery: we see much, but we feel that there is
+infinitely more behind.
+
+Of this life of the forest in all its richness, intensity, and variety we
+shall come to know more as we ascend the Teesta Valley till it
+reaches the snows, and tropical plant and animal life changes first to
+temperate and then to arctic forms. But first we must note some
+beauties of the valley itself.
+
+* * *
+
+The valley of the great Teesta River, the valleys of its tributaries, the
+gorges through which the main river and its tributaries rush, the
+cascades pouring in succession down the mountain-sides, the
+sequestered glens and dells--all these have beauties which the
+terrific rain and the mists in which they are usually enveloped do not
+hide but augment.
+
+The River Teesta itself, though only a minor contributor to the
+Brahmaputra, is nevertheless during the rainy season, when it is fed
+both by the falling rain and by the melting snows and glaciers of the
+Kinchinjunga region, impressive in its might and energy. With a
+force and tumult that nothing could withstand it comes swirling
+down the valley. Before its rushing impetuosity everything would be
+swept away. For it is no little tossing torrent: it possesses depth and
+weight and volume, and sweeps majestically along in great waves
+and cataracts. In comparison with the serene composure of the lofty
+summits here is life and force and activity to the full--and
+destructive activity at that, to all appearance. Yet as, from the safety
+of a bridge by which the genius of man has spanned it, we look upon
+the turmoil, a strange thrill comes through us. There is such splendid
+energy in the river. We are fascinated by the power it displays. It is
+glorious to look upon. Alarming in a way it is. But we know it can
+only act within certain strictly defined bounds. A foot beyond those
+bounds it is powerless. And while it is already confined by Nature
+within these limits, we know the day will come when it will be
+completely within the control of man and its very power available
+for our own purposes. So in the end it is with no sense of terror that
+we watch the raging river in its headlong course. Rather do we enjoy
+the sight of such exultant energy, which will one day be at man's
+disposal. We rejoice with the river in a feeling of power, and herein
+lies its Beauty for us.
+
+* * *
+
+As we look at the tremendous gorges through which the river clears
+its way we again are filled with awe and wonder. Straight facing us
+is a clean, sheer cliff of hardest, sternest rock. It cannot be actually
+perpendicular, but to all appearance it is. And the mere sight of it
+strengthens our souls. Here is granite solidity, and yet no mere stolid
+obstinacy. For these cliffs have risen--so the geologists tell us
+--through their own internal energy to their present proud position.
+They have, indeed, had to give place to the river to this extent that
+they have had to acknowledge his previous right of way and to leave
+a passage for him in their upward effort. The river is careful to exact
+that much toll from them year by year. But having paid that toll,
+they have risen by a process of steady, long persistence, and have
+maintained themselves in their exalted position by sheer firmness
+and tenacity of character. And as, dripping with warm moisture and
+carrying with them in any available crevice graceful ferns and trees,
+they rise above us high up into the clouds, and form the buttresses of
+those snowy peaks of which we catch occasional glimpses, we are
+impressed not only with the height of the aspiration those peaks
+embody, but with the strength and persistency of purpose which was
+necessary to carry the aspiration into effect.
+
+Overpowered, indeed, we feel at times--shut in and overshadowed
+by what seems so infinitely greater than ourselves. The roaring river
+fills the centre of the gorge. The precipitous cliffs rise sheer on
+either hand. We seem for the moment too minute to cope with such
+titanic conditions. But sometimes by circumventing the cliffs and
+after a long tedious detour appearing high above them, sometimes
+by blasting a passage across their very face, we have proved
+ourselves able to overcome them. They no longer affright us. And as
+we return down the valley after a journey to its upmost limit, it is
+with nothing but sheer delight that we look upon these cliffs. They
+simply impress us with the strength that must go along with
+elevation of purpose if that purpose is to be achieved. Unbuttressed
+by these staunch cliffs the mountains could never have reached their
+present height. We glory, then, with the cliffs in their solidity and
+strength as they proudly face the world. And we recognise that in
+this firmness and consistency of purpose lies their especial Beauty.
+
+* * *
+
+In contrast with the swirling river and hard, rugged cliffs we, quite
+close to them, and hidden away in a modest tributary of a tributary
+in the quiet forest depths, will happen upon some deep sequestered
+pool which imbues us with a sense of the delicacy and reserve of
+Nature. We here see her in a peculiarly tender aspect. The pool is
+still and clear. The lulling murmurs of a waterfall show whence it
+draws its being. A gentle rivulet carries the overbrim away. It is
+bounded by rocks and boulders green with exquisite ferns and
+mosses. Overhanging it are weeping palms with long straight leaves.
+Trees, with erect stems as tall as Nelson's Column, strain upward to
+the light. Butterflies in numbers flutter noiselessly about. The air is
+absolutely still and of a feel like satin. Clouds of intangible softness
+and clean and white as snow float around, appear, dissolve, and
+reappear. Through the parting in the overhanging trees the intense
+blue sky is seen in glimpses. The sun here and there pierces through
+the arching foliage, and the greens of the foliage glisten brighter still.
+The whole atmosphere of the spot is one of reticence and reserve.
+Yet quiet though it be and restful though it be, there is no sense of
+stagnation. The pool, though deep and still, is vividly alive. Its
+waters are continually being renewed. And the forest, though not a
+leaf moves, is, we know, straining with all the energy of life for food
+and light, for air and moisture. So by this jewel of a pool in its
+verdant setting we have a sense of an activity which is gentle and
+refined. The glen's is a shy and intimate Beauty, especially
+congenial to us after the forceful Beauty of the river and the bold,
+proud Beauty of the cliffs. But it is no insipid Beauty: in its very
+quietness and confidence is strength.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE FOREST
+
+The Teesta Valley in its lowest part is only 700 feet above sea-level.
+It is deep and confined and saturated with perpetual moisture.
+Hardly a breath of wind stirs, and all plant life is forced as in a
+hothouse. The trees do not, indeed, grow as high as the Big Trees of
+California or the eucalyptus in Australia, but some of these in the
+Teesta Valley are 200 feet in height with buttressed trunks between
+40 and 50 feet in girth, and give the same impression of stateliness
+and calm composure. With incredible effort and incessant struggle
+they have attained their present proud position, and the traveller
+most willingly accords them the tribute that is their due.
+
+Grand tropical oaks nearly 50 feet in girth also occur, screw-pines
+50 feet in height with immense crowns of grassy leaves 4 feet long,
+palms of many kinds, rattan-canes, bamboos, plantains, and tall
+grasses such as only grow in dense, hot jungles. Gigantic climbers
+tackle the loftiest trees. One allied to the gourd bears immense
+yellowish-white pendulous blossoms; another bears curious
+pitcher-shaped flowers. Vines, peppers, and pothos interlace with the palms
+and plantains in impenetrable jungle. Orchids clothe the trees.
+Everywhere and always we hear the whirr and hum of insect life,
+sometimes soft and soothing, sometimes harsh and strident. And
+floating about wherever we look are butterflies innumerable, many
+dull and unpretentious, but some of a brilliancy of colour that makes
+us gasp with pleasure.
+
+We may be pouring with perspiration, pestered by flies and
+mosquitoes, and in constant dread of leeches. But we forget all such
+annoyances in the joy of these wonders of the tropics, whether they
+be trees or orchids, ferns or butterflies. And to see one of these
+gorgeous insects alight in front of us, slowly raise and lower his
+wings and turn himself about almost as if he were showing himself
+off for our especial pleasure, compensates us for every worry his
+fellows in the insect world may cause us.
+
+As might be expected, in the steamy, dripping atmosphere ferns are
+a predominating feature in the vegetation. Not less than two hundred
+different kinds are found. The most noticeable are the tree ferns, of
+which alone there are eight species. Their average height is about 20
+feet, but plants of 40 and 50 feet are not uncommon. And with their
+tall trunks and crown of immense graceful fronds they form a
+striking feature in the forest, and in the moister valleys where they
+attain their full luxuriance they may be seen in extensive groves as
+well as in little groups. Four kinds of maidenhair, always light and
+graceful and attractive, are found; and of ferns common to Europe,
+_Osmunda regalis,_ the Royal fern of Europe, and the European
+moonwort and alder's-tongue ferns. Then there is a fern which
+attains to gigantic proportions, especially in the cool forests, where
+its massive fronds grow to more than 5 yards in length and 3 in
+breadth, with a spread over all, measuring from tip to tip of opposite
+fronds, of 8 yards. One handsome climbing fern clothes the trunks of
+tall trees; another which climbs on grasses and the smaller shrubs is
+common; and another forms almost impenetrable thickets 15 or 20
+feet high. Of the kinds which grow on rocks and trees the most
+delicately beautiful are the filmy ferns, of which there are eight
+kinds. The Irish filmy is the largest, covering the face of large rocks
+under dense shade, its fronds growing to over a foot in length. Many
+polypodiums and aspleniums grow gracefully on the rocks and trees
+during the rainy season. One especially elegant polypodium growing
+on the ground has fronds about 6 or 7 feet long, and sometimes as
+much as 20 feet, and of proportionate width. Another conspicuous
+fern is the bird's-nest fern with its large, massive fronds growing
+under shade on rocks and stems of trees.
+
+Unless we are fern experts it is impossible for us to identify each
+among so many species. But, at any rate, we gather an impression of
+elegance and grace, often of airy lightness, and of wonderful variety
+of size and form.
+
+* * *
+
+From the ferns we look to the rest of the forest, and after the first
+bewilderment at the profusion and variety of vegetation we try to
+fasten on to a few individuals or types which we can identify as
+having seen elsewhere in some other part of India or in some
+palm-house in England. We are in the still, steamy atmosphere of a
+hot-house, and we are conscious that all round us, growing in luxuriant
+abundance, are rare and beautiful plants of which a single specimen
+would be treasured and treated with every fostering care in England.
+But we sigh to be able to recognise these treasures and make contact
+between home and this exceptionally favoured region--favoured,
+that is to say, as regards plant life. From among the giant trees, the
+bamboos, the palms, the climbers, the shrubs, the flowers, the
+orchids, we look out anxiously for friends--or at least for
+acquaintances whom we hope may develop into friends as we meet
+them again and again on our journeys through the forest.
+
+Of the flowers, the orchids are naturally the first to attract us. They
+shine out as real gems in the greenery around them. The eye jumps
+to them at once. Here seems to be something as nearly perfect in
+colour, form, and texture as it could possibly be. If the orchid is
+white it is of the purest whiteness, and shines chaste and unsullied
+amidst its dull surroundings. If it is purple, or pale yellow, or
+golden-yellow, or rose, or violet, or white, the colour has always a
+depth and purity which is deeply satisfying. And it seems to be
+because the waxy texture of these orchids is such a perfect medium
+for the display of colour that orchids are so exceptionally beautiful.
+The texture is of the very consistency best adapted for revealing the
+beauty of colour. And when we pluck a spray of these choice
+treasures from the forest branch and hold it in the sunlight, we feel
+we are seeing colour almost in perfection.
+
+The colour and texture are beautiful enough in themselves. But an
+added attraction in these orchids is their form--the curvature of their
+sepals and petals, and the wonderful little pitchers and cups and lips
+and tongues which an orchid exhibits. And the form is no mere
+geometrical pattern of lines and curves. It is obviously an ingenious
+contrivance devised for some special purpose. That purpose we now
+know to be the attraction of insects, who in sucking the orchid's
+honey will unconsciously carry on their wings or backs the flower's
+pollen to fertilise another orchid. Though whether the insect in the
+long centuries by probing at the orchid has forced it to adapt itself to
+it, or whether the flower has forced the insect to adapt itself to the
+flower, or whether--as seems most likely--a process of mutual
+adaptation has been going on century by century, and the flower and
+insect have been gradually adapting themselves to one another, is
+still a matter of discussion among naturalists.
+
+We cannot gather an orchid of any kind without marvelling at its
+intricate construction. And when we are looking at the orchid in its
+natural surroundings in the forest itself and see the enormous
+numbers and the immense variety, in size and form and habits, of
+the insects around the orchid, and think how the orchid has to select
+its own particular species of insect and cater for that, and the insect
+among all the flowers has to select the particular species of orchid;
+and how the insect, whether butterfly or bee or moth or gnat or ant,
+or any other of the numerous kinds of insect, and the orchid have to
+adapt themselves to each other--we see how marvellous the mutual
+adaptation of flower to insect and insect to flower must have been.
+We see how the particular species of orchid must have chosen the
+particular species of bee, and the particular species of bee that
+particular species of orchid, and the bee and orchid set themselves to
+adapt themselves to one another, the orchid using all the devices of
+colour, scent, sweetness of honey, to attract the insect, and gradually
+shaping itself so that the insect can better reach the honey, and the
+insect lengthening its proboscis and otherwise adapting itself so that
+it can better secure what it wants. And we see how perfectly--how
+nearly perfectly--the flower is designed for its purpose.
+
+But what is perhaps most remarkable of all about an orchid is that
+this marvel of colour and form and of texture of fabric unfolds itself
+from within a most ungainly, unsightly, unlikely-looking tuber.
+From shapeless, colourless tubers, which attach themselves to trunks
+and branches of trees and cling on to rocks, there emerge these
+peerless aristocrats of the flower-world, finished, polished,
+immaculate, and reigning supreme through sheer distinction and
+excellence at every point--and also because theirs is clearly no
+ephemeral convolvulus-like beauty which will fade and vanish away
+in a twinkling, but is a beauty intensely matured, strong and deep
+and firm.
+
+* * *
+
+Of the 450 species of orchids found in the Sikkim Forest, many are
+very rare. But fortunately the rarest are not the most beautiful in
+colour and form. Some very beautiful orchids are also very common.
+The most common are the dendrobiums, of which there are about
+forty species. The finest and best known is the _Dendrobium
+nobile._ It grows in the lower hills and valleys up to 5,000 feet, and
+also in the plains. The flowers vary both in size and shade of colour;
+but in Sikkim the sepals and petals are always purple, shading off
+into white at the base. The tip has a central blotch of very deep
+purple surrounded by a broad margin of pale yellow or white. This
+orchid is now very common in English hot-houses, so here is one
+point of contact with the tropical forest.
+
+The _D. densiflorum_ is equally common and grows in much the
+same region. It flowers in a dense cluster on a stalk somewhat after
+the fashion of a hyacinth. The sepals and petals of this beautiful
+species are of a pale yellow, while the lip is of a rich orange. One of
+the most charming of the Sikkim dendrobiums has the smell of
+violets, and the sepals and petals are white-tipped with violet, the
+stem being sometimes 2 1/2 feet long. Another noteworthy
+dendrobium is the _D. pierardi,_ whose prevailing colour is a
+beautiful rose or pale purple.
+
+After the dendrobiums the coelogyne are the most worth noting. The
+_ Coelogyne cristata_ is common at elevations of from 5,000 to
+8,000 feet, and flowers during March and April. It has numerous
+large flowers, which are pure white throughout, with the exception
+of the lamellae of the lip, which are yellow. It may be seen in flower
+in March in the orchid-house at Kew. In the forest it grows in such
+profusion as to make the trunk of a dead tree look as if it were
+covered with snow.
+
+The _C. humilis_ is known as the Himalayan crocus. It grows like a
+crocus from a pseudo-bulb at elevations from 7,000 to 8,500 feet,
+and flowers during February and March. The flowers are white and
+from 2 to 2 1/2 inches in diameter. The lip is speckled with purple
+towards the edge.
+
+Not so common but larger and handsomer than the dendrobiums are
+the cymbidiums, of which there are sixteen different species, usually
+with long grassy leaves and many-flowered drooping racemes with
+large handsome flowers. A very sweet-scented species is the
+_Cymbidium eburneum,_ which is common between elevations of
+1,000 to 3,000 feet, and flowers during March and April. The
+prevailing colour of the flowers is an ivory white, but the ridge on
+the lip is a brilliant yellow. This also may be seen at Kew in March.
+
+These are some of the commonest orchids and all now grow in
+England, so that we can begin to get a footing in the forest and not
+feel that it is so completely strange to us. And as we ascend higher
+we shall find many more friends among the flowers. And to guide us
+among the trees and flowers we fortunately have Sir Joseph Hooker,
+who in his "Himalayan Journals" has described this botanist's
+paradise in loving detail, so we cannot do better than follow him.
+Amid the many plants he mentions we can only select a few, but
+these few will at least help to give us some conception of the whole
+and show the range of variation as we ascend.
+
+As we proceed higher up the valley to an altitude of about 4,000 feet,
+European trees and plants begin to be intermingled with the tropical
+vegetation. Hornbeams appear, and birch, willow, alder, and walnut
+grow side by side with wild plantains, palms, and gigantic bamboos.
+Brambles, speedwells, forget-me-nots, and nettles grow mixed with
+figs, balsams, peppers, and huge climbing vines. The wild English
+strawberry is found on the ground, while above tropical orchids like
+the dendrobiums cover the trunks of the oaks. The bracken and the
+club-moss of our British moors grow associated with tree-ferns. And
+English grow alongside Himalayan mosses.
+
+The valley itself continues of the same character--deep with its steep
+sides clothed in forest and the path scrambling over spurs, making
+wide detours up side valleys, or scraping along the sides of cliffs
+which stand perpendicularly over the raging river below. Only here
+and there are clearings in the forest where Lepchas or Nepalese have
+built themselves a few wooden houses and roughly cultivated the
+land. Otherwise we are under the same green mantle of forest which
+extends everywhere over the mountains; and though we are now
+piercing straight through the main axis of the Himalaya, we seldom
+catch even a glimpse of the snowy heights which must be so near.
+
+But the vegetation is distinctly changing in character as we
+ascend--the most tropical trees and plants gradually disappearing, and more
+and more flowers of the temperate zone coming into evidence. And
+as we pierce farther into the mountains the climate becomes sensibly
+drier and the forest lighter. There is still a heavy enough rainfall to
+satisfy any ordinary plant or human being. But there is not the same
+deluge that descends upon the outer ridges. So the forest is not so
+dense. Frequently in its place social grasses clothe the
+mountain-sides; and yellow violets, primulas, anemones, delphiniums,
+currants, and saxifrages remind us of regions more akin to our own.
+
+Now, too, we have reached the habitat of the rhododendrons, which
+are so peculiarly a glory of Sikkim, and it is worth while to pause
+and take special note of them. Out of the thirty species which are
+found in Sikkim, all the most beautiful have been introduced
+--chiefly by Sir Joseph Hooker--into England, and are grown in many
+parks and gardens as well as at Kew. So English people can form
+some idea of what the flowering trees of the Sikkim Forest are like.
+But they must multiply by many times the few specimens they see in
+an English park or hot-house, and must realise that as cowslips are
+in a grassy meadow, so are these rhododendron trees in the Sikkim
+Forest. Red, mauve, white, or yellow, they grow as great flowers
+among the green giants of the forest and brighten it with colour. The
+separate blossoms of a rhododendron tree cannot compare in beauty
+with the individual orchid. There is in them neither the deep richness
+of colour nor wonder of form nor sense of deeply matured
+excellence. The claim of the rhododendron to favour is rather in the
+collective quantity and mass of flowers so that by sheer weight of
+numbers it can produce its effect of colour. In some of the upper
+valleys the mountain slopes are clothed in a deep green mantle
+glowing with bells of scarlet, white, or yellow.
+
+Perhaps the most splendid of these rhododendrons is
+_Rhododendron grande_ or _argenteum,_ which grows to a height
+of from 30 to 40 feet, and has waxy bell-shaped flowers of a
+yellowish-white suffused with pink, 2 to 3 inches long and about the
+same across. The scarlet _R. arboreum,_ so general in the Himalaya,
+is common in Sikkim and furnishes brilliant patches of colour in the
+forest. And a magnificent species is _R. Auchlandii_ or
+_Griffithianum,_ which has large white flowers tinged with pink, of
+a firm fleshy texture and with a mouth 5 inches across. It has been
+called the queen of all flowering shrubs. It grows well in Cornwall,
+and among the hybrids from it is the famous Pink Pearl.
+
+_R. Falconeri,_ a white-flowered species, is eminently characteristic
+of the genus in habit, place of growth and locality, never occurring
+below 10,000 feet. In foliage it is incomparably the finest. It throws
+out one or two trunks clean and smooth, 30 feet or so high, the
+branches terminated by immense leaves, deep green above edged
+with yellow and ruby red-brown below. The creamy white flowers
+are shaded with lilac and are slightly scented. They are produced in
+tightly-packed clusters 9 to 15 inches across and twenty or more in
+numbers.
+
+A peculiar (in that it is of all the species the only one that is
+epiphytal) but much the largest flowered species is the _R.
+Dalhousiae._ It grows, like the orchids, among ferns and moss upon
+the trunks of, large trees, especially oaks and magnolias, and attains
+a height of 6 to 8 feet. The flowers are three to seven in a head, and
+are 3 1/2 to 5 inches long and as much across the mouth, white with
+an occasional tinge of rose and very fragrant. In size, colour, and
+fragrance of the blossoms this is the noblest of the genus. It grows
+out-of-doors in Cornwall and in the greenhouse in other parts of
+England as a scraggy bush 10 to 12 feet high. _R. barbatum_ is a
+tree from 40 to 60 feet high, producing flowers of a rich scarlet or
+blood-colour, and sometimes puce or rich pink. It is one of the most
+beautiful of the Himalayan rhododendrons, and is now very
+common in England, growing freely out-of-doors. Another truly
+superb plant is _R. Maddeni,_ with very handsome pure white
+flowers 3 1/2 to 4 inches long and as much across the mouth. This is
+now a special favourite in England. It grows in large bushes in the
+open in Cornwall and is very sweet-scented. _R. virgatum_ is a
+beautiful delicately white-flowered shrub. And _R. campylo-carpum_
+displays masses of exquisite pale yellow bells of rarest delicacy.
+
+Besides rhododendrons, ash, walnut, and maple become more
+abundant as we ascend, and at 9,000 feet larch appears, and there are
+woods of a spruce resembling the Norwegian spruce in general
+appearance. Among the plants are wood-sorrel, bramble, nut, spiraea,
+and various other South European and North American genera.
+
+The climate is no longer stifling and the leeches have disappeared.
+We miss many beauties of the tropical forest. But, with the
+vegetation more and more resembling what we are accustomed to in
+Europe, we are feeling more at home. The path winds through cool
+and pleasant woods, following the varying contour of the
+mountain-sides. We are no longer oppressed by the strangeness of the life
+around us. At almost every turn we come across something new yet
+not wholly unfamiliar. And standing out especially in our memory
+of this region will be the sight of a gigantic lily rearing itself ten feet
+high in the forest, and as pure in its perfect whiteness as if it had
+been grown in a garden. It is the _Lilium giganteum,_ and it has
+fourteen flowers on a single stalk and each 4 1/2 inches long and the
+same across.
+
+We still love most of all the white violets we have as children picked
+in an English wood, and even this great white lily will never
+supplant them in our affections. But the sight of that glorious plant
+rising proudly from amidst the greenery of its forest setting will be
+for us more than any picture. And its being "wild" has the same
+fascination for us that a flower that is "wild," and not garden grown,
+has for a child. In a florist's shop we may see lilies even more
+beautiful than this, but the enjoyment we get from seeing the florist's
+production bears no comparison whatever with the enjoyment we
+get from seeing this lily in a distant Himalayan forest where not so
+many white men ever go. We often have experiences which
+perceptibly age us. But this is one of those experiences which most
+certainly make us younger. We are once again children finding
+flowers in a wood.
+
+As we proceed upward the valley opens out, the mountains recede
+and are less steep. They are also less wooded, their slopes become
+more covered with grass, and the river, no longer a raging torrent,
+now meanders in a broad bed. The great peaks are somewhere close
+by, but we do not see the highest, and for the Himalaya the scenery
+is somewhat tame. But the number of herbaceous plants is great. A
+complete record of them would include most of the common genera
+of Europe and North America. Among them are purple, yellow, pink,
+and white primulas, golden potentillas, gentians of deepest azure,
+delicate anemones, speedwells, fritillaries, oxalis, balsams, and
+ranunculus. One special treasure of this part is a great red rose
+_(Rosa macrophylla),_ one of the most beautiful of Himalayan
+plants whose single blossoms are as large as the palm of the hand.
+With these plants from the temperate zone are mixed the far outliers
+of the tropical genera--orchids, begonias, and others--whose ascent
+to these high regions has been favoured by the great summer heat
+and moisture.
+
+We are now in the region of the primulas for which (besides its
+orchids and rhododendrons) Sikkim is famous. Sikkim may indeed
+be called the headquarters of the Indian primroses, and many species
+are found there which appear to occur nowhere else. There are from
+thirty to forty species, the majority growing at altitudes from 12,000
+to 15,000 feet, two or three only being found below 10,000 feet, and
+two or three as high as 16,000 to 17,000 feet. The best known is the
+_ Primula sikkimensis,_ which grows well in England and resembles
+a gigantic cowslip. It thrills us to see it growing in golden masses in
+the high valleys in wet boggy places--though the precise colour may
+be better described as lemon-yellow rather than gold.
+
+The prevailing colour of the primulas is purple, but white, yellow,
+blue, and pink are also found. The _P. denticulata_ has purple to
+bright sapphire blue flowers, and great stretches of country are
+almost blue with the lovely heads of this primrose. Miles of country
+can be seen literally covered with _P. obtusifolia,_ which has purple
+flowers and a strong metallic smell. _P. Kingii_ is a lovely plant
+with flowers of such a dark claret colour that they are almost black.
+And perhaps the most striking primula is _P. Elwesiana,_ with large
+solitary deflexed purple flowers.
+
+Poppies also are a feature of the Sikkim vegetation. Near the huts
+the people cultivate a majestic species near _Menconopsis
+simplicifolia,_ but it grows in dense clusters 2 or 3 feet high. The
+flowers vary in diameter from 5 to 7 inches, and are an intensely
+vivid blue on opening, though they change before fading into purple.
+_M. simplicifolia_ itself is also found at altitudes from 12,000 to
+15,000 feet--a clear light blue species of special beauty, growing
+as a single flower on a single stem, and now to be seen at
+both Edinburgh and Kew. Another beautiful poppy is the _M.
+nepalensis,_ which grows in the central dampest regions of Sikkim
+at elevations of 10,000 to 11,000 feet and resembles a miniature
+hollyhock, the flowers being of a pale golden or sulphur-yellow, 2 or
+3 inches in diameter and several on a stalk.
+
+As Tangu is approached the valley expands into broad grassy flats,
+and here at about 13,000 feet the vegetation rapidly diminishes in
+stature and abundance, and the change in species is very great. Larch,
+maple, cherry, and spiraea disappear, leaving willows, juniper,
+stunted birch, silver fir, mountain ash berberries, currant,
+honeysuckle, azalea, and many rhododendrons. The turfy ground is
+covered with gentians, potentillas, geraniums, and purple and yellow
+meconopsis, delphiniums, orchids, saxifrage, campanulas,
+ranunculus, anemones, primulas (including the magnificent
+_Primula Sikkimensis),_ and three or four species of ferns. The
+country being now so much more open, the valley bottom and the
+mountain-sides glow with purples and yellows of various shades.
+Not even here, nor indeed anywhere in the Himalaya, do we see that
+mass and glow of colour we find in California, where wide sheets of
+meadow-land are ablaze with the purple of the lupins and the gold of
+the Californian poppy. But for the number of varieties of plants
+these upper valleys of the Teesta River can scarcely be excelled. As
+we ascend the mountain-sides above Tangu we find them covered
+with plants of numerous different kinds, and even at about 14,000
+feet Hooker gathered over two hundred plants.
+
+But now we are nearing the limit of plant life. At 17,000 feet the
+vegetation has ceased to be alpine and has become arctic, and the
+plants nearest the snow-line are minute primulas, saxifrages,
+gentians, grasses, sedges, some tufted wormwood, and a dwarf
+rhododendron, the most alpine of wooded plants.
+
+At the summit of the Donkia Pass Hooker found one flowering plant,
+the _Arenaria rupifragia._ The fescue _(Festuca ovina),_ a little fern
+_(Woodsia),_ and a saussurea ascend very near the summit. A
+pink-coloured woolly saussurea and _Delphinium glaciale_ are two of the
+most lofty plants, and are commonly found from 17,500 feet to
+18,000 feet. Besides some barren mosses several lichens grow on
+the top, as _Cladonia vermicularis,_ the yellow _Lecidea
+geographica_ and the orange _L. miniata._
+
+At 18,300 feet Hooker found on one stone only a fine Scottish lichen,
+a species of gyrophora, the "tripe de roche" of Arctic voyagers and
+the food of the Canadian hunters. It is also abundant in the Scotch
+Alps.
+
+On the summit of Bhomtso, 18,590 feet, the only plants were the
+lichens _Lecidea miniata_ (or _Parmalia miniata)_ mentioned
+above, and borrera. The first-named minute lichen is the most arctic,
+antarctic, alpine, and universally diffused in the world, and often
+occurs so abundantly as to colour the rocks an orange red.
+
+* * *
+
+The entire range of plant life, from the truly tropical to the hardiest
+arctic, is now complete. As we look back from the limit of perpetual
+snow we see the whole great procession in a glance. We have come
+across no African, nor South American, nor Australian plants, so we
+have not seen anything like the _whole_ of plant life. But the range
+from the tropic to the arctic has been complete and continuous. In no
+other region could we in so short a space as a hundred miles--the
+distance from Bath to London--see the entire range so fully
+represented.
+
+And actually _seeing_ how vast is the range and variety of plant life
+is a very different thing from knowing that it exists; seeing the
+flowers in the flesh is altogether different from only reading
+descriptions of them; and seeing them in masses and in their natural
+surroundings affects us quite differently from seeing only a few in a
+garden or in a hot-house. Here on the spot we feel close in touch
+with Nature's own heart. We see Nature's productions springing up
+fresh and new straight from the very fountain source. We have the
+joy of being able to stretch out a hand and pick a flower direct from
+its own surroundings, and to fondle it, examine it all round, admire
+its colour, form, and texture, compare its beauty with the beauty of
+other flowers and settle wherein its special beauty lies. We shall
+never be able to give to even the most exquisite orchid or the most
+perfect lily the same affection that we give to the primroses and
+violets of our native land. But we may be sure that our
+Naturalist-Artist, when he gathers together in his mind the impressions
+which have been made upon him by his passage through the tropical forests
+to the alpine uplands and thence to the limit of perpetual snow, will
+find that his sense of the variety of beauty to be found in trees and
+leaves, in ferns and flowers, has immeasurably expanded. He will
+have acquired a firmer grasp of plant life as a whole. He will have a
+truer measure of the beauty in it. And irresistibly, but most willingly,
+he will have been more closely drawn to Nature's heart.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE DENIZENS OF THE FOREST
+
+So far we have paid attention almost exclusively to the plant life.
+But all through Sikkim the insect life presses itself just as insistently
+on our notice. In the tropical portion it is unbelievably abundant and
+varied. It swarms about us and is ever present. And much of it is as
+beautiful as the flowers. For sheer attractiveness the butterflies are
+as compelling as the orchids. Mosquitoes, gnats, flies, leeches, every
+torment there is. But we forgive everything for the chance of being
+able to see alive and in the full glory of their colouring these brilliant
+gems of the insect world which we can in places view in hundreds
+and thousands at a time--and in extraordinary variety, for in this
+little country more than six hundred species are found--about ten
+times as many as are met with in England. Moreover, there is no
+season when they are wholly absent, for in the hot valleys they may
+be seen all the year round, though naturally there are more in the
+summer than in the winter.
+
+If it were not for other attractions we would like to concentrate our
+attention on these beautiful creatures alone. For they fascinate us by
+the daring of their colours, by their bold designs, by the way in
+which they blend the colours with one another, and by the extreme
+delicacy and chasteness of both colour and design. We are reluctant
+to take the life of a single one of the thousands we see, but yet we
+are itching, too, to lay hold of one after another as it sails into sight
+displaying some fresh beauty. We want to handle it as we would a
+flower, turn it about and examine it from every point of view till not
+a shade or aspect of its beauty has escaped us. In the presence of
+these brilliant butterflies we are children once more. We want to
+have them in our hands and feel that they are in our possession. It is
+tantalising merely to view them from a distance. We want to enjoy
+their beauty to the full.
+
+These butterflies of Sikkim are such complete strangers to us we do
+not even know their names. From the "Gazetteer," however, we
+learn that the most beautiful of them are the papilios, of which alone
+there are no less than forty-two species. And three of these--namely,
+the _Teinophalus imperialis_ (which occurs on Tiger Hill above
+Darjiling) and two ornithopteras, or bird-butterflies--are among the
+most splendid of all butterflies. The former is green on the upper
+side with yellow spots on the hind-wing, and the long tails are tipped
+with yellow. The two bird-butterflies are common in the low valleys
+from May to October. They are truly magnificent insects, measuring
+from 6 to 8 inches across. Their fore-wings are wholly of a velvety
+black and the hind-wing golden yellow scolloped with black.
+
+Of the well-known green species of papilio, with longish tails and
+blue or green spots on the hindwing, there are four species, of which
+one is European. Some have semi-transparent wings of a lace-like
+pattern, with long slender tails to the hind-wings, and are of a very
+elegant shape.
+
+A most gorgeously-coloured butterfly is the _Thaumantis diores,_
+black with large spots (which cover a great part of both fore and
+hind wings) of a brilliant metallic, changeable blue. It measures 4
+3/4 inches across the outspread wings. It avoids the direct sunlight
+and dodges about among the scrub growing under the deep shade of
+tall trees in the hottest and moistest valleys.
+
+One of the most lovely butterflies in the world is the
+_Stichophthalma camadeva,_ which is one of the largest of the
+Sikkim butterflies, being from 5 to 6 1/2 inches in expanse. It is
+more soberly coloured on the upper side than the last-named, being
+chiefly white and brown, but the underside is more beautiful, having
+a row of five red ocelli with black irides on each wing and other
+pretty markings.
+
+The lyccenides, or "blues," are represented by no less than 154
+species, several of them of surpassing beauty. Many are marked
+with changeable metallic hues on the upper side of the fore-wing:
+some violet, some with green, and some with golden bronze. The
+most lovely of all is the _Ilerea brahma,_ of which the colouring of
+the upper side of the male is unique.
+
+Then there is the curious leaf-butterfly, which has a marvellous
+resemblance to a dead leaf with its wings folded over the back and
+showing the underside only, the leaf-stalk veins being excellently
+mimicked. But when flying about its upper side, which is a deep
+violet-blue with a conspicuous yellowish bar across the fore-wing, is
+exposed, and the butterfly is then most beautiful. I have seen many
+of these lovely butterflies flying about in the Teesta Valley,
+glistening in the dappled light of the forest, and then settle on a
+branch; and unless I had actually seen them alight, I should never
+have known them from leaves.
+
+* * *
+
+The moths, though naturally not as beautiful as the butterflies, are
+far more numerous, there being something like two thousand species.
+Several of them are the largest of the insect race. And one of them,
+the famous atlas moth, is sometimes nearly a foot across. Next in
+size come several species of the genus _Actias,_ of which _selene_
+is the most common. It is of a pale green colour with a pinkish; spot,
+and has long slender tails. It measures about 8 inches across the
+fore-wings, and nearly as much from shoulder to the tip of the tail.
+
+* * *
+
+Other insects numerously represented in Sikkim are beetles, bugs,
+grasshoppers, praying insects, walking-stick insects, dragon-flies,
+ants, lantern-flies, cicadae, etc.
+
+* * *
+
+Plant life and insect life are abundant enough, but of birds there
+seem to be comparatively few. As we travel through the forest we do
+not notice many of them, and we do not hear many. We do not
+everywhere find great flocks of birds as we see swarms of insects.
+And we do not find the forest resounding with the songs of birds as
+it does with the hum and crackle of insects. In this respect we are
+disappointed.
+
+But the birds of Sikkim, if few in number, are great in variety. Birds
+feed on fruits, berries, seeds, insects, grubs, caterpillars, small
+animals, and even little birds. Some birds like a still, hot, damp
+climate. Other birds like a cold, dry climate. Some birds like the
+shade and quiet and protection of the forest. Others like the open and
+the sunshine. Some birds find their food in the water, others on the
+land. And the Sikkim Himalaya, from the plains to the mountains,
+provides such a rich variety of plant and insect life, such a variety of
+climate and of country, and so plentiful a supply of water, that birds
+of the widest difference of requirements can here be provided with
+their needs.
+
+Consequently birds of numerous different species make Sikkim their
+habitat, either permanently or for certain seasons of the year. And
+Gammie, who has specially studied the natural history of Sikkim,
+says in the "Sikkim Gazetteer" that in no part of the world of an
+equal area are birds more profusely represented in species. The birds
+may not be so numerous as in other parts, but they are more varied.
+Between five and six hundred species are represented, varying from
+the great vulture known as the lammergeyer, which is 9 1/2 feet
+across the outstretched wing, down to the tiny flower-pecker, barely
+exceeding 3 inches from the end of its beak to the tip of its tail.
+
+Of the birds found in the forest itself, the honey-suckers or sun-birds
+are perhaps the most beautiful. There are no gorgeous birds of
+paradise, and even resplendent parrots are not very numerous. But
+these little sun-birds glitter like jewels among the leafy foliage, and
+the lustrous metallic hues of different shades with which they are
+richly coloured on the head and long tail-feathers change and flash
+in the sunlight with every slightest movement.
+
+Not all so brilliant in colour but very delightful to watch are the
+fly-catchers. Of these there are no less than twenty-six species, the most
+remarkable being the fairy blue-chat, which is brilliantly marked
+with different shades of glistening blue, and another which is
+strikingly coloured in almost uniform verditer blue. In the very
+lowest valleys is found the beautiful paradise fly-catcher, with a
+long-pointed black crest, the rest of the plumage white with black
+shafts and the tail 14 inches in length. The quickness and agility this
+lovely bird displays as it darts and twists and turns in the pursuit of
+butterflies in their uneven dodging flight is one of the marvels of
+forest life.
+
+Game-birds are not abundant, but four species of pheasant are found,
+of which the largest and handsomest is the moonal, bronze-green
+glossed with gold and with a tail of cinnamon red. Sportsmen in the
+Himalaya are familiar with the sight of this radiantly-coloured bird
+swishing down the mountain-side with apparently the speed and
+almost the brilliancy of a flash of lightning. Not so handsome as the
+moonal, being small and greyish in colour on the back, is the
+blood-pheasant, remarkable for its blood-red streaks on the breast and its
+blood-red under-tail-coverts.
+
+Bulbuls are largely represented and may be seen in large flocks
+among the scrub--delightful, homely little birds with bright and
+cheery ways which specially attract us. Not very common, but to be
+found in the lower part of the valley, is the beautiful fairy bluebird, a
+large bird 10 inches in length with a glistening cobalt-blue upper
+part and velvet black beneath. The European cuckoo may be heard
+all day long in the season from about 3,500 feet upwards. And about
+a dozen other cuckoos visit Sikkim, of which by far the prettiest is
+the emerald cuckoo, a small bird not much more than 6 inches long,
+of a brilliant emerald green with golden sheen, and below white
+barred with shining green. Kingfishers are not numerous, as fish are
+scarce. But there are four species, of which the prettiest is a lovely
+little creature about 5 inches long, coloured with rufous, white, and
+different shades of blue and violet.
+
+These are only a few of the most striking birds; but to give an idea
+of the variety of other birds which may be found in Sikkim, many of
+which are hardly less beautiful than those above described, we may
+learn from Gammie that among the birds of prey there are eleven
+eagles; the peregrine falcon, a little pigmy falcon, and five other
+falcons; a big brown wood-owl, 2 feet in length, a pigmy owlet
+measuring only 6 inches, and nine other owls; and six kites;--among
+the game-birds, besides pheasants, three quails, two hill-partridges, a
+jungle-fowl, woodcock, a snow-cock, and a snow-partridge;--among
+other classes of birds, nine or ten species of pigeons and doves; the
+European raven and a jungle crow; one jay and several magpies; two
+hornbills, one of which is 4 feet in length; the common and the
+Nepal swallow; about thirty species of finches, among them being
+three bullfinches and eight rose-finches; three or four larks;
+numerous and varied tits; wagtails; five species of parrots; eight or
+nine species of wren; thrushes of a dozen species; ten species of
+robin; and, lastly, many species of waders such as florekin, cranes,
+plovers, snipe, sandpipers, coots, water-hen, storks, heron,
+cormorants, terns, divers, and ducks.
+
+* * *
+
+Reptiles are not commonly accounted among the beauties of Nature;
+but they must not be lost sight of in reviewing the life of the forest.
+The largest is the python, whose usual length is 12 feet, though
+individuals of 16 to 20 feet are not very rare. A very beautiful snake
+found in the cool forests is green with a broad black band on each
+side of the hinder half of the body and tail, the green scales being
+margined with black. Another snake of the same length is a
+handsome green whip-snake, graceful in its movements, but
+ferocious and aggressive in its habits, although quite harmless. The
+ordinary cobra is not uncommon. The giant cobra is also found in
+the lower valleys, and grows to a length of 12 or 13 feet. Four
+species of pit vipers are found. The krait occurs, but is not common.
+Altogether there are nine species of venomous snakes and thirty
+species of non-venomous snakes found in Sikkim.
+
+Of lizards there are ten species. One is popularly known as the
+chameleon on account of its rather showy colours, but does not
+really belong to that family. And a beautiful grass-snake, which, as
+it is limbless, is often mistaken for a tree-snake, is also of the lizard
+genus.
+
+Of frogs and toads there are about sixteen species. Among them are
+several prettily-coloured tree-frogs. Several of the species are
+recognised by their call.
+
+* * *
+
+Of mammals about eighty-one species are found. They include three
+monkeys, eight of the cat tribe, two civet cats, one tree cat, two
+mongooses, two of the dog tribe, five pole-cats and weasels, one
+ferret-badger, three otters, one cat-bear, two bears, one tree-shrew,
+one mole, six shrews, two water-shrews, twelve bats, four squirrels,
+two marmots, eight rats and mice, one vole, one porcupine, four deer,
+two forest-goats, one goat, one sheep, and one ant-eater.
+
+The common monkey of India, the Bengal monkey, is found in large
+companies at low elevations. The Himalayan monkey is abundant
+from 3,000 to 6,000 feet; and the Himalayan langur frequents the
+zone from 7,000 to 12,000 feet.
+
+The tiger inhabits the Terai at the foot of the mountains, but is only
+an occasional visitor to Sikkim proper. But the leopard and the
+clouded leopard are permanent residents and fairly common. This
+last is of a most beautiful mottled colouring. Another leopard is the
+snow-leopard, which inhabits high altitudes only. The marbled-cat is
+a miniature edition of the clouded leopard, and the leopard-cat of the
+common leopard. The large Indian civet-cat is not uncommon, but
+the spotted tiger-civet, a very beautiful and active creature, is rare.
+The jackal is not uncommon, and there is at least one species of
+wild-dog. These dogs hunt in packs and kill wild-pig, deer, goats,
+etc. A very peculiar and interesting animal is the cat-bear, which has
+the head and arms of a minute bear and the tail of a cat. The brown
+bear occurs at high altitudes, and the Himalayan black bear is
+common lower down. The black hill squirrel is a large handsome
+animal of the lower forests, and a very handsome flying squirrel
+inhabits the forests between 5,000 and 10,000 feet.
+
+The great Sikkim stag is not found in Sikkim proper, but inhabits the
+Chumbi Valley. The sambhar stag is abundant. The commonest of
+the deer tribe is the khakar, or barking deer. It is, says Hodgson,
+unmatched for flexibility and power of creeping through tangled
+underwood. The musk deer remains at high elevations.
+
+In addition to the above, elephants come up from the forests in the
+plains, and in these plain forests are found (besides tigers and boars)
+rhinoceros, bison, and buffalo.
+
+* * *
+
+This has been a long enumeration of the animal life, in its many
+branches, which is found in the forest. The mere cataloguing of it is
+sufficient to show the extent and variety of insect, bird, reptile, and
+mammal life which the forest contains. But it is with the beauty of
+this animal life, rather than with its extent and variety, that we are
+concerned. And if the Artist is to see its full beauty, he must see it
+with the eyes of the naturalist and sportsman--men whose eyes are
+trained to observe in minutest detail the form and colour and
+character of each animal, bird, or insect, and who know something
+of the life each has to lead, and the conditions in which it is placed.
+More sportsmen than naturalists, and more naturalists than artists,
+observe these and other animals in their natural surroundings. But,
+nowadays, at least photographers and cinematographers are going
+into the wilds to portray them. And perhaps naturalist-artists will
+arise who, every bit as keen as sportsmen now are to get to close
+quarters with game animals, will want to get into positions from
+which they will be able carefully to observe animals of all kinds and
+take note of every characteristic. These artists will have to be fully
+as alert as the sportsmen, and be able on the instant, and from a
+fleeting glimpse, to note the lines and shades and character of the
+animal. But, if they do this, they will, in all probability, bring back
+more lasting and deeper impressions of the animals than the
+sportsman with all his keen observation ever receives--and they will
+enjoy a greater pleasure. An artist, who from observing an animal in
+its own haunts, and from the sketches and notes he made there,
+could paint a picture of it in its own surroundings, would assuredly
+derive more pleasure from his enterprise than the sportsman who
+simply brought back the animal's head. In addition he would have
+enabled others to share his enjoyment with him. There is a great
+field here for the painter; and many would welcome a change from
+the same old cows and sheep tamely grazing in a meadow, which is
+all that artists usually present to us of animal life.
+
+Among the most conspicuous animals met with are the elephant, the
+bison, the buffalo, and the rhinoceros. And it would be hard to
+discover beauty in any of these. As we see the rhinoceros, for
+example, in the Zoological Gardens nothing could be more ugly. Yet
+we should not despair of finding beauty even in a rhinoceros if we
+could study him in his natural surroundings and understand all the
+circumstances of his life. If we observed him and his habits and
+habitat with the knowledge of the naturalist and the keenness of the
+sportsman, we might find that in his form and colour he does in his
+own peculiar fashion fitly express the purpose of his being. And
+whatever adequately expresses a definite purpose is beautiful.
+Where a dainty antelope would be altogether out of place, the
+ponderous rhinoceros may be completely in his element. Where a
+tender-skinned horse would be driven mad by insects, the
+thick-skinned beast passes the time untroubled. In a drawing-room a
+daintily-dressed lady is a vision of loveliness. In a ploughed field
+she would look ridiculous. In a drawing-room a peasant would look
+uncouth. In a field, as Millet has shown us, he possesses a beauty,
+dignified and touching. It is not impossible, therefore, that an artist
+who had the opportunity of entering into the life of a rhinoceros, as
+Millet had of entering into the life of a peasant, might discover
+beauty even in that monstrosity. This, however, I allow is an
+extreme case.
+
+In a less extreme case beauty has already been discovered. The bison
+does not at first sight strike us as a beautiful animal. Yet Mr.
+Stebbing, the naturalist-sportsman, says that, as he caught sight of
+one after a long stalk, and watched it with palpitating heart, he was
+fascinated by the grand sight--18 hands of coal-black beauty shining
+like satin in the light filtering through the branches of the trees.
+
+When we move on from the bison to the stag the beauty is evident
+enough. A stag carries himself right royally, and has a rugged,
+majestic beauty all his own. There are few more beautiful sights in
+the animal world than that of a lordly stag standing tense with
+preparedness to turn swiftly, and, on the instant, bound away in any
+direction.
+
+Not majestic like the great deer, but of a more airy grace and
+daintiness, are the smaller deer and antelope. The lightness of their
+tread, their suppleness of movement, and their spring and litheness,
+fill us with delight.
+
+* * *
+
+We now come to the crown of the animal kingdom--man. And in the
+Sikkim Himalaya are to be found men of all the stages of civilisation
+from the most primitive to the most advanced. Inhabiting the forests
+at the foot of the mountains are certain jungle peoples of extreme
+interest simply by reason of their primitiveness. They represent the
+very early stages of man, and in observing them in their own haunts,
+we shall understand something of the immensity and the delicacy of
+man's task in gaining his ascendancy in the animal world and
+acquiring a greater mastery over his surroundings.
+
+In these forests teeming with animal life of all kinds man had to hold
+his own against dangerous and stronger animals, and to supply
+himself with food in the face of many rivals. He had to be as alert as
+the sharpest-witted and as cunning as the most crafty, and to have
+physical fitness and endurance to stand the strain of incessant rivalry.
+This is what these jungle people have. Their alertness, their capacity
+to glide through the forest almost as stealthily as an animal, their
+keenness of sight, their acute sense of hearing, their knowledge of
+jungle lore and of the habits of animals, and their ability to stand
+long and hard physical strain, are the envy of us civilised men when
+we find ourselves among them. Particularly is this shown when
+tracking. They will note the slightest indication of the passage of the
+animal they are after--the faintest footprint, a stone overturned and
+showing the moisture on its under surface, a broken twig, a bitten
+leaf, the bark rubbed--and they will be able to judge from the exact
+appearance of these signs how long it is since the animal made them.
+They will, too, detect sounds which we civilised men would
+certainly never hear, and from a note of alarm in these sounds, or
+from excitement among birds, infer the presence of a dangerous
+animal.
+
+When seen outside the forests these jungle men look wild and
+unkempt, but seen in their natural surroundings and compared
+_there_ with the white man, they have a Beauty which is wanting in
+the white man. In _these_ surroundings they have a dignity and
+composure and assurance which the European lacks. They are on
+their own ground, and there they are beautiful.
+
+And these primitive men are worthy of being painted by the very
+greatest of painters, and of having their praises sung by the very first
+of poets. For it is they and their like who, with only such weapons as
+the forest affords and their own ingenuity devised, won the way
+through for us civilised men, won the battle against the fierce and
+much more powerful beasts around them, and by great daring and
+through sheer skill, courage, and endurance led the way to the light.
+It was a marvellous feat. For all the privileges and immunities which
+we men of to-day enjoy we have to thank these primitive forest men,
+and our gratitude could never be too great. They are deserving of the
+closest attention and the warmest appreciation.
+
+Not many of these really primitive peoples are nowadays left in the
+jungles. But the tea-gardens have attracted a primitive people, the
+Santals, who are typical of the true Dravidian stock of India--a jolly,
+cheerful, easy-going, and, on the whole, law-abiding, truthful, and
+honest people who love a roaming life, with plenty of hunting and
+fishing.
+
+The Lepchas of Sikkim have risen above the first primitive stage.
+They clothe themselves well and dwell in well-built houses. They do
+not possess for us the same essential interest as belongs to truly
+primitive people. But on account of their intimate knowledge of the
+forest and its denizens, and by reason also of their being a
+remarkably simple, gentle, and likeable people, they have an
+unusual attraction for travellers. Hooker, who was one of the first to
+live among them, and Claude White, who lived among them for
+many years, both write of them in affectionate terms. They are
+child-like and engaging, good-humoured, cheery and amiable, free and
+unrestrained. They have, too, a reputation for honesty and
+truthfulness.
+
+More vigorous, capable, and virile than the Lepchas are the
+Nepalese, who, migrating from Nepal, are found in great numbers in
+this region. They are more given to agriculture than the Lepchas,
+and are thrifty, industrious, and resourceful. Though excitable and
+aggressive, they are also law-abiding.
+
+Less numerous but prominent inhabitants of this region are the
+Bhutias, who consist of four classes; Bhutias, who are a mixed race
+of Tibetans and Lepchas; Sherpa Bhutias, who come from the east
+of Nepal, the word _sher_ merely meaning "east"; the Drukpa or
+Dharma Bhutias, whose home is Bhutan; and the Tibetan Bhutias
+from Tibet. They are strong, sturdy men, merry and cheerful.
+
+These Lepchas, Nepalese, and Bhutias are all of Mongolian origin,
+and therefore have the distinctively Mongolian appearance. But
+besides these, in Darjiling and on the tea-gardens are to be found
+Bengali clerks, Marwari merchants from Rajputana, Punjabi traders,
+Hindustani mechanics, and Chinese carpenters. And in addition to
+all these are British Government officials, tea-planters, and a
+continual stream of visitors from all parts of Europe and America,
+who come to Darjiling to view the snowy range.
+
+So that in this small region may be found representatives of every
+grade of civilisation and a great variety of types. And what an
+amount of Beauty--as distinct from mere prettiness--there is to
+discover in even the rough local people may be seen from the
+pictures of the Russian painter Verestchagin, engravings from which
+are given in his autobiographical sketches entitled "Vassili
+Verestchagin." This great painter evidently succeeded in getting
+inside the wild peoples he loved; and his pictures reveal to us
+beauties we might without them never have known. In these people's
+gait, their attitudes, their grouping, as well as in their features, he
+was able to discern the hardihood, the patience, the impetuosity, the
+gentleness of their character, and portray it for us.
+
+Putting aside the obvious differences between us and them, we are
+able to detect our fundamental identity of nature, have a
+fellow-feeling with them, recognise sameness between us and so see their
+beauty.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE SUM IMPRESSION
+
+The Artist has now to stand back and view the forest as a whole.
+And he must test his view in the light of reason--bring Truth to bear
+upon Beauty. The forest with its multitudinous and varied life,
+ranging from simplest to most cultured man, is an epitome of Nature
+so far as she is manifested on this planet. And he will from this
+epitome try to get a view of the real character of Nature. As he takes
+stock of the impressions which have been made upon him, he will
+have to form a conclusion of absolutely fundamental importance for
+the enjoyment of Natural Beauty.
+
+Men's hearts instinctively go out to Nature, and in consequence they
+see Beauty in her. As children they love flowers and love animals.
+And the most primitive races have the same feeling though they are
+just as callous in their treatment of animals as children are in their
+treatment of one another. In the more cultured races this instinctive
+love of Nature and appreciation of Natural Beauty has enormously
+developed. But if men ever came to hold the idea--as so many since
+the doctrine of the survival of the fittest has come into prominence
+are inclined to do--that Nature is at heart cold and hard, and recks
+nothing of human joys and sorrows, then love of Nature would fade
+away from men's hearts. Being out of sympathy and repelled from
+entering into deep communion with her, men would never again see
+Beauty in her. The enjoyment of Natural Beauty would pass from
+them for ever.
+
+So the Artist will try to get at the true Heart of Nature. If the
+Naturalist part of him tells him that at bottom Nature is merciless
+and unrelenting, utterly regardless of the things of most worth in life;
+that Nature is indeed "red in tooth and claw"; that all she cares
+for--all she selects as the fittest to survive--are the merely strongest,
+the most pushing and aggressive, the individuals who will simply
+trample down their neighbours in order that they themselves may
+"survive"; or if, again, the Naturalist convinces him that all he has
+seen in the forest has come about by pure chance; that it is by a mere
+fluke that we find orchids and not mushrooms, men and not
+monkeys, at the head of plant and animal life; and that Nature
+herself is wholly indifferent as to which of the two establishes its
+preeminence--then he will feel the chill upon his soul, he will shrivel
+up within himself, the very fountain-spring of Beauty will be frozen
+up, and never again will he see Beauty in any single one of Nature's
+manifestations.
+
+But if, on the other hand, the Naturalist is able to convince the Artist
+that in spite of the very evident struggle for existence Nature does
+not care twopence whether the "fittest" survive or not so long as
+what is best in the end prevails; that far from things coming about by
+mere chance Nature has a distinct end in view, and that end the
+accomplishment of what he himself most prizes, then the heart of
+the Artist will warm to the heart of Nature with a fervour it had
+never known before; his heart will throb with her heart, and every
+beauty he has seen in plain or mountain, in flower, bird, or man, will
+be a hundredfold increased.
+
+Which of these two views of Nature, so far as Nature can be judged
+from what we see of her on this planet, is correct, he has now to
+determine. The profound mystery which everywhere prevails in the
+forest and which exerts such a compelling spell upon us he will want
+to probe to the bottom. He will not be content with the outward
+prettiness of butterfly and orchid, or with the mere profusion and
+variety of life, or with the colossal size of animals and trees. He will
+want to burrow down and get at the very root and mainspring of this
+forest life. He will want to reach the very Heart of Nature here
+manifested in such manifold variety. He will want to arrive at the
+inner significance of all this variety of life. Then only will he
+understand Nature and be able to decide whether Nature is cruel and
+therefore to be feared, or kind and gracious and therefore to be loved.
+
+* * *
+
+Now, when we go into the forest and look into it in detail, the
+profusion is even greater than we expected. In this damp tropical
+region where there is ample heat and moisture, plant life comes
+springing out of the earth with a prolificness which seems
+inexhaustible. And when plant life is abundant, animal and insect
+life is abundant also. So profuse, indeed, is the output of living
+things that it seems simply wasteful. A single tree may produce
+thousands of flowers. Each flower may have dozens of seeds. The
+tree may go on flowering for a hundred or two hundred years. So a
+single tree may produce millions of seeds, each capable of growing
+into a forest giant like its parent.
+
+With insect life the same profusion of life is evident. A single moth
+or butterfly lays thousands of eggs. Mosquitoes, flies, gnats, midges,
+leeches swarm in myriads upon myriads.
+
+The abundance and superabundance of life is the first outstanding
+--though it will prove not the most important--impression made upon
+us by a contemplation of the forest as a whole.
+
+* * *
+
+Scarcely less striking than the abundance is the variety. Life does
+not spring up from the earth in forms as alike one another as two
+peas. Each individual plant or animal, however small, however
+simple, has its own distinctive characteristics, There is variety and
+variation everywhere. Variety in form, variety in colour, variety in
+size, variety in character and habit. In size there is the difference
+between the huge _terminalia_ towering up 200 feet high and the
+tiny little potentilla; between the atlas moth 12 inches in spread and
+the hardly discernible midges; between the elephant, massive
+enough to trample its way through the densest forest, and the
+humble little mouse peeping out of its hole in the ground. In colour
+the difference ranges from the light blue of the forget-me-not to the
+deep blue of the gentian; from the delicate pink of the dianthus to
+the deep crimson of the rhododendron; from the brilliant hues of the
+orchids to the dull browns and greens of inconspicuous tree flowers;
+from the vivid light greens, yellows, and reds of the young leaves of
+these tropical forests to the greyer green of their maturity; from the
+smiting reds and blues of the most gaudy butterflies, beetles, and
+dragon-flies to the modest browns of night-flying moths; from the
+gorgeous colours of the parrots to the familiar black of crows; from
+the yellow-striped tiger to the earth-coloured hare; from the
+dark-skinned aborigine to the yellow-skinned Mongolian and the fair
+European. Similarly do plants and animals vary in form: from the
+straight pines and palms to the spreading, umbrageous oaks and
+laurels; from upstanding lilies to parasitical orchids; from monstrous
+spiky beetles to symmetrical dragon-flies; from ungainly rhinoceros
+to graceful antelope; from short, sturdy Bhutias to tall, slim
+Hindustanis. Likewise in character individuals are as different as the
+strong, firm tree standing open-faced, four-square to all the world
+and the creeping, insinuating parasite; as the intelligent, industrious
+ant and the clumsy, plodding beetle; as the plucky boar and the timid
+hare; as the rough forest tribesman and the cultured Bengali.
+
+Lastly, there is variety among not only the different species of plants,
+animals, insects, etc., but also the individuals of the same species.
+We ourselves know the differences there are between one man and
+another, and as far as that goes between ourselves on one day and
+ourselves on the next. Each plant--and still more each animal--has
+its own unique individuality. Every cavalry officer, every shepherd,
+every dog-owner, every pigeon-fancier knows that each horse, sheep,
+dog, pigeon has its own individuality and is distinctly different from
+all others of its kind. And so does every gardener know that each
+rose, each tulip, each pansy is different from all other roses, tulips,
+and pansies. It is the same in the forest. Hardly two trees or plants of
+the same species develop their young leaves, open their flowers,
+ripen their seeds, and drop their leaves at the same time. Apart from
+the size of the flower and leaf there are differences in colour, shape,
+and marking. Each in appearance and in habit has an individuality of
+its own.
+
+Such is the variety in the abundant life of the forest that no two
+individuals, no two blades of grass, or no two leaves are in every
+detail precisely alike. And this is the second outstanding impression
+we receive.
+
+* * *
+
+The abundance and variety of life are evident enough. Not so
+evident but equally noteworthy is the intensity. In the still forest one
+of the giant trees looks utterly impassive and immobile. It stands
+there calm and unmoved. Not a leaf stirs. Yet the whole and every
+minutest part of it is instinct with intensest life. It is made up of
+countless microscopic cells in unceasing activity. Highly sensitive
+and mobile cells form the root-tips and insinuate their way into
+every crevice in search of food for the tree, rejecting what is
+unpalatable and forwarding what is useful for building up and
+sustaining the monarch. Other cells take in necessary food from the
+air. Others build up the trunk and its protective bark. Others, and
+most important of all, go to make up the flowers of the tree and the
+organs of reproduction which enable the tree to propagate its kind.
+
+All this activity of the separate cells and combinations of cells is
+taking place. And in addition there is that activity of them all in their
+togetherness, that activity which keeps the cells together, and which
+if relaxed for a moment would mean that the cells would all collapse
+as the grains of dust in an eddying dust-devil at a street corner
+collapse once the gust of wind which stirred them and keeps them
+together drops away. What must be the intensity of life required to
+develop the tree from the seed and to rear that giant straight up from
+the level soil 200 feet into the air and maintain it there two hundred
+years, we can only imagine; for to outward appearance the tree is
+quite impassive. It does not move a muscle of its face to reveal the
+intensity of life within.
+
+The tree is characteristic of every living thing. Every plant and every
+animal, however seemingly sluggish, is working to fulfil its life, to
+nourish itself, to reproduce its kind.
+
+* * *
+
+Now, the amount of air and sunshine for plants may be practically
+unlimited, but air and sunshine are not all that plants require. They
+want soil and moisture as well. And the standing-room for plants is
+strictly limited. The forest stretches away up to the snows; but there
+it stops. Necessarily, therefore, there must be the keenest and most
+incessant struggle among the plants for standing-room. Only a
+comparatively few can be accommodated. The rest cannot survive.
+And as the number of plants which can survive is thus limited, the
+number of animals is limited also, for animals are dependent on
+plants. Plants, therefore, in spite of their eminently pacific
+appearance are engaged in a fierce struggle with one another for
+standing-room. And animals are likewise engaged in a struggle
+among themselves for the plants.
+
+There is competition among the roots of the different individual
+plants for the food and water of the soil. And there is competition
+among the leaves for the sunlight. Each plant is pushing its roots
+downwards and spreading outward for more food and to root itself
+more firmly. Each is straining upward to receive more sunlight.
+Each is struggling with its fellows for room and means to develop its
+life. Competitors in hundreds and thousands are forced to withdraw
+and succumb. And even when a forest giant has defeated all
+competitors and reached its full maturity it has still to maintain the
+struggle and hold its own continually against other individuals
+whose roots are reaching out below and whose branches are
+spreading out above; against climbers who would smother it; and
+against parasites who would suck its very life-blood. The battle,
+moreover, is often not so much between one species and another
+species as between individuals of the same species. And it is a war
+which continues through life.
+
+The struggle for existence among the plants and trees is keen beyond
+imagination. And the struggle among the insects, birds and beasts,
+and man for the plants and products of the trees is no less severe. So
+now our impression is that of an abundant, varied and intense life in
+which the individuals are perpetually struggling with one another for
+bare existence.
+
+* * *
+
+Under these stringent and stressful conditions does each living being
+come into the world. He has to battle his way through--or succumb.
+Plants as well as men, and men as well as plants. So, as we look into
+the structure of animals and plants, we are not surprised to find that
+in order to cope with their surroundings they have developed organs
+which are specially adapted to enable them to secure the needful
+food, to hold their own against the competition of their neighbours,
+to meet the exigencies of their surroundings, and to pursue their own
+life to the full extent of its possibilities. Even plants are like sentient
+beings in this respect. The sensitive tips of their roots are organs
+admirably adapted for feeling their way through the soil and
+selecting from its constituents what will best nourish the plant. The
+leaves opening out to the air and sunshine are other organs adapted
+for gathering in nourishment. And thorns and poisonous juices are
+means adapted to fend off destructive neighbours. The eyes and ears
+in animals are other instances of organs which enable them to see
+what will serve them as food, or to hear what may be possible
+enemies, and to make use of what will help them to the proper
+fulfilment of their life.
+
+We see each individual plant and animal striving to the best of his
+ability to adjust himself to the conditions in which he finds himself,
+trying to adapt himself to his surroundings--to his physical
+surroundings, such as the climate and soil, and to his social
+surroundings, consisting of his plant and animal neighbours and
+rivals. We shall probably notice, too, that he seems to be driven by
+some inner impulse (which in its turn is a responding to the impress
+of the totality of the individual's surroundings) to strive to do
+something more than merely adapt himself to his surroundings. He
+is urged on to rise superior to them.
+
+So the course of the individual's life is continually being affected by
+surroundings which compel him to adapt himself to them on pain of
+extinction if he fails. On the other hand, he is himself, in his own
+small way, affecting his surroundings and causing _them_ to adapt
+themselves to _him._ Even the humblest plant takes from the
+surrounding soil and air what it needs as food and changes it in the
+process of assimilation, so that the surroundings are, to a slight
+extent at least, changed by the activity of the plant. And we already
+have noticed how a plant's insect surroundings have to adapt
+themselves to the plant. There is reciprocal action, therefore--the
+surroundings forcing the individual to adapt himself to them, and the
+individual causing the surroundings to adapt themselves to him.
+
+Here we have reached the point where, besides the struggle for
+existence among the individuals of an abundant, varied, and intense
+life, there is adaptation among the individuals to their surroundings
+and of their surroundings to the individuals.
+
+* * *
+
+We have now to note how with the adaptation goes selection. Set
+amid these physical and organic surroundings, some helpful, some
+harmful, the individual has to spend his life in selecting and
+rejecting what will further or hinder his natural development. He has
+to reject much, for there is much that will harm him. He has to select
+a little--for that little is vitally necessary for his upbuilding and
+maintenance. From among the elements of the soil he has to choose
+those particular elements that he needs. Thus a plant selects through
+its roots from the elements of the soil, and through its leaves from
+the elements of the air, those elements and in those quantities that it
+needs for nourishment and growth. But it has also, by means of
+thorns or poison juices or other device, to protect itself from being
+itself selected by some animal for that animal's own nourishment
+and growth.
+
+So the individual is constantly selecting, and is as constantly on the
+guard against being selected. The principle of selection among the
+abundant and varied life is in continual operation. And unless he
+selects wisely he will not survive; for he will either have insufficient
+to live on or else have what is harmful to his life. Nor will he
+survive unless he is able to fend off those who would select him for
+their own maintenance. There is selection everywhere--selection
+_by_ the individual and selection _of_ the individual by surrounding
+neighbours and circumstances.
+
+* * *
+
+Thus far we have only recapitulated what most men are familiar
+with since Darwin commenced preaching the doctrine of Evolution
+by Natural Selection sixty years ago. But the Naturalist-Artist of the
+future will probably not be content with the conclusion to which so
+many jump that all that Nature teaches or expects of individuals
+--plants, beasts, or men--is that they should adapt themselves to their
+surroundings and fit themselves to survive; that all Nature has at
+heart is adaptability of individuals to their surroundings and
+their fitness to survive. The lowly amoeba can perform these
+unenterprising functions more fitly than himself. And the Artist
+would never be satisfied with so mean and meagre an ambition as
+merely to adapt himself to his surroundings and fit himself to
+survive. If he saw evidence of no higher expectation than that in the
+workings of Nature, his heart would certainly not cleave to her heart.
+And there being estrangement and coolness between his heart and
+hers, he would see no Beauty in Nature and his pursuit of Natural
+Beauty might here end.
+
+But an instinct within him tells him that this cannot be the last word
+as to Nature's character and methods. He himself is constantly
+risking his life with no thought of trying to survive, and he sees his
+neighbours doing the same. And his inclination is to go a good deal
+farther than tamely adapting himself to his surroundings. He wants
+and strives to rise superior to them--and he finds his neighbours
+likewise striving. So with this instinct goading him on he is driven to
+probe deeper still into the mystery of the forest life.
+
+* * *
+
+Of selection and adaptation we have seen evidence throughout the
+whole forest life. Now, where there is selection and where there is
+adaptation there must be _purposiveness._ Selection implies the
+power of choice, and we have seen how plants as well as animals
+deliberately and effectively exercise this power of choice. And
+adaptation implies adjustment to an end, and we have seen how
+wonderfully plants no less than animals adapt themselves to certain
+ends. And where individuals have the power of choice and exercise
+that power; and where they have the power of adapting themselves
+to certain ends and exercise that power, there obviously is
+purposiveness.
+
+Purposiveness runs like a streak through every activity. It permeates
+the whole forest life. It is observable in plants no less than in
+animals. Naturalists, indeed, regard trees and plants as truly sentient
+beings. And the means plants employ to compass the end they have
+in view, are truly wonderful. Still more remarkable is the fact that
+hardly two attain their object by exactly the same means. The
+tropical forest is full of climbing plants bent upon reaching the
+sunlight. But some climb by coiling round the trunk of a tree like a
+snake, some swarm up it by holding on with claws, some ascend by
+means of adhering aerial roots, and some reach what they want by
+pushing through a tangle of branches spreading out arms and
+hauling themselves up. And when plants have attained maturity and
+flowered, the flowers employ numberless ways of attracting insects
+for the purpose of fertilisation. In a still, tropical forest, such as that
+of Lower Sikkim, there is no hope of the pollen being carried from
+one flower to another by air-currents. The flowers have therefore to
+devise a means for the transport of the pollen. Efforts are made to
+induce winged creatures--insects in most cases, but sometimes
+birds--to render assistance. Colours for day-flying insects and scent for
+night-flying insects are accordingly employed as means to this end.
+Brilliant colours attract butterflies and bees by day. Strong scent
+--sometimes pleasant to our taste, sometimes the reverse--attracts
+moths and other insects by night. And the flowers which depend on
+their scents and not on colour are usually white or dull brown or
+green. And this scent is not exhaled when it is not needed, but only
+when the insects which the flowers wish to attract are about.
+
+Orchids especially seem to _know_ what they want. Their aerial
+roots wander about in search of what they want and seem to smell
+their way. They use discrimination in utilising their knowledge.
+They _choose._ And each individual seems to choose in its own way.
+From among many means of achieving the same end they make a
+definite choice, and different plants make different choices--they use
+different means.
+
+Plants, therefore, quite evidently employ means to an end. They
+have an end in view--sometimes their own maintenance, sometimes
+the perpetuation of their kind, sometimes something else--and they
+employ means to achieve that end. They are, that is to say,
+_purposive_ in their nature.
+
+* * *
+
+Evidence of purposiveness is also furnished by the wonderful organs
+of adaptation, root-tips, leaves, eyes, lungs, etc. It is extremely
+improbable that they came into being--or even started to come into
+being--by mere chance alone. The odds are countless millions to one
+against the atoms, molecules, and cells--myriads in number--of any
+one of these organs of adaptation having by mere chance grouped
+themselves in such a way as to form an effective eye, or lung, or leaf.
+It is, literally speaking, infinitely improbable that the organs of
+adaptation we see in a forest, in plant and animal, should have come
+into existence through chance alone.
+
+The organs of adaptation are distinctly and definitely purposive
+structures--not purposed, perhaps, but certainly purposeful. In its
+struggle with its surroundings and with competitors the individual
+has been compelled to bring into being organs to fulfil a purpose. It
+is not the case that the organ was first created and then a use found
+for it, or use made of it. What actually happens is that first there is a
+vague but insistent reaching out towards an end, towards the
+fulfilment of some inner want or need--the need for food or to
+propagate, or whatever it may be--and that to achieve that end, or
+fulfil that need, the individual is driven to create a special
+organisation--as an Air Ministry was created during the War to fulfil
+the new need for fighting in the air--and so a new organ is produced:
+an essentially purposive structure such as the eye or the lung, though
+unpurposed before the need arose. The organs we see, therefore, are
+outward and visible signs of the existence within of a definite
+striving towards an end--that is, of a purpose.
+
+The forest shows an abundant, varied, and intense life in which
+individuals are for ever battling with one another. But all is not
+happening by chance. Everywhere we see signs of purposiveness.
+Purposiveness--the striving towards an end--stands out as a
+dominating feature in forest life. Selections and adaptations are
+made, but they are made with some purpose in view. Purpose
+governs the adaptations and selections. What that purpose is we
+shall try and discover as we get to know still more of Nature.
+
+* * *
+
+So far we have been observing individuals as separate individuals.
+Now we must look at them gathered together as a whole. And the
+first point we note is that though each individual has his own unique
+individuality, whether he be plant or man, all are kept together as a
+single whole. We have seen the individuals battling with one another,
+competing with one another, struggling against one another. But that
+is only one side of the picture. Just as remarkable as the way in
+which they have to resist one another is the way in which they
+depend on one another. Their interdependence is, therefore, the
+point we have now to note.
+
+Since Darwin drew our attention to the struggle for existence and
+survival of the fittest, the perpetual strife in Nature has been clear
+enough. But hard, selfish, cruel, brutal though the struggle
+frequently is, though the strong will often trample mercilessly on the
+weak and let the unfit go to the wall without any consideration
+whatever; yet the very strongest and fittest individual could not
+survive for a moment by itself alone. And what is just as remarkable
+as the struggle between individuals is their dependence upon one
+another.
+
+All plants depend upon the natural elements--the soil, water, air, and
+light. Animals depend on plants. And many animals depend upon
+other animals. A forest tree in its maturity is covered with blossoms,
+some conspicuous, others inconspicuous to sight, but very
+conspicuous to smell. These blossoms, either by sight or scent,
+attract butterflies, bees, moths, and other insects to sip their nectar,
+and in so doing carry away the pollen of the flowers, and
+unwittingly pass it on to another flower and fertilise it. The insect
+thus enables the tree to procreate its species. But the butterfly, after
+sipping the nectar of the flower of the tree, deposits its eggs on the
+under surface of the leaves, and the leaves give nourishment to the
+caterpillars into which these eggs develop. Besides this, the flowers,
+having been fertilised by the insects, develop into fruits or berries
+containing seeds; and these fruits, berries, and seeds form food for
+monkeys, birds, bats, and rodents. In quarrelling for these many are
+dropped and form food for mice and others below. Birds, finding
+food so near, pair, build their nests, and bring up their young in its
+branches. And in addition to the birds which are attracted by the
+berries, fruits, and seeds, other birds which are attracted by the
+caterpillars come there and build their nests. Without the flowers the
+bees would be starved; without the bees or other insects the flowers
+would not be fertilised and the tree would not perpetuate itself.[*]
+
+[*] I take this illustration from Rodway's "In the Guiana Forest." It
+applies equally to any tropical forest.
+
+The lives of all individuals, whether plants, beasts, or men, are thus
+curiously interwoven with and interdependent on one another. They
+are also dependent upon the chemical elements in the soil and air.
+And even then the dependence does not cease, for they depend, too,
+upon the light and heat from the Sun. And the Sun itself, and this
+Earth as well, are subtly connected with the whole Stellar Universe.
+
+It is only within limits that any individual can be regarded as a
+distinct and separate entity. It has its own unique individuality, it is
+true. But it is also connected with all the rest of the forest and with
+all the rest of the Earth, of the Solar System, and of the Universe.
+Each individual is to _some_ extent dependent upon all other
+individuals. All influence and are influenced by all the rest. There is
+mutual influence everywhere. And all are connected in a whole--the
+whole influencing each individual and each individual influencing
+the whole.
+
+So besides the resistance of individuals to one another, there is
+attraction. Besides conflict there is co-operation. Besides
+independence there is interdependence.
+
+The life of the forest thus forms a whole. Individuals have their due
+allowance of freedom. But they are kept together in a whole.
+Running through the individuals in their ensemble, binding them
+together, in spite of the tether they are allowed, must therefore be
+some kind of Organising Activity. We cannot look into that
+marvellous forest life without seeing that at the back of it, working
+all the way through it, controlling, guiding, inspiring every
+movement, is some dominating Activity, which, while allowing
+individuals freedom for experimenting by the process of trial and
+error, yet keeps them all bound together as a whole. And when we
+note the evidence of purposiveness everywhere so abundant, we
+cannot resist the conclusion that this Activity also gives _direction._
+
+It is not necessary to suppose that this Activity emanates from any
+thing or person _outside_ Nature. It may perfectly well exercise its
+control and guidance from within--just as the activity which is "I"
+controls, consciously or unconsciously, directly or indirectly, the
+movements and actions of every particle of which "my" body is
+made up. But what we cannot but assume is that throughout this
+prolific and marvellously varied forest life, through every tiny plant
+and every forest giant, through every leaf and petal, through each
+little insect and every bird and butterfly, through the wild beasts of
+the jungle, the wary forest folk, and the most cultured men--through
+each and all and the whole in its collectedness there runs some kind
+of unifying Activity, holding the whole together, ordering all,
+dominating all, directing all--just as the orchid-spirit holds together
+and directs the activities of each particle which goes to make up the
+orchid; or the eagle-spirit directs the activities of each particle which
+goes to make up the eagle.
+
+Suffusing the whole, embracing the whole, permeating each single
+member of the whole, there must be an organising and directing
+Activity, or we should not see the order and purposiveness we do.
+
+We shall now see that this Organising Activity gives not only
+direction, but an _upward_ direction to the whole which it controls.
+
+* * *
+
+We have already noted that among individuals the variety is such
+that no two are exactly alike. Each individual, however nearly alike,
+varies in some slight degree from every other. And new variations
+are constantly being created. Now we have to note that besides
+variation there is _gradation._ There is a _scale_ of being. And
+individuals are graded on that scale. One is higher than another.
+
+As there are gradations in height from the plains to the outlying
+spurs of the Himalaya, and from these again to the higher ridges,
+and from these on to the great mountains, and finally to
+Kinchinjunga and Mount Everest; and as there are gradations in size
+from tiny plants to the giant trees; so there are gradations in worth
+and value from the simple lichen or moss to the highly complex
+orchid; from the microscopic animalculae of a stagnant pond to
+monkeys and men; from simple primitive men to the highly cultured
+Bengali; and from the simple Bengali villager to the poet
+Rabindranath Tagore. Everywhere there is scale, gradation, grade.
+The differences between individuals is not on the level but on
+ascending stages. Even in very primitive communities, where all
+men are equal to the extent that there are no formal chiefs, one or
+two men always stand out pre-eminently above the rest, above the
+younger, the less skilful, the less experienced.
+
+There is variation everywhere, and wherever there is variation there
+is gradation. Living beings are no more exactly _equal_ than they
+are exactly _alike._ Either in proficiency, or in speed, or in strength,
+or in cunning, or in alertness, or in general worth, one is superior to
+the other. We determine which is the faster horse by pitting one
+against the other in a race. We find out which is the superior boxer
+by making the two men fight each other. We find out which is the
+cleverest boy by testing him at an examination. We expect to
+determine which is the ablest political leader by making him submit
+himself to a General Election. We decide which is the most beautiful
+rose or orchid by putting the various flowers before a committee of
+judges. It is seldom possible to say with strict accuracy which one
+individual is superior to the other, and to arrange the various
+individuals in their truly right place in the scale. But quite evidently
+we do recognise the scale and recognise that theoretically it is
+possible to grade each individual on it, even though our practical
+methods may be somewhat rough-and-ready.
+
+This fact that gradation, as well as variation, exists is one of the
+great facts we have to note. For it indicates that the Organising
+Activity which keeps the individuals together is not keeping them
+together on a uniform dead level like the ocean, but is propelling
+them upward like the mountain. The significance of this fact has not
+hitherto been adequately noted. We are for ever speaking of equality
+when there is no equality. We have never noted with sufficient
+attention that everywhere there are grades and degrees. But it is a
+fact which a contemplation of the forest indelibly impresses on us.
+And it is a most welcome and inspiring fact, for it gives us a vision
+of higher things and promotes a zealous emulation among us.
+
+* * *
+
+And the Organising Activity is not only upward-reaching, but
+forward-looking. It looks to the future. We have remarked how the
+individuals strive and compete with one another in order to get food
+and air and light with which to nourish and maintain themselves.
+But self-maintenance is not their only object. They seek to propagate
+themselves--to perpetuate their kind. They even make provision for
+their offspring. They go further still and _sacrifice_ themselves that
+their offspring may flourish.
+
+Here again selfishness is not the last word. Even plants will make
+provision for their offspring, and in the last resort will sacrifice
+themselves that their offspring may survive. A plant will fight with
+its neighbours for the means wherewith to build itself up. But it will
+also provide for more than mere maintenance. It will build up organs
+for the purpose of propagating itself. Even ferns have their organs
+for producing seeds. And many a plant will make a supreme effort to
+produce offspring rather than die without having perpetuated its kind.
+And plants--and of course more markedly animals and men--do not
+stop with merely reproducing their kind. Besides devoting their
+energies to propagation, they will deliberately make special
+_provision_ for their offspring; they will supply it with albumen and
+starch. And many insects are not only indefatigable, but highly
+intelligent, in providing food for their young even before the young
+are hatched out. They do not lay their eggs on any plant at random,
+but will wander for miles to find a plant on which their young can
+feed, and they then lay their eggs on that plant. Individual plants,
+insects, animals, or men may be frightfully selfish in their hard
+struggle for existence, but the one thing in regard to which no
+individual is selfish is in regard to its offspring. Primitive man,
+utterly callous about the sufferings of animals and of his own
+fellow-men and even of his wife, is tenderly careful of his child
+while it remains a child--and this is a very significant trait in his
+character.
+
+However indifferent the individual may be to the sufferings of those
+about him, he will make any sacrifice for his offspring. There is
+some instinct within plants and animals alike which impels them to
+sacrifice themselves that their kind may continue.
+
+So that Activity which is at the source of all life, and is keeping
+living things together in an interconnected whole, not only forces
+them upward in the scale of being, but is also driving them to look
+forward into the future, to provide for the future--and, indeed, to
+make the future better than the present.
+
+* * *
+
+This seems to be the way--judging by what we see in the forest--the
+Activity works. Things have I not come to be as they are by the
+slap-dash, irresponsible, unregulated methods of mere chance. We cannot
+fail to see that chance does play _some_ part. One seed from a tree
+may fall into a rivulet and be swept away to the sea, while another
+may be borne by a gust of wind, or by a bird, on to rich soil where
+competitors are few, and be able to grow up into a monarch of the
+forest, to live for a hundred years, and to give birth to thousands like
+itself. This is true. But chance will not produce the advancement and
+progress which is observable. Chance will not produce a single one
+of those organs of adaptation we see in myriads in the forest. And
+chance would not have made the barren earth of a hundred million
+years ago bring forth the plant, animal, and human life we see on it
+to-day.
+
+The Activity does not work on the haphazard methods of pure
+chance. Nor, on the other hand, are its operations conducted in the
+rigid, mechanical method of a machine. Nor, again, can the result we
+see be due to the working of blind physical and chemical processes
+alone. There is a great deal too much variety and spontaneity and
+originality about. We could not possibly look upon the forest as a
+machine--even of the most complicated kind. A machine goes
+grinding round and round, producing things of exactly the same
+pattern. Whereas no two things exactly alike are ever turned out in
+the forest. And blind physical and chemical processes could by
+_themselves_--by themselves alone--never produce the novelties,
+the entirely new and unique things, and things higher and higher in
+the scale of being, which we see in the forest. Only a man
+impervious to the teaching of common sense could suppose that the
+care which plant, beast, and man alike show for their offspring could
+be the result of bare physical and chemical processes without the
+inclusion with these processes of any other agency whatsoever.
+
+Nor, on the other hand, do we see any signs of the forest being the
+result of a preconceived plan gradually being worked out--as a
+bridge is gradually built up according to the previously thought out
+plan of the engineer. The carrying out of a plan means that in course
+of time the plan will be completed, and that each stage is a step
+towards its completion. But in the forest life there is no sign of any
+beginning of an approach towards the completion of a plan. There is
+no tendency to a closing in. There is a reaching upward, it is true.
+But there is also a splaying outward. One line leads up to man. But
+others splay out to insects, birds, and elephants.
+
+Another noticeable fact is that nowhere is perfection reached. If a
+plan were being worked we should expect to see the lower stages
+--like the foundations of the bridge--well and truly laid, incapable of
+improvement. But no living being--neither the lowliest nor the
+highest--is itself as a whole or in any one particular absolutely
+perfect. There is room for improvement everywhere. Most
+wonderful things we see. But not perfection. The eye is a wonderful
+thing. But an oculist would point out defects in even the best.
+
+And if it be argued that there has not been sufficient time yet to
+work out a plan, the reply is that there has been infinite time. Time
+is infinite. If the Activity were merely working out a plan, the plan
+would have been completed ages ago.
+
+So the Organising Activity which we see must be working at the
+back of things, keeping all the separate individuals together in a
+connected whole, not only preserves the strictest order among them,
+but grants them freedom, stimulates emulation among them, inspires
+them to reach upward and to look into and provide for the future.
+Such an Activity is no mere mechanical activity. It is a purposive
+Activity. It is an essentially _spiritual_ Activity. Spirit is not the
+casual flash flaming up from the working of blind physical and
+chemical forces. Spirit dominates these blind forces. Spirit is a true
+determining factor in the whole process. Spirit is at the root and
+source and permeates the whole.
+
+This Spiritual Activity is what in ordinary language we speak of as
+"the Spirit of Nature," and emanates from the Heart of Nature.
+
+* * *
+
+When, therefore, our Artist sums up his impressions of Nature as
+epitomised in the life of the forest; when he has been able to feel
+that he has, as it were, got inside the skin of Nature, entered into her
+Spirit and really understood her--as the artist-midge we have
+referred to would enter into the nature of a man and try and
+understand him--he will probably find that Nature works in very
+much the same way as he himself works, and is of much the same
+character as himself.
+
+The Artist will observe that Nature neither works by mere chance,
+tossing up at each turning whether she shall go to the right or to the
+left, and quite indifferent as to which way she takes; nor in the set
+and rigid manner of a machine; nor yet, again, in the cut-and-dried
+fashion which the execution of a previously conceived plan implies.
+Order everywhere the Artist will have observed. But order need not
+mean woodenness and machinery. Order is simply the absolutely
+essential prerequisite of any Freedom. And it is Freedom that the
+Artist everywhere observes. Nature is not closed in by the designed
+overarch of an eventually-to-be-completed plan. The zenith and
+horizon are always open. There is always order, but there is scope
+illimitable for Nature's workings.
+
+So the sum impression the Artist will probably receive is that Nature
+is in her essential character an Artist like himself--that she creates
+and goes on creating, just as he creates and goes on creating. A
+painter who is a true artist and not a mere copyist paints "out of his
+head," as the saying goes, pictures which are true creations
+--something new and unique, though founded on and related to the
+pre-existing. And there is no limit to the pictures he might paint out
+of his head. He is not tied down in advance by any preconceived
+plan. According as he is roused and stirred by the complex life
+around him, he could--if he were physically able--go on for ever
+painting picture after picture, each a new creation. In the same way a
+poet could go on writing poems. The poet does not turn out poems
+like a machine turns out pins, each like the other. He is not tied
+down to what he writes. He writes out of his own heart what he likes.
+And he does not and _could_ not turn out two poems exactly the
+same. Nor does he write according to plan as the bridge-builder
+works according to the plan of the engineer. He works as he goes.
+He works by spontaneous creativeness. He is utterly original--a true
+creator. And even so will our Artist hold that Nature works.
+
+The letters of Nature's alphabet which the Artist sees in the forest
+are not in the places they are either through mere chance or
+according to a definitely prepared plan. The letters form words, the
+words form lines, and the lines form poems. The Artist reads
+the words and understands the meaning of the poems, and so
+understands the character of the Poet--the Poet whose name is
+Nature. But the Artist knows that the words and lines and poems he
+sees in the forest are there as spontaneous creations from the mind
+of Nature as poems arise in his own mind. And he knows that
+Nature could go on--and must go on--creating these poems, painting
+these pictures, for ever and ever.
+
+Nature will, indeed, work to an end as an Artist works to an end.
+Nature has purposiveness as an Artist has purposiveness. But that
+end is something which Nature, like the Artist, is always revising,
+re-creating, improving, perfecting. An Artist has the general end of
+creating Beauty, but he is always striving to enrich and intensify it,
+to create it in greater and greater perfection. And even so does
+Nature work.
+
+* * *
+
+As the Artist puts himself in touch with the Heart of Nature, the
+dominant impression he receives is of Nature ever straining after
+higher, perfection, ever striving to achieve a greater excellence, and
+create beings with higher and higher, modes of life. He sees her
+straining upward in the mountain, in the trees, in the climbers on the
+trees, in every blade of grass. He sees the whole of life, straining to
+achieve higher and higher forms, more perfect flowers, more
+intelligent animals, more spiritual men. He sees the life of the seas
+stretching up out of the seas on to the land. He sees the life of the
+land striving to reach the highest points on the land. And he sees it
+also soaring up into the air and making itself at home there, too.
+Everywhere he sees evidence of aspiration and upward effort.
+
+But he notes also that with this upward effort there goes a downward
+pull. The mountain strives upward, but it is drawn down by the
+forces of gravitation. The eagle soars up in the sky, but has to come
+down to earth to rest and feed. The poet aspires to heaven, but has to
+stop on earth and earn his daily bread.
+
+Nature, like himself, the Artist finds, is engaged in a constant
+struggle between an impulse to excentration and the necessity for
+concentration. She wants to fly off to the zenith and to the horizon,
+but is continually being drawn into the centre. She wants to let
+herself go, but has to keep herself in. And all this is to the good. For
+the necessity for concentration only serves to strengthen and refine
+her aspiration. And the net result is higher and higher perfection.
+She cannot rise any higher in a mountain, so she rises in a higher
+form in a tree. She cannot rise any higher in a tree, so she rises in
+higher form in an orchid. She cannot rise any higher in an orchid, so
+she rises in higher form in a man. She cannot rise any higher in man
+as an intelligent animal, so she rises in higher form in man as a
+spiritual being, capable of spiritual appreciation and of spiritual
+communion with her.
+
+The gravitation to a centre--the necessity for concentration--does not
+suppress and crush the aspiration of Nature; it only serves to compel
+the aspiration to refine and perfect itself.
+
+In this spirit of aspiration checked by concentration the Artist will
+surely find what is after his own heart. He will recognise that what is
+going on in Nature is the same as what goes on in his own heart. He
+and Nature have a common aspiration. As he aspires but has to
+concentrate, so does Nature aspire but has to concentrate. As he
+works, so does Nature work. What he aims at, that also does Nature
+aim at. And when the Naturalist within him convinces him that, so
+far as forest life reveals it, this is Nature's manner and this is
+Nature's end, then his heart goes out to the Heart of Nature, his heart
+and her heart become one; and from that community of heart Beauty
+unending springs.
+
+He will without reserve or hesitation be able to throw his whole
+heart into the enjoyment of Natural Beauty in a way that would have
+been utterly impossible if he had had to come to the conclusion that
+Nature cared only for the brutally fittest, wholly irrespective of their
+worth, or that Nature was at the mercy of chance and had no wish,
+intention, or power to make good prevail over ill. And with his
+instinctive love of Natural Beauty thus confirmed and strengthened
+by this testing of his instinct against what cool reasoning on the facts
+revealed by observation in the forest had to say about it, he can with
+lightened heart search still further into Nature, and see her in higher,
+wider, deeper aspects than the forest alone can disclose.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+KINCHINJUNGA
+
+Aspiration is the root sentiment at the Heart of Nature as she
+manifests herself in the forest--aspiration upward checked by
+concentration upon the inmost centre. And the very emblem of the
+aspiration of Nature kept in hand and under control is to be found in
+that proud pinnacle of the Sikkim Himalaya, Kinchinjunga, as it is
+seen from Darjiling rising from amidst the rich tropical forests
+which clothe its base. To Darjiling, therefore, we should be wise to
+go.
+
+To reach it we must ascend the slopes of the outer ranges which rise
+abruptly from the plains. A giant forest now replaces the stunted and
+bushy timber of the Terai proper and clothes the steep mountain-sides
+with dense, deep-green, dripping vegetation. The trees are of
+great height, and are sheathed and festooned with climbing plants of
+many kinds. Bauhinias and robinias, like huge cables, join tree to
+tree. Peppers, vines, and convolvulus twine themselves round the
+trunks and branches, and hang in graceful pendants from the boughs.
+And the trees, besides being hung with climbers, are also decked
+with orchids and with foliaceous lichens and mosses. The wild
+banana with its crown of glistening leaves is everywhere
+conspicuous. Bamboos shoot up through the undergrowth to a
+hundred feet or more in height. The fallen trees are richly clothed
+with ferns typical of the hottest and dampest climates. And
+dendrobiums and other orchids fasten on the branches.
+
+* * *
+
+At Kurseong there is another striking change, for the vegetation now
+becomes more characteristic of the temperate zone. The spring here
+vividly recalls the spring in England. Oaks of a noble species and
+magnificent foliage are flowering and the birch bursting into leaf.
+The violet, strawberry, maple, geranium, and bramble appear, and
+mosses and lichens carpet the banks and roadsides. But the species
+of these plants differ from their European prototypes, and are
+accompanied at this elevation (and for 2,000 feet higher up) with
+tree ferns forty feet in height, bananas, palms, figs, pepper, numbers
+of epiphytal orchids, and similar genuine tropical genera.
+
+From Kurseong we ascend through a magnificent forest of chestnut,
+walnut, oaks, and laurels. Hooker, when he subsequently visited the
+Khasia Hills in Assam, said that though the subtropical scenery on
+the outer Himalaya was on a much more gigantic scale, it was not
+comparable in beauty and luxuriance with the really tropical
+vegetation induced by the hot, damp, and insular climate of those
+perennially humid Khasia Hills. The forest of gigantic trees on the
+Himalaya, many of them deciduous, appear from a distance as
+masses of dark grey foliage, clothing mountains 10,000 feet high.
+Whereas in the Khasia Hills the individual trees are smaller, more
+varied in kind, of a brilliant green, and contrast with grey limestone
+and red sandstone rocks. Still, even of the forest between Kurseong
+and Darjiling, Hooker says that it is difficult to conceive a grander
+mass of vegetation--the straight shafts of the timber trees shooting
+aloft, some naked and clean with grey, pale, or brown bark; others
+literally clothed for yards with a continuous garment of epiphytes
+(air-plants), one mass of blossoms, especially the white orchids,
+coelogynes, which, bloom in a profuse manner, whitening their
+trunks like snow. More bulky trunks bear masses of interlacing
+climbers--vines, hydrangea, and peppers. And often the supporting
+tree has long ago decayed away and their climbers now enclose a
+hollow. Perpetual moisture nourishes this dripping forest, and
+pendulous mosses and lichens are met with in profusion.
+
+For this forest life, however, we cannot at present spare the attention
+that is its due, for we want above all things to see the mountains on
+the far side of this outer ridge. Tropical forests may be seen in many
+other parts of the world. But only here on all the Earth can we see
+mountains on so magnificent a scale. So we do not pause, but cross
+the ridge and come to the slopes and spurs which face northward,
+away from the plains and towards the main range of the Himalaya.
+
+Here is situated Darjiling, which ought to be set apart as a sacred
+place of pilgrimage for all the world. Directly facing the snowy
+range and set in the midst of a vast forest of oaks and laurels,
+rhododendrons, magnolias, and camellias, the branches and trunks
+of which are festooned with vines and smilax and covered with ferns
+and orchids, and at the base of which grow violets, lobelias, and
+geraniums, with berberries, brambles, and hydrangeas--it is adapted
+as few other places are for the contemplation of Nature's Beauty in
+its most splendid aspects.
+
+Its only disadvantage is that it is so continually shrouded in mist.
+The range on which it stands being the first range against which the
+moisture-laden currents from the Bay of Bengal strike, the rainfall is
+very heavy and amounts to 140 or 160 inches in the year. And even
+when rain is not actually falling there is much cloud hanging about
+the mountains. So the traveller cannot count upon seeing the snows.
+There is no certainty that as he tops the ridge or turns the corner he
+will see Kinchinjunga in the full blaze of its glory. He cannot be as
+sure of seeing it as he is of seeing a picture on entering a gallery.
+During the month of November alone is there a reasonable surety.
+All the rest of the year he must take his chance and possess his soul
+in patience till the mountain is graciously pleased to reveal herself.
+
+Perhaps because of the uncertainty of seeing Kinchinjunga the view
+when it is seen is all the more impressive. The traveller waits for
+hours and days, even for only a glimpse. One minute's sight of the
+mountains would satisfy him. But still the clouds eddy about in
+fleecy billows wholly obscuring the mountains. Six thousand feet
+below may now and then be seen the silver streak of the Rangit
+River and forest-clad mountains beyond. Around him are dripping
+forests, each leaf glistening with freshest greenness, long mosses
+hanging from the boughs, and the most delicate ferns and noblest
+orchids growing on the stems and branches. All is very beautiful, but
+it is the mountain he wants to see; and still the cloud-waves collect
+and disperse, throw out tender streamers and feelers, disappear and
+collect again, but always keep a veil between him and the mountain.
+
+Then of a sudden there is a rent in the veil. Without an inkling of
+when it is to happen or what is to be revealed, those mists of infinite
+softness part asunder for a space. The traveller is told to look. He
+raises his eyes but sees nothing. He throws back his head to look
+higher. Then indeed he sees, and as he sees he gasps. For a moment
+the current of his being comes to a standstill. Then it rushes back in
+one thrill of joy. Much he will have heard about Kinchinjunga
+beforehand. Much he will remember of it if he has seen it before.
+But neither the expectation nor the memory ever comes up to the
+reality. From that time, henceforth and for ever, his whole life is
+lifted to a higher plane.
+
+Through the rent in the fleecy veil he sees clear and clean against the
+intense blue sky the snowy summit of Kinchinjunga, the culminating
+peak of lesser heights converging upward to it and all ethereal as
+spirit, white and pure in the sunshine, yet suffused with the
+delicatest hues of blue and mauve and pink. It is a vision of colour
+and warmth and light--a heaven of beauty, love, and truth.
+
+But what really thrills us is the thought that, incredibly high though
+it is, yet that heaven is part of earth, and may conceivably be
+attained by man. It is nearly double the height of Mont Blanc and
+more than six times the height of Ben Nevis, but still it is rooted in
+earth and part of our own home. This is what causes the stir within
+us.
+
+Hardly less striking than its height is its purity and serenity. The
+subtle tints of colour and the brilliant sunlight dispel any coldness
+we might feel, while the purity is still maintained. And the serenity
+is accentuated by the ceaseless movements of the eddying clouds
+through which the vision is seen. There is about Kinchinjunga the
+calm and repose of stupendous upward effort successfully achieved.
+
+A sense of solemn elevation comes upon us as we view the
+mountain. We are uplifted. The entire scale of being is raised. Our
+outlook on life seems all at once to have been heightened. And not
+only is there this sense of elevation: we seem purified also.
+Meanness, pettiness, paltriness seem to shrink away abashed at the
+sight of that radiant purity.
+
+The mountain has made appeal to, and called forth from us all that is
+most pure and most noble within us, and aroused our highest
+aspirations. Our heart, therefore, goes out lovingly to it. We long to
+see it again and again. We long to be always in a mood worthy of it.
+And we long to have that fineness of soul which would enable us to
+appreciate it still more fully. Glowing in the heart of the mountain is
+the pure flame of undaunted aspiration, and it sets something aglow
+in our hearts also which burns there unquenchably for the rest of our
+days. We see attainment of the I highest in the physical domain, and
+it stirs us to achieve the highest in the spiritual. Between ourselves
+and the mountain is the kinship of common effort towards high ends.
+And it is because of this kinship that we are able to see such lofty
+Beauty in the mountain.
+
+For only a few minutes are we granted this heavenly vision. Then
+the veil is drawn again. But in those few minutes we have received
+an impression which has gone right down into the depths of our soul
+and will last there for a lifetime.
+
+* * *
+
+On other occasions the mountain is not so reserved, but reveals itself
+for whole days in all its glory. The central range of the Himalaya
+will be arrayed before us in its full majesty from one horizon to the
+other without a cloud to hide a single detail. We see the lesser
+ranges rolling up, wave after wave, in higher and higher effort
+towards the culminating line of peaks. And along this central line
+itself all the lesser heights we see converging on the supreme peak
+of Kinchinjunga. The scene, too, will be dazzling in the glorious
+sunshine and suffused with that purply-blue translucent atmosphere
+which gives to the whole a fairy-like, ethereal aspect.
+
+And on this occasion we have no hurried glimpse of the mountain.
+We have ample time to contemplate it, looking at it, turning away
+from it to rest our souls from so deep an emotion, looking at it again,
+time after time, till we have entered into its spirit and its spirit has
+entered into us. And always our eyes insensibly revert to the
+culminating-point--the summit of Kinchinjunga itself. We note all
+the rich forest foreground, the deep valley beneath us, the
+verdure-covered subsidiary ranges, and the strong buttresses of the higher
+peaks. But our eyes do not linger there. They unconsciously raise
+themselves beyond them to the summit ridge. Nor do we look long
+on the distant peaks on either hand. They are over 24,000 feet in
+height. But they are not the _highest._ So our eyes pass over peaks
+of every remarkable form--abrupt, rugged, and enticing, and we
+seek the highest peak of all. And Kinchinjunga is a worthy
+mountain-monarch. It is not a needle-point--a sudden upstart which might
+easily be upset. Kinchinjunga is grand and massive and of ample
+gesture, broad and stable and yet also culminating in a clear and
+definite point. There is no mistaking her superiority both in
+massiveness and height to every peak around her.
+
+And thick-mantled in deep and everlasting snow though the whole
+long range of mountains is, the spectacle of all this snow brings no
+chill upon us. For we are in latitudes more southern still than Italy
+and Greece--farther south than Cairo. The entire scene is bathed in
+warm and brilliant sunshine. The snows are glittering white, but
+with a white that does not strike cold upon us, for it is tinted in the
+tenderest way with the most delicate hues of blue and pink. They are,
+indeed, in the strictest sense not white at all, but a mingling of the
+very faintest essence of the rose, the violet, and the forget-me-not.
+And we view the distant mountains through an atmospheric veil
+which has the strange property of revealing instead of hiding the real
+nature of the object before which it stands. It does not conceal the
+mountains. It reveals them in their real nature--the spiritual. Each
+country has an atmosphere of its own. There is a blue of the Alps, a
+blue of Italy, a blue of Greece, and a blue of Kashmir. The blue of
+the Sikkim Himalaya, perhaps on account of the excessive amount
+of moisture in the air, has a special quality of its own. It seems to me
+to have more _colour_ in it--a _fuller_ colour, a bluer blue, a
+purpler purple than the atmosphere of these other countries. From
+this cause and from the greater brilliance of the sun there is a more
+satisfying _warmth_ even in the snows.
+
+So besides beauty in the form of the mountains there is this exquisite
+loveliness of colour. In the immediate foreground are greens, fresh
+and shining and of every tint. And these shade away into deep
+purples and violets of the supporting ranges, and these again into
+those most delicate hues of the snows which vary according to the
+time of day, from decided rose-pink in the early morning and
+evening to, perhaps, faintest blue or violet in the full day. And over
+all and as a background is a sky of the intensest blue. What these
+colours are it is impossible to describe in words, for even the violet,
+the rose, and the forget-me-not have not the delicacy which these
+colours in the atmosphere possess. And assuredly no painter could
+do them justice, simply because paints and canvas are mediums far
+too coarse in which to reproduce the impression which such
+brilliance of light acting on a medium so fine as the thin air produces.
+The great Russian painter Verestchagin once visited Darjiling, and
+took his seat to paint the scene. He looked and looked, but did not
+paint. His wife kept handing him the brush and paints. But time after
+time he said: "Not now, not now; it is all too splendid." Night came
+and the picture never was painted. And it never _could_ be painted,
+though great artists most assuredly could at least point out to us in
+their pictures the subtler glories which are to be seen, and which we
+expect them to indicate to us.
+
+* * *
+
+So the view of the snows from Darjiling, grand and almost
+overpowering though it is, has warmth in it too. The main
+impression is one of magnitude and amplitude, of vastness and
+immensity, and withal of serene composure. The first view of the
+mountain seen through a rent in the clouds was perhaps more
+uplifting, though this view excites a sense of elevation also, for the
+eye is continually being drawn to the highest point. But in this full
+view the impression of breadth and bigness of scale is combined
+with the impression of height. The _dimensions_ of life in every
+direction seem to be enlarged. We seem to be able to look at things
+from a broader, bigger point of view, as well as a higher. We
+ourselves and the world at large are all on a larger scale than we had
+hitherto suspected. And while on a broader scale, we feel that things
+are always working _upward_ and converging towards some lofty
+but distinct, defined summit. This also do we feel, as we look upon
+the view, that with all the bigness and massiveness and loftiness
+there is the very finest tenderness as well--such delicacy as we had
+never before imagined.
+
+And to anyone who really knows them the littleness of man in
+comparison with these mighty mountains is not the impression made
+upon him. He is not overawed and overcome by them. His soul goes
+out most lovingly to them because they have aroused in him all the
+greatness in his soul, and purified it--even if only for a time--of all
+its dross and despicableness. And he loves them for that. He does
+not go cringing along, feeling himself a worm in comparison with
+them. There is warm kinship between him and them. He knows what
+is in their soul. And they have aroused in his soul exactly what he
+rejoices in having aroused there, and which but for them might have
+remained for ever unsurmised. So he revels in their Beauty.
+
+* * *
+
+Another aspect in which we may see Kinchinjunga is in its aspect at
+dawn. It will be still night--a starlit night. The phantom snowy range
+and the fairy forms of the mountains will be bathed in that delicate
+yellow light the stars give forth. The far valley depths will be hidden
+in the sombrest purple. Overhead the sky will be glittering with
+brilliant gems set in a field of limpid sapphire. The hush of night
+will be over all--the hush which heralds some great and splendid
+pageant.
+
+Then, almost before we have realised it, the eastward-facing scarps
+of the highest peaks are struck with rays of mingled rose and gold,
+and gleam like heavenly realms set high above the still
+night-enveloped world below. Farther and farther along the line, deep and
+deeper down it, the flush extends. The sapphire of the sky slowly
+lightens in its hue. The pale yellow of the starlight becomes merged
+in the gold of dawn. White billowy mists of most delicate softness
+imperceptibly form themselves in the valley depths and float up the
+mountain-sides. The deep hum of insect life, the chirping of the
+birds, the sounds of men, begin to break the hush of night. The
+snows become a delicate pink, the valleys are flooded with purple
+light, the sky becomes intensest blue, and the sun at last itself
+appears above the mountains, and the ardent life of day vibrates
+once more.
+
+In the full glare of day the mountains are not seen at their very best.
+The best time of all to see them is in the evening. If we go out a little
+from Darjiling into the forest to some secluded spur we can enjoy an
+evening of rare felicity. On the edge of the spur the forest is more
+open. The ground is covered with grass and flowers and plants with
+many-coloured leaves. Rich orchids and tender ferns and pendant
+mosses clothe the trees. Graceful vines and creepers festoon
+themselves from bough to bough. The air is fragrant with the scent
+of flowers. Bright butterflies flutter noiselessly about. The soft purr
+of forest life drones around. Rays from the setting sun slant across
+the scene. The leaves in their freshest green and of every shade
+glitter like emeralds in the brilliant light.
+
+Through the trunks of the stately trees and under their overarching
+boughs we look out towards the snowy mountains. We look over the
+brink of the spur, down into the deeps of the valleys richly filled
+with tropical vegetation, their eastward-facing sides now of purplest
+purple, their westward-facing slopes radiant in the evening sunshine,
+with the full richness of their foliage shown up by the dazzling light.
+Far below we see the silver streak of some foaming river, and then
+as we raise our eyes we mark ridge rising behind ridge, higher and
+higher and each of a deeper shade of purple than the one in front.
+The lower are still clothed in forest, but the green has been merged
+in the deep purple of the atmosphere. The higher are bare rock till
+the snow appears. But just across them floats a long level wisp of
+fleecy cloud, and apparently the limits of earth have been reached
+and sky has begun. We would rest content with that. But our eyes
+are drawn higher still. And high above the cloud, and rendered
+inconceivably higher by its presence, emerges the snowy summit of
+Kinchinjunga, serene and calm and flushed with the rose of the
+setting sun. As a background is a sky of the clearest, bluest blue.
+
+These are the chief elements of the scene, but all is in process of
+incessant yet imperceptible change. The sunshine slowly softens, the
+purples deepen, the flush on the mountains reddens. The air
+becomes as soft as velvet. Not a leaf now stirs. A holy peace steals
+over the mountains and settles in the valleys. The snow mountains
+no longer look cold, hard, and austere. Their purity remains as true
+as ever. And they still possess their uplifting power. But they now
+speak of serenity and calm--not, indeed, of the unsatisfying ease of
+the slothful, but of the earned repose of high attainment. Great peace
+is about them--deep, strong, satisfying peace.
+
+The sun finally sets. Night has settled in the valleys. The lights of
+Darjiling sparkle in the darkness. But long afterwards a glow still
+remains on Kinchinjunga. Lastly that also fades away. And now
+night spreads her veil on every part. But here night brings with it no
+sense of gloom and darkness, much less death. Far otherwise, for
+now it seems as if we were only beginning our intenser and still
+wider life. The fret of ordinary life is soothed away in the serene
+ending of the day. The quietness, profound and meaningful, yet
+further calms our spirit. Every condition is now favourable for the
+life of that inmost soul of us, which is too sensitive often to emerge
+into the glare and rubs of daylight life, but which in this holy peace,
+in the presence of the heavenly mountains, and with the stars above
+to guide it, can reach out to its fullest extent and indulge its highest
+aspirations.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+HIGH SOLITUDES
+
+From these scenes of tropical luxuriance and teeming life I would
+transport the Artist to a region of austerest beauty, far at the back of
+the Himalaya, where only one white man as yet has penetrated:
+where no life at all exists--no tree, no simplest plant, no humblest
+animalcula; where, save for some rugged precipice too steep for
+snow to lie, and save also for the intense azure of the sky, all is
+radiant whiteness. A region far distant from any haunt of man,
+where reigns a mountain which acknowledges supremacy to Mount
+Everest alone. A region of completest solitude, where the solemn
+silence is unbroken by the twitter of a single bird or the drone of the
+smallest insect, and is disturbed only by the occasional thunder of an
+avalanche or the grinding crunch of the glacier as a reminder of the
+titanic forces which are perpetually though invisibly at work.
+
+Freezing this region is and full of danger. And there is no short cut
+to it and no easy means of transport. Only men in the prime of health
+can reach there and return. And it is only men whose faculties are at
+their finest who are fit to stand the austerity of its cold, stern beauty.
+It lies at the dividing line between India and Central Asia where the
+waters which flow to India are parted from the waters which flow to
+Central Asia, and where the Indian and Chinese Empires touch one
+another. It may be approached from two directions--from Turkistan
+or from Kashmir and the Karakoram Pass. The Artist had better
+approach it by Kashmir, for he will see there certain beauties which
+even Sikkim does not possess, and this will make him further realise
+the variety of beauty this earth displays.
+
+Kashmir is altogether different from Sikkim. In Sikkim the valleys
+are deep, steep, and narrow, and markedly inclined, so that the rivers
+run strong and there is no room or level for lakes. In Kashmir the
+main valley is from twenty to thirty miles broad and ninety miles
+long. Over a large portion it is nearly dead level. So the river is even
+and placid. And there are tranquil lakes and duck-haunted marshes.
+
+The climate is different, too. It is the climate of North Italy.
+Consequently there are no tropical forests, and the mountain-sides
+are covered with trees of the temperate zone--the stately deodar
+cedars, spruce fir, maples, walnut, sycamore, and birch; while in the
+valley itself grow poplars, willows, mulberries, and most beautiful
+of all, and a speciality of Kashmir, the magnificent chenar tree--akin
+to the plane tree of Europe, but larger, fuller, and richer in its foliage.
+
+In Kashmir there is also far more variety of colour than there is in
+Sikkim. And in the spring, with the willows and poplars in freshest
+green; the almond, pear, apple, apricot, and peach trees in full
+blossom, white and pink; the fields emerald with young wheat, blue
+with linseed, or yellow with mustard; and the village-borders purple
+with iris; or in the autumn when the chenars, the poplars, and
+apricots are turning to every tint of red and yellow and purple,
+Kashmir is in a glow of colour. And the famous Valley is all the
+more beautiful because it is ringed round with a circle of snowy
+mountains of at least Alpine magnitude, with a glimpse here and
+there, such as that of Nanga Parbat, of much more stupendous peaks
+beyond; and because the sky is so blue, the atmosphere so delicate in
+its hues, and the sunshine so general throughout the year.
+
+In this favoured land there is many a variety of beauty, but all is of
+the easy, pleasant kind. All the colours are soft and soothing. It is a
+land to dream of, a gentle and indulgent land of soft repose, and
+calm content, and quiet relaxation; a dreamy, peaceful land where
+life glides smoothly forward, and all makes for enjoyment and
+idleness and holiday.
+
+From the pleasant Vale of Kashmir the Artist would have to make
+his way up the Sind Valley--a valley, typical of those beautiful
+tributaries which add so much to the whole charm of Kashmir.
+These are comparatively narrow, and the mountain-sides are steep,
+but the valleys are not so narrow nor the sides so steep as the valleys
+of Sikkim, nor are the forests anything like so dense. The scenery is,
+indeed, much more Swiss in appearance with open pine forests,
+picturesque hamlets, grassy pasture-lands, flowery meadows, and
+clear, rushing rivers; and with the rocky crests or snow-capped
+summits of the engirdling mountains always in the background.
+
+But when we emerge from this delightful valley of the Sind River
+and cross the Zoji-la Pass, we come upon a very different style of
+country--bare, dreary, desolate, monotonous, uninteresting. The
+forest has all disappeared, for the rainfall is here slight. The
+moisture-laden clouds have precipitated themselves upon the
+seaward-facing slopes of the mountains we have already passed
+through. And because of this lack of rainfall the valleys are not cut
+out deep, but are high and broad. It is a delightful experience to pass
+from this brown, depressing landscape to the rich beauties of the
+Sind Valley and Kashmir. But to make the journey the other way
+round, and to pass _into_ the gloomy region after being spoilt by the
+luxuries of Kashmir, is sadly disheartening at first.
+
+The experience has, however, its advantages, for it makes us throw
+off all ideas of soft ease we may have harboured in Kashmir, and
+reminds us that we have to prepare ourselves to face beauties of a far
+sterner kind. So we insensibly alter our whole attitude of mind, and
+as we plod our way through the mountains we summon up from
+within ourselves all the austerer stuff of which we are made.
+
+We cross some easy passes of 13,000 feet or so in height. We cross
+the River Indus. We reach Leh. We cross a 17,000 feet pass and then
+a glacier pass of 18,000 feet, and then the watershed of India and
+Central Asia by the Karakoram Pass, nearly 19,000 feet in height.
+We are six hundred miles from the plains of India now, and in about
+as desolate a region as the world contains. Then, bearing westward,
+we make for the Aghil Pass. We have now got right in behind the
+Himalaya, and as we reach the top of the Aghil Pass we look
+towards the Himalaya from the Central Asian side, on what is
+known as the Karakoram Range, and here at last is the remote,
+secluded glacier region which has been the object of our search.
+
+Its glory bursts upon us as we top the last rise to the Aghil Pass.
+Across the deep valley is arrayed in bold and jagged outline a series
+of pinnacles of ice glistening in the brilliant sunshine, showing up in
+clearest definition against the intense blue sky, and rising abruptly
+and incredibly high above the rock-bound Oprang River. They are
+the mighty peaks which group around K2--the noblest cluster in the
+whole Himalaya.
+
+There are here no inviting grassy slopes and no enticing forests. The
+mountain-sides are all hard rock and rugged precipices. And the
+summits are of ice or with edges sharp and keen direct from Nature's
+workshop. But the sight, though it awes us, does not depress us or
+deter us. We are keyed up by high anticipation when we arrive on
+the threshold of this secluded region, and a fierce joy seizes us as we
+first set eyes on these mountains. We know we have before us one
+of the great sights of the world--something unique and apart,
+something the like of which we shall never see again. And awed as
+we are by the mountains' unsurpassed magnificence, we do not bow
+down in any abject way before them. We are not impressed by our
+littleness in comparison. They have, indeed, shown us that the world
+is something greater than we knew. But they have shown us also that
+_we_ too are something greater than we knew. The peaks in their
+dazzling altitude have set an exacting standard for us. They have
+incited us to rise to that standard. Their call is great, but a thrill runs
+through us as we feel ourselves responding to the challenge,
+collecting ourselves together and gathering up every stiffest bit of
+ourselves to rise to their high standard. We feel nerved and steeled;
+and in high exhilaration we plunge down into the valley to join issue
+with the mountains.
+
+Arrived on the Oprang River we can turn either to the left or the
+right. If we turn to the left we get right in under a knot of stupendous
+peaks. Towering high and solitary above the rocky wall which
+bounds the valley on the south is a peak which may be K2, 28,250
+feet in height, which must be somewhere in the neighbourhood. But
+the investigations of the Duke of the Abruzzi throw a doubt as to
+whether this can be K2 itself. If it is not, it must be some unfixed
+and unnamed peak. At any rate it is a magnificent, upstanding peak
+rising proud and steep-sided high and clear above its neighbours.
+Then beyond it, farther up the Oprang Valley, we catch glimpses of
+that wondrous company of Gusherbrum Peaks--four of them over
+26,000 feet in height, with rich glaciers flowing from them.
+
+But if we turn to the right on descending from the Aghil Pass, and if
+we turn again in the direction of the Mustagh Pass, we come to an
+icy realm which has about it, above every other region, the impress
+of both extreme remoteness and loftiest seclusion. As we ascend
+right up the glacier--either the one coming down from the Mustagh
+Pass or the one to the east running parallel with the general line of
+the Karakoram Range--we feel not only far away from but also high
+above the rest of the world. And we seem to have risen to an
+altogether purer region. Especially if we sleep in the open, without
+any tent, with the mountains always before us, with the stars
+twinkling brightly above us, do we have this sense of having
+ascended to a loftier and serener world.
+
+At the heads of these glaciers there is little else but snow and ice.
+The moraines have almost disappeared--or, rather, have hardly yet
+come into being. And the mountains are so deeply clothed in ice and
+snow, it is only when they are extremely steep that rock appears.
+The glacier-filled valley below and the mountain above are therefore
+almost purely white. The atmosphere, too, is marvellously clear, so
+that by day the mountains and glaciers glitter brightly in the
+sunshine, and at night the stars shine out with diamond brilliance.
+The effect on a moonlight night is that of fairyland. We see the
+mountains as clearly as we would by the daylight of many regions,
+but the light is now all silver, and the mountains not solid and
+substantial but ethereal as in a vision.
+
+The pureness of the beauty is unspotted. It is the direct opposite of
+the voluptuous beauty of Kashmir. No one would come here for
+repose and holiday. But we like to have been there once. We like to
+have attained even once in a lifetime to a world so refined and pure.
+
+Cold it may be--and dangerous. But we soon forget the cold. And
+the dangers only string us up to meet them, so that we are in a
+peculiarly alert, observant mood. And we have a secret joy in
+watching Nature in her most threatening aspects and in measuring
+ourselves against her.
+
+White it may be, but not colourless. For the whiteness of the snow is
+most exquisitely tinged with blue. The lakelets on the glacier are of
+deepest blue. They are encircled by miniature cliffs of ice of
+transparent green. The blue-ness of the sky is of a depth only seen in
+the highest regions. And the snowy summits of the mountains are
+tinged at sunset and dawn with finest flush of rose and primrose. So
+with all the whiteness there is, too, the most delicate colouring.
+
+Standing thus on the glacier and looking up to the snowy peaks all
+round us, we think how, wholly unobserved by men, they have
+reared themselves to these high altitudes and there remain century
+by century unseen by any human being. From deep within the
+interior of the earth they have arisen. And they are only touched by
+the whitest snowflakes. They are only touched by snowflakes
+fashioned from the moisture which the sun's rays have raised off the
+surface of the Indian Ocean, and which the monsoon winds have
+transported in invisible currents, high above the plains of India, till
+they are gently precipitated on these far-distant heights.
+
+"Blessed are the pure in heart," we are told, "for they shall see God."
+And blessed are they who are able to ascend to a region like this, for
+here they cannot but be pure in heart, and cannot _help_ seeing God.
+For the time being at least, they _have_ to be pure. In the spotless
+purity of that region they cannot harbour any thought that is sordid
+or unclean. And they pray that ever after they may maintain what
+they have reached. For they know that if they could maintain it they
+would see beauties which in the murky state of common life it is
+impossible to perceive. In the white purity which this high region
+exacts they are forced to pierce through the superficial and
+unimportant and they catch sight of the real.
+
+They are in a remote and lofty solitude, and in touch with the naked
+elementals of which the world has built itself. But they do not feel
+alone. They feel themselves in a great Presence, and in a Presence
+with which they are most intimately in touch. And it is no dread
+Presence, but one which they delight to feel. Holiness is its essence,
+and their souls are purged and purified. They are suffused with it; it
+enters deeply into them, and translates them swiftly upward.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE HEAVENS
+
+The remote glacier region gives us a sense of purity, and gives us,
+too, a vision of colour in its finest delicacy. But for depth, extent,
+and brilliancy of colour we must look to sunsets--and sunsets in
+those high desert regions where the outlook is widest and the
+atmosphere clearest.
+
+In deserts everywhere marvellous sunsets may be seen, for the
+comparative absence of moisture in the atmosphere and the presence
+of invisible particles of dust gives these sunsets an especial
+brilliancy. In the middle of the day a desert in its uniform brownness
+is dreary and monotonous to a degree. But at dawn and sunset when
+the sun's rays slant across the scene the desert glows with colour of
+every shade and hue and in ever-changing combination. In the Gobi
+Desert of Central Asia, in the Egyptian Desert, in the Arabian Desert,
+in Arizona, I have seen sunsets that thrill one with delight. But
+nowhere have I seen more glorious sunsets than in the highlands of
+Tibet. And what makes them there so remarkable is that the plains
+themselves are 15,000 feet above sea-level, so that the atmosphere is
+exceptionally clear. Great distances are therefore combined with
+unusual clearness. The country is open enough and the air clear
+enough for us to see far distances. And extent is a prime essential in
+the glory of a sunset.
+
+It is difficult to make those who have never been outside Europe
+understand what sunsets can be. In England, as Turner has shown,
+there are sunsets to be seen containing in abundance many such
+elements of beauty as varied and varying and great extent of colour.
+But the atmosphere here is so thick that the colours appear as if
+thrown on to a solid background. So the sunsets look opaque. On the
+continent of Europe the atmosphere is clearer and the opaqueness
+less pronounced. The colouring is in consequence more vivid.
+But--except in high Alpine regions--the clearness does not approach the
+clearness of Tibet. And neither in England nor on the Continent do
+we get the great _distances_ of desert sunsets. And great distances
+increase immeasurably that feeling of _infinity_ which is the chief
+glory in a sunset.
+
+The clearness of the atmosphere is important in this respect also,
+that it produces the effect upon the colours of the sunset that they
+seem more like the colours we see in precious stones than the
+colours a painter throws on a canvas. There is no milkiness or
+murkiness in them. The sky is so clear that we see a colour as we see
+the red in a ruby. We see deep into the colour. The colour comes
+right _out_ of the sky and has not the appearance of being merely
+plastered on the surface.
+
+And the variety of the colours and the rapidity with which they
+change and merge and mingle into one another is another wonder of
+these desert sunsets. It would be wholly impossible to paint a picture
+of them which would adequately express the impression they give,
+for the main impression is derived from light, and the colours are
+therefore far more glowing than they could ever be reproduced on
+canvas. Nor can the changing effects be reproduced on a stationary
+medium. The nearest approach to the glory of a Tibet sunset which I
+have seen is a picture in pastel by Simon de Bussy a sunset in the
+Alps. But all pictures--even Turner's;--can only draw attention to the
+glory and show us what to look for. They cannot reproduce the
+impression in full. The medium through which the artist has to
+work--the paints and the canvas--are inadequate for his needs.
+
+If we try to describe the impression in words we are no better off.
+We can, indeed, compare the sunset colours with the colours of
+flowers and precious stones. But here also we miss the light which is
+the very foundation of the sunset beauties. And we have neither the
+changefulness nor the vast extent of the sunset colouring.
+
+To get the least idea of the variety of colours mixing, merging, and
+intermingling with one another we must go to the opal, though even
+there there is not the intensity of colour, and of course not the
+change nor extent. From an orange--especially a blood orange--we
+get a notion of the combined reds and yellows of the sunsets, though
+the reds may range deeper than orange into the reds of the ruby or
+the cardinal flower, and lighter into the pinks of the rose or the
+carnation; and the yellows range from the gold of the eseholtzia to
+the delicate hue of the primrose. And for the translucency of their
+yellower effects we must bring in the amber. Often there is a green
+which can only be matched by jade or emerald. And sometimes
+there is an effect with which only the amethyst can be compared.
+Then there are mauves and purples for which the precious stones
+have no parallel, and of which heliotrope, the harebell, and the violet
+give us the best idea. And the blues range from the deep blue of the
+sapphire and the gentian to the light blue of the turquoise and the
+forget-me-not.
+
+In these stones and flowers we get something near the actual colour,
+but the depth, the clearness, the luminosity, and the vast extent are
+all wanting, and these are all essential features of the sunset's glories.
+So we must imagine all these colours glowing with light and never
+still--perpetually changing from one to the other and shading off
+from one into the other, one colour emerging, rising to the dominant
+position, and then disappearing to give place to another, and
+effecting these changes imperceptibly yet rapidly also, for if we take
+our eyes away for even a few minutes we find that the aspect has
+altogether altered.
+
+From my camp in Tibet for weeks together I could be sure of
+witnessing every evening one of these glorious sunsets. For while
+the mighty monsoon clouds used to roll up on to the line of
+Himalayan peaks and pile themselves up there, billow upon billow,
+in magnificent array, dark and fearful in the general mass, but
+clear-edged and silver-tipped along the summits, yet beyond that line, in
+Tibet, the sky was nearly always clear and blue of the bluest. With
+nothing whatever to impede my view--no trees, nor houses, nor
+fences, nor obstacles of any kind--I could look out far over these
+open plains to distant hills; beyond them, again, to Mount Everest a
+hundred miles away; beyond it, again, to still more distant
+mountains; and, finally, behind them into the setting sun. And these
+far hills and snowy mountains, seen as they were across an
+absolutely open plain, seemed not to impede the view but only to
+heighten the impression of great distance. The eye would be led on
+from feature to feature, each receding farther into the distance till it
+seemed only a step from the farthest snowy mountain into the
+glowing sun itself.
+
+Every evening, whenever I could, I used to walk out alone into the
+open plain to feast my soul on the splendid scene. In the stern
+glacier region round K2 had had to brace myself up and to summon
+up all that was toughest within me in order to cope with the terribly
+exacting conditions in which I found myself. In the presence of
+these calm but fervent sunsets there was a different feeling. I had a
+sense of expansion, a longing to let myself go. And I would feel
+myself craving to let myself go out all I could into these glowing
+depths of light and colour, and trying to open myself out to their
+beauty, that as much as possible of it should flow into me and
+glorify my whole being. I had the feeling that in those sunsets there
+was _any_ length for my soul to go out to--that there was _infinite_
+room there for the soul's expansion. There was inexhaustible glory
+for the soul to absorb, and the soul was thirsting for it and could
+never have enough.
+
+Evening after evening came to me, too--quite unconsciously, and as
+it were inevitably--Shelley's words (slightly altered):
+
+          "Be thou, spirit bright,
+     My spirit! Be thou me, most glorious one!
+     Be through my lips to unawakened earth
+     The trumpet of a prophecy."
+
+It was not that there was any particular message that I had to give.
+But there was aroused in me just this simple, insistent longing to let
+others know what glory there was in the world, and to be able to
+communicate to them something of the joy I was then feeling in
+beholding it. I was highly privileged in having this opportunity of
+witnessing a Tibetan sunset's splendours. I was yearning for others
+to share my enjoyment with me.
+
+The white radiance of the glacier region instils into us a sense of
+purity, and without the purity of heart which that stern region exacts
+we cannot see the sunset's glory in all its fulness. But now in these
+Tibetan sunsets we have not purity alone, but warmth and richness
+as well. They give an impression of infinity of glory. We catch
+alight from their consuming glory, and our hearts flame up in
+correspondence with them. The fervent glow in the Heart of Nature
+kindles a like glow in our own hearts; and we are enraptured by the
+Beauty.
+
+On our misty island we are apt to connect sunsets with coming
+darkness and a black end of things. And in gazing on them we are
+prone to have a sense of sadness mingled with our joy. They seem to
+mean for us a passage from light to darkness, and from life to death.
+
+But in the deserts we have no such feeling. As day imperceptibly
+fades away it is not black darkness that succeeds, but a light that
+enables us to see farther, a mellower light that enables us to see the
+Universe at large. From this earthly life we are transported to a
+higher, intenser, ampler life among the stars.
+
+And it is in the desert that we best live among the stars. In Europe
+we look up into the sky between trees and houses; and among the
+clouds and through a murky atmosphere we see a few stars. Even
+when we have a clear sky we seldom get a chance of seeing the
+whole expanse of the heavens all the way round. And even if we get
+this rare chance of a clear sky and a wide horizon we do not live
+with the stars in the open the night through and night after night.
+
+In the Gobi Desert I had this precious opportunity. And I had it
+when my whole being was tuned up to highest pitch. I was not in the
+limp state of one who steps out into his garden and looks up casually
+to the stars. I was tense with high enterprise. I was passing through
+unknown country on a journey across the Chinese Empire from
+Peking to India. I was keen and alive in every faculty, in a state of
+high exhilaration, and both observant and receptive. It was a rare
+chance, and much I wish now I had made more of it.
+
+My party in crossing the Gobi Desert consisted only of a Chinese
+guide, a Chinese servant, and a Mongol camel-man. As I had no
+European companion I was driven in upon myself. I had to explore a
+route never before traversed by Europeans, and the distance to be
+covered across the open steppes of Mongolia and over the Gobi
+Desert to the first town in Turkestan was twelve hundred miles.
+Beyond that was the whole length of Turkestan and the six-hundred-mile
+breadth of the Himalaya to be crossed before I should reach
+India. So I had a big task before me, and was stirring with the sense
+of high adventure and vast distances to overcome.
+
+To enable my eight camels to feed by daylight, I used to start at five
+o'clock in the afternoon and march till one or two in the morning.
+Sometimes in order to reach water we had to march all through the
+night and well into the following day. Frequently there were terrific
+sandstorms, but there were seldom any clouds. So the atmosphere
+was clear. In the distance were sometimes hills. But for the most
+part all round the desert was absolutely open. I could see for what
+seemed an indefinite distance in any direction. The conditions were
+ideal for observing the stars.
+
+Seated on my camel, or trudging along apart from my little caravan,
+I would watch the sun set in always varying splendour. No two
+sunsets were anything like the same. Each through the ascendancy
+of some one shade of colour, or through an unusual combination of
+colour, had a special beauty of its own. I would watch each ripening
+to the climax and then shade away into the beauty of the night. And
+when the day was over the night would reveal that higher, wider life
+which daylight only served to hide.
+
+The sunset glow would fade away. Star after star would spring into
+sight till the whole vault of heaven was glistening with diamond
+points of light. Above me and all round me stars were shining out of
+the deep sapphire sky with a brilliance only surpassed by the stars in
+the high Himalayan solitudes I have already described. And a great
+stillness would be over all--a silence even completer than the silence
+among the mountains, for there it was often broken by creaking of
+the ice, whereas here in the desert it was so profound that, when at
+the end of many weeks I arrived at a patch of grass and trees, the
+twittering of the birds and the whirr of insects sounded like the roar
+of a London street.
+
+In this unbroken stillness and with the eye free to rove all round with
+nothing in any direction to stay its vision, and being as I was many
+weeks' distance from any settled human habitation, I often had the
+feeling of being more connected with the starry firmament than with
+this Earth. In a curious way the bodily and the material seemed to
+exist no longer, and I would be in spirit among the stars. They
+served to guide us over the desert and I gradually became familiar
+with them. And I used to feel as much a part of the Stellar World as
+of this Earth. I lost all sense of being confined to Earth and took my
+place in the Universe at large. My home was the whole great
+Cosmos before me. The Cosmos, and not the Earth, was the whole
+to which I belonged.
+
+And in that unbroken quiet and amid this bright company of heaven
+my spirit seemed to become intenser and more daring. Right high up
+in the zenith, to infinite height, it would soar unfettered. And right
+round to any distance in any direction it would pierce its way. The
+height and distance of the highest and farthest stars I knew had been
+measured. I knew that the resulting number of miles is something so
+immense as to be altogether beyond human conception. I knew also
+that the number of stars, besides those few thousands which I saw,
+had to be numbered in hundreds of millions. All this was astonishing,
+and the knowledge of it filled me with wonder at the immensity of
+the Starry Universe. But it was not the mere magnitude of this world
+that impressed me. What stirred me was the Presence, subtly felt, of
+some mighty all-pervading Influence which ordered the courses of
+the heavenly hosts and permeated every particle.
+
+We cannot watch the sun go down day after day, and after it has set
+see the stars appear, rise to the meridian and disappear below the
+opposite horizon in regular procession, without being impressed by
+the order which prevails. We feel that the whole is kept together in
+punctual fashion, and is not mere chaos and chance. The presence of
+some Power upholding, sustaining, and directing the whole is deeply
+impressed upon us. And in this Presence so steadfast, so calm, so
+constant, we feel soothed and steadied. The frets and pains of
+ordinary life are stilled. Deep peace and satisfaction fill our souls.
+
+Sandstorms so terrific that we cannot stand before them or see a
+thing a foot or two distant come whirling across the desert, and all
+for the time seems turmoil and confusion and nothing is visible. But
+behind all we know the stars still pursue their mighty way. At the
+back of everything we realise there is a Power constant and
+dependable in whom we can absolutely put our trust.
+
+This is the impression--the impression of steadfastness, constancy,
+and reliability--which a nightly contemplation of the stars makes
+upon us. At the foundation of things is something dependable,
+something in which we can repose our faith. And so the sense of
+calm and confidence we feel.
+
+And in the desert we have no feeling that the stars pursue their
+course in cold indifference to us--that the Power which sustains
+them works its soulless way unregardful of the frettings of us little
+men. Not thus are we who watch the desert stars impressed. Quite
+otherwise. For nowhere do we feel the Influence nearer, more
+intimate or more beneficent. We seem in the very midst of the great
+Presence. We are immersed in it. It is pervading us on every side.
+We do not expect it to alter the whole course of Nature for our
+private good. But we feel confident that the course of Nature is for
+_good_--that Nature is a beneficent and no callous Power, and has
+good at heart. _Because_ the foundations are so sure and good we
+can each pursue our way in confidence. This is the impression we
+get.
+
+And the Power which guides the stars upon their heavenly way, and
+which, in guiding them, guides us across the desert, does not reside,
+we feel, in lonely grandeur in the empty places of the heavens, but in
+the stars themselves--in their very constitution--in each individually
+and in all in their togetherness. It burns in each star and shines forth
+from it, and yet holds the whole together as we see it every night in
+that circling vault around us. The Activity does not appear to us to
+emanate from some Invisible Being dwelling wholly apart and
+isolated from the stars and this Earth, and sending forth invisible
+spiritual rays, as the Sun stands apart from the Earth but sends out
+rays of sunlight to it. It seems rather to dwell in the very heart and
+centre of each star, and the stars seem _spiritual_ rather than
+material beings. So this Power, as we experience it in the desert,
+does not impress us as being awful and remote, gloomy and
+inexorable, enforcing unbending law and exacting terrible penalties.
+Our impression of it is that, though it preserves order with unfailing
+regularity, it is yet near and kindly, radiating with light and warmth.
+We not only feel it to be something steadfast, something on which
+we can rely and in which we may have confidence; we also feel
+warmed and kindled by it.
+
+So what we get from a nightly contemplation of the stars is a sense
+of happy companionship with Nature. The Heart of Nature as here
+revealed is both dependable and kindly. Nature is our friend. And in
+her certain friendship the balm of peace falls softly on us. Our hearts
+blend tenderly with the Heart of Nature; and in their union we see
+Beauty of the gentlest and most reassuring kind.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+HOME BEAUTY
+
+The Artist in his quest for Natural Beauty will have pursued it in the
+remotest and wildest parts of the Earth, where he can see Nature in
+her primeval and most elemental simplicity. He will have seen her in
+many and most varied aspects--the grandest, the wildest, and the
+most luxuriant. And from these numerous and so different
+manifestations of Nature he will have been enabled more fully to
+understand her meaning and comprehend her soul. Moreover, this
+contemplation of Nature will have evoked from within himself much
+that he had never suspected he possessed, and thereby his own soul
+also he will have learned to understand. And from this completer
+comprehension of his own soul and hers will have emerged a fuller
+community of heart between him and Nature. He will have come to
+worship her with a still more ardent devotion, and through the
+intensity of his love discovered richer and richer Beauty in her.
+
+But even yet he has not seen Natural Beauty where it can be found
+in its highest perfection. Only when there can be the most intimate
+possible relationship between him and the natural object he is
+contemplating can Beauty at its finest be seen. And this closest
+correspondence of all between him and Nature will only be when he
+is in the natural surroundings with which he has been familiar from
+childhood, and which have affected him in his most impressionable
+years.
+
+The Artist will have seen Nature as she manifests herself in the
+teeming life of a tropical forest and the most varied races of men; in
+the highest mountains and the widest deserts; in the glory of sunsets
+and the calm of stars. But it is in none of these that he will see
+deepest into the true Heart of Nature and understand her best. It is
+amid scenery which he has loved since boyhood, in the hearts of his
+own countrymen in their own country, that he will see deepest into
+Nature. And deepest of all will he see when from among his
+countrywomen he has united himself to the one of his own
+deliberate choice, and in this union realised in its fulness, strength,
+and intensity that Creative Love which springs from Nature's very
+heart, and is the ultimate fount and source of all Natural Beauty.
+
+We like to go out over all the Earth and see the wonders of it. And
+we learn to love the great mountains and rich forests and unfenced
+steppes and veldts and prairies. And we get to love also the various
+peoples among whom we have to work and travel. But in his heart
+of hearts each man likes to get back to the scenes of his childhood.
+The plainsman likes to get back again from the mountains to his
+level plains where the scene is closer and more intimate. The
+mountaineer likes to retire again from the plains into the mountains.
+The dweller on the veldt likes to get out of the forest on to the great
+open spaces once more. The inhabitant of the forest likes to get back
+there again from the plains. And the Englishman, though he loves
+the Alps and the Himalaya, is touched by nothing so deeply as by a
+Devonshire lane with its banks of primroses and violets. And he
+may have the greatest affection for peoples of other races among
+whom he may have had to work, yet it is his own countrymen that
+he will always really love.
+
+So the Artist comes back to home surroundings and his own people.
+And he will return with his sense of beauty quickened and refined
+by this wide and varied experience of Nature. His sensibility to the
+beauties of Nature will now be of rarest delicacy, and his capacity
+for fine discrimination and his feeling for distinction and excellence
+sure and keen.
+
+He will have been toned and tuned up to the highest pitch in his
+wrestling with Nature, and will have been purged and purified in the
+white region of the highest mountains. And in this high-strung state
+he will now see that creation and manifestation of Nature which of
+all natural objects will best declare her meaning, bring him into
+closer touch with her very Heart, and stir in him the deepest
+emotions. Between him and this object there will be possible the
+closest community of soul. Here then he will see Natural Beauty at
+its very finest.
+
+The natural object in which he will see this consummation of Beauty
+will be the woman who will be to him a kindred spirit, and whom he
+will first admire and then love.
+
+It was through the love of man and woman for each other in the
+far-off ages when love first came into the hearts of men that Natural
+Beauty also first dawned upon them. It is through that love that
+Natural Beauty has been continually growing in fulness and
+splendour. And it will be through that same love of man and woman
+for each other that the Artist will see Natural Beauty reach its
+highest perfection. For in this love man first learned to enter into the
+soul of another, to recognise samenesses between himself and
+another, and to live in communion with another. And so in time he
+came to recognise samenesses between what was in his heart and
+what was in the Heart of Nature, to enter into communion with
+Nature, and through the wedding of himself with Nature see the
+Beauty in her. He was able in some slight degree to be towards
+Nature what we see the midge buzzing round a man must be if that
+midge is to see the beauty of man. Just as the midge, if it is to see
+the beauty in man, must be able to recognise samenesses between its
+life and the life of man, so man to see Beauty in Nature had to
+recognise identity of life between him and Nature as he was first
+inspired to see it through the love of man and woman for each other.
+And now the Artist with his wide experience of Nature and united
+with his own countrywoman in his own country will recognise a still
+closer identity between himself and Nature, and so see an even fuller
+Beauty in her.
+
+Assuming the man and woman, both by their upbringing and by
+outward circumstances, to have been able to develop the best
+capacities within them and to be meeting now under conditions most
+favourable for their union, we shall see how perfect is the Beauty
+which may be revealed. The man will be in the prime of his
+manhood, and the woman in the prime of her womanhood. The man
+manly and radiating manhood, the woman womanly and radiating
+womanhood: their manhood and womanhood welling up within
+them, each eager to answer the call of the other.
+
+Hers will be no light and shallow beauty insipid as milk and water,
+but will be sweet as the violet, delicate as the primrose, pure as the
+lily, yet with all the sweetness, delicacy and purity, radiant as the
+sunrise. And they will be no pale and puny lovers, soft and mild as
+doves, and content to lead a dull and trivial life. They will be high of
+spirit, graceful, swift, and supple as the greyhound; and as keenly
+intent on living a full and varied life with every moment of it worth
+while as ever the greyhound is in pursuing its object. They will be
+capable of intense and passionate emotion, yet with all their eager
+impulsiveness they will have wills strong to keep themselves in
+hand, and to maintain their direction true through all the mazy
+intricacies of life and love.
+
+In the bringing together of such a pair Natural Beauty will play a
+vitally important part. Of all objects that Nature has produced--of all
+the offspring of the Earth--such a man and woman are the most
+beautiful. And we may assume that as they are drawn to each other
+they will put forth the very best of themselves and give out the
+utmost beauty that is in them. Moreover, they will be more beautiful
+to each other than they are to anybody else. Unconsciously they will
+reveal to each other what they _can_ reveal to none other but
+themselves. Insensibly the windows of their souls will be opened to
+each other. The lovelight in their eyes--the lovelight which can
+_only_ be shown to each other--will discover to them hidden depths
+of beauty they had never gathered they possessed.
+
+And this beauty will be something more than mere prettiness or
+handsomeness of face. The man will see the beauty of the woman
+--and she his--not only in the face and features, but in the presence,
+bearing, and carriage, in the gestures, movements, and behaviour.
+Behind the outward aspect he will see the inward spirit, the real self,
+the true nature, the radiant personality. And the beauty that he sees
+will fill him with a passionate yearning, both to give and to possess.
+He will want both to give the utmost and best of himself, and also to
+possess what so satisfies all the cravings of the soul. And whether it
+be to give or to possess that he most wants he will be unable to
+distinguish. But, in the craving to give and possess, the highest
+stimulus will be afforded him to exert every faculty to its limit. The
+effort will give zest, and with zest will come added powers of vision,
+so that he will be able to see both her and his inmost and utmost
+capabilities. And though the force of outward circumstances may
+prevent both her and him from ever completely fulfilling those latent
+possibilities, what they see of themselves and of each other in those
+divine moments may nevertheless be a perfectly true vision of their
+real and fundamental nature. Love is not so blind as is supposed.
+Love is capable of seeing clearer and deeper than any other faculty.
+
+What the Artist now sees with the eyes of Love will be the ground
+upon which he will have to form his judgment in the most critical
+decision of his life. For the moment will now have come when he
+will have to decide whether of all others he will give himself to her,
+and whether he can presume to ask of her that she will give herself
+to him--and each to the other for all the rest of their lives. It is a
+momentous decision to have to make. With his highly developed
+power of vision he will have divined her true nature. But he will
+have now to exercise his judgment on it--whether it will satisfy the
+needs of his whole being and whether his whole being is sufficient
+to satisfy her needs. Each has to be sure that his peculiar nature
+satisfies--and satisfies fully--his or her own peculiar needs, and that
+his peculiar nature satisfies the other's needs. A wrong decision here
+is fatal. The responsibility is fearful. All will depend upon his
+keenness of vision, his capacity for discrimination, and his
+soundness of judgment. The decision may be arrived at swiftly and
+consciously, or it may be come to unconsciously, gradually, and
+imperceptibly. But shorter or longer the time, consciously or
+unconsciously the method, it will have in the end to be made in a
+perfectly definite fashion--yes or no--and from that decision there
+can be no going back. And on that clear decision will hang the
+future welfare not only of the one who makes it, but of both. Each,
+therefore, has to decide for the welfare of both.
+
+This is the real Day of Judgment. And each is his own judge. Now
+all his and her past life and inborn nature is being put to the test in a
+fierce ordeal--and the fiery ordeal of love is more searching even
+than the ordeal of war. Every smallest blot and blemish, every
+slightest impurity is shown up in startling clearness. Every flaw at
+once betrays itself. What will not bear a strain immediately breaks
+down. There is not an imperfection which is not glaringly displayed.
+The other may not see it, but he himself will--and upon him is the
+responsibility.
+
+No wonder that both the one and the other hesitate to commit
+themselves finally and irrevocably! Can he with all his blots and
+blemishes, his failings and weaknesses, offer to give himself to the
+other? Is he worthy to receive all that he would expect to receive in
+return? Is he justified in asking that the whole being and the most
+sacred thing in life should be given over utterly to him? It seems
+astounding that any man should ever have the impudence to answer
+such questions in the affirmative. Doubtless he would not have had
+such effrontery but for two considerations.
+
+In the first place he knows that, imperfect as he may be--downright
+sinful as he may often have been--he is not bad at bottom. At heart,
+he knows for certain he has capacities for improvement which
+would come at once into being if only they had the opportunity for
+development. And he knows that the other could make those
+opportunities--could provide the stimulus which would awaken in
+him and bring to fruit many a hidden capability of good. Every
+faculty in him he now feels being quickened to an activity never
+known before. Blemishes he feels being purged away in the
+cleansing fires of pure love. He feels that with the other he will be,
+as he has never been before, his whole and his true self. And this is
+the first consideration which gives him confidence.
+
+The second is that he feels himself now to a very special degree in
+direct and intimate touch with the central Heart of Nature.
+Something from what he feels by instinct is the Divine Source of
+Life and Love comes springing up within him, penetrating him
+through and through, supporting and upholding him and urging him
+forward. He feels that he directly springs from that Source, and that
+it will ever sustain him as long as he is true to his own real self, and
+works for those high ends towards which he feels himself impelled.
+
+With strong faith, then, he makes his decision--with strong faith in
+_himself,_ for he knows himself to be inspired by the same great
+Spirit which animates the whole world of which he is himself a part.
+And having in this faith made his decision, he girds himself for the
+poignant battle of love.
+
+And as in war so in love men--and women--rise to altogether
+unexpected heights of courage, endurance, and devotion. War is a
+fine spur to excellence. But love is an even finer. Every faculty is
+quickened and refined. Every high quality brought into fullest
+exercise. Daring and caution, utter disregard of self and selfishness
+in the extreme, are alike required. For the two will never achieve full
+wedded union until they have fought their way through many an
+interposing obstacle. Adroitness, and that rare quality, social
+courage, will be needed in dealing with ever-recurring, complicated,
+painful, and nerve-straining situations. Even in their attitude towards
+one another as they gradually come together the finest address will
+be required. For each has necessarily to be comparing himself and
+comparing the object of his love with others; and each feels that he
+is being similarly compared. There can be no final assurance till the
+union is completed. A single ill-judged word or action may ruin all.
+At any moment another may be preferred--or at least one of the two
+may find the other inadequate or deficient.
+
+All this will afford the highest stimulus to emulation. Each will
+strive to excel in what the other approves and appreciates--or at any
+rate to excel in what is his own particular line. He will be incited to
+show himself at his best and to be his best.
+
+But before the bliss of completest union is attained anguish and
+rapture in exquisite extremes will be experienced. For the soul of
+each will be exposed in all its quivering sensitiveness, and any but
+the most delicate touch will be a torture to it. Fortitude of the firmest
+will be required to bear the wounds which must necessarily come
+from this exposure. Each, too, will have to bear the pain of the
+suffering they must inevitably be causing to some few others--and
+those others among their very dearest.
+
+As the intimacy of union becomes closer and closer the call for
+bodily union will become more and more insistent. In the first
+instance--and this is a point which is specially worth noting--the
+desire was _entirely_ for spiritual union, for union of the _spirits_ of
+each. What each admired and loved in the other was his or her
+capacity for love. He realised what a wonderful love the other
+_could_ give. And he yearned with all his heart to have that love
+directed towards himself. It was a purely spiritual union that his
+heart was set on. The thought of bodily union did not enter his head.
+But the need for bodily touch as a means of expressing human
+feeling is inherent in human nature, and becomes more and more
+urgent as the feeling becomes warmer. Friends have to shake hands
+with each other and pat each other on the back in order to show the
+warmth of their feeling for one another. Women affectionately
+embrace one another. Parents and children, brothers and sisters, kiss
+one another. It is impossible adequately to express affection without
+bodily touch. And in the case of lovers, as the love deepens so also
+deepens the compelling need to express this love in bodily union of
+the closest possible.
+
+And so the supreme moment arrives when each gives himself
+wholly, utterly, and for ever to the other--body, soul, and spirit--and
+they twain are one. And the remarkable result ensues that each in
+giving himself to the other has become more completely and truly
+himself than he has ever been before. He strives to become more and
+more closely wedded with the other. He yearns to give himself more
+completely and longs that there was more of himself to give. And he
+gives himself as completely as he can. Yet he has never before been
+so fully himself. The closeness and intimacy of the union, and all
+that he has received, has enabled him to bring forth and give
+utterance to what had lain deep and dormant within him--all his
+fondest hopes, his dearest dreams, his highest aspirations. Each is
+more himself in the other. He is, indeed, not himself without the
+other. Each has won possession of the other. Each has with joy and
+gladness given himself to the other. Each belongs to the other. Each
+is all the world to the other--a treasure without price. He is ever after
+in her as her own being. And she is in him as his own being. Apart
+from each other they are never again themselves. They are absorbed
+in mutual joy in one another.
+
+The intensity of delight is more than they can bear. It brims up and
+overflows and goes bursting out to all the world. By being able to be
+their whole selves they have become more closely in touch with the
+deepest Heart of Nature and nearest the Divine. In that hushed and
+sacred moment when the ecstasy of life and love is at its highest
+they have never felt stronger, purer, lighter, nearer the Divine. They
+have reached deep down to the most elemental part of their nature.
+And they have soared up highest to the most Divine. But Divine and
+elemental, spiritual and bodily, seem one. There seems to be nothing
+bodily which is not spiritual. And nothing elemental which is not
+Divine.
+
+It is not often that they will attain these culminating heights of
+spiritual exaltation. Nor will they be able long to remain there. The
+lark, the eagle, the airman, have all to come to earth again. And they
+spend most of their lives on the earth. But the lovers will have
+known what it is to soar. They will have found their wings. They
+will have seen heaven once, and breathed its air. And all nature, all
+human relationships, will be for ever after transfigured in heaven's
+light.
+
+The state of being to which these twain have now arrived is the
+highest and best in life. This spiritual union of man and woman--this
+union of their souls which their bodily union has made possible in
+completeness--is that which of all else has most value. The
+friendship of men for men and women for women is high up in the
+scale of being. But it is not at the supreme summit. The holy union
+of man and woman is higher still, because it is a relation of the
+_whole_ being of each to the other, and because it brings both into
+direct and closest contact with the Primal Source of Things, and on
+the line which points them highest. The relationship satisfies the
+_whole_ needs of the selves of each and satisfies the urgency of the
+Heart of Nature.
+
+* * *
+
+So now our Artist will have experienced true spirituality in its
+highest degree; and having experienced also the most elemental in
+his nature, he will perforce have come in touch with Nature along
+her whole range. And his soul being at the finest pitch of
+sensitiveness, he will be able to appreciate Natural Beauty as never
+before. And nothing less than _natural_ beauties, and nothing less
+than these beauties at their best, will in his exalted mood be
+satisfying to him. He will be driven irresistibly into the open air and
+the warm sunshine, and to the bosom of Mother-Earth. And there in
+the blue of heaven and in dreamy clouds; in the wide sea, or in
+tranquil lakes; in ethereal mountains or in verdant woodlands; in the
+loveliness of flowers, and in the music of the birds, he will find that
+which his spirit seeks--that to which his spirit wants to give response.
+Only there in the open, in the midst of Nature, will he find horizons
+wide enough, heights high enough, beauties rich enough, for his
+soul's needs.
+
+The flowers as he looks into them will disclose glories of colour,
+texture, form, and fragrance he never yet had seen. The comely
+forms of trees, their varying greenery, and the dancing sunlight on
+the leaves, will fill him with an intensity of delight that heretofore he
+had never known. And as once more he goes among his fellow-men
+he will see them in a newer and a truer light. His contact with them
+will be easier; his friendships deeper; his certainty of affection surer;
+and his capacity for entering into every joy and sorrow
+immeasurably enlarged.
+
+Through his love, our ideal Artist will have been enabled to reach
+deeper into the Heart of Nature than he had ever reached before, and
+to feel more intimately at one with her. And being thus in warmest
+touch with her, Natural Beauty, strong, deep, and delicate as only
+finest love can disclose, will be revealed to him. Enjoyment of
+Natural Beauty in its perfection is the prize he will have won.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE NATURE OF NATURE
+
+The Artist is now in a position to take stock of Nature as a whole, of
+her nature, methods, and manner of working, of the motives which
+actuate her--of what, in short, she really is at heart. And having thus
+reviewed her, he will have to determine whether his wider and
+deeper knowledge of Nature confirms or detracts from the
+impression of her which he had gained from a contemplation of the
+forest's innumerable life. Upon this decision will depend his final
+attitude towards her. And upon his attitude towards her depends his
+capacity for enjoying Natural Beauty. For if he has any doubt in his
+mind as to the goodness of Nature or any hesitation about giving
+himself out to her, there is little prospect of his seeing Beauty in her.
+He will remain cold and unresponsive to her calls and enjoyment of
+Natural Beauty will not be for him.
+
+And each of us--each for himself--just as much as the Artist will
+have to make up his mind on this fundamental question. If we are to
+get the full enjoyment we should expect out of Natural Beauty we
+must have a clear and firm conception in our minds of what Nature
+really is, what is her essential character, whether at heart she is cold
+and callous or warm and loving. So far as we were justified in
+drawing conclusions regarding the character of Nature as a whole
+from what we saw of her manifestations in the life of the forest, we
+came to the conclusion that she was not so hard and repellent as she
+assuredly would be to us if her guiding principle of action were the
+survival of the fittest. We inferred, rather, from our observations of
+her in the forest that she was actuated by an aspiration towards what
+we ourselves hold to be of most worth and value. We were therefore
+not disillusioned by closer familiarity with her, but more closely
+drawn towards her, and therefore prepared to see more Beauty in her.
+Now we have to review Nature as a whole--that is, in the Starry
+World as well as on this Earth--and see if the same conclusions hold
+good, and if we are therefore justified in loving Nature, or if we
+should view her with suspicion and distrust, hold ourselves aloof
+from her, and cultivate a stoic courage in face of a Power whose
+character we must cordially dislike.
+
+There are men who hold that the appearance of life and love on this
+Earth is a mere flash in the pan and comes about by pure chance.
+They believe that life will be extinguished in a twinkling as we
+collide with some other star, or will simply flicker out again as the
+Sun's heat dies down and the Earth becomes cold. If this view be
+correct, then that impression of the reliability and kindliness of
+Nature which we formed when contemplating the stars in the desert
+would be a false impression; our feelings of friendship with Nature
+would at once freeze up and our vision of Beauty vanish like a
+wraith.
+
+Fortunately Truth and Knowledge do not deal so cruel a blow at
+Beauty. Far from it: they take her side. There are no grounds for
+supposing that either chance or mechanism produces spirit, or that
+from merely physical and chemical combinations spirit can emerge.
+Spirit is no casual by-product of mechanical or chemical processes.
+Spirit is the governing factor regulating and controlling the physical
+movements--controlling them, indeed, with such orderliness that we
+may be apt from this very orderliness to regard the whole as a
+machine and fail to see that all is directed towards high spiritual
+ends.
+
+If we are to appeal to reason, it is much more reasonable to assume
+that spirit always existed, and that the conditions for the emergence
+of life were brought about on purpose, than to assume that spirit is a
+mere excretion, like perspiration, of chemical processes. Certainly
+the former assumptions more clearly fit the facts of the case. For
+these facts are, firstly, that we spiritual selves exist, next that we
+have ideas of goodness and a determination to achieve it, next that
+plant as well as animal life on this Earth is purposive, then that the
+stars, numbering anything from a hundred to a thousand million,
+each of them a sun and many of them presumably with planets, are
+made of the same materials as this Earth, the plants, animals, and
+ourselves are composed of; that these materials have the same
+properties; that the same fundamental laws of gravitation, heat,
+motion, chemical and electrical action prevail there as here; and
+lastly that they are all connected with the Earth by some medium or
+continuum of energies, which enables vibrations, of which the most
+obvious are the vibrations of light, to reach the Earth from them.
+These facts point towards the conclusion that the whole Universe, as
+well as ourselves and the animals and plants on this Earth, is
+actuated by spirit. Goodness we have seen to be working itself out
+on the Earth; and there is nothing we see in the world of stars that
+prevents us from concluding that in the Universe as well as on the
+Earth what _should_ be is the ground of what _is_.
+
+Something higher than life, or life in some higher form than we
+know, may indeed have been brought into being among the stars.
+Life has appeared in an extraordinary variety of forms on this Earth,
+and it would necessarily appear in other forms elsewhere. And it is
+not difficult to imagine more perfect forms in which it might have
+developed. We men are the most highly developed beings on this
+planet. But our eyes and ears and other organs of sense take
+cognisance of only a few of the vibrations raining in upon our
+bodies from the outside world. There is a vast range of vibrations of
+the medium in which we are immersed of which our bodily organs
+take no cognisance whatever. If we had better developed organs we
+would be in much more intimate touch with the world about us, and
+be aware of influences and existences we are blind to now. Beings
+with these superior faculties may very possibly have come into
+existence among the stars.
+
+Nor is there anything unreasonable in the assumption that from the
+inhabitants of these stars in their _ensemble_ issue influences which
+directly affect conditions on this Earth; that in the all in its
+togetherness is Purpose; and that it was due to the working of this
+Purpose that conditions were produced on the Earth which made the
+emergence of life possible. To some it may seem that it was only by
+chance that the atoms and molecules happened to come together in
+such a particular way that from the combination the emergence of
+life was possible. To men of such restricted vision it would seem
+equally a matter of chance that a heavenly song resulted when a
+dozen choirboys came together, opened their mouths and made a
+noise. But men of wider vision would have seen that this song was
+no matter of chance, but was the result of the working out of a
+purpose; that the choirboys were brought together for a purpose; and
+that that purpose was resident in each of a large number of people
+scattered about a parish, but who, though scattered, were all
+animated by the same purpose of maintaining a choir to sing hymns.
+So it is not unreasonable to suppose that when the particles came
+together under conditions that life resulted, they had been brought
+together in those conditions to fulfil a purpose resident in each of a
+number of beings and groups of beings scattered about the Universe,
+but who, though scattered, were nevertheless animated by the same
+purpose. Anyhow, this seems a more reasonable assumption than the
+assumption that the particles came together by pure chance.
+
+Beings with these superior faculties may very possibly have
+emerged among the stars. It would seem not at all improbable,
+therefore, that in some unrecognised way conditions on this Earth
+may be influenced in their general outlines by what is taking place
+in the Universe at large, in the same way as conditions in a village in
+India are affected by public opinion in England as epitomised in the
+decisions of the Cabinet. The remote Indian village is unaware that
+men in England have decided to grant responsible government to
+India in due course. And even if the villagers were told of this they
+would not realise the significance of the decision and how it would
+affect the fortunes of their village for good or ill during the next
+century or two. Conditions on this Earth may be similarly being
+affected by decisions made in other parts of the Universe--decisions
+the significance of which we would be as totally unable to recognise
+as the Indian villagers are to recognise the significance of the steps
+towards self-government which have just been made.
+
+The Universe is so interconnected, and there is so much interaction
+between the parts and the whole, that the Earth may be more
+affected than we think by what goes on in the Universe at large. If
+there are higher levels of being among the stars, it may well be that
+the successive rises to higher levels on this Earth--from inorganic to
+organic, from organic to mental, and from the mental to the
+spiritual--have come about through this interaction between the parts
+and the whole. Conditions on this Earth may be more affected than
+we are aware of by the Universe in its ensemble, and by the actions
+of higher beings in other Earths.
+
+In this very matter of Beauty, for example, it may quite possibly be
+the case that our intimation of Beauty has been received through the
+influence upon the most sensitive among us of beings in other parts
+of the Universe. We may be as unaware of the existence of those
+beings or of their having feelings towards us as the Indian villager is
+of the existence of the Cabinet in London or of the Cabinet's feelings
+towards him. But these stellar beings may be exerting their influence
+all the same. And it may be because of this influence that we men
+are able to see Beauty which escapes the eye of the eagle. Because
+of our higher receptiveness and responsiveness we may be able to
+receive and respond to spiritual calls from the Heart of Nature. And
+thus it may have been that we men learned to see Beauty, and now
+learn to see it more and more. There may be parts of the Universe
+where people live their lives in a blaze of Beauty, and are as anxious
+to impart to us their enjoyment of it as certain Freedom-loving
+Englishmen are to instil ideas of Freedom into the villagers of India.
+
+These, at any rate, are among the possibilities of existence. It would
+be the veriest chance if on this little speck of an Earth the highest
+beings of all had come to birth. It may be so, of course. But the
+probabilities seem to be enormously great against it. It seems far
+more probable that among the myriads of stars some higher beings
+than ourselves have come into existence, and that conditions on this
+Earth are affected by the influence which they exert. We are under
+no compulsion whatever to believe that we men are completely at
+the mercy of blind forces or that chance rules supreme in Nature.
+We have firm ground for holding that it is spirit which is supreme,
+and that every smallest part and the whole together are animated by
+Purpose.
+
+So when we view Nature in the tropical forests and in barren deserts,
+in mountains and in plains, in meadows and in woodlands, in seas
+and in stars, in animals and in men, we do not see Nature as a
+confused jumble with all her innumerable parts come together in
+haphazard fashion as the grains of sand shovelled into a heap--a
+chance aggregate of unrelated particles in which it is a mere toss-up
+which is next to which and how they are arranged. Nature is
+evidently not a chance collection of unrelated particles. We came to
+that conclusion when studying the forest, and a study of the stars
+shows nothing to weaken that conclusion. Nature is animated by
+Purpose.
+
+Yet because Nature is animated by Purpose, we need not regard her
+as a machine, a piece of mechanism which has been designed and
+put together, wound up and set going by some outside mechanician,
+and regard ourselves as cogs on the wheels, watching all the other
+wheels go round and through the maze of machinery catching sight
+of the mechanician standing by and watching his handiwork. A cog
+on the wheel as it revolved would be rigidly confined in its
+operations: it would have no choice as to what means it should
+employ to carry out its end. Yet even plants have the power of
+choice, as we have seen, and use different means to achieve the
+same end. They also spend their entire lives in selecting and
+rejecting--in selecting and assimilating what will nourish their
+growth and enable them to propagate their kind, and in rejecting
+what would be useless or harmful. These are something more than
+mechanical operations; and if Nature were a machine, not even
+plants, much less animals and men, could have been produced. The
+operations of Nature, though orderly, are not mechanical only, and
+we cannot regard Nature as a machine.
+
+And if Nature is purposive, she is at work at something more than
+the completion of a prearranged plan. We do not picture Nature as a
+_structure,_ as a Cathedral, for example, designed by some
+super-architect, in process of construction. In a Cathedral each stone is
+perfectly and finally shaped and placed in a position in which it
+must ever after remain, and the whole shows signs of gradual
+completion as it is being built, and when it is built remains as it is.
+The architect has made I and carried out his plan, and there is an end
+of the matter. It is not thus that we view Nature, for everywhere we
+see signs of perfectibility in the component parts and in the whole
+together. Only if the Cathedral had in it the power to be continually
+making its foundations deeper, to be ever towering higher, and to be
+perpetually shaping itself into sublimer form, should we look on
+Nature as a Cathedral. But in that case the mind of the architect
+would have to dwell in each stone and in all together, and the
+Cathedral would be something more than a structure in the ordinary
+use of the word.
+
+Nature is not a chance collection of particles, nor is she a mere
+machine, nor some kind of structure like a Cathedral in course of
+construction. But she is a Power of some kind, and what we have to
+determine is the kind of Power she is. Now we have seen that
+running through the life of the forest, controlling and directing the
+whole, is an Organising Activity. And our observation of the stars
+leads us to think that this same Organising Activity runs through
+them also. There is quite evidently an Activity at work keeping the
+whole together--the particles which go to form great suns, the
+particles which go to form a flower, and the particles which go to
+form a man; and all in their togetherness. Only we would not look
+upon this Activity as working anywhere outside Nature: we would
+look for it within her. We would not regard it as emanating from
+some kind of spiritual central sun situated among the stars midway
+between us and the farthest star we see--as irradiating from some
+sort of centrally-situated spiritual power-house. As we look up into
+the starry heavens we cannot imagine the Activity as residing in the
+empty space between the stars or between the stars and the Earth on
+which we stand. It seems absurd to picture its dwelling-place there.
+Equally absurd does it seem to regard the Activity as emanating
+from some spiritual sun situated far beyond the confines of the stars,
+and from there emitting spiritual rays upon Nature, including us men.
+As we look out upon Nature we see that the Activity which animates
+her does not issue from any outside source, but is actually in her.
+
+We do not need to look for the seat of that animating Activity in the
+empty spaces of the starry heavens or anywhere beyond them. We
+look for it in the stars themselves, in our own star, in the Earth, in
+every particle of which the stars and Sun and Earth are composed, in
+every plant and animal, and in every human heart, and in the whole
+together. There it is--and especially in the human heart--that the soul
+of Nature resides. There is its dwelling-place. To each of us it is
+nearer than father is to son. It is as near as "I" am to each one of the
+myriad particles which in their togetherness go to make up the body
+and soul which is "me." The spirit of Nature is resident in no
+remoteness of cold and empty space. It is deep within us and all
+around us. It permeates everything and everybody, everywhere and
+always. And if we wish to be unmistakably aware of its presence,
+we have only to look within ourselves, and whenever we are
+conscious of a higher perfection which something within,
+responding to the influences impinging insistently on us, is urging us
+to achieve; whenever we have a vision of something more perfect,
+more lovely, more lovable, and feel ourselves urged on to reach after
+that greater perfection--we are in those moments directly and
+unmistakably experiencing the Divine Spirit of Nature. Whenever
+we feel the Spirit within us showing us greater perfectibility and
+prompting us to make ourselves and others more perfect than we
+have been we are, in that moment, being directly influenced by the
+Spirit of Nature itself. We are receiving inspiration direct from the
+genius of Nature, the _driving_ Spirit which is continually urging
+her on, and the _directing_ Spirit which guides her to an end. We are
+in touch with the true Heart of Nature.
+
+So as we take a comprehensive view of Nature both in her outward
+bodily form and her inner spiritual reality, and find her to be an
+interconnected whole in which all the parts are interrelated with one
+another, one body and one mind, self-contained and self-conscious,
+and driven by a self-organising, self-governing, self-directing
+Activity--we should regard her as nothing _less_ than a _Personal
+Being._ In ordinary language we speak of Nature as a Person, and
+when we so speak we should not regard ourselves as speaking
+figuratively: we should mean quite literally and as a fact that she is a
+Person. And we should look upon that Personal Being, in which we
+are ourselves included, as in process of realising an ideal hidden
+within her--an ideal which in its turn is ever perfecting itself.
+
+* * *
+
+What is meant by Nature being a Person, and a Person actuated by a
+hidden ideal, and being in process of realising that ideal, and what is
+meant by an ideal perfecting itself, may be best explained with the
+help of an illustration.
+
+First it will be necessary to explain how we can regard Nature as a
+_Person,_ or at least as nothing less than a Person--though possibly
+_more._ It is contended by many authorities that we cannot regard
+any collective being, such as a college or a regiment--and Nature is a
+collective being--as a true person. But their arguments are
+unconvincing. They allow that "I" am a person because "I" possess
+rationality and self-consciousness. But "I" am a system or
+organisation of innumerable beings--electrons, groupings of
+electrons, groups of groupings in rising complexity. "I"--the body
+and soul which makes up "me"--am nothing but a collective being
+myself. And if we take the case of "England" as an example of a
+collective being, we shall see that England has as much right to be
+considered a personal being as any single Englishman, composed as
+he is of innumerable separate beings.
+
+Perhaps to one who is representing England among strange peoples
+the personality of England is more apparent than to those who are
+constantly living in England itself. To the foreign people among
+whom this representative is living England is a very real person.
+What she thinks about them, what she does, what her intentions are,
+what is her character and disposition, are matters of high interest; for
+upon England's good or ill will towards them may perhaps depend to
+a large extent their own future. Viewed from a distance like that,
+England quite obviously does possess a _character_ of her own. She
+appears to some people large-hearted and generous; to others
+aggressive and domineering; to most solid, sensible, reasonable,
+steadfast, and steady. And to all she has a character quite distinctive
+and her own--quite different from the character of France or of
+Russia. And England with equal obviousness _thinks._ She forms
+her own opinions of other nations, of their character, intentions,
+activities, and feelings. She thinks over her own line of action in
+regard to them. She takes decisions. And she _acts._ She is for a
+long time suspicious of Russia, and takes measures to defend herself
+against any possible hostile Russian action. She later comes to the
+conclusion that there is no fundamental difference between her and
+Russia, so she takes steps to compose the superficial differences.
+Later still, when both she and Russia are being attacked by a
+common enemy, she deliberately places herself on terms of closest
+friendship with Russia, and both gives her help and receives help
+from her. At the same time, having come to the conclusion that
+Germany is threatening her very life, she makes war on Germany,
+and prosecutes that war with courage, endurance, steadfastness and
+intelligence, and with a determination to win at any cost. England
+has deep _feeling,_ too. She had a feeling of high exaltation on the
+day she determined to fight for her life and freedom. She had a
+feeling of sadness and anxiety as things went against her at Mons,
+Ypres, Gallipoli, Kut. She was wild with joy when the war was
+victoriously concluded. And she was proud of herself as she thought
+how among the sister nations of the Empire of which she was the
+centre, and among the allied nations, she had played a great and
+noble part.
+
+Now when a body, like England, can thus think for itself, form its
+own decisions, take action, establish friendships, fight enemies, and
+feel deeply, surely that body must possess personality. In ordinary
+language England is always spoken of as a person. And ordinary
+language speaks with perfect accuracy in this respect.
+
+In her relations with individual Englishmen England also shows her
+personality. The representative abroad feels very vividly how she
+_expects_ him to act in certain ways--ways in accordance with her
+character and her settled line of action. And she conveys these
+expectations to him not only in formal official instructions from her
+Government: the most important of those expectations are conveyed
+in a far more subtle and intimate but most unmistakable way. The
+English Government did not write officially to Nelson at Trafalgar
+that England expected every man to do his duty. But Nelson,
+standing there for England, knew very well that this was what
+England was expecting of him and of those serving under him. A
+representative would find it very hard to locate the exact
+dwelling-place of the heart and soul and mind of England, whether in
+Parliament, or in the Press, or in the Universities, or in factories, or
+in the villages. But that there is an England expecting him to behave
+himself in accordance with her traditions and character, and to act on
+certain general but quite definite lines, and who will admire and
+reward him if he acts faithfully to her expectations, and condemn
+and in extreme cases punish him if he is unfaithful, he has not the
+shadow of a doubt. Nor does he doubt that this England, besides
+expecting a certain general line of conduct, will and can _constrain_
+him to act in accordance with her settled determination--that she has
+authority and has power to give effect to her will.
+
+And the official governmental representatives are not the only
+representatives of England. _Every_ Englishman is a representative
+of England. How representative he is he will experience as he finds
+himself among strange peoples outside his own country. He will find
+then that he has certain traits and traditions and characteristics which
+clearly distinguish him from the people among whom he is
+travelling. And unofficial though he may be, he will yet feel
+England expecting him to behave as an Englishman. And though he
+may not be so vividly aware of it when he is at home, he is still a
+representative of England when he is in England itself. In everyday
+life he is being expected and constrained by England to act in certain
+ways.
+
+Nor is it all a one-sided affair--England expecting so much of him
+and he having no say or control over what England does. On the
+contrary, the relationship is mutual. He goes to the making and
+shaping of England just as much as she goes to the making and
+shaping of him. He expects certain behaviour of her as she expects
+such of him. And if he has gained the confidence of his
+fellow-countrymen and has energy and determination, he may do much to
+affect her destiny.
+
+England is therefore, so it seems, a _person_ just as much as a single
+Englishman is a person. Englishmen, in fact, only attain their full
+personality in an England which _has_ personality.
+
+* * *
+
+Now Nature, I suggest, in spite of what has been said against the
+view, is a Person in exactly the same way as England is a person.
+Nature is a collective being made up of component beings--self-active
+electrons, self-active atoms, self-active suns and planets, self-active
+cells, plants, animals, men, and groups and nations of men--as
+England is made up of the land of England and all that springs
+therefrom, including the Englishmen themselves. Nature thinks and
+feels and strives as England thinks and feels and strives. And Nature
+cares for her children as England looks after her sons. It is often said,
+indeed, that Nature is hard and cruel. But it is only through the
+unfailing regularity and reliability of her fundamental laws--of her
+"constitution"--that freedom and progress are possible. If we could
+not depend upon perfect law we could make no advance whatever.
+We should all be abroad and uncertain. Yet in spite of her unbending
+rigidity over fundamentals, she does also show mercy and pity. A
+child toddling along downhill unregardful of the force of gravitation
+falls on its face and screams with pain. But Nature, represented by
+the mother, rushes up, seizes the little thing in her arms, presses it
+lovingly to her bosom, rock it and coaxes it and covers it with kisses.
+
+So if Nature can think and feel and strive and show mercy and
+loving-kindness, she is entitled to the dignity of personality. And
+when we stand back and regard Nature as a whole, we shall look
+upon her as a Person and nothing less.
+
+* * *
+
+We have now to understand what is meant by saying that Nature is a
+Person actuated by a hidden ideal and being in process of realising
+that ideal. When travelling across the Gobi Desert I found a yellow
+rose--a dwarf, simple, single rose. It is known to botanists as _Rosa
+persica,_ and is believed to be the original of all roses. I found it on
+the extreme outlying spurs of the Altai Mountains. Now, a seed of
+the rose, partly under the influence of its surroundings (soil,
+moisture, air, sunshine) but chiefly _by virtue of something which it
+contains within itself,_ something inherent in its very nature, will
+grow up into a rose-bush and give forth roses. The seed develops
+into a rose, not because some outside super-gardener takes hold of
+each one of the million million ultra-microscopic particles of which
+it is made up and puts it carefully into its appointed place, as a
+builder might put the stones of a building into their exact places
+according to the plans of an architect; but because each of those
+minutest ultimate particles has that within it which prompts it to act
+of its own accord in response to the call of the whole. Each of these
+electrons is in incessant and terrific motion, moving at the rate of
+something like 180,000 miles a second, so placing it in position
+would be a difficult matter. Besides which, each electron is not a
+tiny bit of matter as we ordinarily conceive matter--something which
+we can touch and handle. It is a mere centre or nucleus of energy.
+Any placing of it in position by a super-gardener is therefore out of
+the question. Each of those little particles moves and acts of itself in
+accordance with its own inner promptings, and in response to the
+influence of those other myriads of particles and groups of particles
+about it. And that system of these groups of particles which is
+enclosed within the rondure of the seed must have within it the ideal
+of the rose to be. Each particle will act on its own initiative, but all
+will act under the mutual influence of one another, and in their
+togetherness will make up the rose-spirit, being informed by the
+ideal of the rose which in its turn will suffuse the whole. And this
+rose-spirit--this rose-disposition--as it gives itself play, so controls
+and directs their movements that eventually the full-blown rose
+comes into being.
+
+What happens is, we may imagine, much the same as what happened
+in the case of Australia. A handful of settlers from the
+mother-country formed the germ-seed from which the Australia of to-day
+has grown up. There was no external despot ordering each
+individual Australian to do this, that, and the other--to come this
+way and go that, and to stop in one place this year and in another
+place the next. Each Australian acting on his own initiative, and all
+in their togetherness, created the Australian spirit, which again
+reacting upon each Australian induced him to act in accordance with
+that spirit. And so in time Australia, assimilating individuals from
+outside and absorbing them into its texture, and imbuing them with
+the Australian spirit, grew up into manhood in the Great War and
+astonished the world by its strong individuality, its character,
+intelligence, determination, and good comradeship.
+
+In the same way these particles of the rose-seed, each acting of itself,
+in their collectivity formed the rose-spirit. And each was in turn
+imbued by the rose-spirit. They had in them unconsciously the ideal
+of the rose-bush with its roots, stem, branches, leaves, flowers, fruit,
+seed. In all their activities they were actuated by this ideal. It was
+always constraining them in the given direction. By reason of the
+working of it in the particles they could by no possibility arrange
+themselves into a may tree or a lilac bush. There was an inner core
+of activity which persisted through all the countless changes of the
+process, which permeated the whole and which kept it directed to
+the particular end it had all the time in view. That activity had, in
+fact, a well-defined disposition, and that disposition was defined by
+the ideal of the rose, and was to form a rose-bush bearing roses.
+
+That the rose-seed developed into the rose was due, therefore, not to
+the operation of any outside agent, but was due to the operation of
+the rose-spirit that it had within it, and which was persistently
+driving it to bring into actual being that ideal of the rose which was
+the essence of its spirit. The ideal of the rose was the motive-power
+of the whole process.
+
+Where the rose-spirit derived from we shall later on enquire. Here
+we must note a point of the utmost importance. The seed of this
+_Rosa persica_ is imbued with the spirit of _Rosa persica._ It has
+this ideal working within it. But it is not confined within the rigid
+limits of that ideal. It has that ideal, but _something beyond also_
+--something in the _direction_ of that ideal, but stretching on ahead to
+an illimitable distance. The rose-seed developed riot only into the
+rose-flower, but through the flowers into numerous rose-seeds. And
+from the original _Rosa persica_ seeds have sprung roses of scores
+of varieties. Roses of every variety of form, colour, habit, texture are
+constantly appearing. By purposeful mating, and supplying
+favourable conditions of soil, temperature, etc., almost any kind of
+variety can be produced. So we have not only yellow roses of every
+shade from gold and cream to lemon, but also white and red and
+pink roses of every hue. We have single roses and roses as full as
+small cabbages. And we have dwarf roses and roses climbing 50 or
+60 feet in height.
+
+From all this it is evident that within the original seed of _Rosa
+persica_ was a rose-spirit which refused to be confined within the
+limits of _Rosa persica_ only, but stretched out far beyond as well.
+The rose-spirit had latent in it, and was unconsciously stretching out
+to, all the beauties which roses have since attained to, and beyond
+that again to all the beauties that are yet to come. The horizon of the
+rose-spirit was never confined by a single plan--the plan of the
+_Rosa persica_--as the builder is confined by the plan of the
+architect, beyond which he cannot go. The rose-spirit could reach
+out along the line of roses to an unlimited extent. It could produce
+nothing but roses; it could not produce laburnums. But it could
+produce roses of unlimited variety, provided favourable conditions
+were available.
+
+But the _Rosa persica_ was itself the outcome of a long line of
+development from a far-away primordial plant-germ. From that
+original plant-germ have sprung all the ferns and grasses, the shrubs
+and trees and flowers, of the present day. So in that plant-germ must
+have resided the plant-spirit with an ideal of all this variety of
+plant-life actuating it--unconsciously, of course, but most effectively for
+all that. The particles of that original germ in their individual
+activities and in their mutual influence upon one another were in
+their togetherness actuated by a plant-spirit which had in mind--so to
+speak--not only the reproduction of a plant precisely similar to the
+original plant, but one with the possibilities of development and of
+reproducing others with possibilities of still further development. All
+that plant life has so far attained and all that it will attain to in
+future--perhaps also all that it _might_ have attained to--must have
+been present in the plant-spirit of that original plant-germ. And it is
+through the working out--the realising--of this ideal which actuated
+that plant-spirit, and through the response which this spirit made to
+the stimulus of its surroundings that all the wonderful development
+of plant life has taken place. The plant-spirit had to keep within the
+lines of plant life; it could not stray beyond it to develop lions and
+tigers. But within the lines of plant life it could stretch out to
+illimitable distances. All that was wanted was the stimulus of
+favourable conditions, and from its surroundings it could select,
+reject, assimilate, all that would further its end.
+
+* * *
+
+In the Gobi Desert I also saw the wild horse--_Equus Prjevalskyi_
+--supposed to be the original horse. And as the rose springs from the
+seed, so the horse develops from the ovum. And by virtue of the
+horse-spirit, the horse-ideal, by which all the innumerable particles
+of that ovum is actuated, it develops into a horse, and not into a
+donkey or a cow. But the ovum of the original _Equus Prjevalskyi_
+must have had in it the ideal of something more than the _Equus
+Prjevalskyi,_ for from the original stock has sprung the great variety
+of horses we see to-day--race-horses, cart-horses, hunters, polo
+ponies, Shetland ponies, etc. And these are still varying. And the
+_Equus Prjevalskyi_ was itself the outcome of a long line of
+development. Like all other animals, including man, it must have
+sprung from an original animal-germ. And the particles of that
+original animal-germ must have had in them the animal-spirit
+actuated by the ideal of all the animals of the present day, including
+man, and ready to develop as soon as favourable conditions
+provided the necessary stimulus to which the germ was ready to
+respond.
+
+And both the original plant-germ and the original animal-germ
+sprang from an original plant-animal germ. And this, again, from the
+Earth itself. So that the Earth must always have had hidden in it the
+ideal of all plant and animal and human life--and not only the ideal
+of what it has reached at present, but of all it _will_ become, and, it
+is important to note, of all it _might_ become in future. It is the
+working of this ideal in the Earth, from the time five hundred
+million years or so ago when it budded off from the Sun as a fiery
+mist, that it has, under the influence of the light and heat of the Sun,
+and possibly also under the influences from the Stellar Universe as
+well, produced what we see to-day. The Earth-Spirit was inspired by
+this ideal, and in the ideal was this capacity for improving itself.
+And through the working of this ideal, and under the influence of the
+rest of the world, the Earth has developed from a flaming sphere into
+a molten ball, into a globe of barren land and sea, and so on into the
+verdure-covered and animal- and man-inhabited Earth of the present
+age. The Earth, like the rose-seed, contained within it a core of
+Activity which permeated every particle and constrained it with its
+fellow-particles to direct itself towards the ideal--a core of Activity
+which was animated by the ideal, while the ideal on its part had an
+innate faculty of perfecting itself.
+
+But the Earth is itself only a minute mite even of the Solar System.
+And the Sun is only one of perhaps a thousand million other stars,
+some so distant that light travelling at the rate of 186,000 miles a
+second must have started from them before the birth of Christ to
+reach us to-day. Nevertheless the Earth is composed of the same
+ultimate particles of matter that even the most distant stars are made
+of. The Earth, the Sun and stars, are composed of electrons which
+are all alike. Doubtless there are individual differences between
+electrons as there are between men, but in a general way they are as
+much alike as all men appear alike to an eagle. And of these
+electrons the whole Universe is made as well as the Earth. The same
+laws of motion, of gravitation, and of electro-magnetic and chemical
+attraction, obtain there as here. The scale of the Stellar World is
+immensely larger than the scale we are accustomed to on this Earth.
+But the same fundamental laws everywhere prevail, and the Earth
+and stars are composed of the same material.
+
+So it must have been from the Heart of Nature as a whole that the
+Earth-Spirit must have derived the ideal which actuated it. Deep in
+the Heart of Nature must have resided the ideal of the state of the
+Earth as it is to-day. In the great world as a whole, as in the
+rose-seed, must have been operating an ideal at least of what is on the
+Earth to-day, and of what this Earth will become and of what it
+might become; and possibly _also_ of greater things which have
+already been realised, or _will_ be realised and _might_ be realised
+in the planets of other suns than our Sun. There must ever have been
+working throughout the Universe an Activity constraining the
+ultimate particles in a given direction. There must have been an
+Organising Activity, collecting the diffused particles together,
+grouping them into concentrated organisms and achieving loftier
+and loftier modes of being. Each of those inconceivably numerous
+and incredibly minute particles which make up the stars and the
+Earth and all on it--each one acted of itself. But each acted of itself
+under the influence of its fellows--that is, of every other particle;
+that is, of the _whole._ Each acted in response to its surroundings,
+but its surroundings were nothing short of the whole of Nature
+outside itself. Together they formed the Spirit of Nature with the
+ideal as its essence. And Nature in her turn acted on the particles--as
+Englishmen form the spirit of England and the spirit of England acts
+back upon individual Englishmen.
+
+It was the working of this Spirit, with its self-improving ideal, that
+has produced Nature as we see her to-day. The distant ideal
+furnished the motive-power by which the whole is driven forward.
+And this ideal was itself built up by the unceasing interaction of the
+whole upon the parts and the parts upon the whole. What was in the
+parts responded to the stimulus of what was in the whole, and the
+whole was affected by the activity of the parts. What was immanent
+responded to what was transcendent. And the transcendence was
+affected by the immanence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+NATURE'S IDEAL
+
+If we have been right so far, we have arrived at the position that
+Nature is a Personal Being in process of realising an ideal operating
+within herself. We have now to satisfy ourselves as to the character
+of that ideal. What is the full ideal working in the whole of Nature
+we cannot possibly know. We can only know so much of it as can be
+detected with our imperfect faculties on this minute atom of the
+Universe on which we dwell. We cannot be sure we have even
+discerned the highest levels of the ideal. For there may be higher
+beings than ourselves on the planets of the stars, and among those
+higher beings higher qualities than any we know of, or can conceive,
+may have emerged. Love is the highest quality we know. But love in
+any true sense of the word--love as a self-conscious activity--has
+only emerged with man, and man has only appeared within the last
+half-million of the Earth's four or five hundred million years of
+existence as the Earth. We cannot, therefore, presume to say what is
+the ideal in its highest development for the whole of Nature.
+
+But from our experience here we can see what that ideal is up to
+(what for us is) a very high level, and we can make out what is
+apparently its fundamental characteristic. I obtained my best
+conception of it on the evening I left Lhasa at the conclusion of my
+Mission to Tibet in 1904, when I had an experience of such value
+for determining Nature's ideal, and, for me at any rate, so
+convincingly corroborative of the conclusions which others who
+have had similar experiences have drawn from them as to Nature's
+ideal, that I hope I may be excused for relating in some detail the
+circumstances in which it came to me.
+
+These circumstances, though not the experience itself, were
+somewhat exceptional. I was at that particular moment at the highest
+pitch of existence--that is to say, of my own existence. I had had an
+unusually wide experience of the wild countries of that most
+interesting and varied of the continents--Asia, and for that reason
+had been specially selected for the charge of a Mission to Tibet.
+However ill-qualified I might be for other tasks, for this particular
+business of establishing neighbourly relations with a very secluded
+and seclusive Asiatic people, difficult of approach both on account
+of their natural disposition and of the mighty mountain barrier which
+stood between them and the rest of the world, I was esteemed to
+have peculiar qualifications. My comrades were also men selected
+for their special qualifications--one for his knowledge of the
+Tibetans, another for his knowledge of the Chinese, another for his
+knowledge of geology, and so on. The troops engaged were selected
+for their experience in frontier warfare, and each man had had to
+pass a medical test. We were at the top of our physical fitness and
+ripe in experience.
+
+Besides British officers and a few British troops, there were among
+the soldiers Sikhs, Pathans, Gurkhas, a few Bengalis, a few Rajputs
+and Dogras; and among the followers were Bhutias and Lepchas
+from Sikkim, Baltis from Kashmir, Bhutanese from Bhutan. There
+were thus Christians, Mohammedans, Hindus, and Buddhists: men
+from an island in the Atlantic, and men from the remotest valleys of
+the Himalaya. And our destination had been a sacred city hidden
+two hundred miles behind the loftiest range of mountains in the
+world.
+
+On our way we had had to battle with the elements of Nature in very
+nearly their extremest forms and in every variety. We started in the
+sweltering heat of the plains of India in the hottest season. We
+passed the lower outer ranges of the Himalaya in the midst of
+torrential rain, like the heaviest thunder-shower in England,
+continuing all day long and day after day with scarcely a break, and
+penetrating through a waterproof coat as if it were paper. Following
+this we had to cross the main axis of the Himalaya in January, to
+pass the winter at an altitude of 15,000 feet above sea-level, and face
+blizzards which cut through heavy fur coats and left us as if we were
+standing before it in our bare bones.
+
+We had also had to battle with the Tibetans--not only in actual
+fighting, but in diplomacy as well. I had deliberately risked my life
+in order to effect a settlement by persuasion and without resort to
+arms. Officers and men at my request had done the same.
+Subsequently we had both attacked and been attacked. Five hundred
+of us had for two months to face the attacks of eight thousand
+Tibetans. Later, again, we had had a long, tough, diplomatic contest
+with the Tibetans.
+
+Besides battling with the elements and with the Tibetans, I had also
+had to battle with my own people--as is always and inevitably the
+case on such occasions. Military and political considerations had to
+contend against each other. This local question between India and
+Tibet was part of the general international question of the relations
+of European nations, Russia, France, Germany, Italy, America, with
+China, for Tibet was under the suzerainty of China. Local
+considerations had therefore to contend with international
+considerations. Then from the local point of view the permanent
+settlement of this particular question was desirable, whereas those
+responsible for the international situation would not object to a
+temporary arrangement of this single question as long as the whole
+general situation could be favourably secured. The Tibetan question
+was part of the whole question of our relations with Russia. Our
+relations with Russia were connected with our relations with France.
+We were coming to an arrangement with France as regards Egypt
+and Morocco. If we did anything in Tibet which vexed Russia she
+might be troublesome as regards Egypt, and make it difficult to
+come to an arrangement with France and to bring off the
+Anglo-French Entente. Of all these international considerations I was kept
+aware by Government even in the heart of Tibet. But my position
+required that I should stand up for the political as against the
+military, the local as against the international, and the permanent
+settlement as against the temporary arrangement. It was my duty
+vigorously to battle for this--as it was equally the duty of the
+military and those responsible for international affairs to battle for
+their own point of view. And of course I had to submit, after
+contesting my standpoint, to the decision of those in authority;
+though I had to contend for the particular, it was the general which
+had to prevail.
+
+In the end a settlement was reached, and in this remote city we had
+received congratulations from many different people in many
+different lands. The troops, my staff, and all about me were filled
+with delight at the success of our enterprise. Even the Tibetans
+themselves seemed pleased at the settlement; at any rate, they asked
+to be taken under our protection. On the morning we left Lhasa the
+Lama Regent, who in the absence of the Dalai Lama had conducted
+negotiations with us, paid us a farewell visit and gave us the
+impression of genuine goodwill towards us. We and the Tibetans
+had contended strongly against one another. But it seemed that a
+way had been found by which good relations between us could be
+maintained. We had discovered that fundamentally we were
+perfectly well-disposed towards each other, and means had been
+found for composing our differences. Throughout the Mission we
+had kept before us the supreme importance of securing this goodwill
+eventually. The Tibetan frontier runs with the Indian frontier for a
+thousand miles, and it would have been the height of folly to have
+stirred up in the Tibetans a lasting animosity. Far more important,
+then, than securing the actual treaty we regarded securing the
+permanent goodwill; and when I felt that through the exertion of my
+Staff and the good behaviour of the troops as well as through my
+own efforts the goodwill of the Tibetans really had been secured, my
+satisfaction was profound.
+
+It was after enduring all these hardships, after running all these risks,
+and after battling in all these controversies, that this deep
+satisfaction came upon me. For though at times I felt, as every
+leader feels in like circumstances, that success must have been due
+to everyone else besides myself--to the backing and firm direction I
+had received from Government, to the sound advice and help of my
+Staff, to the bravery and endurance of the troops, without all or any
+one of which aids success would have been unattainable--yet I could
+not help also feeling that I had often on my own responsibility to
+make decisions and run risks, and to give advice to Government;
+and that if I had erred in my decisions or in the advice I gave or in
+taking the risks, success most assuredly would not have been
+achieved, however much support I received from elsewhere. I had,
+therefore, that satisfaction a man naturally feels when his special
+qualifications and training and the experience he has gained during
+the best part of his life have proved of acknowledged good to his
+country. And this was the frame of mind in which I rode out of
+Lhasa on our march homeward.
+
+These were the circumstances in which I had the experience I now
+venture to describe. After arrival in camp I went off into the
+mountains alone. It was a heavenly evening. The sun was flooding
+the mountain slopes with slanting light. Calm and deep peace lay
+over the valley below me--the valley in which Lhasa lay. I seemed
+in tune with all the world and all the world seemed in tune with me.
+My experiences in many lands--in dear distant England; in India and
+China; in the forests of Manchuria, Kashmir, and Sikkim; in the
+desert of Gobi and the South African veldt; in the Himalaya
+mountains; and on many an ocean voyage; and experiences with
+such varied peoples as the Chinese and Boers, Tibetans and
+Mahrattas, Rajputs and Kirghiz--seemed all summed up in that
+moment. And yet here on the quiet mountain-side, filled as I was
+with the memories of many experiences that I had had in the high
+mountain solitudes and in the deserts of the world away from men, I
+seemed in touch with the wide Universe beyond this Earth as well.
+
+After the high tension of the last fifteen months, I was free to let my
+soul relax. So I let it open itself out without restraint. And in its
+sensitive state it was receptive of the finest impressions and quickly
+responsive to every call. I seemed to be truly in harmony with the
+Heart of Nature. My vision seemed absolutely clear. I felt I was
+seeing deep into the true heart of things. With my soul's eye I
+seemed to see what was really in men's hearts, in the heart of
+mankind as a whole and in the Heart of Nature as a whole.
+
+And my experience was this--and I try to describe it as accurately as
+I can. I had a curious sense of being literally in love with the world.
+There is no other way in which I can express what I then felt. I felt
+as if I could hardly contain myself for the love which was bursting
+within me. It seemed to me as if the world itself were nothing but
+love. We have all felt on some great occasion an ardent glow of
+patriotism. This was patriotism extended to the whole Universe. The
+country for which I was feeling this overwhelming intensity of love
+was the entire Universe. At the back and foundation of things I was
+certain was love--and not merely placid benevolence, but active,
+fervent, devoted love and nothing less. The whole world seemed in a
+blaze of love, and men's hearts were burning to be in touch with one
+another.
+
+It was a remarkable experience I had on that evening. And it was not
+merely a passing roseate flush due to my being in high spirits, such
+as a man feels who has had a good breakfast or has heard that his
+investments have paid a big dividend. I am not sure that I was at the
+moment in what are usually called high spirits. What I felt was more
+of the nature of a deep inner soul-satisfaction. And what I saw
+amounted to this--that evil is the superficial, goodness the
+fundamental characteristic of the world; affection and not animosity
+the root disposition of men towards one another. Men are inherently
+good not inherently wicked, though they have an uphill fight of it to
+find scope and room for their goodness to declare itself, and though
+they are placed in hard conditions and want every help they can to
+bring their goodness out. Fundamentally men are consuming with
+affection for one another and only longing for opportunity to exert
+that affection. They want to behave straightly, honourably, and in a
+neighbourly fashion towards one another, and are only too thankful
+when means and conditions can be found which will let them
+indulge this inborn feeling of fellowship. Wickedness, of course,
+exists. But wickedness is not the essential characteristic of men. It is
+due to ignorance, immaturity, and neglect, like the naughtinesses of
+children. It springs from the conditions in which men find
+themselves, and not from any radical inclination within themselves.
+With maturity and reasonable conditions the innate goodness which
+is the essential characteristic will assert itself. This is what came to
+me with burning conviction. And it arose from no ephemeral sense
+of exhilaration, nor has it since evaporated away. It has remained
+with me for fifteen years, and so I suppose will last for the rest of
+my life. Of course in a sense there has been disillusionment, both as
+to myself and as to the world. As one comes into the dull round of
+everyday life the glow fades away and all seems grey and colourless.
+Nevertheless, the conviction remains that the glow was the _real,_
+and that the grey is the superficial. The glow was at the heart and is
+what some day _will_ be--or, anyhow, _might_ be.
+
+An additional ground I have for believing it to be true is that on that
+mountain-side near Lhasa I had a specially favourable opportunity
+of looking at the world from, as it were, a proper focal distance. And
+it is only from a proper focal distance that we can see what things
+really are. If we put ourselves right up against a picture in the
+National Gallery we cannot possibly see its beauty--see what the
+picture really is. No man is a hero to his own valet. And that is not
+because a man is not a hero, but because the valet is too close to see
+the real man. Cecil Rhodes at close quarters was peevish, irritable,
+and like a big spoilt child. Now at a distance we know him, with all
+his faults, to have been a great-souled man. Social reformers near at
+hand are often intolerable bores and religious fanatics frequently a
+pestilential nuisance. We have to get well away from a man to see
+him as he really is. And so it is with mankind as a whole.
+
+So I become more and more certain that my vision was true. And the
+experience of the Great War strengthens my conviction. As we
+recede from it, what will stand out, we may be sure, are not the
+crimes and cruelties that have been committed and the suffering that
+has been caused, but the astounding heroism which was displayed,
+the self-sacrifice, the devotion and love of country that were
+shown--heroism and devotion such as have never before in the world's
+history been approached, and which was manifested by common
+everyday men and women in every branch of life and in every
+country.
+
+* * *
+
+The conclusion I reach from this experience is that I was, at the
+moment I had it, intimately in touch with the true Heart of Nature. In
+my exceptionally receptive mood I was directly experiencing the
+genius of Nature in the very act of inspiring and vitalising the whole.
+I was seeing the Divinity in the Heart streaming like light and heat
+through every part of Nature, and with the dominating forcefulness
+of love lifting each to its own high level.
+
+And my experience was no unique experience. It was an experience
+the like of which has come to many men and many women in every
+land in all ages. It may not be common; but it is not unusual. And in
+all cases it gives the same certainty of conviction that the Heart of
+Nature is _good,_ that men are not the sport of chance, but that
+Divine Love is a real, an effectively determining and the dominant
+factor in the processes of Nature, and Divine fellowship the essence
+of the ideal which is working throughout Nature and compelling all
+things unto itself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE HEART OF NATURE
+
+That Nature is a Personal Being--or at least nothing _less_ than a
+Personal Being--that she is actuated by an ideal, and that her ideal,
+so far as we are able to judge, is an ideal of Divine Fellowship, is the
+conclusion at which we have now arrived. But we shall understand
+Nature better, and so see her Beauty more fully, if we can
+understand how she works out this ideal in detail. And we shall best
+understand how she works it out if we examine what goes on within
+our own selves and see how _we_ work out the ideal with which we
+believe Nature herself has inspired us. For it is in ourselves that the
+dominating spirit of Nature is most clearly manifested to us. And
+being ourselves the instruments and agents of Nature, and informed
+through and through with her spirit, we ought to be able to
+understand how she works if only we look carefully enough into the
+working of our own inner selves.
+
+What we find is that under the inspiration of the genius of Nature we
+are perpetually projecting in front of us a pattern or standard of what
+we think we ought to be, or should like to be, and of what we think
+our country and the world ought to be. We set up an ideal. It is
+generally very vague. But there is always at the back of our minds
+an idea of something more perfect. And this idea we bring out from
+time to time from its seclusion and set up before us as an end to aim
+at.
+
+Sometimes we deliberately try to draw the outlines of this ideal
+more definitely. Each of us will picture a slightly different ideal to
+the rest. The ideal men will differ just as much as actual men, and
+the ideal countries as much as actual countries. No two will be
+exactly alike. And each of us will probably make his ideal man very
+different from himself--perhaps the exact opposite, for each will be
+peculiarly conscious of his own imperfections and shortcomings.
+
+But if the ideal man which each sets up differs in small particulars
+from what others set up, the general outline of all will probably be
+very much the same, as men in general are much the same when
+compared with other animals. All will be based on the idea of
+fellowship. So aided by examples chosen from among our friends,
+we may here attempt to build up an ideal type of man. For the effort
+will help us to realise better both what Nature is aiming at and how
+she works.
+
+Formerly we might have drawn this ideal man upright, straight, rigid,
+unbending. More recently we might have drawn him as a super-man,
+the fittest-to-survive kind of man, all muscular will, intent only on
+bending every other will to his and crashing relentlessly on through
+life like a bison in the forest. But nowadays we want a man with the
+same reliability as the upright type, but with grace and suppleness in
+place of rigidity; and with the same strength as the super-man, but
+with gentleness and consideration in proportion to the strength. We
+do not want a man of wood; and what we do want is not so much a
+super-man as a gentle-man--a man of courtesy and grace as well as
+strength.
+
+The stiff and stilted type of a bygone age will have melted under the
+warmth of deepening fellowship and become flowing and fluid. The
+man of this type will not only be full of consideration for others, but
+will naturally, out of a full and overflowing heart and of his own
+generous prompting, eagerly enter into the lives and pursuits, the
+hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows of those with whom he is
+connected. And with all this wide _general_ kindliness he will be
+something more than merely amiable and good-natured, and will
+have capacity for intense devotion for _particular_ men and women.
+He will necessarily have fine tact and address, adroitness and skill in
+handling difficult and delicate situations, and the sensitiveness to
+appreciate the most hidden feelings of others. Wit and distinction he
+will have, too, with ability to discern the real nature of people and
+events, and to distinguish the best from the good, and the good from
+the indifferent and bad. He will also possess that peculiar sweetness
+of disposition which is only found when behind it is the surest
+strength. And with all his gentleness, tenderness, and capacity for
+sympathy he will have the grit and spirit to hold his own, to battle
+for his rights, and to fight for those conditions which are absolutely
+necessary for his full development. He will, in addition, have the
+initiative to think out and strike out his own line and to make his
+own mark.
+
+He will be a man of the world in the sense of being accustomed to
+meet and mix with men in many different walks of life and of many
+different nationalities. And he will be a man of the home in the
+sense of being devoted to his own family circle. He will be at home
+in the town and at home in the country; adapted to the varied society,
+interests, and pursuits which town life can afford, but devoted also
+to the country, to the open air and elemental nature and animals and
+plants.
+
+A fixed principle and firm determination with him will be to do his
+duty--to do his social duty, to do the right thing at whatever
+temporary cost to himself. The right thing for him will be that which
+produces most good. And he will deem that the most good which
+best promotes human fellowship, warms it with love, colours it with
+beauty, enlightens it with truth, and sweetens it with grace. Finally,
+and culminatingly, he will have that spirituality and fine
+sensitiveness of soul which will put him in touch with the true Heart
+of Nature and make him eagerly responsive to the subtlest
+promptings which spring therefrom; so he will be possessed of a
+profound conviction, rooted in the very depths of his being, that in
+doing the right thing, or in other words pursuing righteousness, he is
+carrying out the will and intention of that Divine Being whom we
+here call Nature but whom we might also call God.
+
+This, or something like it, is the ideal of a man which most of us
+would form under the impress and impetus of the indwelling genius
+of Nature. But this ideal can only be reached by an individual when
+his country also has reached it. He will be driven, therefore, to make
+his country behave and act up to this ideal. And his country cannot
+so act till the general society of nations conducts itself on the same
+general lines. His country, therefore, will be driven to make the
+general society of nations behave in accordance with the principles
+of high fellowship.
+
+* * *
+
+We have made for ourselves the ideal of a man. It remains to show
+that the finest pitch of all is only reached in the union of man and
+woman. The man is not complete without the woman, nor the
+woman without the man. It is in their union, therefore, that the ideal
+in its greatest perfection will be seen. The flower which results from
+the working of the ideal in the Heart of Nature, as the flower of the
+rose results from the working of the rose-ideal in the heart of the
+rose-seed, we see in the love of man and woman at the supreme
+moment of their union. This is the very holiest thing in Nature. It is
+then that both the man and the woman are to the fullest extent
+themselves, both to be and to express all that is in them to be. They
+love then to their extreme capacity to love. They are gentle then to
+the utmost limit of tenderness. And they are strong then to the
+farthest stretch of their strength.
+
+And while they thus reach the very acme of Nature's ideal so far as
+we men can discern it, they, at the same time and in so doing, touch
+the very foundations of Nature as well. Mathematicians have
+discovered that there is no such thing as a perfectly straight line, and
+that curvature is a fundamental property of the physical world. So
+also is it in the spiritual world. As we reach the topmost height of
+the ideal we find that it has curved round, and that we are at that
+moment at the very base and foundation. What is attracting us
+forward in the farthest distance in front is the very thing that is
+urging us forward from behind. Pinnacle and foundation, source and
+end, meet.
+
+The love which attracted the man and woman together and which
+they keep striving to attain in higher and higher degree, is the same
+as the creative impulse which comes surging up from the very Heart
+of Nature. Direct and without ever a break it has come out of the
+remotest past and deepest deeps. Few seem aware of this, and yet it
+is an obvious fact--and a fact which vastly increases our sense of
+intimacy with Nature. It was due to the same impulse which has
+brought the man and woman together that they themselves were
+brought into being. Their parents had been attracted by the same
+vision of love and impelled by the same impulse. Their parents'
+parents had been similarly attracted and impelled, and so on back
+and back through the whole long line of ancestry, through half a
+million years to primitive men, back beyond them again through the
+long animal ancestry for scores of millions of years to the beginning
+of life. Even then there is no break. Direct from the very Fountain
+Source of Things this creative impulse has come bursting up into
+their hearts. At the moment of union they are straight along the
+direct line of the whole world-development, so far as this planet is
+concerned. The elemental in the natural impulse is the most
+ultimately elemental, for it derives itself straight from the pure
+Origin of Things. As they reach after the most Divine they are
+impelled by the most elemental. What, in fact, happens is that the
+elemental is inspired through and through with the Divine.
+
+The union of man and woman is the flower of Nature. But, like the
+rose, it bears within it the seed from which some still more beautiful
+flower may result. No pair, however sublime their union, suppose
+that it is the best that could by any possibility at any time exist. An
+absolutely perfect union depends upon an absolutely perfect pair in
+absolutely perfect surroundings. And no one supposes that he
+himself is perfect or that the world around him is perfect. So there is
+in the pair a consciousness of imperfection, a vision of perfection,
+and a desperate yearning to be more perfect and to make the world
+more perfect. Deep and strong as the creative impulse itself is the
+impulse to improvement. It is due to this impulse that the mother
+reaches over her child with such loving care, strives to shield it from
+all harm, social as well as physical, and to give it a better chance
+than she herself enjoyed. It is due to this same impulse that the man
+works to leave his profession, his business, his science, his art, his
+country, better than he found it. It is due to this impulse also that
+men as a whole are driven to improve the whole Earth, to improve
+plants, flowers, trees, animals, men, and make the world a better
+place for their successors than it has ever been for them.
+
+The pair--even the most splendid pair that has ever wedded
+--have deep within them this perhaps unrecognised impulse to
+improvement. They know that the rose can only bring forth roses,
+and that they can only bring forth men: they know that they cannot
+bring forth angels. But they know also that the rose, when wisely
+mated and its offspring provided with favourable surroundings of
+soil and air and sunshine, can give rise to blooms incomparably
+more perfect than itself. And they know that they themselves, if they
+have wisely mated, if they carefully tend their offspring and provide
+them with healthy, sunny, physical and social surroundings, can give
+rise, in generations to come, to unions of men and women
+incomparably more perfect than their own--as much more perfect as
+their union is than the unions of primitive men--richer in colour,
+more graceful in form, sweeter in fragrance, and of an altogether
+finer texture.
+
+* * *
+
+This, then, is the ideal in its completeness which we set up before us.
+But we have no sooner set it up than we find that the presence of this
+ideal within us makes us restless, unsatisfied, discontented, till we
+have set to work to bring things up to it; and that when we do start
+improving them we are forthwith involved in endless strife.
+Improvement means effort. It does not come by itself. It is only
+effected by strong, persistent, determined effort. It was no easy
+matter for the particles in the rose-seed to battle their way through
+the hard seed-case, strike down into the soil, send up shoots into the
+air, stand steadfastly to their ideal of the rose, and produce a seed
+capable of bringing forth a still more perfect flower. And it is no
+easy matter for us to burst through our own shells, strike our roots
+far down into the soil of common humanity and common animality,
+and there firmly rooted strike up skyward, stand faithfully to our
+ideal, and produce something which will have capacity for still
+further improvement. Immense and sustained effort is required of us
+for this to be accomplished.
+
+Each man finds he has to battle with himself to make way for all the
+best in himself to come to the front. Each has to battle with the
+circumstances in which he is placed in order to find scope for the
+exercise of the best in himself. Each has to break his way through, as
+that wonder of Nature, poor primitive man, had to battle his way
+through the impediments of the tropical forests and the brute beasts
+by which he was surrounded. And just as primitive man was not the
+animal provided with the thickest hide like the rhinoceros, nor with
+sharpest claws like the lion, nor with the fiercest temper like the
+tiger, but was of all his fellows the one with the most sensitive
+nature, so are those nearest the ideal the most delicately sensitive of
+mankind.
+
+The ideal is never approached, much less attained, except by men
+and women of the most highly-strung natures--natures peculiarly
+susceptible to pain. And with this extra susceptibility to pain they
+have to expose to the risk of wounds and bruises the most sensitive
+parts of their natures. Suffering is therefore inevitably their lot. It is
+the invariable attendant of progress however beneficent.
+Excruciating pain each expects to have to endure--as every
+expectant mother and every soldier anticipates on the physical plane.
+
+We find, too, that in working out our ideal we are not only required
+to endure pain, but to submit to the sternest discipline. First, we need
+self-discipline. Each individual finds that he is required to exercise
+his faculties to the full, make the utmost of himself, attain to the
+highest of which he is capable, and be ready for any sacrifice. So he
+must train his faculties to the highest. He is required also to work in
+concert with his fellows. The stern obligation is therefore upon him
+to forgo his own private advantage in order that the common end
+may be achieved. This obligation he has readily to acknowledge and
+submit to. He has also to acknowledge what he owes to Nature, what
+is his _duty_ to Nature. And that duty he has to perform and her
+authority he has to admit. He can retain his freedom and initiative
+and enterprise. But he has to obey the laws of Nature, acknowledge
+her authority, submit to her discipline. No soldiers were more full of
+independence and initiative than the Australians, but no troops at the
+end of the War realised better than they did that success can only be
+achieved through strictest discipline as well as freedom and
+initiative. The lover also knows that only through the sternest
+discipline and constraint upon himself is his object attained. Thus
+there is an imperative necessity upon a man to be orderly in his
+behaviour, loyal, faithful, dutiful, and obedient to the ideal within
+him. Any failure in loyalty and obedience is a sin against Nature and
+a sin against himself. The call of honour and of humanity is upon
+him, and that call he has to obey without hesitation.
+
+Equally are men expected to be ready to _exercise_ authority, to
+maintain discipline and preserve order. The exercise of authority is
+no less an obligation and duty upon men than obedience to it. And
+the one has to be practised just as much as the other. Or, rather, the
+exercise of authority has to be practised more, for it is more difficult
+and more valuable. And the proper exercise of authority,
+maintenance of discipline, and preservation of order, is a duty men
+owe ultimately to Nature herself. For it is from Nature that they
+finally derive their authority and to Nature that they are ultimately
+responsible.
+
+Whether as captain of the eleven or as head of the house at school,
+as manager of an office or a business, as policeman or foreman, as
+corporal or Commander-in-Chief, as administrator or Prime
+Minister, whether as nurse, parent, or schoolmistress, a man or
+woman is in his position of authority directly or indirectly on the
+appointment or choice of those over whom he has to exercise
+authority. He is there to exercise authority for their benefit. They
+have placed him--as the public place the policeman--in authority for
+that purpose. And they have a right to expect that he will exercise
+his authority with decision, maintain discipline with firmness, and
+preserve order with even-handed justice. For only then can they
+themselves know where they are, get on with their own duties and
+affairs, and fulfil the law of their being. Ultimately those in authority
+are chosen by, and are responsible to, those over whom they
+exercise authority. And those who choose them expect and require
+them to exercise authority authoritatively.
+
+Each in his own particular sphere, in that particular place and for the
+time being, has to exercise his authority with strictness. Otherwise
+the rest cannot fulfil their own duties. The policeman has to exercise
+his authority even over a Prince, as otherwise there might be chaos
+in the streets and no one would be able to get about his business
+with surety. The whole people have chosen each for his particular
+position of authority, and for their benefit expect him to exercise it
+strictly.
+
+The people, again, spring from Nature as a whole. They are the
+representatives of Nature. Those in authority are therefore, in their
+particular province, for that particular purpose, and for the time
+being the representatives of Nature. They are accountable to Nature,
+and Nature expects them as her representatives to exercise authority
+with wisdom and discretion, but on the same basic principles of
+absolute fairness and perfect orderliness that she herself in her
+elemental aspects exercises her authority.
+
+Besides obeying authority and exercising authority, men have also
+to practise _leadership._ Merely to give and obey orders is nothing
+like sufficient. In most things a man follows some leader, but in
+each man there is one thing--his own particular line--in which he can
+_lead._ In that line he is expected to qualify himself for leadership,
+and be prepared to take the risks of high adventure. For it is only
+through leadership, through someone venturing out beyond the ruck
+and getting his fellows to follow him, that any progress is made.
+Mere obedience to authority and exercise of authority never initiate
+any new departure. These only provide the conditions for progress.
+In addition to these the divine gift of leadership is required.
+Leadership is therefore the supremely important quality which men
+require.
+
+But men cannot intelligently act in concert and alertly; cannot
+willingly submit themselves to a rigid discipline; cannot exercise
+authority with confidence and weight; and cannot lead so that others
+may follow, unless all are animated by the same idea. And they are
+not likely to sacrifice their lives for that idea unless they are
+convinced of its value. Only for the most precious things in life do
+men willingly give up their lives. And before they submit to
+unquestioning discipline and sacrifice themselves for an ideal they
+need a clear understanding of that ideal and a just appreciation of its
+value. So they think out the ideal with greater precision and make
+sure that what they are aiming at is nothing short of the highest.
+Now the ideal of fellowship enriched with beauty and elevated to the
+Divine is one which all can understand and of which all can see the
+value. Because it is the highest it is satisfying to the deepest needs
+and cravings of their nature, and is therefore of a value beyond all
+reckoning. Assured of that, they summon up all the courage and
+fortitude that is theirs, all their spirit and mettle, to endure
+unflinchingly the pain that must be theirs. And in spite of the effort,
+the long, strict training, the rigid discipline, the hardship and
+suffering they have to undergo, they joyfully play their part because
+they are assured in their hearts that what they are living for and
+would readily die for is supremely worth while. Deep in their hearts
+is that divine joy of battle that fighters for the highest always feel.
+And they fight with power and conviction because they know that
+their ideal has come into their hearts straight from Nature herself,
+and experience has shown that what Nature has in mind she does in
+the end achieve: she not only has the will and intention but the
+_power_ to carry into effect what she determines.
+
+* * *
+
+This is how we formulate the ideal to ourselves in ever-developing
+completeness; and this is how with pain and effort but with
+over-compensating joy we carry it into effect. And these experiences of
+ours in the formulation and working out of our ideal give us the clue
+to the manner in which Nature on her part works out _her_ ideal.
+We are the representations and representatives of the whole, and we
+may assume that the whole works in much the same way as we
+ourselves work. If this be so we may expect to find that Nature will
+work as an _artist_ works, that is, out of his own inner
+consciousness, spontaneously generating and continually creating
+new and original forms approaching (through a process of trial and
+error experimentation) more and more closely to that ideal of
+perfection which he has always, though often unconsciously, before
+him. And this is how we actually do find Nature working. We find
+her reaching after perfection of form, now in one direction, now in
+another; first in plants, next in animals, then in insects, then in birds,
+then in apes, then in men, here in one type and there in another,
+never reaching complete perfection anywhere, any more than the
+greatest artist ever does in any particular, but still reaching
+perfection in a higher and higher degree, and making the state of the
+whole of a richer and intenser perfection.
+
+We have, therefore, ample evidence that Nature is actuated by an
+intention to enrich perfection and is continually working towards it.
+So we have confidence that Nature, hard and exacting though she be,
+is _only_ exacting in order that the Highest may be attained. We
+know that Nature is aiming at the Highest and nothing short of the
+Highest. And all the spirit of daring and adventure in us leaps to the
+call she makes.
+
+And we respond to the call with all the greater alacrity because we
+feel that the attainment of that Highest is dependent to a large degree
+upon ourselves. We have a sense of real responsibility in the matter.
+And for this reason--that though Nature lays down the great
+constitutional laws within which man, her completest representative,
+must work; and though Nature as a whole formulates the main
+outlines of her ideal; yet man _within that constitution_ can make
+his own laws, and within its main outlines may refine and perfect the
+ideal.
+
+Nature may be working out her ideal on other stars through the
+agency of other kinds of beings more perfect than ourselves; and
+while the ideal in its main outlines may be the same there as the
+ideal which is working itself out on this planet, it may there have
+assumed a higher form and be more nearly attained. But on this
+planet the more definite formulation of the ideal and the measures
+for its attainment are in the hands of men. We can perfect the ideal
+for ourselves, and make laws and establish customs to ensure its
+attainment. We are not the slaves of a despotic ruler, or pawns in the
+hand of an external player. Within the limits of Nature's constitution,
+the laws we obey are laws of our own making; the authority we obey
+is the authority which we ourselves have set up; and both
+authority and laws we can change in accordance with the growing
+requirements of the ideal which we ourselves are perfecting.
+
+We go forward, therefore, with inextinguishable faith in the value of
+what we are battling for, and in the worthwhileness of all our efforts
+and endurances. And though the ideal, with which Nature has
+inspired us makes us restless and discontented, provokes us to
+increasing effort, causes us endless pain and suffering, and exacts
+from us the sacrifice even of our lives, we nevertheless love to have
+the ideal, and love Nature for implanting it in us.
+
+* * *
+
+And now that we have seen what is the nature of Nature, what is the
+end she has before her, and how she works to accomplish her end,
+we feel that we have gone a long way towards knowing and
+understanding her. We have had a vision of the hidden Divinity by
+which she is inspired. And this mysterious Power we have not found
+reigning remote in the empty spaces of the heavens. We have found
+it dwelling in every minutest particle of which this Earth and all the
+world is built, and of which we ourselves also are made--dwelling in
+the earth, and in the air, and in the stars; and in every living thing, in
+beast and bird and insect, in flower, plant, and man--and dwelling in
+them all in their togetherness. We have found it to be both immanent
+and transcendent. It only exists--and can only exist--in these its
+single self-active representations. But in relation to each of them it is
+transcendent. Each star and flower, each beast and man, is its partial
+representation. But the whole together is that Power which while it
+transcends is yet resident in, and inspires, each single part which
+goes to its making. In the inmost heart of Nature, as the ground and
+source of Nature, yet permeating Nature to the uttermost confines,
+and reigning supreme over the whole, we find God; actuating the
+heart of God we find an ideal; and actuating the heart of the ideal we
+find an imperative urge towards perfection, an inborn necessity to
+perfect itself for ever--just as inside the rough exterior of Abraham
+Lincoln was the real Abraham Lincoln, at his heart was an ideal, and
+at the heart of the ideal an inner impulse towards perfection; or as
+within the exterior France is the real France, in the heart of France
+an ideal, and in the heart of the ideal the determination to perfect
+itself.
+
+This view of Nature is very different from that view of her which
+would regard the world as having been originally created by, and
+now being governed by, an always and already perfect Being, living
+as apart from it as the Sun is from the Earth, and being as distinct
+and separate from it as a father is from his son. And the difference in
+view must make a profound difference in our attitude to Nature, and
+therefore in our capacity for seeing and enjoying Natural Beauty.
+We may admire and worship but we can scarcely love, in any true
+sense of the word, a Being dwelling distant and aloof from us, and
+with whom, from the mere fact of his being perfect, it is most
+difficult for us to be on terms of homely intimacy and affection. But
+for a Being who, like our country, is one of whom we ourselves
+form part, we can have not only admiration and reverence but deep
+affection. We can and do love our country, for we form part of her,
+and have a voice and share in making and shaping her. We know
+that she cares for us, will look after us in misfortune, and will
+honour and love us if we serve her well and show her loyalty and
+devotion. And we can and do love Nature for precisely the same
+reasons. We feel ourselves part of her, and in intimate touch with
+her all round and always. And we have that which is so satisfying to
+us--the feeling that there is _reciprocity_ of love between us and her.
+So our love is active, and it vehemently impels us to get to know her
+better and better, to get ourselves in ever closer touch with her, to
+discover the utmost fulness of her Beauty, and to communicate to
+others all that we have come to know and all the Beauty we have
+seen, so that others may share in our enjoyment and come to love
+Nature more even than we love her ourselves--love Nature in all her
+aspects, love physical Nature in the mountains, seas and deserts, the
+clouds, sunsets and stars, love plant Nature and animal Nature and
+human Nature; and, above all, love Divine Nature as best revealed in
+supreme men in their supreme moments.
+
+In some of her aspects Nature may be stern and exacting. But she is
+never sheerly hard. She is compounded of mercy and compassion as
+well as of rigid orderliness. And her essential character is Love--and
+Love of no impassive and insipid kind, but of a power and activity
+beyond all human conception.
+
+The importance and significance of this conclusion, if we accept it,
+is that we definitely abandon the repellent conception of Nature as
+governed by chance, or as cold and mechanical, or as guided solely
+by the principle of the survival of the fittest, and we accept instead
+the humaner and diviner view that Nature is actuated by Love; and,
+accepting that more winning conception, we can enter unreservedly
+into the Spirit of Nature and see her Beauty. Unless we had been
+assured in our minds, without any possibility of doubt whatever, that
+we could _love_ Nature, we could never really have enjoyed her
+_Beauty._
+
+* * *
+
+So Nature is not something static, fixed, and immovable, determined
+once and for all like a rock is, at least to outward appearance. Nature
+is a Person, and a Person is a process. Nature flows. Nature is
+always moving on. As our thoughts are all connected with one
+another and passing into one another; as all events are connected
+with one another and are continually passing from one into another,
+and form one great all-inclusive event which is in continual process
+of happening; so is Nature always in process of passing from one
+state into another state, while the whole forms one great event for
+ever happening. And actuating the whole process, determining the
+whole great event, is an inner core of Activity which endures
+through all the changes. It is the "I" of Nature, which informs,
+directs, controls the whole from centre to utmost extremity through
+all space and all time. It is the Soul and Spirit, the Genius of Nature.
+It is what we should mean when we speak of God.
+
+Actuated by this spirit, whose essential character is Love, the
+process glides smoothly, unbrokenly, and wellnigh imperceptibly
+forward. As we lift our eyes and look out upon Nature in its present
+actually existing state, what we see in that instant is the whole
+achievement of the past, and it contains within it here and now the
+promise of all the future. All the past is in the present, and in it also
+is the potency of the future. The achievement fills us with
+admiration. The promise thrills us with hope. To that Spirit which
+has achieved this result, which actuates the process and ourselves
+with it, which determines the great event, which ensures the
+uniformity and law and order which are the foundations of our
+freedom, and the essential condition of all progress, our hearts are
+drawn out and yearningly stretch themselves out in a love boundless
+as the process itself.
+
+The more we find ourselves drawn to Nature and in harmony and
+love with her, the more Beauty do we see. In closest reciprocity
+Love of Nature inspires Natural Beauty and Natural Beauty
+promotes Love of Nature. And it is from the Heart of Nature that
+both Love and Beauty spring. Both also remain permanent and
+everlasting through all the changing processes of Nature--permanent
+but ever increasing in depth and height and volume. The promise of
+all the Love and Beauty of to-day was hidden in the womb of the
+past. In the womb of to-day is contained the promise of a Love and
+Beauty still more glorious. And ours it is to bring them into being.
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+NATURAL BEAUTY AND GEOGRAPHY
+
+
+
+PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS TO THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY, DELIVERED
+AT THE ANNIVERSARY MEETING, MAY 31, 1920
+
+NATURAL BEAUTY AND GEOGRAPHICAL SCIENCE
+
+I have something to say which to old-fashioned geographers may
+appear very revolutionary, and which you may hesitate to accept
+straight away. But it has come to me as the result of much and
+varied geographical work in the field; of listening to many lectures
+before this Society; and of composing this Address and five lectures
+for you, firstly, as far back as 1888, on my journey across Central
+Asia from Peking to India; secondly, on my journey to Hunza and
+the Pamirs; thirdly, on Chitral; fourthly, on my mission to Tibet; and
+fifthly, on the Himalaya. And I expect when you come to think over
+what I have now to say you will find that, after all, my conclusions
+are not anything desperately revolutionary but something quite
+obvious and natural.
+
+What I want to lay before you for your very earnest consideration is
+this--that we should take a profounder and broader view of
+Geography, of its fundamental conception, and of its scope and aim,
+than we have hitherto taken; and should regard the Earth as
+_Mother_-Earth, and the _Beauty_ of her features as within the
+purview of Geography.
+
+I will state my case as clearly and briefly as I can. Geography is a
+science. Science is learning, knowing, understanding. The object of
+geographical learning, knowing, understanding is the Earth. We
+must first, then, have a true conception of what the Earth really is.
+And next we must be certain in our minds as to what is most worth
+knowing about it.
+
+To begin with our conception of the Earth. At the dawn of
+Geography it was believed to be a flat disc. Later it was discovered
+to be a sphere. Then it was found to be not a hard solid sphere like a
+billiard-ball, but to be hard only on the surface, and within to be
+quick with fervent heat. Now it is coming to be regarded as spirit as
+well as body--as in its essential nature spiritual rather than material.
+
+When we get as far back as science is able to take us we find that the
+ultimate particles of which the Earth is made up are not minute
+specks of some substance or material, but are simply centres of
+radiant energy. Even with a microscope of infinite power we should
+never be able to see one, like we see a grain of pollen or a grain of
+sand. And if we had fingers of infinite delicacy, we should never be
+able to take one up between the forefinger and thumb and feel it.
+These ultimate particles are invisible and intangible. Nothing could
+be less substantial. And we find further that, inconceivably minute
+as they are, they _act of themselves_ under the mutual influence of
+one another. The electrons are not like shot which have been heaped
+together by some outside agency, and which roll about the floor if
+someone outside gives them a push, but which will otherwise remain
+immobile. They congregate together of their own inner prompting.
+They are like a swarm of midges or bees in which each individual
+acts on its own impulsion, and, in the case of bees, all together form
+themselves into a definite organisation with a collective spirit of its
+own. The Earth is indeed influenced by its parent the Sun, and acts
+in accordance with the same laws and is swayed by the same
+impulses as govern the whole Universe, of which it is a minute
+though highly important mite. But the point is that the Earth is not
+something like a lump of clay which a potter takes in his hands and
+moulds into a ball. The Earth moulds itself from activities that it
+contains within itself.
+
+Running through the whole mighty swarm of electrons we call the
+Earth is a tendency to order, organisation, and system. The myriad
+millions of ultimate particles in their all-togetherness and from their
+interaction upon one another become possessed of an imperative
+urge towards excellence. The electrons group themselves into atoms;
+the atoms clump themselves together into molecules; the molecules
+combine into chemical compounds, and these into organisms of
+ever-increasing size and complexity. So in the process of the ages
+there came into being, from out of the very Earth itself, first, lowly
+forms of plants and animals, then higher and higher forms exhibiting
+higher and higher qualities, till the flowers of the field, the animals,
+and man himself came into existence.
+
+And now we reach the point I wish to make. If this account of the
+Earth which physicists and biologists give us be true, then we
+geographers should take a less material and a more spiritual view of
+the Earth than we have done, and should, like primitive people all
+the world over, regard her as Mother-Earth, and recognise our
+intimate connection with her. Primitive peoples everywhere regard
+the Earth as alive and as their Mother. And so intensely do they feel
+this liveness that many will not run the plough through the soil from
+dislike of lacerating the bosom of Mother-Earth. They see plants and
+trees spring up out of her, and these plants and trees providing them
+with fruits and seeds, leaves and roots, upon which to live. And they
+quite naturally look upon her as their Mother. And we men of the
+more advanced races have still more cause to consider her as our
+Mother, for we now know that not only the plants and trees but we
+ourselves sprang from her--as indeed we are nourished by her daily,
+eating her plants or the animals which feed on her plants. And as we
+judge of a lily, not by its origin, the ugly bulb, but by the climax, the
+exquisite flower; so we should not judge of the Earth by its origin,
+the fiery mist, but by its issue--ardent human fellowship. And if we
+thus judge her we shall find her a mother worthy of our affection.
+
+So the first point I have to put before you is that we geographers
+should regard the object of our science not as a magnified
+billiard-ball, but as a living being--as Mother-Earth. Not as hard,
+unimpressionable, dull, and inert, but as live, supple, sensitive, and
+active--active with an intensity of activity past all conceivability.
+Yet with no chaotic activity, but with activity having coherence and
+direction, and that direction towards excellence.
+
+* * *
+
+Now as to what we ought to know about the Earth. While Geology
+concerns itself with its anatomy, Geography, by long convention,
+restricts its concern to the Earth's outward aspect. Accordingly, it is
+in the face and features of Mother-Earth that we geographers are
+mainly interested. We must know something of the general
+principles of geology, as painters have to know something of the
+anatomy of the human or animal body. But our special business as
+geographers is with the outward expression. And my second point is
+that the characteristic of the face and features of the Earth most
+worth learning about, knowing, and understanding is their Beauty;
+and that knowledge of their Beauty may be legitimately included
+within the scope of geographical science.
+
+It may be argued, indeed, that science is concerned with quantity
+--with what can be measured--and that Natural Beauty is quality
+which is something that eludes measurement. But geographical
+science, at least, should refuse to be confined within any such
+arbitrary limits and should take cognisance of quality as well as
+quantity. This is my contention. I am not maintaining that the actual
+enjoyment of the Natural Beauty of the Earth should be regarded as
+within the scope of geographical science, though this Society as a
+social body might well participate in such enjoyment. Enjoyment is
+feeling, whereas science is knowing; and feeling and knowing are
+distinct faculties. We can easily see the distinction. We may be
+travelling to Plymouth to embark for South Africa on some
+absorbing enterprise, and be so engrossed with thoughts of the
+adventure before us as to be unable to enjoy the famed West
+Country through which the train is passing, though all the time we
+were quite aware in our minds of its beauty. We are not actually
+enjoying the beauty, though we know quite well that it is there. On
+another occasion we may be returning after long absence in
+countries of far different character; our minds may be free from any
+disturbing thoughts; and we may be in a mood to enjoy to the full
+every beauty we see. England will then seem to us a veritable garden,
+the greenness of everything, the trimness of the hedges, the sheets of
+purple hyacinths, and some still remaining primroses, will startle us
+with joy, though we have long been aware of their beauty. This time
+we both know and enjoy the Natural Beauty. We see from this
+instance the distinction between knowing Natural Beauty and
+enjoying it. I am not claiming more than that _knowing_ Natural
+Beauty--being aware of it--is part of Geography. But I _am_
+claiming liberty to extend our knowing up to the extreme limit when
+it merges into feeling.
+
+What we have now to consider is the value of this Natural Beauty. A
+region may be flat or mountainous, dry or wet, barren or fertile,
+useful or useless for either political or commercial purposes. But it
+is not its flatness or ruggedness, or its utility or inutility for
+political or commercial purposes, that we may find in the end is the most
+noteworthy characteristic, but its beauty--its own particular beauty.
+The conventional gold or oil prospector, or railway engineer, or
+seeker for sites for rubber or coffee plantation, or pasture-lands for
+sheep and cattle, may not bother his head about the beauty of the
+forests, the rivers, the prairies, and the mountains he is exploring. He
+is much too absorbed in the practical business of life to be distracted
+by anything so fanciful--as he thinks. Yet even he does see the
+beauty, and long afterwards he finds it is that which has stuck most
+firmly in his mind. And when he has unthinkingly destroyed it,
+future generations lament his action and take measures to preserve
+what remains. Advertisements, also, show us daily that nearly all
+countries--and it seems more especially new countries like Canada
+and New Zealand--regard Natural Beauty as one of their most
+valuable assets. And the reason why the Natural Beauty of the Earth
+is deemed so valuable a characteristic of its features is not hard to
+understand when we come to reflect. It is because Beauty is a
+quality which appeals to the universal in man--appeals to all men for
+all time, and appeals to them in an increasing degree. It is something
+which all men can admire and enjoy. And the more they enjoy it the
+more they want to get others to share in their enjoyment. Also the
+more Natural Beauty they see, the more, apparently, there is to see.
+Poets in their poems, and painters in their pictures, are continually
+pointing out to us less keen-sighted individuals new beauties in the
+features of the Earth. The mineral wealth of the Earth has its limits;
+even the productivity, though perennially renewed, is not unbounded.
+But the Natural Beauty is inexhaustible. And it is not only
+inexhaustible: it positively increases and multiplies the more we see
+of it and the more of us see it. So it has good claim to be considered
+the most valuable characteristic of the Earth.
+
+And if Beauty should prove to be its most valuable characteristic, it
+follows that knowledge of it is the knowledge about the Earth which
+is most worth having. It will certainly be the case that knowledge of
+other characteristics may be of more value to particular men for a
+special purpose for the time being. If an engineer has to build a
+railway, knowledge of the exact height above sea-level of various
+points and of the general configuration of the ground is of more
+value than knowledge of its beauty. But for the engineer himself,
+when he is not thinking of his railway, and for mankind in general,
+knowledge of the beauty may be the more valuable kind of
+knowledge.
+
+For years I was employed in exploring the region where three
+Empires meet, where the Himalaya, the Hindu Kush, and mountains
+which form the Roof of the World converge. I had to report on the
+extent to which it afforded a barrier against the advance of Russia
+towards India, and wherein it would lie the most appropriate
+boundary between India and Russia, between India and China, and
+between Russia and China. What I learned of that region as a barrier
+against invasion was of more value to the Viceroy and Commander-in-Chief
+in India and the political and military authorities in England
+in the discharge of their official duties than what I learned of its
+beauties. But this utility of the region as a military barrier is not the
+characteristic which has most value to men in general. What to them
+has most value is its beauty--the awful beauty of its terrific gorges
+and stupendous heights. And it is knowledge of this beauty which is
+most worth having, and which has most geographical value.
+
+Besides exploring the far region beyond Kashmir I was also
+employed for years in exercising a general supervision over the
+entire administration of Kashmir itself. Reports from experts used to
+come to me containing every description of geographical knowledge.
+Surveyors would send in maps for general purposes, for the
+construction of roads and railways, for the delimitation of village
+boundaries, and for registering the ownership of individual fields.
+Geologists would report on the crustal relief (as the features of
+Mother-Earth are inelegantly termed). Forestry, agricultural, and
+botanical experts would report on the productivity of the soil, on the
+plants and trees which are or might be grown, and on their present
+and possible distribution. Mineralogists would report on the
+minerals, their distribution and the possibility of commercially
+exploiting them. Every aspect of geographical science was presented
+to me. And each particular kind of knowledge for its own particular
+purpose was highly valuable. But the point I would wish to make is
+that my geographical knowledge of Kashmir would have been
+incomplete--and I would have been wanting in knowledge of its
+most valuable characteristic--if I had had no knowledge of its beauty.
+I might have had the most precise knowledge about the form and
+structure of the crustal relief of this portion of the Earth, of the
+productivity of the soil, of the distribution of its population, and of
+animals and plants, and about the effect of the crustal forms on the
+animals and plants, and of the animals and plants upon the crustal
+forms and of all upon man, and of man upon them all; but if I had
+had no knowledge of the beauty of these crustal forms and of the
+influence which their beauty has upon man, I should not have
+known what was most worth knowing about Kashmir. My geographical
+knowledge of that country would have been wanting in its most
+important particular.
+
+These illustrations will, I hope, make clear what I mean when I urge
+that Beauty may be the most valuable characteristic of the Earth's
+features, and that the scope of Geography should certainly be
+extended to include a knowledge of it.
+
+And there should be less hesitation in accepting the latter half of this
+conclusion when we note that Natural Beauty affects the movements
+of man, and that man is having an increasing effect upon Natural
+Beauty--spoiling it in too many cases, improving it in many others,
+but certainly having an effect upon it. There is thus a quite definite
+relation between man and Natural Beauty, and it should therefore be
+within the scope of Geography to take note of this relationship. To
+an increasing degree man now moves about in search of new Natural
+Beauty or to enjoy it where it has been already found. From all over
+the world men flock to Switzerland, drawn there by its beauty. Here
+at home they go to the Thames Valley, or Dartmoor, or the coast of
+Cornwall, or North Wales, or the Highlands, simply to enjoy the
+Natural Beauty. And railway companies and the Governments of
+Canada, Australia, and New Zealand think it worth while to spend
+large sums of money in publishing pictures of the beauty of the
+countries in which they are interested in order to attract
+holiday-makers or home-seekers to them.
+
+And here, as in other cases, man now is not content to be an
+impassive spectator and to be entirely controlled by his surroundings.
+He does not allow the "crustal relief" to have the upper hand in the
+matter. He will not admit that all he has to do is to adapt himself to
+his surroundings. That servile view of our position in the Universe is
+fast departing. We are determined to have the ascendancy. And
+much as we admire the Beauty of the Earth we set about improving
+it. We fail disastrously at times, I allow. But sometimes
+unconsciously, and sometimes deliberately, we succeed. We have in
+places made the Earth more beautiful than it was before we came,
+and we have certainly shown the possibility of this being done.
+From what I have seen in uninhabited countries I can realise what
+the river-valleys of England must have been like before the arrival
+of man--beautiful, certainly; but not _so_ beautiful as now. They
+must have been an unrelieved mass of forest and marsh. Now the
+marshes are drained and turned into golden meadows. The woods
+are cleared in part and well-kept parks take their place, with trees
+specially selected, pruned, and trim, and made to stand out well by
+themselves so that their umbrageous forms may be properly seen.
+Gardens are laid out, the famous lawns of England are created, and
+flowering and variegated shrubs from many lands are planted round
+them. And homes are built--the simple homes of the poor and the
+stately homes of the rich--which in the setting of trees and lawns and
+gardens add unquestionably to the natural beauty of the land. St.
+James's Park, with its lake, its well-tended trees, its
+daisy-covered lawns, its flowerbeds, its may and lilac, laburnum and
+horse-chestnut, and with the towers of Westminster Abbey and the Houses
+of Parliament rising behind it, is certainly more beautiful than the
+same piece of land was two thousand years ago in its natural
+condition.
+
+What has been done in this respect in England is only typical of
+what is done in every country and of what has been done for ages
+past. The Moghul emperors, by the planting of gardens on the
+borders of the Dal Lake in Kashmir, added greatly to its beauty. And
+the Japanese are famous for the choice of beautiful surroundings for
+their temples and for the addition which they themselves, by the
+erection of graceful temples and by properly cared-for trees and
+gardens, make to the natural beauty of the place.
+
+So man is both affected by the Beauty of the Earth's features and
+himself affects that Beauty. And this relationship between man and
+the Natural Beauty of the Earth is one of which Geography should
+take as much cognisance as it does of the relationship between man
+and the productivity of the Earth.
+
+But Natural Beauty is manifested in an innumerable variety of forms.
+The whole Beauty is never manifested in any one particular feature
+or region, but each has its unique aspect. Each feature has its own
+peculiar beauty different from the beauty of any other feature. And
+what men naturally do, and what I would suggest geographers
+should deliberately do, is to compare the beauty of one region with
+the beauty of another, so that we may realise the beauty of each with
+a greater intensity and clearness. We can compare the beauty of
+Kashmir with the beauty of Switzerland and California. And the
+comparison will enable us to see more clearly and to appreciate the
+distinctive elements which make up the peculiar beauty of each of
+those countries. It has been frequently noticed that people who have
+always lived in the same place are unable to see its full beauty. The
+inhabitants of the Gilgit frontier, when I first went among them, had
+never left their mountains, and were altogether ignorant of the
+special grandeur of their beauty. They thought all the world was just
+the same. But men who have seen many varieties of Natural Beauty
+and have taken pains to compare the varieties with one another
+become trained to see more Beauty in each feature. Fresh
+discoveries of Beauty are thus made, and our knowledge of the
+Beauty of the Earth is thereby increased.
+
+* * *
+
+What I hope, then, is that this Society should definitely recognise
+that learning to see the Beauty in natural features and comparing the
+peculiar beauties of the different features with one another is within
+the scope of Geography, and will indeed become its chief function. I
+should like to see the tradition established and well known and
+recognised that we encourage the search for Natural Beauty, and
+look upon the discovery of a new region which possesses special
+beauty, and the discovery of a new beauty in a region already well
+known, as among the most important geographical discoveries to be
+made. In this matter I trust our Society will take the lead.
+Englishmen are born lovers of Natural Beauty and born travellers.
+The search for Natural Beauty ought, therefore, to be a congenial
+task for this Society. As I have tried to make clear, we cannot really
+know and understand the Earth--which is the aim of Geography
+--until we have seen its beauties and compared the varying beauties of
+the different features with one another and seen how they affect man
+and man affects them. We are constituted as a Society for the
+purpose of diffusing geographical knowledge, and I trust that in
+future we shall regard knowledge of the Beauty of the Earth as the
+most important form of geographical knowledge that we can diffuse.
+
+When I was Writing out the lecture which I was invited to give
+before the Society on "The Geographical Results of the Tibet
+Mission" I could not resist devoting special attention to the natural
+beauty of Tibet. But as I read the manuscript through I feared that
+this attention to Beauty would be regarded by our Society as a lapse
+from the narrow path of pure Geography, and that I should be
+frowned upon in consequence and not regarded as a serious
+geographer. I ought, I feared, to have devoted more attention to
+survey matters, to the exact trend of the mountains, and the source
+and course of the rivers. But looking back now I see that my natural
+instinct was a right one--that a knowledge of the beauties of Tibet
+was not only one geographical result of the Mission, but the chief
+geographical result; and that, in fact, I ought to have paid not less
+but more attention, both in Tibet to noting its beauties in all their
+multitudinous variety, and in writing my lecture to expressing with
+point and precision what I had seen, so that you might share it with
+me, and learn what is the most valuable characteristic of Tibet.
+
+When the new tradition is established, and travellers become aware
+that we regard knowledge of Natural Beauty as within the scope of
+our activities, the error into which I fell will be avoided. We shall
+think travellers barbaric if they continue to concern themselves with
+all else about the face of the Earth except its Beauty. We shall no
+longer tolerate a geographer who will learn everything about the
+utility of a region for military, political, and commercial purposes,
+but who will take no trouble to see the beauty it contains. We shall
+expect a much higher standard of him. We shall expect him to
+cultivate the power of the eye till he has a true eye for country--a
+seeing eye; an eye that can see into the very heart and, through all
+the thronging details, single out the one essential quality; an eye
+which can not only observe but can make discoveries. We shall
+require him to have the capacity for discriminating the essential
+from the unessential, for bringing that essential into proper relief and
+placing upon it the due emphasis. When he thus has true vision and
+can really see a country, and when he has acquired the capacity for
+expressing either in words or in painting what lie has seen, so that he
+can communicate it to us, then he will have reached the standard
+which this Society should demand. And this is nothing less than
+saying that we expect of him that he should have in him something
+of the poet and the painter.
+
+Careless snap-shotting in the field and idle turning on of lantern
+slides at our meetings will no longer satisfy us. A traveller if he is
+going to photograph must spend the hours which a real artist would
+devote to discovering the essential beauty of a scene, and to
+composing his picture before he dreams of exposing his plate. But
+we want more than photographs: we want pictures to give that
+important element in Natural Beauty--the colour. And we want
+pictures painted in words as well as on canvas. Not shallow
+rhapsodising of the journalese and guide-book type, but true
+expression in which each noun exactly fits the object, each epithet is
+truly applicable, and each phrase is rightly turned, and in which the
+emphasis is placed on the precisely right point, and the whole
+composed so as distinctly to bring out that point.
+
+Then in time we shall gather together the most valuable knowledge
+about the Earth. And when a stranger from a far land comes to us to
+know about any particular country, we shall be able to provide him
+with something worth having. When an Australian comes to
+England and wishes to know its essential characteristics, we shall do
+something more than hand him over maps and treatises on the
+orography and hydrography, the distribution of rainfall, of plants
+and animals, and the population. We shall regard ourselves as
+having omitted to point out to him the essential characteristic of the
+land from which Englishmen have sprung and in which they dwell if
+we have not shown him the beauty of its natural features. We shall
+give him the maps as aids to finding his way about, and we shall
+give him the treatises. But we shall tell him that these are only aids
+for special purposes, and that if he is really to understand England
+he must know its beauty in its many aspects. He will then have the
+geographical knowledge of chief value about England.
+
+* * *
+
+A project in which the Society is now interested affords an excellent
+opportunity of applying the principles I have been trying to persuade
+you to adopt. The most prominent feature of this Earth, and the
+feature of most geographical interest, is the great range of the
+Himalaya Mountains. In this range the supreme summit is Mount
+Everest, the highest point on the Earth, 29,002 feet above sea-level.
+Attempts have been made to ascend the second highest mountain,
+K2, 28,278 feet, notably by the Duke of the Abruzzi. Colonel Hon.
+Charles Bruce, Major Rawling, and others have had in mind the idea
+of ascending Mount Everest itself. And for more than a year past
+both the Alpine Club and this Society have been definitely
+entertaining the idea of helping forward the achievement of this
+object. We hope within the next few years to hear of a human being
+standing on the pinnacle of the Earth.
+
+If I am asked, What is the use of climbing this highest mountain? I
+reply, No use at all: no more use than kicking a football about, or
+dancing, or playing on the piano, or writing a poem, or painting a
+picture. The geologist predicts to a certainty that no gold will be
+found on the summit, and if gold did exist there no one would be
+able to work it. Climbing Mount Everest will not put a pound into
+anyone's pocket. It will take a good many pounds out of people's
+pockets. It will also entail the expenditure of much time and
+necessitate the most careful forethought and planning on the part of
+those who are organising the expedition. And it will mean that those
+who carry it out will have to keep themselves at the very highest
+pitch of physical fitness, mental alertness, and moral courage and
+endurance. They will have to be prepared to undergo the severest
+hardships and run considerable risks. And all this, I say, without the
+prospect of making a single penny. So there will be no _use_ in
+climbing Mount Everest. If the ascent is made at all it will be made
+for the sheer love of the thing, from pure enjoyment--the enjoyment
+a man gets from pitting himself against a big obstacle.
+
+But if there is no _use,_ there is unquestionably _good_ in climbing
+Mount Everest. The accomplishment of such a feat will elevate the
+human spirit. It will give men--and especially us geographers--a
+feeling that we really are getting the upper hand on the Earth, that
+we are acquiring a true mastery of our surroundings. As long as we
+impotently creep about at the foot of these mighty mountains and
+gaze on their summits without attempting to ascend them, we
+entertain towards them a too excessive feeling of awe. We are
+almost afraid of them. We have a secret fear that they, the material,
+are dominating us, the spiritual. But as soon as we have stood on
+their summit we feel that _we_ dominate _them_--that we, the
+spiritual, have ascendancy over them, the material. And if man
+stands on Earth's highest summit he will have an increased pride and
+confidence in himself in his struggle for ascendancy over matter.
+This is the incalculable good which the ascent of Mount Everest will
+confer.
+
+We who have lived among the peoples of the Himalaya are better
+able than most to appreciate how great this good is. We have seen
+how tame and meagre is their spirit in comparison with the spirit of,
+for example, the Swiss, or French, or Italian inhabitants of the Alps;
+and in comparison with what men's spirit ought to be. They have
+many admirable qualities, but they are fearful and unenterprising.
+Contact with them brings home to us what a spirit of daring and high
+adventure means to a people. And we are impressed with the
+necessity of taking every step possible to create, sustain, and
+strengthen this spirit in a people and in the human race generally.
+The ascent of Mount Everest, we believe, will be a big step in that
+direction.
+
+The actual climbing of this mountain this Society will leave in the
+hands of the Alpine Club, who have special experience in mountain
+climbing. But the reconnaissance and mapping of the mountain and
+its neighbourhood will fitly remain with us. And here we reach the
+point where the principles I have been offering for your
+consideration might be applied. Were it not that the size of the first
+party will have to be limited on account of transport and supply
+difficulties, I should greatly like to have a poet or a painter, or
+anyhow a climber like Mr. Freshfield with a poetic soul, a member
+of it. For I say quite deliberately and mean quite literally that the
+geography of Mount Everest and its vicinity will not be complete
+until it has been painted by some great painter and described by
+some great poet. Making the most accurate map of it will not be
+completing our knowledge of it. The map-maker only prepares the
+way--in some cases for the soldier or the politician or the engineer
+--in this case for the geologist, the naturalist, and above all for the
+painter and poet. Until we have a picture and a poem--in prose or
+verse--of Mount Everest we shall not really know it; our Geography
+will be incomplete, and, indeed, will lack its chief essential.
+
+The Duke of the Abruzzi, in his expedition to the second highest
+mountain in the world, took with him the finest mountain
+photographer there is--Signor Vittorio Sella--and he brought back
+superb photographs, for he is a true artist with a natural feeling for
+high mountains. But I have seen the very mountains that he
+photographed, and when I look at these photographs--the best that
+man can produce--I almost weep to think how little of the real
+character of great mountains they communicate to us. The sight of
+the photographs wrings me with disappointment that it was a
+photographer and not a painter who went there. Here in Europe are
+artists by the score painting year after year the same old European
+scenes. And there in the Himalaya is the grandest scenery in the
+world, and not a painter from Europe ever goes there--except just
+one, the great Russian Verestchagin, whose pictures, alas! are now
+buried somewhere in Russia. The Indian Services might do
+something, and they have indeed produced one great painter of
+Himalayan scenery, Colonel Tanner. But the Services are limited,
+and it is to Europe that we must mainly look.
+
+On the first expedition to Mount Everest it may be only possible to
+send a photographer. But this will be a pioneering expedition to
+open the way, at least, for the painter. And then we may have Mount
+Everest pictured in all her varied and ever-varying moods, as I have,
+from a distance, seen her for three most treasured months. Now
+serene and majestic; now in a tumult of fury. Now rooted solid on
+earth; now hung high in the azure. Now hard and material; now
+ethereal as spirit. Now stern and austere--cold, and white, and grey;
+now warm and radiant and of every most delicate hue. Now in one
+aspect, now in its precisely opposite, but always sublime and
+compelling; always pure and unspotted; and always pointing us
+starward.
+
+These are the pictures--either by painter or by poet--that we want.
+And they can only be painted by one who has himself gone in
+among the mountains, confronted them squarely, braced himself
+against them, faced and overcome them--realised their greatness,
+realised also that great as they are he is greater still.
+
+And this that we want of the greatest natural feature of the Earth is
+only typical of what this Society should require in regard to all
+Earth's other features in order to make our Geography complete. As
+men have pictured the loveliness of England, the fairness of France,
+the brilliance of Greece, so we want them to picture the
+spaciousness of Arabia, the luxuriance of Brazil, and the sublimity
+of the Himalaya. For not till that has been done will our Geography
+be complete. But when that has been accomplished and the quest for
+Beauty is being pushed to the remotest lands and Earth's farthest
+corners, even the British schoolboy will love his Geography, and our
+science will have won its final triumph. At nothing less, then, than
+the heart of the boy should our Society deign to aim.
+
+
+
+AN ADDRESS TO THE UNION SOCIETY OF THE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON,
+DELIVERED ON MARCH 17, 1921.
+
+You have been good enough to leave to me the choice of subject on
+which to address you this evening, and I have chosen the subject
+"Natural Beauty and Geography" because I have the honour to hold
+at present the position of President of the Royal Geographical
+Society, and am therefore supposed to know something about
+Geography, and because a love of Natural Beauty is one of the great
+passions of my life.
+
+I believe the two are inseparably connected with one another, and,
+briefly, the view I want to put before you is this--.that a description
+of the Natural Beauty of the Earth should be included in Geography.
+By Geography we mean a _description_ of the Earth. And we
+cannot adequately describe the Earth until we have observed it in all
+its aspects and really know and understand it. And we cannot really
+understand the Earth until we have entered into her spirit and feel
+ourselves in harmony with it. But _when_ our spirit is in harmony
+with the spirit of the Earth we, in that instant, see the Beauty of the
+Earth. When we are seeing Beauty in the Earth we are understanding
+the Earth. In describing the Beauty of the Earth we shall be
+describing something that we really know about it--something of the
+real nature of the Earth.
+
+For this reason I maintain that Geography should be taken to include
+a description of the Natural Beauty of the Earth's features. The
+description of the Earth is not full and complete, and is lacking in its
+most important particular, when it excludes a description of Natural
+Beauty, and only includes scientific details about the size and shape
+of the earth; its configuration; the composition of the crust; the depth,
+area, and volume of the ocean; the temperature, degree of moisture
+and pressure of the atmosphere; the height of the mountains; the
+length, breadth, volume, course, and catchment area of its rivers; the
+mineral and vegetable products of various regions; the political areas
+into which it is divided; the relation of the political and commercial
+activities of the population to the physical character of the features
+and to the climate. I, of course, acknowledge the importance of all
+this geographical knowledge. To the historian and the statesman it is
+essential that he should know the part which a certain mountain
+range or river or desert has played in human history. A soldier must
+know with extreme accuracy the configuration of the country over
+which his army is operating. An engineer must know the exact level
+and contour of a region over which he has to lay a railway or
+construct a canal. A merchant must know whether a country
+produces cotton, tea, and sugar; or wheat, wool, and meat. For all
+these and others, each for his own particular purpose, we want the
+kind of information I have described above--that is, what usually
+goes under the name of Geography. But the point I wish now to urge
+is that we shall not have plucked the very flower of geographical
+knowledge until in addition to all this we have a knowledge of the
+_Beauty_ of the Earth.
+
+Perhaps you will understand me better if I illustrate my point. When
+a dressmaker has to make a dress for a lady she has to measure her
+with the minutest accuracy. She must gain a knowledge, by careful
+measurement, of the exact shape and size of the lady's body, its true
+contour, and the length and breadth of the limbs--just as an engineer
+must have accurate knowledge of the Earth's surface. And to the
+dressmaker _as_ a dressmaker knowledge of the lady's beauty has
+no value whatever. The lady may have the beauty of form of a
+Venus, but if the dressmaker has only knowledge of that beauty and
+has not exact measurements she will never be able to make the dress.
+But for humanity at large--and, as far as that goes, for the
+dressmaker herself when she is free of her dressmaking--knowledge
+of the lady's beauty is the knowledge that really matters. Whether
+she is twenty-six inches round the waist or only twenty-five matters
+comparatively little.
+
+Now the Earth I regard as a lady--as dear Mother-Earth. A real
+living being--live enough, at any rate, to give birth to mankind, to
+microscopic animalculae first and through them to man. And no one
+can look at the features of Mother-Earth without recognising her
+Beauty. It is there staring us in the face. So I cannot conceive why
+we geographers should confine ourselves to the dressmaker attitude
+of mind and describe every other characteristic of the Earth except
+her Beauty. I should have thought that it was the very first thing
+with which we should have concerned ourselves--that the first duty
+of those who profess and call themselves geographers should have
+been to describe the beauty of their Mother-Earth.
+
+Say a visitor from Mars arrived upon the Earth, he would no doubt
+report on his return that the mountains here were so many thousands
+of feet high and the seas so many thousands of feet deep, and the
+area of the land and sea so many thousand square miles; that the
+productivity of the land in one quarter had had the effect of
+attracting a large part of the population to that quarter, and the
+aridity or cold of another portion had had the effect of preventing
+human settlement there; and that mountains, seas, or deserts
+confining certain groups of human beings tightly within given areas
+had had the effect of compacting them into highly organised
+political bodies. All this and much more geographical knowledge
+the Martian would bring back to Mars. But his fellow-Martians
+would tell him that this was all very interesting, but that what they
+really wanted to know was what the Earth was _like._ They would
+ask him if he had not some lantern slides of the Earth, some
+photographs, something which would convey to them an impression
+of the real character of the Earth. And then at last he would be
+driven to describe her Beauty.
+
+In the best words he could find he would express the impression
+which the Earth had made upon him. If he were a painter and if the
+Martians possess paint, he would paint pictures to express the
+feelings which a contemplation of the Earth had aroused in him.
+That is, he would show them the Beauty of the Earth in her various
+aspects. Perhaps he might not be able to see as much Beauty in her
+as we her children see. We may be too partial and see beauties that a
+stranger may not perceive. On the other hand, he might see
+beauties that we through being so accustomed to them have never
+recognised--as men living always within sight of some superb
+mountain scarcely appreciate its grandeur. Anyhow, he would
+describe to the Martians whatever he had seen of the Beauty of the
+Earth, and then at last they would feel that they were really able to
+know and understand her.
+
+To descend from these celestial spheres and to examine what
+actually happens among ourselves when we venture into an
+unknown portion of this globe and seek to know what is there, a
+chief ingredient in the lure which draws men on to fill up the blank
+spaces in the map is undoubtedly a love of Natural Beauty; and its
+Natural Beauty is certainly what above everything else regarding
+that region remains in their memories after it has been explored. It is
+not _only_ love of Natural Beauty that draws men on. Love of
+adventure has much to do with it also. Men feel a fearful joy in
+pitting themselves against stern natural obstacles and being
+compelled to exert all their physical energy and endurance, and all
+their wit and nerve and courage, in order to overcome them. The
+stiffer the obstacle, the more insistent do they feel the call
+to measure themselves against it. They thrill to the expectation of
+having their full capacities and faculties drawn out. By some curious
+natural instinct they seem driven to put themselves into positions
+where they are forced to exert themselves to the full stretch of their
+capabilities. This same instinct tells them that they will be never so
+happy as when they are making the very utmost of themselves and
+exercising their whole being at its highest pitch. Anticipation of their
+joy in adventure is therefore no small part of the lure which draws
+men into the unknown. And with it also is ambition to make a name
+and achieve fame. Some, too, are drawn on by the hope of wealth
+through finding gold, diamonds, and so on. But from what I have
+seen of gold and diamond prospectors on the spot in the act of
+prospecting, I should say it was quite as much love of adventure as
+covetousness of wealth that drew them into unknown parts. For
+experience shows them only too often that it is not the prospector
+but the company promoter and financier who make the money even
+when the prospector finds the gold or diamonds. Yet prospectors go
+forward as cheerfully as ever. They are fascinated by the life of
+adventure.
+
+All this is true. Men delight in sheer adventure and in testing and
+sharpening themselves against formidable natural obstacles. Yet we
+shall find that love of Natural Beauty has an even greater share than
+love of adventure in enticing them to the unknown. Men picture to
+themselves beauties of the most wonderful kind which they expect
+to see--enchanting islands, mysterious forests, majestic rivers,
+heavenly mountains, delightful lakes. Instinct tells them that they
+will have the joy which comes from exerting their capacities to the
+full. But somewhere in the back of their being is, also this
+expectation of seeing wonders of Natural Beauty, and of seeing
+_more_ of this Beauty from the very fact that they will be seeing it
+as a prize truly _won_ and when their faculties are all tuned up to a
+fine pitch of appreciation.
+
+And when they return from the unknown, when the adventure is
+over, when they are again relaxed, it will be the Natural Beauty
+which they have seen that will remain in their memories long after
+they have forgotten their exertion, long after they have expended
+any wealth they may have found, long after they have recorded the
+exact measurements of the various features of the region.
+
+Curiosity to see the Natural Beauty of an unknown region is a
+principal ingredient in the lure that draws men to it. And Natural
+Beauty is what, above everything else in regard to the unknown
+region, stands out in men's memories on their return.
+
+This at any rate is my own experience, and we are perhaps on safer
+ground when we speak of what we have ourselves experienced than
+when we speak of what we imagine must be the experiences of
+others. Though in this case I have good reason to believe that my
+own experiences are very similar to the experiences of others, and
+may therefore be taken as typical.
+
+Almost my earliest recollections are of a Somersetshire village set in
+a lovely valley, fringed with woods and surrounded by hills. Up the
+hills on the side of the valley on which I lived I used constantly to
+go. But over the hills on the far side of the river I was never taken.
+So I used to picture to myself wonderful woods and rivers, and
+castles and great cities, and I longed to go there. The lure of Natural
+Beauty was beginning to make itself felt. As I grew to boyhood I
+was fortunate enough to be taken to North Wales, Devonshire and
+Cornwall, and later on to Switzerland and the South of France, and
+everywhere I saw much Natural Beauty. But, still, that only made
+me want to see more.
+
+In all these cases, however, I only went where I was taken. I did not
+go where I chose or with an object of my own. It was not till I was
+in India and had the first leave from my regiment that I could go
+where I liked. Now, where I liked was to the Himalaya. And if I
+look back now and enquire of myself what made me choose the
+Himalaya, I can say most clearly that it was because I had in my
+mind a vision of long snowy ranges, and dazzling peaks, and
+frowning precipices, and rushing torrents, and endless forests. I
+thought how glorious it would be to be able to wander about at will
+and see all the magnificent scenery, to feast on the  Natural Beauty,
+and when I came back to be able to tell others of the wonders I had
+seen.
+
+So I made my first short trip in the Himalaya. But this only served to
+arouse my curiosity still more. I had seen some great mountains. But
+they were none of them more than 20,000 feet in height. I wanted to
+see still higher mountains. I heard, too, that up the valley of the
+Sutlej were some fearful gorges through which the river forced its
+way. I wanted to see them too, and see a great river in the very act of
+forcing its way through the mighty Himalaya. Above all, I wanted to
+see what lay on the other side of the Himalaya. I wanted to get into
+Tibet.
+
+That for the time being proved impossible, and my thoughts
+wandered off to the far eastern part of Asia. I had read a book called
+"On the Amur," by Atkinson. Not altogether a very veracious book,
+but a fascinating book for all that. In it were alluring pictures of the
+broad, placid river. Rich forests came down to the water's edge. And
+on its surface were depicted delightful rafts and canoes. To glide
+down such a river, to camp on its banks and plunge into the forests
+which clothed them, seemed a joy second only to the joy of
+scrambling about the Himalaya. So with Mr. H. E. M. James--now
+Sir Evan James--I went to Manchuria, not, indeed, to reach the
+Amur itself, but to discover the source of its great tributary the
+Sungari, and to follow it down through the forests and over the
+plains for several hundred miles.
+
+Now, what I want to impress upon you is that in all these cases it
+was the Natural Beauty which was the attraction--it was the picture I
+made to myself of what these countries would be like that drew me
+on. And I am sure it is with others as it was with me. Natural Beauty
+is at bottom what incites the traveller.
+
+And, whether I had to go where I was taken or could go where I
+chose, it was the Natural Beauty that stuck in my memory. And
+when I returned it was of the Natural Beauty that I wished to tell my
+friends. And this, again, is the experience of others also. To this day,
+though I have never since seen them, I remember the beauties of
+Cader Idris and Dolgelly, Snowdon and Carnarvon, in North Wales,
+and of the rugged cliffs and long Atlantic waves on the Cornish
+coast. The Dart, here rippling over boulders and between rocky
+banks, here in deep, clear salmon pools, here merging into a long
+inlet of the sea and everywhere framed in wooded hill-sides, I have
+often again seen. But even if I had not, its beauty would never have
+departed from my memory. And it is the same with the first view of
+the Alps from the Jura, the view of Lake Geneva, of the Jungfrau, of
+the Pyrenees from Pau, and of the valley of the Loire. I have never
+seen those parts of Switzerland and of France since then, but their
+beauty remains with me to this day. And it is of their beauty that I
+have ever afterwards been naturally inclined to speak. When I talk
+about the Loire I do not tell my friends that it rises in a certain place,
+is so many miles long, at certain parts has a certain width, depth, and
+volume, and eventually flows into a certain sea. What I naturally
+speak about is its beauty, the rich valley through which it flows, the
+graceful bridges by which it is spanned, the picturesque old towns
+and romantic castles on the banks. And this is the common habit of
+mankind. Our friends may bore us--and we may bore our friends
+--with interminable accounts of the discomfort and inconveniences
+and the petty little incidents of travel. But when they and we have
+got through that and settle down to describe the country itself, it is
+of its beauty that we speak.
+
+Natural Beauty is what attracts us to a country. Its Natural Beauty is
+the fact about it which remains most persistently in our memory.
+And it is about its Natural Beauty that we are most inclined to speak.
+Lastly, when we are in distant countries it is of the Natural Beauty
+that we chiefly think. When our thoughts go back to the home
+country it is not on its exact measurements and configuration that
+they dwell, but on its beauty.
+
+From all of which considerations I conclude that any description of
+the Earth which excludes a description of its Natural Beauty is
+incomplete. Geography must include a description of Natural Beauty.
+And personally I would go so far as to say that the description of
+Natural Beauty is the most important part of Geography.
+
+Here I must answer an objection which may be raised--namely, that
+Natural Beauty is the concern of Aesthetics, not of Geography. An
+objector may freely acknowledge the value and importance of
+recognising and describing the Natural Beauty of a country, but may
+contend that this is beyond the province of Geography. It should be
+left to poets and painters, he might say, and geographers should
+confine themselves to the more prosaic business of exact
+measurement, of accurate delineation, of reasoning regarding the
+relation of the facts to one another, and of explaining the facts.
+
+To such an objector I would reply that Geography is an art as well as
+a science. And in parenthesis I may say that I doubt whether any
+science can be complete which has not art behind it. We shall never
+be able fully to know and understand the Earth or to describe what
+we see if we use our intellectual and reasoning powers alone. If we
+are to attain to a complete knowledge of the Earth, and if we are to
+describe what we learn about it in an adequate manner so that others
+may participate in our knowledge, then we must use our hearts as
+well as our heads. We must be artists as well as meticulous
+classifiers, cataloguers, and reasoners. The Earth is a living being, a
+throbbing, palpitating, living being--"live" enough to have given
+birth to the remote ancestors of mankind, and live enough, so some
+biologists consider, to be continually to this day generating the
+lowliest forms of organisms. To know and understand a living being,
+particularly when that living being happens to be his own Mother,
+man must use his heart as well as his head.
+
+With his head alone the geographer may do a vast amount of most
+useful and necessary work which will help us to understand the
+Earth. He may collect and classify facts about her and record
+measurements, and reason about these facts and measurements, but
+if he is to get the deepest vision of the Earth and learn the
+profoundest truth about her he must exercise his finest spiritual
+senses as well. And when he brings those faculties of the soul into
+play, it will be the Beauty on the face of Mother-Earth that he will
+see and that will disclose to him her real nature.
+
+And therefore I hold that if it be the function of Geography to know
+the Earth and to describe the Earth, then the objection that the
+description of its Natural Beauty is outside the scope of Geography
+is not a valid objection. The picture and the poem are as legitimate a
+part of Geography as the map.
+
+Some years ago in lecturing to the Royal Geographical Society I
+said that the Society ought to have given Wordsworth the Gold
+Medal. I meant that the poet by his vision had taught us more about
+the Lake District than any ordinary geographer had been able to see.
+With his finer sensibility he had been able to see deeper. He had
+been able to reveal to us truths about the district which no mere
+ordnance surveyor was able to disclose. He was a true discoverer--a
+geographical discoverer--a geographer of the highest type. He had
+helped us really to know and understand the district.
+
+Be it noted, too, that he did not, as some would think, put into the
+lakes and hills and valleys something from within himself which
+was not really in those natural features. The particular beauty that he
+saw there was there waiting to be revealed. The natural features
+aroused emotions in his sensitive soul, and his soul being aroused
+saw the beauty in them. If the district had been of billiard-table
+flatness, with no lakes, no hills, no valleys, then even he, with all his
+poetic feeling and imagination, could not have put into the district
+what it did not possess. The beauty that he saw was really there,
+only it required a poetic soul to discover and reveal it. The spirit of
+the poet put itself in touch with the spirit of the district and elicited
+from the district what was already in it. The spirit of Wordsworth
+and the spirit of the district acted and reacted upon one another and
+came into harmony with one another. And as he had the capacity for
+communicating to others what he himself had seen, we are now able
+to see in the Lakeland beauties which our forefathers had scarcely
+known.
+
+This is why I suggest to you that Natural Beauty should be
+considered as a legitimate part of Geography. And if you will look
+about you, you will note that Natural Beauty is having an increasing
+effect upon the movements of men. There is a very definite
+relationship between the Beauty of the Earth and her human
+inhabitants. The Poet Laureate builds his house on the top of Boar's
+Hill not because the soil is specially productive up there so that he
+may be able to grow food, for the soil is rather poor; not because
+water is easily available, for it is very difficult to get, as he found
+when his house took fire; not because of the climate, for the climate
+is just as good a hundred feet lower down; not because it is easily
+accessible to Oxford, for a big climb up the hill is entailed every
+time he returns from that city--not for any of these reasons did he
+build his house there, but because of the view which he obtains from
+that spot. It was Natural Beauty which drew, the Poet Laureate to
+Boar's Hill, as it was Natural Beauty which drew Tennyson to
+Blackdown to build Aldworth with a view all over the Surrey hills
+and the Sussex Downs.
+
+It is this same spell of Natural Beauty, too, which is drawing people
+all over England to build their houses on the most beautiful spots.
+Our great country-seats--the pride of England--are usually placed
+where the natural scenery is finest. Humbler dwellings whenever the
+owner has the opportunity of making a choice are for a similar
+reason built wherever a beautiful view, however limited, may be
+obtained. Whole towns even are built on spots where the
+surroundings are most beautiful, or, at any rate, if for some other
+reason they were located where they are they tend to spread in the
+direction of most beauty. Dartmouth was originally built where it is
+because that site made an excellent port. But the new town has
+spread all over the cliffs at the entrance of the harbour wherever a
+beautiful view may be found. It is the same with Torquay. People
+originally went there on account of the warm, soft air. But though
+they can get much the same air in any part of the Torquay area,
+where they like to build their houses is where they can get the finest
+views.
+
+On the Continent a similar tendency may be observed. Nice, Cannes,
+Monte Carlo, Biarritz, Montreux, Vevey, were no doubt originally
+located where they are for other reasons than only the facilities they
+afford for observing Natural Beauty, but that they have grown to
+what they are is undoubtedly due to Natural Beauty, and Natural
+Beauty has given the direction in which they have expanded. It is
+not by chance that villas and terraces and hotels have been built just
+on those particular points from which the most beautiful views may
+be seen.
+
+And how great is the influence of Natural Beauty upon the
+movements of men may be gathered from the amount of money
+railway  companies and hotels spend in advertising the charms of the
+particular localities which they serve. Railway-carriages are full of
+photographs and tourist agencies of pictures of different points in
+the neighbourhood of the railway or hotel. And we may be certain
+that business companies would not go to the expense of setting up
+these photographs and pictures if they did not think that people were
+influenced by them and would be tempted to travel to the scenes
+they depict.
+
+The development of char-a-banc tours is another indication of the
+attraction--and the increasing attraction--of Natural Beauty. Since
+the War, especially, there has been a remarkable tendency of people
+of every rank in life to rush off whenever they can get a holiday to
+the most beautiful parts of these islands--to the moors of Yorkshire
+and Devonshire, to the Wye, the Dart, and the Severn, to the
+mountains of Wales, Westmoreland, and Scotland--to wherever
+Natural Beauty may be found. It is a noteworthy and most refreshing
+feature in our national life.
+
+Every summer, too, both here and on the Continent, people make
+their way to the most beautiful parts of Europe--to Switzerland or
+the Pyrenees, the Vosges or the Rhine. And in the Dominions and
+America whenever they get their holidays they likewise trek away to
+mountain, lake, or river, wherever Nature may be enjoyed at her best.
+Men may, to carry on the ordinary business of life, be compelled to
+live in cities and places which are chosen for other reasons than their
+facilities for observing Natural Beauty. But whenever they can get
+away from their ordinary duties the tendency of men--and a
+tendency increasing in strength--is to fly away to the moors and
+sea-coast and river-sides and wherever else they can see the beauties of
+the Earth.
+
+Then, again, men are increasingly sensitive about preserving Natural
+Beauty wherever it is best. It is quite true that men by the building of
+industrial towns and the erection of hideous factories, mining plant,
+gasometers, and so on terribly destroy Natural Beauty. But they are
+at least becoming conscious of their sins in this respect and of what
+they have lost thereby. They are therefore the more anxious to
+preserve what remains. And whenever there is an attempt to build on
+Box Hill, or erect an electric power-station on Dartmoor, a howl of
+execration is raised. And this howl means that men do value Natural
+Beauty and mean to preserve it.
+
+Young countries also realise its value. In California the Yosemite
+Valley is preserved for ever for human enjoyment. And in Canada,
+Australia, and South Africa national parks are protected against the
+encroachments of industrial enterprises.
+
+Men not only preserve spots of Natural Beauty; they also seek to
+improve them. The nobleman of ancient lineage and the new
+millionaire alike strive to add to the beauty of their estates. The
+hours they love best are the hours they can devote to opening up
+vistas, planting beautiful trees or flowering shrubs from distant lands,
+building up rockeries, forming artificial lakes, laying out lawns, and
+stocking their gardens with the choicest flowers.
+
+The effect of Natural Beauty upon man and of man upon Natural
+Beauty is immense. Geographers take note of the effect which the
+Alps by reason of their height and ruggedness, or the Rhine by
+reason of its length, breadth, and depth, have upon the activities of
+men--upon their history, politics, and economic life. My contention
+is that equally should geographers note the effect which these same
+natural features of the Earth by reason of their _beauty_ have upon
+men's activities and movements.
+
+And when Natural Beauty is fully recognised as within the province
+of Geography, we shall be taught to pay to it the attention it
+deserves--taught to look for it, taught how to observe it, taught how
+to describe it, taught where are the regions of special beauty and
+wherein their beauty lies, and lastly taught where in an ordinary
+district Beauty may be found, for even in the flattest, dreariest
+region _some_ beauty at some time of day or at some season may be
+discovered. We shall, in short, be taught to cultivate the sense for
+Natural Beauty, and how to put in fitting words a description of the
+beauty we see. Our geography textbooks, besides all the
+mathematical, physical, political, and commercial geography they
+contain, will tell us something of the Natural Beauty of the countries
+they set themselves to describe. And geographers when they set
+themselves to describe a new region will not think it necessary to
+confine themselves within the old limits, but will do what the
+ordinary man instinctively does--describe its beauties.
+
+Our methods of describing countries will thus radically change. A
+few years ago Colonel Tanner of the Survey of India read to the
+Royal Geographical Society a paper entitled "Our Present
+Knowledge of the Himalaya." In that paper he gave an account of
+the height of the peaks, the trend of the mountain ranges, the course
+of the rivers, and a deal of other very valuable geographical
+information. But in only one single line did he make any remark
+about the natural beauty of that wonderful region. Yet this omission
+was not due to any lack of appreciation by Colonel Tanner of
+Himalayan beauty, for he himself had painted the finest pictures of
+the Himalaya which have yet been produced. He made no mention
+of it because he thought that to describe the natural beauty of the
+Himalaya was to stray beyond the bounds of Geography.
+
+Such a grievous misconception of the true scope of Geography will,
+I trust, be removed in future. And when it no longer exists
+Geography will require for its pursuit the exercise of the finest
+faculties of the soul as well as the strictest qualities of the intellect.
+It will call forth capacity for the closest and most accurate
+observation and the highest powers of description. To us
+adventure-loving and Nature-loving Englishmen it should of all
+subjects be the most popular.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Heart of Nature, by Francis Younghusband
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+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=windows-1252">
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Heart of Nature, by Sir Francis
+Younghusband</title>
+<style type="text/css">
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+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heart of Nature, by Francis Younghusband
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Heart of Nature
+       or, The Quest for Natural Beauty
+
+Author: Francis Younghusband
+
+Release Date: November 9, 2008 [EBook #27213]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF NATURE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ruth Hart
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p>[Note:&nbsp; for this online edition I have moved the Table of Contents to
+the beginning of the text and added three asterisks to mark breaks between
+sections.&nbsp; I have also made the following spelling changes:&nbsp; latitute to latitude and mountain ash berberis to mountain ash berberries]</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<center>
+<p>THE HEART OF NATURE</p>
+
+<p>OR</p>
+
+<p>THE QUEST FOR NATURAL BEAUTY</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>BY SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND<br>
+K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E.<br>
+PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY<br>
+AUTHOR OF &quot;THE HEART OF A CONTINENT&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>LONDON<br>
+JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET<br>
+1921</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>CONTENTS</p><br>
+
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td align="right"></td>
+
+<td><a href="#0">Preface</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">ix-x</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right"></td>
+
+<td><a href="#00">Introduction</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">xv-xxviii</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right"></td>
+
+<td><a href="#000">PART I</a></td>
+
+<td align="right"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter I.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#1">The Sikkim Himalaya.&nbsp; The sacred Ganges—A beneficent
+power—Beauty of the plains—First sight of the Himalaya</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">3-12</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter II.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#2">The Teesta Valley.&nbsp; Mystery of the forest—The
+gorges—Sequestered glens</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">13-19</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter III.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#3">The Forest.&nbsp; Butterflies—Ferns—Orchids—Flower
+friends—Rhododendrons—Temperate vegetation—Primulas—Artic vegetation—The range
+of vegetation</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">20-37</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter IV.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#4">The Denizens of the Forest.&nbsp;
+Butterflies—Moths—Birds—Reptiles—Mammals—Animal beauty—Primitive man—Higher
+races</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">38-54</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter V.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#5">The Sum Impression.&nbsp; Two views of Nature—Variety of
+life—Intensity of life—The battle of life—Adaptation and
+selection—Purposiveness—Purposeful structures—Interdependence—Organising
+Activity—Gradation—Care of offspring—the Activity not mechanical but
+Spiritual—Nature's end—a Common aspiration</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">55-85</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter VI.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#6">Kinchinjunga.&nbsp; The foothills—Darjiling—A vision of the
+mountain—Full view—Mountain grandeur—Dawn on the mountain—Sunset on the mountain</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">86-99</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter VII.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#7">High Solitudes.&nbsp; Kashmir—Barren mountains—Dazzling
+peaks—Purity of beauty</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">100-108</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter VIII.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#8">The Heavens.&nbsp; Desert sunsets—Tibetan sunsets—The stars—The
+whole universe our home—A Heavenly Presence</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">109-120</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter IX.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#9">Home Beauty.&nbsp; One's own country—Woman's beauty—Love and
+beauty—Their Divine Source—Wedding—Divine union—The Inmost Heart of Nature</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">121-134</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter X.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#10">The Nature of Nature.&nbsp; A spiritual background—Purpose in
+Nature—Higher beings—No confining plan—Immanent Spirit—Collective
+personality—England a Person—Nature a Person—Moved by an ideal—The ideal in
+plants—The ideal in animals—The ideal in the world</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">135-160</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter XI.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#11">Nature's Ideal.&nbsp; Battling with physical Nature—Battling
+with man—In tune with Nature—At the heart of the Universe is Love—Divine
+fellowship is Nature's Ideal</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">161-171</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">Chapter XII.</td>
+
+<td><a href="#12">The Heart of Nature.&nbsp; Picturing the Ideal—The Ideal
+Man—Man and woman—Perfecting the Ideal—Discipline necessary—Leadership—Nature's
+method—Our own responsibility—The lovability of nature—God at the Heart of
+Nature</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">172-192</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right"></td>
+
+<td><a href="#13">PART II</a></td>
+
+<td align="right"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right"></td>
+
+<td><a href="#13">Natural Beauty and Geography</a></td>
+
+<td align="right"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right"></td>
+
+<td><a href="#14">Presidential Address to the Royal Geographical Society</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">195-216</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right"></td>
+
+<td><a href="#15">An Address to the Union Society of University College, London</a></td>
+
+<td align="right">217-235</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</center><br>
+<a name="0"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>PREFACE</p>
+
+<p>The value of Knowledge and Character is duly impressed upon us. Of the value
+of Freedom we are told so much that we have come to regard it as an end in
+itself instead of only a means, or necessary condition. But Beauty we are
+half-inclined to connect with the effeminate. Poetry, Music, and Literature are
+under suspicion with the average English schoolboy, whose love of manliness he
+will share with nothing else. Yet love of Beauty persists in spite of all
+discouragement, and will not be suppressed. Natural Beauty, especially, insists
+on a place in our affections, derived originally from Love, and essentially and
+inseparably connected with it, Natural Beauty acknowledges supremacy to Love
+alone. And it deserves our generous recognition, for it is wholesome and
+refreshing for our souls.</p>
+
+<p>The acute observation and telling description of Natural Beauty is at least
+as necessary for the enjoyment of life as the pursuit of Natural Science to
+which so much attention is paid. For the concern of the former is the character,
+and of the latter only the cause of natural phenomena; and of the two, character
+is the more important. It is, indeed, high time that we Englishmen were more
+awake than we are to the value of Natural Beauty. For we are born lovers of
+Nature, and no more poetic race than ourselves exists. Our country at its best,
+on an early summer day, is the loveliest little home in all the world. And we go
+out from this island home of ours to every land. We have unrivalled
+opportunities, therefore, of seeing innumerable types of natural objects. By
+observing Nature in so many different aspects, and by comparing our impressions
+with one another, we ought to understand Nature better than any other race. And
+by entering more readily into communion with her we, better than others, should
+realise the Beauty she possesses.</p>
+
+<p>I am conscious of having myself made most inadequate use of the splendid
+opportunities my travels afforded me of seeing the Beauty of Nature. So I am all
+the more anxious that those following after me should not, by like omission,
+commit the same sin against themselves and against our country. We owe it to
+ourselves and to mankind to give full rein to our instinctive love of Natural
+Beauty, and to train and refine every inclination and capacity we have for
+appreciating it till we are able to see all those finer glories of which we now
+discern only the first faint glow.</p>
+
+<p>And if any other country excel us in appreciation, then it behoves us to
+brace ourselves up to emulate and surpass that country, and learn how to
+understand Nature better and see more Beauty. For in love of Natural Beauty, and
+in capacity for communicating that love, England ought to be preeminent. She
+above every other country should come nearest to the Heart of Nature.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; F. E. Y.<i><br>
+June,</i> 1921.</p><a name="00"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>INTRODUCTION</p>
+
+<p>Town children let loose in a meadow dash with shouts of joy to pluck the
+nearest flowers. They ravenously pick handfuls and armfuls as if they could
+never have enough. They are exactly like animals in the desert rushing to water.
+They are satisfying a great thirst in their souls—the thirst for Beauty. Some of
+us remember, too, our first sight of snowy mountains in the Alps or in the
+Himalaya. We recall how our spirits
+<i>leaped</i> to meet the mountains, how we gasped in wonder and greedily
+feasted our eyes on the glorious spectacle. In such cases as these there is
+something in the natural object that appeals to something in us. Something in us
+rushes out to meet the something in the natural object. A responsive chord is
+struck. A relationship is established. We and the natural object come into
+harmony with one another. We have recognised in the flower, the mountain, the
+landscape, something that is the same as what is in ourselves. We fall in love
+with the natural object. A marriage takes place. Our soul is wedded to the soul
+of the natural object. And at the very moment of wedding Beauty is born. It
+springs from Love, just as Love itself originally sprang from the wedding of
+primitive man and woman.</p>
+
+<p>In this process all will depend upon the mood. If we are not in the mood for
+it, we are unreceptive of Nature's impressions, and we are irresponsive. We do
+not come into touch with Nature. Consequently we see no Beauty. But if we are in
+a sensitive and receptive mood, if our minds are not preoccupied, and if our
+soul is open to the impressions which Nature is ever raining on it, then we
+respond to Nature's appeal. We feel ourselves in tune with her. We come into
+communion with her, and we see Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>If we are ourselves feeling sad and sorrowful when we look out on Nature, and
+there all should happen to be bright and gay, we shall feel out of harmony with
+Nature, we shall not feel in touch with her, and we shall not see Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, when we are in a glad and overflowing mood we shall be
+extraordinarily responsive to Nature's appeal, and see Beauty in a rugged,
+leafless oak tree or a poor old woman at the corner of some mean street. And if
+when we are in such a mood Nature happens to be at her best and brightest, as on
+some spring morning, the Beauty we shall then see will be overpowering, and we
+shall scarcely be able to contain ourselves for ecstasy of joy.</p>
+
+<p>We shall have discovered an identity between what is in Nature and what is in
+us. In looking on Nature, we shall have been introduced into a Presence, greater
+than ourselves but like ourselves, which stirs in us this which we feel. When we
+see Beauty in Nature we are discovering that Nature is not merely a body, but <i>
+has</i> or <i>is</i> a soul. And the joy we feel is produced by the satisfaction
+our soul feels in coming into touch and harmony with this soul of Nature. Our
+soul is recognising samenesses between what is in it and what is in the soul of
+Nature, and feels joy in the recognition.</p>
+
+<p>And the instinct of fellowship with our kind impels us to communicate to
+others what we ourselves have felt. We want to tell others what we have seen and
+what we have experienced.</p>
+
+<p>We long, too, to share the joy which others also must have felt in
+contemplating Nature. We want especially to know and feel what those with far
+more sensitive souls than our own—the great poets, painters, and musicians—have
+felt. So we communicate our feelings to others; and we communicate with others,
+either personally or through their books or pictures or music, so that we may
+find out from them what more to look for, and may know better how to look for
+it. By so doing, our souls become more sensitive to the impressions of Nature,
+and we are better able to express those impressions. Our power of vision
+increases. Our soul's eye acquires a keener insight and sees deeper into the
+soul of Nature. We are able to enter more into the spirit of Nature, and the
+spirit of Nature is able to enter more into us. We arrive at a completer
+understanding between ourselves and Nature, are more in harmony with her, and
+consequently see more Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>We see, indeed, what Nature really is. We see the reality behind the
+appearance—the content within the outward form. We are not for the moment
+concerned with the <i>cause</i> but with the <i>character</i> of Nature. We see
+the &quot;I&quot; behind the outward manifestation and representation. And if we have
+sympathy and understanding enough and are able truly to enter into the soul of
+Nature, we shall see the real &quot;I&quot; behind the common everyday &quot;I&quot;—just as the few
+who intimately know some great man see the real man behind the man who appears
+in the public eye—the real Beaconsfield or Kitchener behind the Beaconsfield or
+Kitchener of the daily press. And, as we see more of this real &quot;I&quot; in Nature and
+are better able to get in touch and harmony with her, so shall we see greater
+Beauty in Nature.</p>
+
+<p>If we have petty, meagre souls we shall find little in common with the great
+soul of Nature, and consequently see only shallow Beauty. If we have great souls
+we shall have more in common and see more Beauty. But to arrive at a full
+understanding of the real Nature we must observe her from every point of view
+and see her in all her aspects. Only so shall we be able to understand her real
+self and see her full Beauty. And her aspects and the points of view from which
+we may observe them change so incessantly that the greatest of us falters. The
+more we see of Nature, the more we find there is to understand. And the more we
+understand Nature and commune with her, the more Beauty do we find there is to
+see. So to arrive at a complete understanding of Nature and see all her Beauty
+is beyond the capacity of us finite men.</p>
+
+<p>Yet we are impelled to go on striving to see all we can. And in the following
+pages an attempt is made to show how, more Beauty in Nature may be discovered.</p>
+
+<p>Often in the Himalaya I have watched an eagle circling overhead. I have sat
+on the mountain-side and watched it sail majestically along in graceful curves
+and circles, and with perfect ease and poise. Far above the earth it would
+range, and seemingly without exertion glide easily over tracts that we poor men
+could only enter by prodigious effort. Captivated by its grace of motion, and
+jealous of its freedom, I would for hours watch it. And this eagle I knew, from
+the height and distance from which it would swoop down on its prey, to be
+possessed of eyesight of unrivalled keenness in addition to its capacity for
+movement.</p>
+
+<p>So this bird had opportunities such as no human being—not even an airman—has
+of seeing the earth and what is on it. At will it could glide over the loftiest
+mountain ranges. At will it could sail above the loveliest valleys. At will it
+could perch upon any chosen point and observe things at close range. In a single
+day this one eagle might have seen the finest natural scenery in the world—the
+highest mountain, the most varied forest, thickly populated plains and bare,
+open plains, peoples, animals, birds, insects, trees, flowers, all of the most
+varied description. In one day, and in the ordinary course of its customary
+circlings and sailings, it might have seen what men come from the ends of the
+Earth to view, and are content if they see only a hundredth part of what the
+eagle sees every day.</p>
+
+<p>From its mountain eerie in Upper Sikkim it might have seen the rose of dawn
+flushing the snowy summits of Kinchinjunga, and far away Mount Everest. And
+soaring aloft, the eagle might have looked out over the populous plains of India
+and seen, like silver streaks, the rivers flowing down from the Himalaya to join
+in the far distance the mighty Mother Ganges. Then its eye might have ranged
+over the vast forest which clothes in dense green mantle the plain at the foot
+of the mountains from Nepal to Bhutan and Assam, and from the plain spreads up
+on the mountain-sides themselves and reaches to the very borders of eternal
+snow. Over this vast forest with its treasures of tree and plant, animal and
+insect life, tropical, temperate, and alpine, the eagle might have soared; and
+then, passing over the Himalayan watershed, have looked down upon the treeless,
+open, undulating, almost uninhabited plain of Tibet, and in the distance seen
+the great Brahmaputra River, which, circling round Bhutan, cuts clean through
+the Himalaya and, turning westward, also joins the Ganges.</p>
+
+<p>In the whole world no more wonderful natural scenery is to be found. And the
+eagle with no unusual effort could see it all in a single day, and see it with a
+distinctness of sight no man could equal. But keen though its eyesight was and
+wide though its range, the eagle in all that beautiful region would see not a
+single beauty. Neither in the sunrise, nor in the snowy mountains, nor in the
+luxuriant tropical forest, nor in the flowers, the birds, the butterflies, nor
+in the people and animals, nor in the cataracts and precipices would it see any
+beauty whatever. The mountain would be to it a mere outline, the forests a patch
+of green, the rivers streaks of white, the animals just possible items of food.
+The eagle would see much, but it would see no beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps we shall understand why it is that the eagle with these unbounded
+opportunities sees no beauty if we consider the case of a little midge buzzing
+round a man's body. The midge is roughly in about the same relation to the body
+of a man that the eagle is to the body of the Earth. The midge in its hoverings
+sees vast tracts of the human body; sees the features—the nose, the eye, the
+mouth; sees the trunk and the limbs and the head. But even in the most beautiful
+of men it would see no beauty. And it would see no beauty because it would have
+no soul to understand expression. It might be hovering round the features of a
+man when the smile on his lips and the exaltation in his eyes were expressive of
+the highest ecstasy of soul, but the midge would see no beauty in those features
+because it had not the soul to enter into the soul of the man and understand the
+expression on his face. All the little shades and gradations and tones and
+lights in the features of the man would be quite meaningless to the midge
+because it would know nothing of the man's soul, of which the features and the
+changes and variations in them were the outward manifestation. The midge would
+know nothing of the reality of the man which lay hidden behind the appearance.</p>
+
+<p>It is the same with the eagle in respect to natural features as it is with
+the midge in respect to the features of the man. The eagle sees only the bare
+outward appearance of Nature, and sees no meaning in her features. It has no
+soul to enter into the soul of Nature and understand what the natural features
+are expressing. The delicate lights and shades and changes on the face of Nature
+have no meaning for it. It sees the bare appearance. It sees nothing of the
+reality behind the appearance. It has no soul to wed to the soul of Nature. It
+therefore sees no beauty.</p>
+
+<p>But now supposing that among all the midges that buzz about a man there
+happened to be an artist-midge with exceeding sensitiveness of soul, one which
+was able to recognise a fundamental identity of life between it and the man, one
+which was able to recognise samenesses of feelings and emotions and aspirations,
+and by recognition of the samenesses between it and the man enter into the very
+life and soul of the man, then that midge would be able to understand all the
+varying expressions on the face of the man, and by understanding those
+expressions see their beauty.</p>
+
+<p>We cannot expect an eagle in a similar way to have that sensitiveness of soul
+which would enable it to enter into the soul of Nature, understand Nature, and
+so see its Beauty. But what we cannot expect of the eagle we can expect of man.
+We can expect an Artist to appear who will be to the Earth what the artist-midge
+was to the man.</p>
+
+<p>Man does to some extent enter into the soul of Nature. He has <i>some</i>
+understanding of Nature. He sees Beauty; and whenever he sees Beauty in Nature
+he is in touch with the soul of Nature. Even ordinary men see some of the Beauty
+of Nature and have some feeling of kinship with her. They have something in
+common between their soul and the soul of Nature. They have the sense of more in
+common between them and Nature than a midge has between it and a man.</p>
+
+<p>And in a delicately sensitive man such as an artist—painter, poet, or
+musician—this sense of kinship with Nature is highly developed. In regard to his
+relationship with Nature he is like the finely sensitive and cultured
+artist-midge would be in regard to a man—the midge who, through understanding
+the inner soul and character of the man, was able to read the expression on his
+features and see their beauty.</p>
+
+<p>What we ordinary men have to do, and what we especially want those gifted
+with unusually sensitive souls to do, is to bear in mind the difficulties which
+the midge has in understanding us and in seeing any beauty in us, and the way in
+which it would have to train and cultivate its faculties before it could ever
+hope to understand the expression on our features—to bear this in mind, and then
+to take ourselves in hand and develop the soul within us till it is fine enough
+and great enough to enter into the great soul of Nature.</p>
+
+<p>The sense of Beauty we all possess in some slight degree is in itself a proof
+that behind the outward appearance of Nature there is a spiritual reality—an
+&quot;I&quot;—just as behind the outward appearance of the man which the artist-midge sees
+there is the &quot;I&quot; of the man. And by cultivating this sense—that is, by training
+and developing our capacity to see deeper into the heart of Nature, see more
+significance and meaning in each shade and change of her features, and read more
+understandingly what is going on deep within her soul—we shall enable ourselves
+to see a fuller and richer Natural Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>So we look forward to the appearance among us of a great Artist who, born
+with an exceptionally sensitive soul, will deliberately heighten and intensify
+this sensitiveness, learn what others have experienced, compare notes with them,
+and train himself to detect the significance of every slightest indication which
+Nature gives of the workings of the soul within her; and then, recognising the
+sameness between his own feelings and the feelings of Nature, will fall deeply
+in love with her, give himself up utterly to her, marry her, and in their
+marriage give birth to Beauty of surpassing richness and intensity.</p>
+
+<p>What we await, then, is an Artist with a soul worthy of being wedded to
+Nature. Puny, shallow artists will not be able to see much more of Nature than a
+midge sees of a man. What we want is a man with the physique, the abounding
+health and spirits, the fine intellect, the poetic power and imagination, the
+love of animals and his fellow-men, the skill, fitness, and gay courage of a
+Julian Grenfell. We want a man with the opportunities he had of mixing from
+childhood in London and in country houses with every grade and condition of men,
+with statesmen, soldiers, men of art, hunting men, racing men, schoolboys,
+undergraduates, literary men, gamekeepers, old family retainers—every kind and
+sort of human being. We want a man of such qualifications combined with the
+qualifications of a Darwin—with his love of natural history, his power of close
+and accurate observation, his genius for drawing right inferences from what he
+observed, his wide knowledge of Nature in her many manifestations, his
+sympathetic touch with every plant and animal, and his warm, affectionate nature
+in all human intercourse.</p>
+
+<p>We want, in fact, a Naturalist-Artist—a combination of Julian Grenfell and
+Darwin. And this is no outrageously impossible, but a very likely and fitting
+combination. For Julian Grenfell wrote great poetry even in the trenches in
+Flanders between the two battles of Ypres. And with his love of country life,
+shooting, fishing, and hunting, his inclination might very easily have been
+directed towards natural history. If it had been and the opportunity had
+offered, we might have had the very type of Naturalist-Artist we are now
+awaiting. He would have had the physical fitness and capacity to endure
+hardships which are required for travel in parts of the Earth where the Natural
+Beauty is finest, and he would have had, too, the sensitiveness of soul to
+receive impressions and the power of expressing himself so that others might
+share with him the impressions he had felt. If after passing through the earlier
+stages of shooting and hunting birds and animals he had come to the more
+profitable stage of observing them, and had devoted to the observation of their
+habits and ways of life the same skill and acumen which he had shown in hunting
+them, he might, with his innate and genuine love of animals, very well have
+become a great naturalist as well as what he was—a great sportsman and a writer
+of great poetry.</p>
+
+<p>It is for the advent of such Naturalist-Artist that we wait. But we have to
+prepare the way for him and do our share in helping to produce him. And this
+will now be my endeavour, for it so happens that I have been blessed with
+opportunities—some of my own making, some provided for me—of seeing Nature on a
+larger scale and under more varied aspects than falls to the lot of most men. I
+am ashamed when I reflect how little use I have made of those opportunities—how
+little I was prepared and trained to make the most of them. But this at least I
+can do: I can point out to the coming Artist those parts of the world where he
+is likely to see the Beauty of Nature most fully, and in greatest variety.</p>
+
+<p>With this end in view I shall begin with the Sikkim Himalaya, over which the
+eagle flew, because it contains within a small area a veritable compendium of
+Nature. Rising directly out of the plains of India, practically within the
+tropics, these mountains rise far above the limits of perpetual snow. Their base
+is covered with luxuriant vegetation of a truly tropical character, and this
+vegetation extends through all the ranges from tropical to temperate and arctic.
+The animal, bird, and insect life does the same. And here also are to be found
+representative men of every clime. Similarly does the natural scenery vary from
+plain to highest mountain. There are roaring torrents and wide, placid rivers.
+The Sikkim Himalaya, looking down on the plains of India on the one side and the
+steppes of Tibet on the other, is the most suitable place I know for a study of
+Natural Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>But there are beauties in Kashmir and in the great Karakoram Mountains behind
+Kashmir which are not found in Sikkim. And there are beauties in the Desert
+which are not found in either Sikkim or Kashmir. So I must take the Artist to
+these regions also.</p>
+
+<p>And I choose Sikkim and Kashmir because these are easily accessible regions
+to which men with a thirst for Beauty can return again and again, till they are
+saturated with the atmosphere and have imbibed the true spirit of the
+region—till they have realised how much these natural features express
+sentiments which they, too, are wanting to express—their aspirations for the
+highest and purest, their longing for repose, their delight in warmth and
+affection, or whatever their sentiment might be. Thousands of Englishmen,
+cultured Indians, and travellers from all over the world, visit the Himalaya
+every year—some for sport, some for health, some for social enjoyment. Amongst
+these may be our Naturalist-Artist who year after year, drawn to Sikkim and
+Kashmir by his love of Natural Beauty, would learn to know Nature in the
+wonderfully varied aspects under which she is to be seen in those favoured
+regions, who would come into ever-deepening communion with her, would yearly see
+more Beauty in her, and would communicate to us the enjoyment he had felt.</p>
+
+<p>But Natural Beauty includes within its scope a great deal more than only
+natural scenery. It includes the beauty of all natural objects—men and women as
+well as mountains, animals, and plants. So these also the Artist will have to
+keep within his purview. And his love of Nature, and consequently his capacity
+for seeing Natural Beauty, will be all the surer if he uses his head as well as
+his heart in forming his final conception of her—that is to say, his final for
+the moment, as no man ever has or
+<i>can</i> come to a literally final conception of Nature. So the Artist will
+pause now and then to test his view of Nature in the light of pure reason. For
+he will be well enough aware that neither Love nor Beauty can be perfect unless
+it be irradiated with Truth, and the three he will ever strive to keep together.</p><a name="000"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>PART I</p>
+
+<p>THE HEART OF NATURE</p><a name="1"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER I</p>
+
+<p>THE SIKKIM HIMALAYA</p>
+
+<p>The Sikkim Himalaya is a region first brought prominently into notice by the
+writings of Sir Joseph Hooker, the great naturalist, who visited it in 1848. It
+lies immediately to the east of Nepal, and can now be reached by a railway which
+ascends the outer range to Darjiling. It is drained by the Teesta River, up the
+main valley of which a railway runs for a short distance. The region is
+therefore easily accessible. For the purposes of this book it may be taken to
+include the flat open forest and grass-covered tract known as the Terai,
+immediately at the base of the mountain. This is only a few hundreds of feet
+above sea-level, so that from there to the summit of the Himalaya there is a
+rise of nearly 28,000 feet in about seventy miles. The lower part is in the 26th
+degree of latitude, so that the heat is tropical. And as the region comes within
+the sweep of the monsoon from the Bay of Bengal, there is not only great heat in
+the plains and lower valleys, but great moisture as well. The mountain-sides are
+in consequence clothed with a luxuriant vegetation.</p>
+
+<p>To enter this wonderful region the traveller has first to cross the
+Ganges—the sacred river of the Hindus. Great rivers have about them a
+fascination all their own. They produce in us a sense of everlastingness and
+irresistibility. The Ganges, more than a mile wide, comes sweeping along in deep
+majestic flood from the far distance to the far distance, on and on unendingly,
+from all time to all time, and in such depth and volume that nothing human can
+withstand it. In the dry season, when it is low and the sun is shining, it is
+placid and benign with a bright and smiling countenance. Stately temples, set
+amidst sacred groves and graceful palms, lighten the banks. On the broad steps
+of the bathing ghats are assembled crowds of pious worshippers in clothes of
+every brilliant hue. The river has an aspect of kindliness and geniality and
+life-givingness. Its waters and rich silt have brought plenty to many a barren
+acre, and the dwellers on its banks know well that it issues from the holy
+Himalaya.</p>
+
+<p>But the Ganges is not always in this gracious mood, and does not always wear
+this kindly aspect. In the rainy season it is a thing of terror. Overhead black,
+thundery clouds sweep on for days and weeks together towards the mountains.
+There is not a glimpse of sun. The rain descends as a deluge. The river is still
+further swollen by the melting of the snow on the Himalaya, and now comes
+swirling along in dark and angry mood, rising higher and higher in its banks,
+eating into them, and threatening to overtop them and carry death and
+destruction far and wide. Men no longer go down to meet it. They shrink back
+from it. They uneasily watch it till the fulness of its strength is spent and it
+has returned to its normal beneficent aspect.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder such a river is regarded as sacred. To the more primitive people it
+is literally a living person—and a person who may be propitiated, a person who
+may do them harm if they annoy him, and do them good if they make themselves
+agreeable to him and furnish him with what he wants. To the cultured Hindus it
+is an object of the deepest reverence. If they can bathe in its waters their
+sins are washed away. If after death their ashes can be cast on its broad bosom,
+they will be secure of everlasting bliss. From perhaps the earliest days of our
+race, for some hundreds of thousands of years, men may have lived upon its
+banks. For it was in the forests beside great rivers, in a warm and even
+climate, that primitive men must have lived. They would have launched their
+canoes upon its waters, and used it as their only pathway of communication with
+one another. And always they would have looked upon it with mingled awe and
+affection. Besides the sun it would have been the one great natural object which
+would attract their attention. Insensibly the sight of that ever-rolling flood
+must have deeply affected them. They must have come to love it as they beheld it
+through the greater part of the year. The sight of its destructive power may
+have made them recoil for a time in fear and awe. But this would be forgotten as
+the flood subsided, and the river was again smooth and smiling and passing
+peacefully along before them.</p>
+
+<p>So men do not run away from it. They gather to it. They build great cities on
+its banks, and come from great distances to see it. They perform pilgrimages
+every year in thousands to the spot where it issues from the Himalaya. And they
+penetrate even to its source far back and high up in the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>To the most enlightened, also, the Ganges should be an object of reverence
+for its antiquity, for its future, and for its power. From the surface of the
+Bay of Bengal the sun's rays have drawn particles of water into the atmosphere.
+Currents in the air have carried them for hundreds of miles over the sea and
+over the plains of Bengal, till the chill of the Himalaya Mountains has caused
+them to condense and fall in snow and rain. But some have been carried farther.
+They have been transported right over the Himalaya at a height of at least
+20,000 feet, till they have finally fallen in Tibet. It is a striking fact that
+some of the water in the Ganges is from rivers in Tibet which have cut their way
+clean through the mighty range of the Himalaya. The Arun River, for example,
+rises in Tibet and cuts through the Himalaya by a deep gorge in the region
+between Mount Everest and Kinchinjunga. These rivers are, indeed, much older
+than the mountains. They were running their course before the Himalaya were
+upheaved, and they kept wearing out a channel for themselves as the mountains
+rose and slowly over-towered them.</p>
+
+<p>Reverence, therefore, is due to the Ganges on account of its vast antiquity.
+Reverence also is due because it will flow on like now for hundreds of thousands
+and perhaps for millions of years to come. Round and round in never-ceasing
+cycle the water is drawn up from the ocean, is carried along in the clouds,
+descends upon the mountains, and gathers in the Ganges to flow once more into
+the sea. The Ganges may gradually change its course as it eats into first one
+bank and then the other. But it will flow on and on and on for as far into the
+future as the human eye can ken.</p>
+
+<p>And its power, so terrifying to primitive man—even to us at times—will become
+more and more a power for good. Already great canals have been taken from its
+main stream and its tributaries, and millions of acres have been irrigated by
+its water, thus helping to bring to birth great crops of wheat and rice, cotton,
+sugar-cane, and oil-seeds. Schemes for utilising the water-power in its fall
+through the mountains by converting it into electric power are in contemplation,
+so that railways may be run by it and power for great industries be furnished.
+Once more, too, the course of the river may become a line of communication as
+sea-planes are used to fly from town to town and alight upon its surface.</p>
+
+<p>So as we come to know the river in its deepest significance, our impression
+of its everlastingness and its irresistible power remains. But our sense of fear
+diminishes. We feel that the river is ready to co-operate with us. That it is
+capable of being taken in hand and led. That its power is not essentially
+destructive but beneficent. That there is in it almost inexhaustible capacity
+for helping plant and beast and man. And that it is a friend and anxious to help
+us.</p>
+
+<p>The Hindus have been right all along in worshipping it. Their worship, with
+tropical luxuriance, may have developed to extravagant lengths. But the instinct
+which promoted this worship was perfectly sound. The river bears within its
+breast great life-giving properties, and in worshipping the river the Hindus
+were half-consciously expressing their sense of dependence on these life-giving
+properties, and of affection and gratitude to the river for the benefits it
+conferred. Mere fear of its destructive character—fear alone—would not produce
+the desire for worship. They did and do fear the river, but behind the fear is a
+feeling that it <i>can</i> be propitiated, that it <i>can</i> be induced to help
+man and does not want to thwart him. And here they were perfectly right. We are
+at last learning the way by which this may be done, and now see clearly what the
+Hindus only vaguely felt, that the heart of the river is right enough—that once
+it is tamed and trained it can bring untold good to man.</p>
+
+<p>This the Artist will readily discern. He will enter into the spirit of the
+river. He will read its true character. Refusing to be terrorised by its more
+tremendous moods, he will exult in its might, and see in it a potent agency for
+good. In these ways the river will make its appeal to him; and responding to the
+appeal, the Artist will see great Beauty in the river and describe that Beauty
+to us.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Beyond the river, before we reach the mountain, we have to pass over
+absolutely level cultivated plains, without a single eminence in sight. To most
+they would appear dull, monotonous, uninteresting. There is no horizon to which
+the eye can wander and find satisfaction in remote distance. There is no hill to
+which to raise our eyes and our souls with them. The outlook is confined within
+the narrowest limits. Palm trees, banyan trees, houses, walled gardens,
+everywhere restrict it. The fields are small, the trees and houses numerous.
+Nothing distant is to be seen. To the European the prospect is depressing. But
+to the Bengali it is his very life. These densely inhabited plains are his home.
+They have, therefore, all the attraction which familiar scenes in which men have
+grown up from childhood always have. A Bengali prefers them to high mountains.
+He loves the sight of the brilliant emerald rice-fields, of the tall feathery
+palms, of the shady banyan trees, of the flaming poinsettias, the bright
+marigolds, cannas and bougainvillea, the many-coloured crotons and calladiums,
+the sweet-scented jasmine, oranges, tuberoses, and gardenia; and the gaudy jays,
+the swiftly darting parrots, and the playful squirrels. He loves, too, the
+bathing-pools, and the patient oxen, and the cool, sequestered gardens. And he
+loves these things for their very nearness. His attention is not distracted to
+distant horizons and inaccessible heights. All is close to the eye and easily
+visible. His world may be small, but it is all within reach. He can know well
+each tree and flower, each bird and animal. It is not a wide and varied life.
+But it is an intense and very vivid life; and to the Bengali, on that account,
+more preferable. And if it is confined it is at least confined in the open air,
+and in a climate of perpetual summer.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Beyond this highly cultivated and thickly populated part, and still in the
+plains, we come to a wild jungle country which stretches up to the foothills,
+and is swampy, pestilential, and swarming with every kind of biting insect. It
+is a nasty country to travel through. But it has its interests. There grow here
+remarkable grasses, with tall straight shoots gracefully bending over at the top
+from the weight of their feathery heads; and so high are these gigantic grasses
+that they often reach above the head of a man on an elephant. The areas covered
+by them are practically impenetrable to men on foot, and there is a mysterious
+feel about this region, for it is the haunt of rhinoceros, tigers, and boars. In
+passing through it we have an uneasy feeling that almost anything may appear on
+the instant, and that once we were on foot and away from the path we would be
+irretrievably lost—drowned in a sea of waving grass.</p>
+
+<p>From this sea of grass rise patches of forest and single trees. The most
+prevalent is the Sal tree <i>(Shorea robusta),</i> a magnificent gregarious tree
+with a tall straight stem and thick glossy foliage. But the most conspicuous in
+March and April is the D<font face="Times New Roman">á</font>k tree <i>(Butea
+frondosa),</i> an ungainly tree, but remarkable for its deep rich scarlet
+flowers, like gigantic sweet-peas but of a thick velvety texture. These flowers
+blossom before the leaves appear, and when the tree is in full bloom it looks
+like a veritable flame in the forest.</p>
+
+<p>Another beautiful tree which is found in this lower part is the <i>Acacia
+catechu,</i>
+known in Northern India as the Khair tree, and found all about the foothills of
+the Himalaya. Not tall and stately, but rather contorted and ample like the oak,
+it has a graceful feathery foliage and a kindly inviting nature.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Proceeding over these level plains, which as we approach the mountains are
+covered with dense forest, stagnant morasses, and trim tea-gardens, we one
+morning awake to find that over the horizon to the north hangs a long cloud-like
+strip, white suffused with pink—level on its lower edge but with the upper edge
+irregular in outline. No one who had not seen snow mountains before would
+suppose for a moment that that strip could be a line of mountain summits. For
+there is not a trace of any connection with the earth. Between it and the earth
+is nothing but blue haze. And it is so high above the horizon that it seems
+incredible that any such connection could exist. Yet no one who <i>had</i>
+seen snow mountains could doubt for an instant that that rose-flushed strip of
+white was the Himalaya. For it possesses two unmistakable characteristics which
+distinguish it from any cloud. Firstly, the lower edge is absolutely straight
+and horizontal: it is exactly parallel with the horizon. Secondly, the upper
+edge is jagged, and the outline of the jaggedness cuts clean and perfectly
+defined against the intense blue of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>No one who knows mountains could doubt that this line was the Himalaya, yet
+every time we see it afresh we marvel more. We know for certain that those sharp
+edges <i>are</i>
+the summits of mountains whose base is on this solid earth. Yet, however sure we
+may be of that fact, we do not cease to wonder. And as we gaze upon that line of
+snowy summits no more—indeed, less—intrinsically beautiful than many a cloud,
+yet unspeakably more significant, we are curiously elated. Something in us leaps
+to meet the mountains. And we cannot keep our eyes away. We seem lifted up, and
+feel higher possibilities within ourselves and within the world than we had ever
+known before. As we travel onward we strain to keep the mountains continually in
+sight, for we cannot bear to leave them. We feel better men for having seen
+them, and for the remainder of our days we would keep them in continuing
+remembrance.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>As we come closer under the mountains the base emerges from the haze and the
+line of snowy peaks disappears behind the nearer outer ranges. Then we come to
+these ranges themselves, which rise with considerable abruptness out of the
+level plains with very little intermediate modulation of form, and we find them
+densely clothed in forest—true, rich, luxuriant, tropical forest with all the
+delights of glistening foliage, graceful ferns and palms, glorious orchids, and
+brilliant butterflies.</p><a name="2"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER II</p>
+
+<p>THE TEESTA VALLEY</p>
+
+<p>This great forest, which extends for hundreds of miles along the slopes of
+the Himalaya, reaches up from the plains to the snows. In the lower part it is a
+truly tropical forest, and about a tropical forest there is something peculiarly
+mysterious. A strange stillness is over all. Not, indeed, the absolute silence
+of the desert, where literally not a sound is heard; for here in the forest,
+even during the hot noonday quiet, there is always the purring of insect life.
+But that stillness when not a leaf moves and no harsh noise is heard, when an
+impressive hush is laid upon the scene and we seem to be in some mysterious
+Presence dominating all about us and rousing our expectancy.</p>
+
+<p>A kind of awe seizes us, and with it also comes a keen exhilaration. We can
+see at most for a hundred yards in any direction. But we know that the forest
+extends like this for hundreds of miles. And we realise that if we wandered off
+the track we might never find it again. It is all very awe-inspiring, and in
+some ways frightening. Still, we are thrilled by the sight of such a profusion,
+intensity, and variety of life. In this hot, steamy atmosphere plants and trees
+grow in luxuriant abundance. Every inch of soil is occupied. And these forests
+are not like woods in England, which contain only three or four species—oaks,
+beeches, sycamores, etc. In these Sikkim forests we seldom see two trees of the
+same kind standing next each other. One tree may be more prevalent than others,
+but there is always great variety in the forms and colours of the stems, the
+branches, the leaves, the flowers, the habit of growth. There are trees of
+immense height with tall, strong, straight stems, and there are shrubs like
+hydrangeas of every size and description. There are climbers as huge as cables.
+And there are gentle little plants hardly rising above the ground. There is no
+end to the variety of plant life, and we have an inner spring of delight as we
+come across treasure after treasure that hitherto we had only seen reared with
+infinite care in some expensive hot-house.</p>
+
+<p>And what we see is only, we feel, a stray sample of what there is to be seen.
+What may there not be in those forest depths which we dare not enter for fear of
+losing our way! What other towering forest monarchs might we not come across if
+we plunged into the forest! What other exquisite flowers, what insects, what
+birds, what animals! What wealth of insect life may there not be at the tops of
+the trees where the fierce sunshine hidden from us by their leaves is drawing
+out their flowers! What may there not be going on in the ground beneath us! We
+know, that in these forests, perhaps near enough to see us, though their forms
+are hidden by their likeness to their leafy surroundings and the dappled
+sunlight, are animals as various as elephants, tigers, leopards, foxes,
+squirrels, and bats; birds as various as hawks, parrots, and finches; and
+insects from butterflies, bees, and wasps to crickets, beetles, and ants. The
+forest, we know, in addition to all the wealth of tree and plant life, is
+teeming with animal and insect life, though of this we are able to see very
+little, so carefully do animals conceal themselves. In the night they emerge,
+and in the morning and evening there is a deafening din of insect life. But at
+noonday there is a soft and solemn hush, and we are tense with curiosity to know
+all that is going on in those mysterious forest depths and up among the
+tree-tops, so close but so impossible of access.</p>
+
+<p>The great forest is the very epitome of life. Concentrated here in small
+compass is every form and variety of living thing, from lowliest plant to forest
+monarch, from simplest animalcule to elephant, monkey, and man. There is life
+and abundant life all about us. But it is not the noisy, clamorous, obtrusive
+life of the city. It is a still, intense life, full of untold possibilities for
+good or harm. And herein lies its mystery: we see much, but we feel that there
+is infinitely more behind.</p>
+
+<p>Of this life of the forest in all its richness, intensity, and variety we
+shall come to know more as we ascend the Teesta Valley till it reaches the
+snows, and tropical plant and animal life changes first to temperate and then to
+arctic forms. But first we must note some beauties of the valley itself.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>The valley of the great Teesta River, the valleys of its tributaries, the
+gorges through which the main river and its tributaries rush, the cascades
+pouring in succession down the mountain-sides, the sequestered glens and
+dells—all these have beauties which the terrific rain and the mists in which
+they are usually enveloped do not hide but augment.</p>
+
+<p>The River Teesta itself, though only a minor contributor to the Brahmaputra,
+is nevertheless during the rainy season, when it is fed both by the falling rain
+and by the melting snows and glaciers of the Kinchinjunga region, impressive in
+its might and energy. With a force and tumult that nothing could withstand it
+comes swirling down the valley. Before its rushing impetuosity everything would
+be swept away. For it is no little tossing torrent: it possesses depth and
+weight and volume, and sweeps majestically along in great waves and cataracts.
+In comparison with the serene composure of the lofty summits here is life and
+force and activity to the full—and destructive activity at that, to all
+appearance. Yet as, from the safety of a bridge by which the genius of man has
+spanned it, we look upon the turmoil, a strange thrill comes through us. There
+is such splendid energy in the river. We are fascinated by the power it
+displays. It is glorious to look upon. Alarming in a way it is. But we know it
+can only act within certain strictly defined bounds. A foot beyond those bounds
+it is powerless. And while it is already confined by Nature within these limits,
+we know the day will come when it will be completely within the control of man
+and its very power available for our own purposes. So in the end it is with no
+sense of terror that we watch the raging river in its headlong course. Rather do
+we enjoy the sight of such exultant energy, which will one day be at man's
+disposal. We rejoice with the river in a feeling of power, and herein lies its
+Beauty for us.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>As we look at the tremendous gorges through which the river clears its way we
+again are filled with awe and wonder. Straight facing us is a clean, sheer cliff
+of hardest, sternest rock. It cannot be actually perpendicular, but to all
+appearance it is. And the mere sight of it strengthens our souls. Here is
+granite solidity, and yet no mere stolid obstinacy. For these cliffs have
+risen—so the geologists tell us—through their own internal energy to their
+present proud position. They have, indeed, had to give place to the river to
+this extent that they have had to acknowledge his previous right of way and to
+leave a passage for him in their upward effort. The river is careful to exact
+that much toll from them year by year. But having paid that toll, they have
+risen by a process of steady, long persistence, and have maintained themselves
+in their exalted position by sheer firmness and tenacity of character. And as,
+dripping with warm moisture and carrying with them in any available crevice
+graceful ferns and trees, they rise above us high up into the clouds, and form
+the buttresses of those snowy peaks of which we catch occasional glimpses, we
+are impressed not only with the height of the aspiration those peaks embody, but
+with the strength and persistency of purpose which was necessary to carry the
+aspiration into effect.</p>
+
+<p>Overpowered, indeed, we feel at times—shut in and overshadowed by what seems
+so infinitely greater than ourselves. The roaring river fills the centre of the
+gorge. The precipitous cliffs rise sheer on either hand. We seem for the moment
+too minute to cope with such titanic conditions. But sometimes by circumventing
+the cliffs and after a long tedious detour appearing high above them, sometimes
+by blasting a passage across their very face, we have proved ourselves able to
+overcome them. They no longer affright us. And as we return down the valley
+after a journey to its upmost limit, it is with nothing but sheer delight that
+we look upon these cliffs. They simply impress us with the strength that must go
+along with elevation of purpose if that purpose is to be achieved. Unbuttressed
+by these staunch cliffs the mountains could never have reached their present
+height. We glory, then, with the cliffs in their solidity and strength as they
+proudly face the world. And we recognise that in this firmness and consistency
+of purpose lies their especial Beauty.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>In contrast with the swirling river and hard, rugged cliffs we, quite close
+to them, and hidden away in a modest tributary of a tributary in the quiet
+forest depths, will happen upon some deep sequestered pool which imbues us with
+a sense of the delicacy and reserve of Nature. We here see her in a peculiarly
+tender aspect. The pool is still and clear. The lulling murmurs of a waterfall
+show whence it draws its being. A gentle rivulet carries the overbrim away. It
+is bounded by rocks and boulders green with exquisite ferns and mosses.
+Overhanging it are weeping palms with long straight leaves. Trees, with erect
+stems as tall as Nelson's Column, strain upward to the light. Butterflies in
+numbers flutter noiselessly about. The air is absolutely still and of a feel
+like satin. Clouds of intangible softness and clean and white as snow float
+around, appear, dissolve, and reappear. Through the parting in the overhanging
+trees the intense blue sky is seen in glimpses. The sun here and there pierces
+through the arching foliage, and the greens of the foliage glisten brighter
+still. The whole atmosphere of the spot is one of reticence and reserve. Yet
+quiet though it be and restful though it be, there is no sense of stagnation.
+The pool, though deep and still, is vividly alive. Its waters are continually
+being renewed. And the forest, though not a leaf moves, is, we know, straining
+with all the energy of life for food and light, for air and moisture. So by this
+jewel of a pool in its verdant setting we have a sense of an activity which is
+gentle and refined. The glen's is a shy and intimate Beauty, especially
+congenial to us after the forceful Beauty of the river and the bold, proud
+Beauty of the cliffs. But it is no insipid Beauty: in its very quietness and
+confidence is strength.</p><a name=
+"3"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER III</p>
+
+<p>THE FOREST</p>
+
+<p>The Teesta Valley in its lowest part is only 700 feet above sea-level. It is
+deep and confined and saturated with perpetual moisture. Hardly a breath of wind
+stirs, and all plant life is forced as in a hothouse. The trees do not, indeed,
+grow as high as the Big Trees of California or the eucalyptus in Australia, but
+some of these in the Teesta Valley are 200 feet in height with buttressed trunks
+between 40 and 50 feet in girth, and give the same impression of stateliness and
+calm composure. With incredible effort and incessant struggle they have attained
+their present proud position, and the traveller most willingly accords them the
+tribute that is their due.</p>
+
+<p>Grand tropical oaks nearly 50 feet in girth also occur, screw-pines 50 feet
+in height with immense crowns of grassy leaves 4 feet long, palms of many kinds,
+rattan-canes, bamboos, plantains, and tall grasses such as only grow in dense,
+hot jungles. Gigantic climbers tackle the loftiest trees. One allied to the
+gourd bears immense yellowish-white pendulous blossoms; another bears curious
+pitcher-shaped flowers. Vines, peppers, and pothos interlace with the palms and
+plantains in impenetrable jungle. Orchids clothe the trees. Everywhere and
+always we hear the whirr and hum of insect life, sometimes soft and soothing,
+sometimes harsh and strident. And floating about wherever we look are
+butterflies innumerable, many dull and unpretentious, but some of a brilliancy
+of colour that makes us gasp with pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>We may be pouring with perspiration, pestered by flies and mosquitoes, and in
+constant dread of leeches. But we forget all such annoyances in the joy of these
+wonders of the tropics, whether they be trees or orchids, ferns or butterflies.
+And to see one of these gorgeous insects alight in front of us, slowly raise and
+lower his wings and turn himself about almost as if he were showing himself off
+for our especial pleasure, compensates us for every worry his fellows in the
+insect world may cause us.</p>
+
+<p>As might be expected, in the steamy, dripping atmosphere ferns are a
+predominating feature in the vegetation. Not less than two hundred different
+kinds are found. The most noticeable are the tree ferns, of which alone there
+are eight species. Their average height is about 20 feet, but plants of 40 and
+50 feet are not uncommon. And with their tall trunks and crown of immense
+graceful fronds they form a striking feature in the forest, and in the moister
+valleys where they attain their full luxuriance they may be seen in extensive
+groves as well as in little groups. Four kinds of maidenhair, always light and
+graceful and attractive, are found; and of ferns common to Europe, <i>Osmunda
+regalis,</i> the Royal fern of Europe, and the European moonwort and
+alder's-tongue ferns. Then there is a fern which attains to gigantic
+proportions, especially in the cool forests, where its massive fronds grow to
+more than 5 yards in length and 3 in breadth, with a spread over all, measuring
+from tip to tip of opposite fronds, of 8 yards. One handsome climbing fern
+clothes the trunks of tall trees; another which climbs on grasses and the
+smaller shrubs is common; and another forms almost impenetrable thickets 15 or
+20 feet high. Of the kinds which grow on rocks and trees the most delicately
+beautiful are the filmy ferns, of which there are eight kinds. The Irish filmy
+is the largest, covering the face of large rocks under dense shade, its fronds
+growing to over a foot in length. Many polypodiums and aspleniums grow
+gracefully on the rocks and trees during the rainy season. One especially
+elegant polypodium growing on the ground has fronds about 6 or 7 feet long, and
+sometimes as much as 20 feet, and of proportionate width. Another conspicuous
+fern is the bird's-nest fern with its large, massive fronds growing under shade
+on rocks and stems of trees.</p>
+
+<p>Unless we are fern experts it is impossible for us to identify each among so
+many species. But, at any rate, we gather an impression of elegance and grace,
+often of airy lightness, and of wonderful variety of size and form.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>From the ferns we look to the rest of the forest, and after the first
+bewilderment at the profusion and variety of vegetation we try to fasten on to a
+few individuals or types which we can identify as having seen elsewhere in some
+other part of India or in some palm-house in England. We are in the still,
+steamy atmosphere of a hot-house, and we are conscious that all round us,
+growing in luxuriant abundance, are rare and beautiful plants of which a single
+specimen would be treasured and treated with every fostering care in England.
+But we sigh to be able to recognise these treasures and make contact between
+home and this exceptionally favoured region—favoured, that is to say, as regards
+plant life. From among the giant trees, the bamboos, the palms, the climbers,
+the shrubs, the flowers, the orchids, we look out anxiously for friends—or at
+least for acquaintances whom we hope may develop into friends as we meet them
+again and again on our journeys through the forest.</p>
+
+<p>Of the flowers, the orchids are naturally the first to attract us. They shine
+out as real gems in the greenery around them. The eye jumps to them at once.
+Here seems to be something as nearly perfect in colour, form, and texture as it
+could possibly be. If the orchid is white it is of the purest whiteness, and
+shines chaste and unsullied amidst its dull surroundings. If it is purple, or
+pale yellow, or golden-yellow, or rose, or violet, or white, the colour has
+always a depth and purity which is deeply satisfying. And it seems to be because
+the waxy texture of these orchids is such a perfect medium for the display of
+colour that orchids are so exceptionally beautiful. The texture is of the very
+consistency best adapted for revealing the beauty of colour. And when we pluck a
+spray of these choice treasures from the forest branch and hold it in the
+sunlight, we feel we are seeing colour almost in perfection.</p>
+
+<p>The colour and texture are beautiful enough in themselves. But an added
+attraction in these orchids is their form—the curvature of their sepals and
+petals, and the wonderful little pitchers and cups and lips and tongues which an
+orchid exhibits. And the form is no mere geometrical pattern of lines and
+curves. It is obviously an ingenious contrivance devised for some special
+purpose. That purpose we now know to be the attraction of insects, who in
+sucking the orchid's honey will unconsciously carry on their wings or backs the
+flower's pollen to fertilise another orchid. Though whether the insect in the
+long centuries by probing at the orchid has forced it to adapt itself to it, or
+whether the flower has forced the insect to adapt itself to the flower, or
+whether—as seems most likely—a process of mutual adaptation has been going on
+century by century, and the flower and insect have been gradually adapting
+themselves to one another, is still a matter of discussion among naturalists.</p>
+
+<p>We cannot gather an orchid of any kind without marvelling at its intricate
+construction. And when we are looking at the orchid in its natural surroundings
+in the forest itself and see the enormous numbers and the immense variety, in
+size and form and habits, of the insects around the orchid, and think how the
+orchid has to select its own particular species of insect and cater for that,
+and the insect among all the flowers has to select the particular species of
+orchid; and how the insect, whether butterfly or bee or moth or gnat or ant, or
+any other of the numerous kinds of insect, and the orchid have to adapt
+themselves to each other—we see how marvellous the mutual adaptation of flower
+to insect and insect to flower must have been. We see how the particular species
+of orchid must have chosen the particular species of bee, and the particular
+species of bee that particular species of orchid, and the bee and orchid set
+themselves to adapt themselves to one another, the orchid using all the devices
+of colour, scent, sweetness of honey, to attract the insect, and gradually
+shaping itself so that the insect can better reach the honey, and the insect
+lengthening its proboscis and otherwise adapting itself so that it can better
+secure what it wants. And we see how perfectly—how nearly perfectly—the flower
+is designed for its purpose.</p>
+
+<p>But what is perhaps most remarkable of all about an orchid is that this
+marvel of colour and form and of texture of fabric unfolds itself from within a
+most ungainly, unsightly, unlikely-looking tuber. From shapeless, colourless
+tubers, which attach themselves to trunks and branches of trees and cling on to
+rocks, there emerge these peerless aristocrats of the flower-world, finished,
+polished, immaculate, and reigning supreme through sheer distinction and
+excellence at every point—and also because theirs is clearly no ephemeral
+convolvulus-like beauty which will fade and vanish away in a twinkling, but is a
+beauty intensely matured, strong and deep and firm.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Of the 450 species of orchids found in the Sikkim Forest, many are very rare.
+But fortunately the rarest are not the most beautiful in colour and form. Some
+very beautiful orchids are also very common. The most common are the
+dendrobiums, of which there are about forty species. The finest and best known
+is the <i>Dendrobium nobile.</i> It grows in the lower hills and valleys up to
+5,000 feet, and also in the plains. The flowers vary both in size and shade of
+colour; but in Sikkim the sepals and petals are always purple, shading off into
+white at the base. The tip has a central blotch of very deep purple surrounded
+by a broad margin of pale yellow or white. This orchid is now very common in
+English hot-houses, so here is one point of contact with the tropical forest.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>D. densiflorum</i> is equally common and grows in much the same
+region. It flowers in a dense cluster on a stalk somewhat after the fashion of a
+hyacinth. The sepals and petals of this beautiful species are of a pale yellow,
+while the lip is of a rich orange. One of the most charming of the Sikkim
+dendrobiums has the smell of violets, and the sepals and petals are white-tipped
+with violet, the stem being sometimes 2 1/2 feet long. Another noteworthy
+dendrobium is the <i>D. pierardi,</i> whose prevailing colour is a beautiful
+rose or pale purple.</p>
+
+<p>After the dendrobiums the coelogyne are the most worth noting. The <i>
+Coelogyne cristata</i> is common at elevations of from 5,000 to 8,000 feet, and
+flowers during March and April. It has numerous large flowers, which are pure
+white throughout, with the exception of the lamellae of the lip, which are
+yellow. It may be seen in flower in March in the orchid-house at Kew. In the
+forest it grows in such profusion as to make the trunk of a dead tree look as if
+it were covered with snow.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>C. humilis</i> is known as the Himalayan crocus. It grows like a
+crocus from a pseudo-bulb at elevations from 7,000 to 8,500 feet, and flowers
+during February and March. The flowers are white and from 2 to 2 1/2 inches in
+diameter. The lip is speckled with purple towards the edge.</p>
+
+<p>Not so common but larger and handsomer than the dendrobiums are the
+cymbidiums, of which there are sixteen different species, usually with long
+grassy leaves and many-flowered drooping racemes with large handsome flowers. A
+very sweet-scented species is the <i>Cymbidium eburneum,</i> which is common
+between elevations of 1,000 to 3,000 feet, and flowers during March and April.
+The prevailing colour of the flowers is an ivory white, but the ridge on the lip
+is a brilliant yellow. This also may be seen at Kew in March.</p>
+
+<p>These are some of the commonest orchids and all now grow in England, so that
+we can begin to get a footing in the forest and not feel that it is so
+completely strange to us. And as we ascend higher we shall find many more
+friends among the flowers. And to guide us among the trees and flowers we
+fortunately have Sir Joseph Hooker, who in his &quot;Himalayan Journals&quot; has
+described this botanist's paradise in loving detail, so we cannot do better than
+follow him. Amid the many plants he mentions we can only select a few, but these
+few will at least help to give us some conception of the whole and show the
+range of variation as we ascend.</p>
+
+<p>As we proceed higher up the valley to an altitude of about 4,000 feet,
+European trees and plants begin to be intermingled with the tropical vegetation.
+Hornbeams appear, and birch, willow, alder, and walnut grow side by side with
+wild plantains, palms, and gigantic bamboos. Brambles, speedwells,
+forget-me-nots, and nettles grow mixed with figs, balsams, peppers, and huge
+climbing vines. The wild English strawberry is found on the ground, while above
+tropical orchids like the dendrobiums cover the trunks of the oaks. The bracken
+and the club-moss of our British moors grow associated with tree-ferns. And
+English grow alongside Himalayan mosses.</p>
+
+<p>The valley itself continues of the same character—deep with its steep sides
+clothed in forest and the path scrambling over spurs, making wide detours up
+side valleys, or scraping along the sides of cliffs which stand perpendicularly
+over the raging river below. Only here and there are clearings in the forest
+where Lepchas or Nepalese have built themselves a few wooden houses and roughly
+cultivated the land. Otherwise we are under the same green mantle of forest
+which extends everywhere over the mountains; and though we are now piercing
+straight through the main axis of the Himalaya, we seldom catch even a glimpse
+of the snowy heights which must be so near.</p>
+
+<p>But the vegetation is distinctly changing in character as we ascend—the most
+tropical trees and plants gradually disappearing, and more and more flowers of
+the temperate zone coming into evidence. And as we pierce farther into the
+mountains the climate becomes sensibly drier and the forest lighter. There is
+still a heavy enough rainfall to satisfy any ordinary plant or human being. But
+there is not the same deluge that descends upon the outer ridges. So the forest
+is not so dense. Frequently in its place social grasses clothe the
+mountain-sides; and yellow violets, primulas, anemones, delphiniums, currants,
+and saxifrages remind us of regions more akin to our own.</p>
+
+<p>Now, too, we have reached the habitat of the rhododendrons, which are so
+peculiarly a glory of Sikkim, and it is worth while to pause and take special
+note of them. Out of the thirty species which are found in Sikkim, all the most
+beautiful have been introduced—chiefly by Sir Joseph Hooker—into England, and
+are grown in many parks and gardens as well as at Kew. So English people can
+form some idea of what the flowering trees of the Sikkim Forest are like. But
+they must multiply by many times the few specimens they see in an English park
+or hot-house, and must realise that as cowslips are in a grassy meadow, so are
+these rhododendron trees in the Sikkim Forest. Red, mauve, white, or yellow,
+they grow as great flowers among the green giants of the forest and brighten it
+with colour. The separate blossoms of a rhododendron tree cannot compare in
+beauty with the individual orchid. There is in them neither the deep richness of
+colour nor wonder of form nor sense of deeply matured excellence. The claim of
+the rhododendron to favour is rather in the collective quantity and mass of
+flowers so that by sheer weight of numbers it can produce its effect of colour.
+In some of the upper valleys the mountain slopes are clothed in a deep green
+mantle glowing with bells of scarlet, white, or yellow.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the most splendid of these rhododendrons is <i>Rhododendron grande</i>
+or
+<i>argenteum,</i> which grows to a height of from 30 to 40 feet, and has waxy
+bell-shaped flowers of a yellowish-white suffused with pink, 2 to 3 inches long
+and about the same across. The scarlet <i>R. arboreum,</i> so general in the
+Himalaya, is common in Sikkim and furnishes brilliant patches of colour in the
+forest. And a magnificent species is
+<i>R. Auchlandii</i> or <i>Griffithianum,</i> which has large white flowers
+tinged with pink, of a firm fleshy texture and with a mouth 5 inches across. It
+has been called the queen of all flowering shrubs. It grows well in Cornwall,
+and among the hybrids from it is the famous Pink Pearl.</p>
+
+<p><i>R. Falconeri,</i> a white-flowered species, is eminently characteristic of
+the genus in habit, place of growth and locality, never occurring below 10,000
+feet. In foliage it is incomparably the finest. It throws out one or two trunks
+clean and smooth, 30 feet or so high, the branches terminated by immense leaves,
+deep green above edged with yellow and ruby red-brown below. The creamy white
+flowers are shaded with lilac and are slightly scented. They are produced in
+tightly-packed clusters 9 to 15 inches across and twenty or more in numbers.</p>
+
+<p>A peculiar (in that it is of all the species the only one that is epiphytal)
+but much the largest flowered species is the <i>R. Dalhousiae.</i> It grows,
+like the orchids, among ferns and moss upon the trunks of, large trees,
+especially oaks and magnolias, and attains a height of 6 to 8 feet. The flowers
+are three to seven in a head, and are 3 1/2 to 5 inches long and as much across
+the mouth, white with an occasional tinge of rose and very fragrant. In size,
+colour, and fragrance of the blossoms this is the noblest of the genus. It grows
+out-of-doors in Cornwall and in the greenhouse in other parts of England as a
+scraggy bush 10 to 12 feet high. <i>R. barbatum</i> is a tree from 40 to 60 feet
+high, producing flowers of a rich scarlet or blood-colour, and sometimes puce or
+rich pink. It is one of the most beautiful of the Himalayan rhododendrons, and
+is now very common in England, growing freely out-of-doors. Another truly superb
+plant is <i>R. Maddeni,</i> with very handsome pure white flowers 3 1/2 to 4
+inches long and as much across the mouth. This is now a special favourite in
+England. It grows in large bushes in the open in Cornwall and is very
+sweet-scented. <i>R. virgatum</i> is a beautiful delicately white-flowered
+shrub. And <i>R. campylo-carpum</i> displays masses of exquisite pale yellow
+bells of rarest delicacy.</p>
+
+<p>Besides rhododendrons, ash, walnut, and maple become more abundant as we
+ascend, and at 9,000 feet larch appears, and there are woods of a spruce
+resembling the Norwegian spruce in general appearance. Among the plants are
+wood-sorrel, bramble, nut, spiraea, and various other South European and North
+American genera.</p>
+
+<p>The climate is no longer stifling and the leeches have disappeared. We miss
+many beauties of the tropical forest. But, with the vegetation more and more
+resembling what we are accustomed to in Europe, we are feeling more at home. The
+path winds through cool and pleasant woods, following the varying contour of the
+mountain-sides. We are no longer oppressed by the strangeness of the life around
+us. At almost every turn we come across something new yet not wholly unfamiliar.
+And standing out especially in our memory of this region will be the sight of a
+gigantic lily rearing itself ten feet high in the forest, and as pure in its
+perfect whiteness as if it had been grown in a garden. It is the <i>Lilium
+giganteum,</i> and it has fourteen flowers on a single stalk and each 4 1/2
+inches long and the same across.</p>
+
+<p>We still love most of all the white violets we have as children picked in an
+English wood, and even this great white lily will never supplant them in our
+affections. But the sight of that glorious plant rising proudly from amidst the
+greenery of its forest setting will be for us more than any picture. And its
+being &quot;wild&quot; has the same fascination for us that a flower that is &quot;wild,&quot; and
+not garden grown, has for a child. In a florist's shop we may see lilies even
+more beautiful than this, but the enjoyment we get from seeing the florist's
+production bears no comparison whatever with the enjoyment we get from seeing
+this lily in a distant Himalayan forest where not so many white men ever go. We
+often have experiences which perceptibly age us. But this is one of those
+experiences which most certainly make us younger. We are once again children
+finding flowers in a wood.</p>
+
+<p>As we proceed upward the valley opens out, the mountains recede and are less
+steep. They are also less wooded, their slopes become more covered with grass,
+and the river, no longer a raging torrent, now meanders in a broad bed. The
+great peaks are somewhere close by, but we do not see the highest, and for the
+Himalaya the scenery is somewhat tame. But the number of herbaceous plants is
+great. A complete record of them would include most of the common genera of
+Europe and North America. Among them are purple, yellow, pink, and white
+primulas, golden potentillas, gentians of deepest azure, delicate anemones,
+speedwells, fritillaries, oxalis, balsams, and ranunculus. One special treasure
+of this part is a great red rose <i>(Rosa macrophylla),</i> one of the most
+beautiful of Himalayan plants whose single blossoms are as large as the palm of
+the hand. With these plants from the temperate zone are mixed the far outliers
+of the tropical genera—orchids, begonias, and others—whose ascent to these high
+regions has been favoured by the great summer heat and moisture.</p>
+
+<p>We are now in the region of the primulas for which (besides its orchids and
+rhododendrons) Sikkim is famous. Sikkim may indeed be called the headquarters of
+the Indian primroses, and many species are found there which appear to occur
+nowhere else. There are from thirty to forty species, the majority growing at
+altitudes from 12,000 to 15,000 feet, two or three only being found below 10,000
+feet, and two or three as high as 16,000 to 17,000 feet. The best known is the <i>
+Primula sikkimensis,</i> which grows well in England and resembles a gigantic
+cowslip. It thrills us to see it growing in golden masses in the high valleys in
+wet boggy places—though the precise colour may be better described as
+lemon-yellow rather than gold.</p>
+
+<p>The prevailing colour of the primulas is purple, but white, yellow, blue, and
+pink are also found. The <i>P. denticulata</i> has purple to bright sapphire
+blue flowers, and great stretches of country are almost blue with the lovely
+heads of this primrose. Miles of country can be seen literally covered with <i>
+P. obtusifolia,</i> which has purple flowers and a strong metallic smell. <i>P.
+Kingii</i> is a lovely plant with flowers of such a dark claret colour that they
+are almost black. And perhaps the most striking primula is <i>P. Elwesiana,</i>
+with large solitary deflexed purple flowers.</p>
+
+<p>Poppies also are a feature of the Sikkim vegetation. Near the huts the people
+cultivate a majestic species near <i>Menconopsis simplicifolia,</i> but it grows
+in dense clusters 2 or 3 feet high. The flowers vary in diameter from 5 to 7
+inches, and are an intensely vivid blue on opening, though they change before
+fading into purple. <i>M. simplicifolia</i> itself is also found at altitudes
+from 12,000 to 15,000 feet—a clear light blue species of special beauty, growing
+as a single flower on a single stem, and now to be seen at both Edinburgh and
+Kew. Another beautiful poppy is the <i>M. nepalensis,</i> which grows in the
+central dampest regions of Sikkim at elevations of 10,000 to 11,000 feet and
+resembles a miniature hollyhock, the flowers being of a pale golden or
+sulphur-yellow, 2 or 3 inches in diameter and several on a stalk.</p>
+
+<p>As Tangu is approached the valley expands into broad grassy flats, and here
+at about 13,000 feet the vegetation rapidly diminishes in stature and abundance,
+and the change in species is very great. Larch, maple, cherry, and spiraea
+disappear, leaving willows, juniper, stunted birch, silver fir, mountain ash
+berberries, currant, honeysuckle, azalea, and many rhododendrons. The turfy
+ground is covered with gentians, potentillas, geraniums, and purple and yellow
+meconopsis, delphiniums, orchids, saxifrage, campanulas, ranunculus, anemones,
+primulas (including the magnificent <i>Primula Sikkimensis),</i>
+and three or four species of ferns. The country being now so much more open, the
+valley bottom and the mountain-sides glow with purples and yellows of various
+shades. Not even here, nor indeed anywhere in the Himalaya, do we see that mass
+and glow of colour we find in California, where wide sheets of meadow-land are
+ablaze with the purple of the lupins and the gold of the Californian poppy. But
+for the number of varieties of plants these upper valleys of the Teesta River
+can scarcely be excelled. As we ascend the mountain-sides above Tangu we find
+them covered with plants of numerous different kinds, and even at about 14,000
+feet Hooker gathered over two hundred plants.</p>
+
+<p>But now we are nearing the limit of plant life. At 17,000 feet the vegetation
+has ceased to be alpine and has become arctic, and the plants nearest the
+snow-line are minute primulas, saxifrages, gentians, grasses, sedges, some
+tufted wormwood, and a dwarf rhododendron, the most alpine of wooded plants.</p>
+
+<p>At the summit of the Donkia Pass Hooker found one flowering plant, the <i>
+Arenaria rupifragia.</i> The fescue <i>(Festuca ovina),</i> a little fern <i>
+(Woodsia),</i> and a saussurea ascend very near the summit. A pink-coloured
+woolly saussurea and <i>Delphinium glaciale</i> are two of the most lofty
+plants, and are commonly found from 17,500 feet to 18,000 feet. Besides some
+barren mosses several lichens grow on the top, as <i>Cladonia vermicularis,</i>
+the yellow <i>Lecidea geographica</i> and the orange <i>L. miniata.</i></p>
+
+<p>At 18,300 feet Hooker found on one stone only a fine Scottish lichen, a
+species of gyrophora, the &quot;tripe de roche&quot; of Arctic voyagers and the food of
+the Canadian hunters. It is also abundant in the Scotch Alps.</p>
+
+<p>On the summit of Bhomtso, 18,590 feet, the only plants were the lichens <i>
+Lecidea miniata</i> (or <i>Parmalia miniata)</i> mentioned above, and borrera.
+The first-named minute lichen is the most arctic, antarctic, alpine, and
+universally diffused in the world, and often occurs so abundantly as to colour
+the rocks an orange red.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>The entire range of plant life, from the truly tropical to the hardiest
+arctic, is now complete. As we look back from the limit of perpetual snow we see
+the whole great procession in a glance. We have come across no African, nor
+South American, nor Australian plants, so we have not seen anything like the <i>
+whole</i> of plant life. But the range from the tropic to the arctic has been
+complete and continuous. In no other region could we in so short a space as a
+hundred miles—the distance from Bath to London—see the entire range so fully
+represented.</p>
+
+<p>And actually <i>seeing</i> how vast is the range and variety of plant life is
+a very different thing from knowing that it exists; seeing the flowers in the
+flesh is altogether different from only reading descriptions of them; and seeing
+them in masses and in their natural surroundings affects us quite differently
+from seeing only a few in a garden or in a hot-house. Here on the spot we feel
+close in touch with Nature's own heart. We see Nature's productions springing up
+fresh and new straight from the very fountain source. We have the joy of being
+able to stretch out a hand and pick a flower direct from its own surroundings,
+and to fondle it, examine it all round, admire its colour, form, and texture,
+compare its beauty with the beauty of other flowers and settle wherein its
+special beauty lies. We shall never be able to give to even the most exquisite
+orchid or the most perfect lily the same affection that we give to the primroses
+and violets of our native land. But we may be sure that our Naturalist-Artist,
+when he gathers together in his mind the impressions which have been made upon
+him by his passage through the tropical forests to the alpine uplands and thence
+to the limit of perpetual snow, will find that his sense of the variety of
+beauty to be found in trees and leaves, in ferns and flowers, has immeasurably
+expanded. He will have acquired a firmer grasp of plant life as a whole. He will
+have a truer measure of the beauty in it. And irresistibly, but most willingly,
+he will have been more closely drawn to Nature's heart.</p><a name="4"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER IV</p>
+
+<p>THE DENIZENS OF THE FOREST</p>
+
+<p>So far we have paid attention almost exclusively to the plant life. But all
+through Sikkim the insect life presses itself just as insistently on our notice.
+In the tropical portion it is unbelievably abundant and varied. It swarms about
+us and is ever present. And much of it is as beautiful as the flowers. For sheer
+attractiveness the butterflies are as compelling as the orchids. Mosquitoes,
+gnats, flies, leeches, every torment there is. But we forgive everything for the
+chance of being able to see alive and in the full glory of their colouring these
+brilliant gems of the insect world which we can in places view in hundreds and
+thousands at a time—and in extraordinary variety, for in this little country
+more than six hundred species are found—about ten times as many as are met with
+in England. Moreover, there is no season when they are wholly absent, for in the
+hot valleys they may be seen all the year round, though naturally there are more
+in the summer than in the winter.</p>
+
+<p>If it were not for other attractions we would like to concentrate our
+attention on these beautiful creatures alone. For they fascinate us by the
+daring of their colours, by their bold designs, by the way in which they blend
+the colours with one another, and by the extreme delicacy and chasteness of both
+colour and design. We are reluctant to take the life of a single one of the
+thousands we see, but yet we are itching, too, to lay hold of one after another
+as it sails into sight displaying some fresh beauty. We want to handle it as we
+would a flower, turn it about and examine it from every point of view till not a
+shade or aspect of its beauty has escaped us. In the presence of these brilliant
+butterflies we are children once more. We want to have them in our hands and
+feel that they are in our possession. It is tantalising merely to view them from
+a distance. We want to enjoy their beauty to the full.</p>
+
+<p>These butterflies of Sikkim are such complete strangers to us we do not even
+know their names. From the &quot;Gazetteer,&quot; however, we learn that the most
+beautiful of them are the papilios, of which alone there are no less than
+forty-two species. And three of these—namely, the <i>Teinophalus imperialis</i>
+(which occurs on Tiger Hill above Darjiling) and two ornithopteras, or
+bird-butterflies—are among the most splendid of all butterflies. The former is
+green on the upper side with yellow spots on the hind-wing, and the long tails
+are tipped with yellow. The two bird-butterflies are common in the low valleys
+from May to October. They are truly magnificent insects, measuring from 6 to 8
+inches across. Their fore-wings are wholly of a velvety black and the hind-wing
+golden yellow scolloped with black.</p>
+
+<p>Of the well-known green species of papilio, with longish tails and blue or
+green spots on the hindwing, there are four species, of which one is European.
+Some have semi-transparent wings of a lace-like pattern, with long slender tails
+to the hind-wings, and are of a very elegant shape.</p>
+
+<p>A most gorgeously-coloured butterfly is the <i>Thaumantis diores,</i> black
+with large spots (which cover a great part of both fore and hind wings) of a
+brilliant metallic, changeable blue. It measures 4 3/4 inches across the
+outspread wings. It avoids the direct sunlight and dodges about among the scrub
+growing under the deep shade of tall trees in the hottest and moistest valleys.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most lovely butterflies in the world is the <i>Stichophthalma
+camadeva,</i>
+which is one of the largest of the Sikkim butterflies, being from 5 to 6 1/2
+inches in expanse. It is more soberly coloured on the upper side than the
+last-named, being chiefly white and brown, but the underside is more beautiful,
+having a row of five red ocelli with black irides on each wing and other pretty
+markings.</p>
+
+<p>The lyccenides, or &quot;blues,&quot; are represented by no less than 154 species,
+several of them of surpassing beauty. Many are marked with changeable metallic
+hues on the upper side of the fore-wing: some violet, some with green, and some
+with golden bronze. The most lovely of all is the <i>Ilerea brahma,</i> of which
+the colouring of the upper side of the male is unique.</p>
+
+<p>Then there is the curious leaf-butterfly, which has a marvellous resemblance
+to a dead leaf with its wings folded over the back and showing the underside
+only, the leaf-stalk veins being excellently mimicked. But when flying about its
+upper side, which is a deep violet-blue with a conspicuous yellowish bar across
+the fore-wing, is exposed, and the butterfly is then most beautiful. I have seen
+many of these lovely butterflies flying about in the Teesta Valley, glistening
+in the dappled light of the forest, and then settle on a branch; and unless I
+had actually seen them alight, I should never have known them from leaves.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>The moths, though naturally not as beautiful as the butterflies, are far more
+numerous, there being something like two thousand species. Several of them are
+the largest of the insect race. And one of them, the famous atlas moth, is
+sometimes nearly a foot across. Next in size come several species of the genus <i>
+Actias,</i> of which
+<i>selene</i> is the most common. It is of a pale green colour with a pinkish;
+spot, and has long slender tails. It measures about 8 inches across the
+fore-wings, and nearly as much from shoulder to the tip of the tail.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Other insects numerously represented in Sikkim are beetles, bugs,
+grasshoppers, praying insects, walking-stick insects, dragon-flies, ants,
+lantern-flies, cicadae, etc.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Plant life and insect life are abundant enough, but of birds there seem to be
+comparatively few. As we travel through the forest we do not notice many of
+them, and we do not hear many. We do not everywhere find great flocks of birds
+as we see swarms of insects. And we do not find the forest resounding with the
+songs of birds as it does with the hum and crackle of insects. In this respect
+we are disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>But the birds of Sikkim, if few in number, are great in variety. Birds feed
+on fruits, berries, seeds, insects, grubs, caterpillars, small animals, and even
+little birds. Some birds like a still, hot, damp climate. Other birds like a
+cold, dry climate. Some birds like the shade and quiet and protection of the
+forest. Others like the open and the sunshine. Some birds find their food in the
+water, others on the land. And the Sikkim Himalaya, from the plains to the
+mountains, provides such a rich variety of plant and insect life, such a variety
+of climate and of country, and so plentiful a supply of water, that birds of the
+widest difference of requirements can here be provided with their needs.</p>
+
+<p>Consequently birds of numerous different species make Sikkim their habitat,
+either permanently or for certain seasons of the year. And Gammie, who has
+specially studied the natural history of Sikkim, says in the &quot;Sikkim Gazetteer&quot;
+that in no part of the world of an equal area are birds more profusely
+represented in species. The birds may not be so numerous as in other parts, but
+they are more varied. Between five and six hundred species are represented,
+varying from the great vulture known as the lammergeyer, which is 9 1/2 feet
+across the outstretched wing, down to the tiny flower-pecker, barely exceeding 3
+inches from the end of its beak to the tip of its tail.</p>
+
+<p>Of the birds found in the forest itself, the honey-suckers or sun-birds are
+perhaps the most beautiful. There are no gorgeous birds of paradise, and even
+resplendent parrots are not very numerous. But these little sun-birds glitter
+like jewels among the leafy foliage, and the lustrous metallic hues of different
+shades with which they are richly coloured on the head and long tail-feathers
+change and flash in the sunlight with every slightest movement.</p>
+
+<p>Not all so brilliant in colour but very delightful to watch are the
+fly-catchers. Of these there are no less than twenty-six species, the most
+remarkable being the fairy blue-chat, which is brilliantly marked with different
+shades of glistening blue, and another which is strikingly coloured in almost
+uniform verditer blue. In the very lowest valleys is found the beautiful
+paradise fly-catcher, with a long-pointed black crest, the rest of the plumage
+white with black shafts and the tail 14 inches in length. The quickness and
+agility this lovely bird displays as it darts and twists and turns in the
+pursuit of butterflies in their uneven dodging flight is one of the marvels of
+forest life.</p>
+
+<p>Game-birds are not abundant, but four species of pheasant are found, of which
+the largest and handsomest is the moonal, bronze-green glossed with gold and
+with a tail of cinnamon red. Sportsmen in the Himalaya are familiar with the
+sight of this radiantly-coloured bird swishing down the mountain-side with
+apparently the speed and almost the brilliancy of a flash of lightning. Not so
+handsome as the moonal, being small and greyish in colour on the back, is the
+blood-pheasant, remarkable for its blood-red streaks on the breast and its
+blood-red under-tail-coverts.</p>
+
+<p>Bulbuls are largely represented and may be seen in large flocks among the
+scrub—delightful, homely little birds with bright and cheery ways which
+specially attract us. Not very common, but to be found in the lower part of the
+valley, is the beautiful fairy bluebird, a large bird 10 inches in length with a
+glistening cobalt-blue upper part and velvet black beneath. The European cuckoo
+may be heard all day long in the season from about 3,500 feet upwards. And about
+a dozen other cuckoos visit Sikkim, of which by far the prettiest is the emerald
+cuckoo, a small bird not much more than 6 inches long, of a brilliant emerald
+green with golden sheen, and below white barred with shining green. Kingfishers
+are not numerous, as fish are scarce. But there are four species, of which the
+prettiest is a lovely little creature about 5 inches long, coloured with rufous,
+white, and different shades of blue and violet.</p>
+
+<p>These are only a few of the most striking birds; but to give an idea of the
+variety of other birds which may be found in Sikkim, many of which are hardly
+less beautiful than those above described, we may learn from Gammie that among
+the birds of prey there are eleven eagles; the peregrine falcon, a little pigmy
+falcon, and five other falcons; a big brown wood-owl, 2 feet in length, a pigmy
+owlet measuring only 6 inches, and nine other owls; and six kites;—among the
+game-birds, besides pheasants, three quails, two hill-partridges, a jungle-fowl,
+woodcock, a snow-cock, and a snow-partridge;—among other classes of birds, nine
+or ten species of pigeons and doves; the European raven and a jungle crow; one
+jay and several magpies; two hornbills, one of which is 4 feet in length; the
+common and the Nepal swallow; about thirty species of finches, among them being
+three bullfinches and eight rose-finches; three or four larks; numerous and
+varied tits; wagtails; five species of parrots; eight or nine species of wren;
+thrushes of a dozen species; ten species of robin; and, lastly, many species of
+waders such as florekin, cranes, plovers, snipe, sandpipers, coots, water-hen,
+storks, heron, cormorants, terns, divers, and ducks.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Reptiles are not commonly accounted among the beauties of Nature; but they
+must not be lost sight of in reviewing the life of the forest. The largest is
+the python, whose usual length is 12 feet, though individuals of 16 to 20 feet
+are not very rare. A very beautiful snake found in the cool forests is green
+with a broad black band on each side of the hinder half of the body and tail,
+the green scales being margined with black. Another snake of the same length is
+a handsome green whip-snake, graceful in its movements, but ferocious and
+aggressive in its habits, although quite harmless. The ordinary cobra is not
+uncommon. The giant cobra is also found in the lower valleys, and grows to a
+length of 12 or 13 feet. Four species of pit vipers are found. The krait occurs,
+but is not common. Altogether there are nine species of venomous snakes and
+thirty species of non-venomous snakes found in Sikkim.</p>
+
+<p>Of lizards there are ten species. One is popularly known as the chameleon on
+account of its rather showy colours, but does not really belong to that family.
+And a beautiful grass-snake, which, as it is limbless, is often mistaken for a
+tree-snake, is also of the lizard genus.</p>
+
+<p>Of frogs and toads there are about sixteen species. Among them are several
+prettily-coloured tree-frogs. Several of the species are recognised by their
+call.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Of mammals about eighty-one species are found. They include three monkeys,
+eight of the cat tribe, two civet cats, one tree cat, two mongooses, two of the
+dog tribe, five pole-cats and weasels, one ferret-badger, three otters, one
+cat-bear, two bears, one tree-shrew, one mole, six shrews, two water-shrews,
+twelve bats, four squirrels, two marmots, eight rats and mice, one vole, one
+porcupine, four deer, two forest-goats, one goat, one sheep, and one ant-eater.</p>
+
+<p>The common monkey of India, the Bengal monkey, is found in large companies at
+low elevations. The Himalayan monkey is abundant from 3,000 to 6,000 feet; and
+the Himalayan langur frequents the zone from 7,000 to 12,000 feet.</p>
+
+<p>The tiger inhabits the Terai at the foot of the mountains, but is only an
+occasional visitor to Sikkim proper. But the leopard and the clouded leopard are
+permanent residents and fairly common. This last is of a most beautiful mottled
+colouring. Another leopard is the snow-leopard, which inhabits high altitudes
+only. The marbled-cat is a miniature edition of the clouded leopard, and the
+leopard-cat of the common leopard. The large Indian civet-cat is not uncommon,
+but the spotted tiger-civet, a very beautiful and active creature, is rare. The
+jackal is not uncommon, and there is at least one species of wild-dog. These
+dogs hunt in packs and kill wild-pig, deer, goats, etc. A very peculiar and
+interesting animal is the cat-bear, which has the head and arms of a minute bear
+and the tail of a cat. The brown bear occurs at high altitudes, and the
+Himalayan black bear is common lower down. The black hill squirrel is a large
+handsome animal of the lower forests, and a very handsome flying squirrel
+inhabits the forests between 5,000 and 10,000 feet.</p>
+
+<p>The great Sikkim stag is not found in Sikkim proper, but inhabits the Chumbi
+Valley. The sambhar stag is abundant. The commonest of the deer tribe is the
+khakar, or barking deer. It is, says Hodgson, unmatched for flexibility and
+power of creeping through tangled underwood. The musk deer remains at high
+elevations.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to the above, elephants come up from the forests in the plains,
+and in these plain forests are found (besides tigers and boars) rhinoceros,
+bison, and buffalo.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>This has been a long enumeration of the animal life, in its many branches,
+which is found in the forest. The mere cataloguing of it is sufficient to show
+the extent and variety of insect, bird, reptile, and mammal life which the
+forest contains. But it is with the beauty of this animal life, rather than with
+its extent and variety, that we are concerned. And if the Artist is to see its
+full beauty, he must see it with the eyes of the naturalist and sportsman—men
+whose eyes are trained to observe in minutest detail the form and colour and
+character of each animal, bird, or insect, and who know something of the life
+each has to lead, and the conditions in which it is placed. More sportsmen than
+naturalists, and more naturalists than artists, observe these and other animals
+in their natural surroundings. But, nowadays, at least photographers and
+cinematographers are going into the wilds to portray them. And perhaps
+naturalist-artists will arise who, every bit as keen as sportsmen now are to get
+to close quarters with game animals, will want to get into positions from which
+they will be able carefully to observe animals of all kinds and take note of
+every characteristic. These artists will have to be fully as alert as the
+sportsmen, and be able on the instant, and from a fleeting glimpse, to note the
+lines and shades and character of the animal. But, if they do this, they will,
+in all probability, bring back more lasting and deeper impressions of the
+animals than the sportsman with all his keen observation ever receives—and they
+will enjoy a greater pleasure. An artist, who from observing an animal in its
+own haunts, and from the sketches and notes he made there, could paint a picture
+of it in its own surroundings, would assuredly derive more pleasure from his
+enterprise than the sportsman who simply brought back the animal's head. In
+addition he would have enabled others to share his enjoyment with him. There is
+a great field here for the painter; and many would welcome a change from the
+same old cows and sheep tamely grazing in a meadow, which is all that artists
+usually present to us of animal life.</p>
+
+<p>Among the most conspicuous animals met with are the elephant, the bison, the
+buffalo, and the rhinoceros. And it would be hard to discover beauty in any of
+these. As we see the rhinoceros, for example, in the Zoological Gardens nothing
+could be more ugly. Yet we should not despair of finding beauty even in a
+rhinoceros if we could study him in his natural surroundings and understand all
+the circumstances of his life. If we observed him and his habits and habitat
+with the knowledge of the naturalist and the keenness of the sportsman, we might
+find that in his form and colour he does in his own peculiar fashion fitly
+express the purpose of his being. And whatever adequately expresses a definite
+purpose is beautiful. Where a dainty antelope would be altogether out of place,
+the ponderous rhinoceros may be completely in his element. Where a
+tender-skinned horse would be driven mad by insects, the thick-skinned beast
+passes the time untroubled. In a drawing-room a daintily-dressed lady is a
+vision of loveliness. In a ploughed field she would look ridiculous. In a
+drawing-room a peasant would look uncouth. In a field, as Millet has shown us,
+he possesses a beauty, dignified and touching. It is not impossible, therefore,
+that an artist who had the opportunity of entering into the life of a
+rhinoceros, as Millet had of entering into the life of a peasant, might discover
+beauty even in that monstrosity. This, however, I allow is an extreme case.</p>
+
+<p>In a less extreme case beauty has already been discovered. The bison does not
+at first sight strike us as a beautiful animal. Yet Mr. Stebbing, the
+naturalist-sportsman, says that, as he caught sight of one after a long stalk,
+and watched it with palpitating heart, he was fascinated by the grand sight—18
+hands of coal-black beauty shining like satin in the light filtering through the
+branches of the trees.</p>
+
+<p>When we move on from the bison to the stag the beauty is evident enough. A
+stag carries himself right royally, and has a rugged, majestic beauty all his
+own. There are few more beautiful sights in the animal world than that of a
+lordly stag standing tense with preparedness to turn swiftly, and, on the
+instant, bound away in any direction.</p>
+
+<p>Not majestic like the great deer, but of a more airy grace and daintiness,
+are the smaller deer and antelope. The lightness of their tread, their
+suppleness of movement, and their spring and litheness, fill us with delight.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>We now come to the crown of the animal kingdom—man. And in the Sikkim
+Himalaya are to be found men of all the stages of civilisation from the most
+primitive to the most advanced. Inhabiting the forests at the foot of the
+mountains are certain jungle peoples of extreme interest simply by reason of
+their primitiveness. They represent the very early stages of man, and in
+observing them in their own haunts, we shall understand something of the
+immensity and the delicacy of man's task in gaining his ascendancy in the animal
+world and acquiring a greater mastery over his surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>In these forests teeming with animal life of all kinds man had to hold his
+own against dangerous and stronger animals, and to supply himself with food in
+the face of many rivals. He had to be as alert as the sharpest-witted and as
+cunning as the most crafty, and to have physical fitness and endurance to stand
+the strain of incessant rivalry. This is what these jungle people have. Their
+alertness, their capacity to glide through the forest almost as stealthily as an
+animal, their keenness of sight, their acute sense of hearing, their knowledge
+of jungle lore and of the habits of animals, and their ability to stand long and
+hard physical strain, are the envy of us civilised men when we find ourselves
+among them. Particularly is this shown when tracking. They will note the
+slightest indication of the passage of the animal they are after—the faintest
+footprint, a stone overturned and showing the moisture on its under surface, a
+broken twig, a bitten leaf, the bark rubbed—and they will be able to judge from
+the exact appearance of these signs how long it is since the animal made them.
+They will, too, detect sounds which we civilised men would certainly never hear,
+and from a note of alarm in these sounds, or from excitement among birds, infer
+the presence of a dangerous animal.</p>
+
+<p>When seen outside the forests these jungle men look wild and unkempt, but
+seen in their natural surroundings and compared <i>there</i> with the white man,
+they have a Beauty which is wanting in the white man. In <i>these</i>
+surroundings they have a dignity and composure and assurance which the European
+lacks. They are on their own ground, and there they are beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>And these primitive men are worthy of being painted by the very greatest of
+painters, and of having their praises sung by the very first of poets. For it is
+they and their like who, with only such weapons as the forest affords and their
+own ingenuity devised, won the way through for us civilised men, won the battle
+against the fierce and much more powerful beasts around them, and by great
+daring and through sheer skill, courage, and endurance led the way to the light.
+It was a marvellous feat. For all the privileges and immunities which we men of
+to-day enjoy we have to thank these primitive forest men, and our gratitude
+could never be too great. They are deserving of the closest attention and the
+warmest appreciation.</p>
+
+<p>Not many of these really primitive peoples are nowadays left in the jungles.
+But the tea-gardens have attracted a primitive people, the Santals, who are
+typical of the true Dravidian stock of India—a jolly, cheerful, easy-going, and,
+on the whole, law-abiding, truthful, and honest people who love a roaming life,
+with plenty of hunting and fishing.</p>
+
+<p>The Lepchas of Sikkim have risen above the first primitive stage. They clothe
+themselves well and dwell in well-built houses. They do not possess for us the
+same essential interest as belongs to truly primitive people. But on account of
+their intimate knowledge of the forest and its denizens, and by reason also of
+their being a remarkably simple, gentle, and likeable people, they have an
+unusual attraction for travellers. Hooker, who was one of the first to live
+among them, and Claude White, who lived among them for many years, both write of
+them in affectionate terms. They are child-like and engaging, good-humoured,
+cheery and amiable, free and unrestrained. They have, too, a reputation for
+honesty and truthfulness.</p>
+
+<p>More vigorous, capable, and virile than the Lepchas are the Nepalese, who,
+migrating from Nepal, are found in great numbers in this region. They are more
+given to agriculture than the Lepchas, and are thrifty, industrious, and
+resourceful. Though excitable and aggressive, they are also law-abiding.</p>
+
+<p>Less numerous but prominent inhabitants of this region are the Bhutias, who
+consist of four classes; Bhutias, who are a mixed race of Tibetans and Lepchas;
+Sherpa Bhutias, who come from the east of Nepal, the word <i>sher</i> merely
+meaning &quot;east&quot;; the Drukpa or Dharma Bhutias, whose home is Bhutan; and the
+Tibetan Bhutias from Tibet. They are strong, sturdy men, merry and cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>These Lepchas, Nepalese, and Bhutias are all of Mongolian origin, and
+therefore have the distinctively Mongolian appearance. But besides these, in
+Darjiling and on the tea-gardens are to be found Bengali clerks, Marwari
+merchants from Rajputana, Punjabi traders, Hindustani mechanics, and Chinese
+carpenters. And in addition to all these are British Government officials,
+tea-planters, and a continual stream of visitors from all parts of Europe and
+America, who come to Darjiling to view the snowy range.</p>
+
+<p>So that in this small region may be found representatives of every grade of
+civilisation and a great variety of types. And what an amount of Beauty—as
+distinct from mere prettiness—there is to discover in even the rough local
+people may be seen from the pictures of the Russian painter Verestchagin,
+engravings from which are given in his autobiographical sketches entitled
+&quot;Vassili Verestchagin.&quot; This great painter evidently succeeded in getting inside
+the wild peoples he loved; and his pictures reveal to us beauties we might
+without them never have known. In these people's gait, their attitudes, their
+grouping, as well as in their features, he was able to discern the hardihood,
+the patience, the impetuosity, the gentleness of their character, and portray it
+for us.</p>
+
+<p>Putting aside the obvious differences between us and them, we are able to
+detect our fundamental identity of nature, have a fellow-feeling with them,
+recognise sameness between us and so see their beauty.</p><a name="5"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER V</p>
+
+<p>THE SUM IMPRESSION</p>
+
+<p>The Artist has now to stand back and view the forest as a whole. And he must
+test his view in the light of reason—bring Truth to bear upon Beauty. The forest
+with its multitudinous and varied life, ranging from simplest to most cultured
+man, is an epitome of Nature so far as she is manifested on this planet. And he
+will from this epitome try to get a view of the real character of Nature. As he
+takes stock of the impressions which have been made upon him, he will have to
+form a conclusion of absolutely fundamental importance for the enjoyment of
+Natural Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Men's hearts instinctively go out to Nature, and in consequence they see
+Beauty in her. As children they love flowers and love animals. And the most
+primitive races have the same feeling though they are just as callous in their
+treatment of animals as children are in their treatment of one another. In the
+more cultured races this instinctive love of Nature and appreciation of Natural
+Beauty has enormously developed. But if men ever came to hold the idea—as so
+many since the doctrine of the survival of the fittest has come into prominence
+are inclined to do—that Nature is at heart cold and hard, and recks nothing of
+human joys and sorrows, then love of Nature would fade away from men's hearts.
+Being out of sympathy and repelled from entering into deep communion with her,
+men would never again see Beauty in her. The enjoyment of Natural Beauty would
+pass from them for ever.</p>
+
+<p>So the Artist will try to get at the true Heart of Nature. If the Naturalist
+part of him tells him that at bottom Nature is merciless and unrelenting,
+utterly regardless of the things of most worth in life; that Nature is indeed
+&quot;red in tooth and claw&quot;; that all she cares for—all she selects as the fittest
+to survive—are the merely strongest, the most pushing and aggressive, the
+individuals who will simply trample down their neighbours in order that they
+themselves may &quot;survive&quot;; or if, again, the Naturalist convinces him that all he
+has seen in the forest has come about by pure chance; that it is by a mere fluke
+that we find orchids and not mushrooms, men and not monkeys, at the head of
+plant and animal life; and that Nature herself is wholly indifferent as to which
+of the two establishes its preeminence—then he will feel the chill upon his
+soul, he will shrivel up within himself, the very fountain-spring of Beauty will
+be frozen up, and never again will he see Beauty in any single one of Nature's
+manifestations.</p>
+
+<p>But if, on the other hand, the Naturalist is able to convince the Artist that
+in spite of the very evident struggle for existence Nature does not care
+twopence whether the &quot;fittest&quot; survive or not so long as what is best in the end
+prevails; that far from things coming about by mere chance Nature has a distinct
+end in view, and that end the accomplishment of what he himself most prizes,
+then the heart of the Artist will warm to the heart of Nature with a fervour it
+had never known before; his heart will throb with her heart, and every beauty he
+has seen in plain or mountain, in flower, bird, or man, will be a hundredfold
+increased.</p>
+
+<p>Which of these two views of Nature, so far as Nature can be judged from what
+we see of her on this planet, is correct, he has now to determine. The profound
+mystery which everywhere prevails in the forest and which exerts such a
+compelling spell upon us he will want to probe to the bottom. He will not be
+content with the outward prettiness of butterfly and orchid, or with the mere
+profusion and variety of life, or with the colossal size of animals and trees.
+He will want to burrow down and get at the very root and mainspring of this
+forest life. He will want to reach the very Heart of Nature here manifested in
+such manifold variety. He will want to arrive at the inner significance of all
+this variety of life. Then only will he understand Nature and be able to decide
+whether Nature is cruel and therefore to be feared, or kind and gracious and
+therefore to be loved.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Now, when we go into the forest and look into it in detail, the profusion is
+even greater than we expected. In this damp tropical region where there is ample
+heat and moisture, plant life comes springing out of the earth with a
+prolificness which seems inexhaustible. And when plant life is abundant, animal
+and insect life is abundant also. So profuse, indeed, is the output of living
+things that it seems simply wasteful. A single tree may produce thousands of
+flowers. Each flower may have dozens of seeds. The tree may go on flowering for
+a hundred or two hundred years. So a single tree may produce millions of seeds,
+each capable of growing into a forest giant like its parent.</p>
+
+<p>With insect life the same profusion of life is evident. A single moth or
+butterfly lays thousands of eggs. Mosquitoes, flies, gnats, midges, leeches
+swarm in myriads upon myriads.</p>
+
+<p>The abundance and superabundance of life is the first outstanding—though it
+will prove not the most important—impression made upon us by a contemplation of
+the forest as a whole.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Scarcely less striking than the abundance is the variety. Life does not
+spring up from the earth in forms as alike one another as two peas. Each
+individual plant or animal, however small, however simple, has its own
+distinctive characteristics, There is variety and variation everywhere. Variety
+in form, variety in colour, variety in size, variety in character and habit. In
+size there is the difference between the huge <i>terminalia</i>
+towering up 200 feet high and the tiny little potentilla; between the atlas moth
+12 inches in spread and the hardly discernible midges; between the elephant,
+massive enough to trample its way through the densest forest, and the humble
+little mouse peeping out of its hole in the ground. In colour the difference
+ranges from the light blue of the forget-me-not to the deep blue of the gentian;
+from the delicate pink of the dianthus to the deep crimson of the rhododendron;
+from the brilliant hues of the orchids to the dull browns and greens of
+inconspicuous tree flowers; from the vivid light greens, yellows, and reds of
+the young leaves of these tropical forests to the greyer green of their
+maturity; from the smiting reds and blues of the most gaudy butterflies,
+beetles, and dragon-flies to the modest browns of night-flying moths; from the
+gorgeous colours of the parrots to the familiar black of crows; from the
+yellow-striped tiger to the earth-coloured hare; from the dark-skinned aborigine
+to the yellow-skinned Mongolian and the fair European. Similarly do plants and
+animals vary in form: from the straight pines and palms to the spreading,
+umbrageous oaks and laurels; from upstanding lilies to parasitical orchids; from
+monstrous spiky beetles to symmetrical dragon-flies; from ungainly rhinoceros to
+graceful antelope; from short, sturdy Bhutias to tall, slim Hindustanis.
+Likewise in character individuals are as different as the strong, firm tree
+standing open-faced, four-square to all the world and the creeping, insinuating
+parasite; as the intelligent, industrious ant and the clumsy, plodding beetle;
+as the plucky boar and the timid hare; as the rough forest tribesman and the
+cultured Bengali.</p>
+
+<p>Lastly, there is variety among not only the different species of plants,
+animals, insects, etc., but also the individuals of the same species. We
+ourselves know the differences there are between one man and another, and as far
+as that goes between ourselves on one day and ourselves on the next. Each
+plant—and still more each animal—has its own unique individuality. Every cavalry
+officer, every shepherd, every dog-owner, every pigeon-fancier knows that each
+horse, sheep, dog, pigeon has its own individuality and is distinctly different
+from all others of its kind. And so does every gardener know that each rose,
+each tulip, each pansy is different from all other roses, tulips, and pansies.
+It is the same in the forest. Hardly two trees or plants of the same species
+develop their young leaves, open their flowers, ripen their seeds, and drop
+their leaves at the same time. Apart from the size of the flower and leaf there
+are differences in colour, shape, and marking. Each in appearance and in habit
+has an individuality of its own.</p>
+
+<p>Such is the variety in the abundant life of the forest that no two
+individuals, no two blades of grass, or no two leaves are in every detail
+precisely alike. And this is the second outstanding impression we receive.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>The abundance and variety of life are evident enough. Not so evident but
+equally noteworthy is the intensity. In the still forest one of the giant trees
+looks utterly impassive and immobile. It stands there calm and unmoved. Not a
+leaf stirs. Yet the whole and every minutest part of it is instinct with
+intensest life. It is made up of countless microscopic cells in unceasing
+activity. Highly sensitive and mobile cells form the root-tips and insinuate
+their way into every crevice in search of food for the tree, rejecting what is
+unpalatable and forwarding what is useful for building up and sustaining the
+monarch. Other cells take in necessary food from the air. Others build up the
+trunk and its protective bark. Others, and most important of all, go to make up
+the flowers of the tree and the organs of reproduction which enable the tree to
+propagate its kind.</p>
+
+<p>All this activity of the separate cells and combinations of cells is taking
+place. And in addition there is that activity of them all in their togetherness,
+that activity which keeps the cells together, and which if relaxed for a moment
+would mean that the cells would all collapse as the grains of dust in an eddying
+dust-devil at a street corner collapse once the gust of wind which stirred them
+and keeps them together drops away. What must be the intensity of life required
+to develop the tree from the seed and to rear that giant straight up from the
+level soil 200 feet into the air and maintain it there two hundred years, we can
+only imagine; for to outward appearance the tree is quite impassive. It does not
+move a muscle of its face to reveal the intensity of life within.</p>
+
+<p>The tree is characteristic of every living thing. Every plant and every
+animal, however seemingly sluggish, is working to fulfil its life, to nourish
+itself, to reproduce its kind.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Now, the amount of air and sunshine for plants may be practically unlimited,
+but air and sunshine are not all that plants require. They want soil and
+moisture as well. And the standing-room for plants is strictly limited. The
+forest stretches away up to the snows; but there it stops. Necessarily,
+therefore, there must be the keenest and most incessant struggle among the
+plants for standing-room. Only a comparatively few can be accommodated. The rest
+cannot survive. And as the number of plants which can survive is thus limited,
+the number of animals is limited also, for animals are dependent on plants.
+Plants, therefore, in spite of their eminently pacific appearance are engaged in
+a fierce struggle with one another for standing-room. And animals are likewise
+engaged in a struggle among themselves for the plants.</p>
+
+<p>There is competition among the roots of the different individual plants for
+the food and water of the soil. And there is competition among the leaves for
+the sunlight. Each plant is pushing its roots downwards and spreading outward
+for more food and to root itself more firmly. Each is straining upward to
+receive more sunlight. Each is struggling with its fellows for room and means to
+develop its life. Competitors in hundreds and thousands are forced to withdraw
+and succumb. And even when a forest giant has defeated all competitors and
+reached its full maturity it has still to maintain the struggle and hold its own
+continually against other individuals whose roots are reaching out below and
+whose branches are spreading out above; against climbers who would smother it;
+and against parasites who would suck its very life-blood. The battle, moreover,
+is often not so much between one species and another species as between
+individuals of the same species. And it is a war which continues through life.</p>
+
+<p>The struggle for existence among the plants and trees is keen beyond
+imagination. And the struggle among the insects, birds and beasts, and man for
+the plants and products of the trees is no less severe. So now our impression is
+that of an abundant, varied and intense life in which the individuals are
+perpetually struggling with one another for bare existence.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Under these stringent and stressful conditions does each living being come
+into the world. He has to battle his way through—or succumb. Plants as well as
+men, and men as well as plants. So, as we look into the structure of animals and
+plants, we are not surprised to find that in order to cope with their
+surroundings they have developed organs which are specially adapted to enable
+them to secure the needful food, to hold their own against the competition of
+their neighbours, to meet the exigencies of their surroundings, and to pursue
+their own life to the full extent of its possibilities. Even plants are like
+sentient beings in this respect. The sensitive tips of their roots are organs
+admirably adapted for feeling their way through the soil and selecting from its
+constituents what will best nourish the plant. The leaves opening out to the air
+and sunshine are other organs adapted for gathering in nourishment. And thorns
+and poisonous juices are means adapted to fend off destructive neighbours. The
+eyes and ears in animals are other instances of organs which enable them to see
+what will serve them as food, or to hear what may be possible enemies, and to
+make use of what will help them to the proper fulfilment of their life.</p>
+
+<p>We see each individual plant and animal striving to the best of his ability
+to adjust himself to the conditions in which he finds himself, trying to adapt
+himself to his surroundings—to his physical surroundings, such as the climate
+and soil, and to his social surroundings, consisting of his plant and animal
+neighbours and rivals. We shall probably notice, too, that he seems to be driven
+by some inner impulse (which in its turn is a responding to the impress of the
+totality of the individual's surroundings) to strive to do something more than
+merely adapt himself to his surroundings. He is urged on to rise superior to
+them.</p>
+
+<p>So the course of the individual's life is continually being affected by
+surroundings which compel him to adapt himself to them on pain of extinction if
+he fails. On the other hand, he is himself, in his own small way, affecting his
+surroundings and causing
+<i>them</i> to adapt themselves to <i>him.</i> Even the humblest plant takes
+from the surrounding soil and air what it needs as food and changes it in the
+process of assimilation, so that the surroundings are, to a slight extent at
+least, changed by the activity of the plant. And we already have noticed how a
+plant's insect surroundings have to adapt themselves to the plant. There is
+reciprocal action, therefore—the surroundings forcing the individual to adapt
+himself to them, and the individual causing the surroundings to adapt themselves
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>Here we have reached the point where, besides the struggle for existence
+among the individuals of an abundant, varied, and intense life, there is
+adaptation among the individuals to their surroundings and of their surroundings
+to the individuals.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>We have now to note how with the adaptation goes selection. Set amid these
+physical and organic surroundings, some helpful, some harmful, the individual
+has to spend his life in selecting and rejecting what will further or hinder his
+natural development. He has to reject much, for there is much that will harm
+him. He has to select a little—for that little is vitally necessary for his
+upbuilding and maintenance. From among the elements of the soil he has to choose
+those particular elements that he needs. Thus a plant selects through its roots
+from the elements of the soil, and through its leaves from the elements of the
+air, those elements and in those quantities that it needs for nourishment and
+growth. But it has also, by means of thorns or poison juices or other device, to
+protect itself from being itself selected by some animal for that animal's own
+nourishment and growth.</p>
+
+<p>So the individual is constantly selecting, and is as constantly on the guard
+against being selected. The principle of selection among the abundant and varied
+life is in continual operation. And unless he selects wisely he will not
+survive; for he will either have insufficient to live on or else have what is
+harmful to his life. Nor will he survive unless he is able to fend off those who
+would select him for their own maintenance. There is selection
+everywhere—selection <i>by</i> the individual and selection <i>of</i> the
+individual by surrounding neighbours and circumstances.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Thus far we have only recapitulated what most men are familiar with since
+Darwin commenced preaching the doctrine of Evolution by Natural Selection sixty
+years ago. But the Naturalist-Artist of the future will probably not be content
+with the conclusion to which so many jump that all that Nature teaches or
+expects of individuals—plants, beasts, or men—is that they should adapt
+themselves to their surroundings and fit themselves to survive; that all Nature
+has at heart is adaptability of individuals to their surroundings and their
+fitness to survive. The lowly amoeba can perform these unenterprising functions
+more fitly than himself. And the Artist would never be satisfied with so mean
+and meagre an ambition as merely to adapt himself to his surroundings and fit
+himself to survive. If he saw evidence of no higher expectation than that in the
+workings of Nature, his heart would certainly not cleave to her heart. And there
+being estrangement and coolness between his heart and hers, he would see no
+Beauty in Nature and his pursuit of Natural Beauty might here end.</p>
+
+<p>But an instinct within him tells him that this cannot be the last word as to
+Nature's character and methods. He himself is constantly risking his life with
+no thought of trying to survive, and he sees his neighbours doing the same. And
+his inclination is to go a good deal farther than tamely adapting himself to his
+surroundings. He wants and strives to rise superior to them—and he finds his
+neighbours likewise striving. So with this instinct goading him on he is driven
+to probe deeper still into the mystery of the forest life.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Of selection and adaptation we have seen evidence throughout the whole forest
+life. Now, where there is selection and where there is adaptation there must be
+<i>purposiveness.</i> Selection implies the power of choice, and we have seen
+how plants as well as animals deliberately and effectively exercise this power
+of choice. And adaptation implies adjustment to an end, and we have seen how
+wonderfully plants no less than animals adapt themselves to certain ends. And
+where individuals have the power of choice and exercise that power; and where
+they have the power of adapting themselves to certain ends and exercise that
+power, there obviously is purposiveness.</p>
+
+<p>Purposiveness runs like a streak through every activity. It permeates the
+whole forest life. It is observable in plants no less than in animals.
+Naturalists, indeed, regard trees and plants as truly sentient beings. And the
+means plants employ to compass the end they have in view, are truly wonderful.
+Still more remarkable is the fact that hardly two attain their object by exactly
+the same means. The tropical forest is full of climbing plants bent upon
+reaching the sunlight. But some climb by coiling round the trunk of a tree like
+a snake, some swarm up it by holding on with claws, some ascend by means of
+adhering aerial roots, and some reach what they want by pushing through a tangle
+of branches spreading out arms and hauling themselves up. And when plants have
+attained maturity and flowered, the flowers employ numberless ways of attracting
+insects for the purpose of fertilisation. In a still, tropical forest, such as
+that of Lower Sikkim, there is no hope of the pollen being carried from one
+flower to another by air-currents. The flowers have therefore to devise a means
+for the transport of the pollen. Efforts are made to induce winged
+creatures—insects in most cases, but sometimes birds—to render assistance.
+Colours for day-flying insects and scent for night-flying insects are
+accordingly employed as means to this end. Brilliant colours attract butterflies
+and bees by day. Strong scent—sometimes pleasant to our taste, sometimes the
+reverse—attracts moths and other insects by night. And the flowers which depend
+on their scents and not on colour are usually white or dull brown or green. And
+this scent is not exhaled when it is not needed, but only when the insects which
+the flowers wish to attract are about.</p>
+
+<p>Orchids especially seem to <i>know</i> what they want. Their aerial roots
+wander about in search of what they want and seem to smell their way. They use
+discrimination in utilising their knowledge. They <i>choose.</i> And each
+individual seems to choose in its own way. From among many means of achieving
+the same end they make a definite choice, and different plants make different
+choices—they use different means.</p>
+
+<p>Plants, therefore, quite evidently employ means to an end. They have an end
+in view—sometimes their own maintenance, sometimes the perpetuation of their
+kind, sometimes something else—and they employ means to achieve that end. They
+are, that is to say, <i>purposive</i> in their nature.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Evidence of purposiveness is also furnished by the wonderful organs of
+adaptation, root-tips, leaves, eyes, lungs, etc. It is extremely improbable that
+they came into being—or even started to come into being—by mere chance alone.
+The odds are countless millions to one against the atoms, molecules, and
+cells—myriads in number—of any one of these organs of adaptation having by mere
+chance grouped themselves in such a way as to form an effective eye, or lung, or
+leaf. It is, literally speaking, infinitely improbable that the organs of
+adaptation we see in a forest, in plant and animal, should have come into
+existence through chance alone.</p>
+
+<p>The organs of adaptation are distinctly and definitely purposive
+structures—not purposed, perhaps, but certainly purposeful. In its struggle with
+its surroundings and with competitors the individual has been compelled to bring
+into being organs to fulfil a purpose. It is not the case that the organ was
+first created and then a use found for it, or use made of it. What actually
+happens is that first there is a vague but insistent reaching out towards an
+end, towards the fulfilment of some inner want or need—the need for food or to
+propagate, or whatever it may be—and that to achieve that end, or fulfil that
+need, the individual is driven to create a special organisation—as an Air
+Ministry was created during the War to fulfil the new need for fighting in the
+air—and so a new organ is produced: an essentially purposive structure such as
+the eye or the lung, though unpurposed before the need arose. The organs we see,
+therefore, are outward and visible signs of the existence within of a definite
+striving towards an end—that is, of a purpose.</p>
+
+<p>The forest shows an abundant, varied, and intense life in which individuals
+are for ever battling with one another. But all is not happening by chance.
+Everywhere we see signs of purposiveness. Purposiveness—the striving towards an
+end—stands out as a dominating feature in forest life. Selections and
+adaptations are made, but they are made with some purpose in view. Purpose
+governs the adaptations and selections. What that purpose is we shall try and
+discover as we get to know still more of Nature.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>So far we have been observing individuals as separate individuals. Now we
+must look at them gathered together as a whole. And the first point we note is
+that though each individual has his own unique individuality, whether he be
+plant or man, all are kept together as a single whole. We have seen the
+individuals battling with one another, competing with one another, struggling
+against one another. But that is only one side of the picture. Just as
+remarkable as the way in which they have to resist one another is the way in
+which they depend on one another. Their interdependence is, therefore, the point
+we have now to note.</p>
+
+<p>Since Darwin drew our attention to the struggle for existence and survival of
+the fittest, the perpetual strife in Nature has been clear enough. But hard,
+selfish, cruel, brutal though the struggle frequently is, though the strong will
+often trample mercilessly on the weak and let the unfit go to the wall without
+any consideration whatever; yet the very strongest and fittest individual could
+not survive for a moment by itself alone. And what is just as remarkable as the
+struggle between individuals is their dependence upon one another.</p>
+
+<p>All plants depend upon the natural elements—the soil, water, air, and light.
+Animals depend on plants. And many animals depend upon other animals. A forest
+tree in its maturity is covered with blossoms, some conspicuous, others
+inconspicuous to sight, but very conspicuous to smell. These blossoms, either by
+sight or scent, attract butterflies, bees, moths, and other insects to sip their
+nectar, and in so doing carry away the pollen of the flowers, and unwittingly
+pass it on to another flower and fertilise it. The insect thus enables the tree
+to procreate its species. But the butterfly, after sipping the nectar of the
+flower of the tree, deposits its eggs on the under surface of the leaves, and
+the leaves give nourishment to the caterpillars into which these eggs develop.
+Besides this, the flowers, having been fertilised by the insects, develop into
+fruits or berries containing seeds; and these fruits, berries, and seeds form
+food for monkeys, birds, bats, and rodents. In quarrelling for these many are
+dropped and form food for mice and others below. Birds, finding food so near,
+pair, build their nests, and bring up their young in its branches. And in
+addition to the birds which are attracted by the berries, fruits, and seeds,
+other birds which are attracted by the caterpillars come there and build their
+nests. Without the flowers the bees would be starved; without the bees or other
+insects the flowers would not be fertilised and the tree would not perpetuate
+itself.[*]</p>
+
+<p>[*] I take this illustration from Rodway's &quot;In the Guiana Forest.&quot; It applies
+equally to any tropical forest.</p>
+
+<p>The lives of all individuals, whether plants, beasts, or men, are thus
+curiously interwoven with and interdependent on one another. They are also
+dependent upon the chemical elements in the soil and air. And even then the
+dependence does not cease, for they depend, too, upon the light and heat from
+the Sun. And the Sun itself, and this Earth as well, are subtly connected with
+the whole Stellar Universe.</p>
+
+<p>It is only within limits that any individual can be regarded as a distinct
+and separate entity. It has its own unique individuality, it is true. But it is
+also connected with all the rest of the forest and with all the rest of the
+Earth, of the Solar System, and of the Universe. Each individual is to <i>some</i>
+extent dependent upon all other individuals. All influence and are influenced by
+all the rest. There is mutual influence everywhere. And all are connected in a
+whole—the whole influencing each individual and each individual influencing the
+whole.</p>
+
+<p>So besides the resistance of individuals to one another, there is attraction.
+Besides conflict there is co-operation. Besides independence there is
+interdependence.</p>
+
+<p>The life of the forest thus forms a whole. Individuals have their due
+allowance of freedom. But they are kept together in a whole. Running through the
+individuals in their ensemble, binding them together, in spite of the tether
+they are allowed, must therefore be some kind of Organising Activity. We cannot
+look into that marvellous forest life without seeing that at the back of it,
+working all the way through it, controlling, guiding, inspiring every movement,
+is some dominating Activity, which, while allowing individuals freedom for
+experimenting by the process of trial and error, yet keeps them all bound
+together as a whole. And when we note the evidence of purposiveness everywhere
+so abundant, we cannot resist the conclusion that this Activity also gives
+<i>direction.</i></p>
+
+<p>It is not necessary to suppose that this Activity emanates from any thing or
+person
+<i>outside</i> Nature. It may perfectly well exercise its control and guidance
+from within—just as the activity which is &quot;I&quot; controls, consciously or
+unconsciously, directly or indirectly, the movements and actions of every
+particle of which &quot;my&quot; body is made up. But what we cannot but assume is that
+throughout this prolific and marvellously varied forest life, through every tiny
+plant and every forest giant, through every leaf and petal, through each little
+insect and every bird and butterfly, through the wild beasts of the jungle, the
+wary forest folk, and the most cultured men—through each and all and the whole
+in its collectedness there runs some kind of unifying Activity, holding the
+whole together, ordering all, dominating all, directing all—just as the
+orchid-spirit holds together and directs the activities of each particle which
+goes to make up the orchid; or the eagle-spirit directs the activities of each
+particle which goes to make up the eagle.</p>
+
+<p>Suffusing the whole, embracing the whole, permeating each single member of
+the whole, there must be an organising and directing Activity, or we should not
+see the order and purposiveness we do.</p>
+
+<p>We shall now see that this Organising Activity gives not only direction, but
+an
+<i>upward</i> direction to the whole which it controls.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>We have already noted that among individuals the variety is such that no two
+are exactly alike. Each individual, however nearly alike, varies in some slight
+degree from every other. And new variations are constantly being created. Now we
+have to note that besides variation there is <i>gradation.</i> There is a <i>
+scale</i> of being. And individuals are graded on that scale. One is higher than
+another.</p>
+
+<p>As there are gradations in height from the plains to the outlying spurs of
+the Himalaya, and from these again to the higher ridges, and from these on to
+the great mountains, and finally to Kinchinjunga and Mount Everest; and as there
+are gradations in size from tiny plants to the giant trees; so there are
+gradations in worth and value from the simple lichen or moss to the highly
+complex orchid; from the microscopic animalculae of a stagnant pond to monkeys
+and men; from simple primitive men to the highly cultured Bengali; and from the
+simple Bengali villager to the poet Rabindranath Tagore. Everywhere there is
+scale, gradation, grade. The differences between individuals is not on the level
+but on ascending stages. Even in very primitive communities, where all men are
+equal to the extent that there are no formal chiefs, one or two men always stand
+out pre-eminently above the rest, above the younger, the less skilful, the less
+experienced.</p>
+
+<p>There is variation everywhere, and wherever there is variation there is
+gradation. Living beings are no more exactly <i>equal</i> than they are exactly <i>
+alike.</i> Either in proficiency, or in speed, or in strength, or in cunning, or
+in alertness, or in general worth, one is superior to the other. We determine
+which is the faster horse by pitting one against the other in a race. We find
+out which is the superior boxer by making the two men fight each other. We find
+out which is the cleverest boy by testing him at an examination. We expect to
+determine which is the ablest political leader by making him submit himself to a
+General Election. We decide which is the most beautiful rose or orchid by
+putting the various flowers before a committee of judges. It is seldom possible
+to say with strict accuracy which one individual is superior to the other, and
+to arrange the various individuals in their truly right place in the scale. But
+quite evidently we do recognise the scale and recognise that theoretically it is
+possible to grade each individual on it, even though our practical methods may
+be somewhat rough-and-ready.</p>
+
+<p>This fact that gradation, as well as variation, exists is one of the great
+facts we have to note. For it indicates that the Organising Activity which keeps
+the individuals together is not keeping them together on a uniform dead level
+like the ocean, but is propelling them upward like the mountain. The
+significance of this fact has not hitherto been adequately noted. We are for
+ever speaking of equality when there is no equality. We have never noted with
+sufficient attention that everywhere there are grades and degrees. But it is a
+fact which a contemplation of the forest indelibly impresses on us. And it is a
+most welcome and inspiring fact, for it gives us a vision of higher things and
+promotes a zealous emulation among us.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>And the Organising Activity is not only upward-reaching, but forward-looking.
+It looks to the future. We have remarked how the individuals strive and compete
+with one another in order to get food and air and light with which to nourish
+and maintain themselves. But self-maintenance is not their only object. They
+seek to propagate themselves—to perpetuate their kind. They even make provision
+for their offspring. They go further still and <i>sacrifice</i> themselves that
+their offspring may flourish.</p>
+
+<p>Here again selfishness is not the last word. Even plants will make provision
+for their offspring, and in the last resort will sacrifice themselves that their
+offspring may survive. A plant will fight with its neighbours for the means
+wherewith to build itself up. But it will also provide for more than mere
+maintenance. It will build up organs for the purpose of propagating itself. Even
+ferns have their organs for producing seeds. And many a plant will make a
+supreme effort to produce offspring rather than die without having perpetuated
+its kind. And plants—and of course more markedly animals and men—do not stop
+with merely reproducing their kind. Besides devoting their energies to
+propagation, they will deliberately make special <i>provision</i> for their
+offspring; they will supply it with albumen and starch. And many insects are not
+only indefatigable, but highly intelligent, in providing food for their young
+even before the young are hatched out. They do not lay their eggs on any plant
+at random, but will wander for miles to find a plant on which their young can
+feed, and they then lay their eggs on that plant. Individual plants, insects,
+animals, or men may be frightfully selfish in their hard struggle for existence,
+but the one thing in regard to which no individual is selfish is in regard to
+its offspring. Primitive man, utterly callous about the sufferings of animals
+and of his own fellow-men and even of his wife, is tenderly careful of his child
+while it remains a child—and this is a very significant trait in his character.</p>
+
+<p>However indifferent the individual may be to the sufferings of those about
+him, he will make any sacrifice for his offspring. There is some instinct within
+plants and animals alike which impels them to sacrifice themselves that their
+kind may continue.</p>
+
+<p>So that Activity which is at the source of all life, and is keeping living
+things together in an interconnected whole, not only forces them upward in the
+scale of being, but is also driving them to look forward into the future, to
+provide for the future—and, indeed, to make the future better than the present.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>This seems to be the way—judging by what we see in the forest—the Activity
+works. Things have I not come to be as they are by the slap-dash, irresponsible,
+unregulated methods of mere chance. We cannot fail to see that chance does play
+<i>some</i> part. One seed from a tree may fall into a rivulet and be swept away
+to the sea, while another may be borne by a gust of wind, or by a bird, on to
+rich soil where competitors are few, and be able to grow up into a monarch of
+the forest, to live for a hundred years, and to give birth to thousands like
+itself. This is true. But chance will not produce the advancement and progress
+which is observable. Chance will not produce a single one of those organs of
+adaptation we see in myriads in the forest. And chance would not have made the
+barren earth of a hundred million years ago bring forth the plant, animal, and
+human life we see on it to-day.</p>
+
+<p>The Activity does not work on the haphazard methods of pure chance. Nor, on
+the other hand, are its operations conducted in the rigid, mechanical method of
+a machine. Nor, again, can the result we see be due to the working of blind
+physical and chemical processes alone. There is a great deal too much variety
+and spontaneity and originality about. We could not possibly look upon the
+forest as a machine—even of the most complicated kind. A machine goes grinding
+round and round, producing things of exactly the same pattern. Whereas no two
+things exactly alike are ever turned out in the forest. And blind physical and
+chemical processes could by <i>themselves</i>—by themselves alone—never produce
+the novelties, the entirely new and unique things, and things higher and higher
+in the scale of being, which we see in the forest. Only a man impervious to the
+teaching of common sense could suppose that the care which plant, beast, and man
+alike show for their offspring could be the result of bare physical and chemical
+processes without the inclusion with these processes of any other agency
+whatsoever.</p>
+
+<p>Nor, on the other hand, do we see any signs of the forest being the result of
+a preconceived plan gradually being worked out—as a bridge is gradually built up
+according to the previously thought out plan of the engineer. The carrying out
+of a plan means that in course of time the plan will be completed, and that each
+stage is a step towards its completion. But in the forest life there is no sign
+of any beginning of an approach towards the completion of a plan. There is no
+tendency to a closing in. There is a reaching upward, it is true. But there is
+also a splaying outward. One line leads up to man. But others splay out to
+insects, birds, and elephants.</p>
+
+<p>Another noticeable fact is that nowhere is perfection reached. If a plan were
+being worked we should expect to see the lower stages—like the foundations of
+the bridge—well and truly laid, incapable of improvement. But no living
+being—neither the lowliest nor the highest—is itself as a whole or in any one
+particular absolutely perfect. There is room for improvement everywhere. Most
+wonderful things we see. But not perfection. The eye is a wonderful thing. But
+an oculist would point out defects in even the best.</p>
+
+<p>And if it be argued that there has not been sufficient time yet to work out a
+plan, the reply is that there has been infinite time. Time is infinite. If the
+Activity were merely working out a plan, the plan would have been completed ages
+ago.</p>
+
+<p>So the Organising Activity which we see must be working at the back of
+things, keeping all the separate individuals together in a connected whole, not
+only preserves the strictest order among them, but grants them freedom,
+stimulates emulation among them, inspires them to reach upward and to look into
+and provide for the future. Such an Activity is no mere mechanical activity. It
+is a purposive Activity. It is an essentially
+<i>spiritual</i> Activity. Spirit is not the casual flash flaming up from the
+working of blind physical and chemical forces. Spirit dominates these blind
+forces. Spirit is a true determining factor in the whole process. Spirit is at
+the root and source and permeates the whole.</p>
+
+<p>This Spiritual Activity is what in ordinary language we speak of as &quot;the
+Spirit of Nature,&quot; and emanates from the Heart of Nature.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>When, therefore, our Artist sums up his impressions of Nature as epitomised
+in the life of the forest; when he has been able to feel that he has, as it
+were, got inside the skin of Nature, entered into her Spirit and really
+understood her—as the artist-midge we have referred to would enter into the
+nature of a man and try and understand him—he will probably find that Nature
+works in very much the same way as he himself works, and is of much the same
+character as himself.</p>
+
+<p>The Artist will observe that Nature neither works by mere chance, tossing up
+at each turning whether she shall go to the right or to the left, and quite
+indifferent as to which way she takes; nor in the set and rigid manner of a
+machine; nor yet, again, in the cut-and-dried fashion which the execution of a
+previously conceived plan implies. Order everywhere the Artist will have
+observed. But order need not mean woodenness and machinery. Order is simply the
+absolutely essential prerequisite of any Freedom. And it is Freedom that the
+Artist everywhere observes. Nature is not closed in by the designed overarch of
+an eventually-to-be-completed plan. The zenith and horizon are always open.
+There is always order, but there is scope illimitable for Nature's workings.</p>
+
+<p>So the sum impression the Artist will probably receive is that Nature is in
+her essential character an Artist like himself—that she creates and goes on
+creating, just as he creates and goes on creating. A painter who is a true
+artist and not a mere copyist paints &quot;out of his head,&quot; as the saying goes,
+pictures which are true creations—something new and unique, though founded on
+and related to the pre-existing. And there is no limit to the pictures he might
+paint out of his head. He is not tied down in advance by any preconceived plan.
+According as he is roused and stirred by the complex life around him, he
+could—if he were physically able—go on for ever painting picture after picture,
+each a new creation. In the same way a poet could go on writing poems. The poet
+does not turn out poems like a machine turns out pins, each like the other. He
+is not tied down to what he writes. He writes out of his own heart what he
+likes. And he does not and <i>could</i> not turn out two poems exactly the same.
+Nor does he write according to plan as the bridge-builder works according to the
+plan of the engineer. He works as he goes. He works by spontaneous creativeness.
+He is utterly original—a true creator. And even so will our Artist hold that
+Nature works.</p>
+
+<p>The letters of Nature's alphabet which the Artist sees in the forest are not
+in the places they are either through mere chance or according to a definitely
+prepared plan. The letters form words, the words form lines, and the lines form
+poems. The Artist reads the words and understands the meaning of the poems, and
+so understands the character of the Poet—the Poet whose name is Nature. But the
+Artist knows that the words and lines and poems he sees in the forest are there
+as spontaneous creations from the mind of Nature as poems arise in his own mind.
+And he knows that Nature could go on—and must go on—creating these poems,
+painting these pictures, for ever and ever.</p>
+
+<p>Nature will, indeed, work to an end as an Artist works to an end. Nature has
+purposiveness as an Artist has purposiveness. But that end is something which
+Nature, like the Artist, is always revising, re-creating, improving, perfecting.
+An Artist has the general end of creating Beauty, but he is always striving to
+enrich and intensify it, to create it in greater and greater perfection. And
+even so does Nature work.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>As the Artist puts himself in touch with the Heart of Nature, the dominant
+impression he receives is of Nature ever straining after higher, perfection,
+ever striving to achieve a greater excellence, and create beings with higher and
+higher, modes of life. He sees her straining upward in the mountain, in the
+trees, in the climbers on the trees, in every blade of grass. He sees the whole
+of life, straining to achieve higher and higher forms, more perfect flowers,
+more intelligent animals, more spiritual men. He sees the life of the seas
+stretching up out of the seas on to the land. He sees the life of the land
+striving to reach the highest points on the land. And he sees it also soaring up
+into the air and making itself at home there, too. Everywhere he sees evidence
+of aspiration and upward effort.</p>
+
+<p>But he notes also that with this upward effort there goes a downward pull.
+The mountain strives upward, but it is drawn down by the forces of gravitation.
+The eagle soars up in the sky, but has to come down to earth to rest and feed.
+The poet aspires to heaven, but has to stop on earth and earn his daily bread.</p>
+
+<p>Nature, like himself, the Artist finds, is engaged in a constant struggle
+between an impulse to excentration and the necessity for concentration. She
+wants to fly off to the zenith and to the horizon, but is continually being
+drawn into the centre. She wants to let herself go, but has to keep herself in.
+And all this is to the good. For the necessity for concentration only serves to
+strengthen and refine her aspiration. And the net result is higher and higher
+perfection. She cannot rise any higher in a mountain, so she rises in a higher
+form in a tree. She cannot rise any higher in a tree, so she rises in higher
+form in an orchid. She cannot rise any higher in an orchid, so she rises in
+higher form in a man. She cannot rise any higher in man as an intelligent
+animal, so she rises in higher form in man as a spiritual being, capable of
+spiritual appreciation and of spiritual communion with her.</p>
+
+<p>The gravitation to a centre—the necessity for concentration—does not suppress
+and crush the aspiration of Nature; it only serves to compel the aspiration to
+refine and perfect itself.</p>
+
+<p>In this spirit of aspiration checked by concentration the Artist will surely
+find what is after his own heart. He will recognise that what is going on in
+Nature is the same as what goes on in his own heart. He and Nature have a common
+aspiration. As he aspires but has to concentrate, so does Nature aspire but has
+to concentrate. As he works, so does Nature work. What he aims at, that also
+does Nature aim at. And when the Naturalist within him convinces him that, so
+far as forest life reveals it, this is Nature's manner and this is Nature's end,
+then his heart goes out to the Heart of Nature, his heart and her heart become
+one; and from that community of heart Beauty unending springs.</p>
+
+<p>He will without reserve or hesitation be able to throw his whole heart into
+the enjoyment of Natural Beauty in a way that would have been utterly impossible
+if he had had to come to the conclusion that Nature cared only for the brutally
+fittest, wholly irrespective of their worth, or that Nature was at the mercy of
+chance and had no wish, intention, or power to make good prevail over ill. And
+with his instinctive love of Natural Beauty thus confirmed and strengthened by
+this testing of his instinct against what cool reasoning on the facts revealed
+by observation in the forest had to say about it, he can with lightened heart
+search still further into Nature, and see her in higher, wider, deeper aspects
+than the forest alone can disclose.</p><a name="6"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER VI</p>
+
+<p>KINCHINJUNGA</p>
+
+<p>Aspiration is the root sentiment at the Heart of Nature as she manifests
+herself in the forest—aspiration upward checked by concentration upon the inmost
+centre. And the very emblem of the aspiration of Nature kept in hand and under
+control is to be found in that proud pinnacle of the Sikkim Himalaya,
+Kinchinjunga, as it is seen from Darjiling rising from amidst the rich tropical
+forests which clothe its base. To Darjiling, therefore, we should be wise to go.</p>
+
+<p>To reach it we must ascend the slopes of the outer ranges which rise abruptly
+from the plains. A giant forest now replaces the stunted and bushy timber of the
+Terai proper and clothes the steep mountain-sides with dense, deep-green,
+dripping vegetation. The trees are of great height, and are sheathed and
+festooned with climbing plants of many kinds. Bauhinias and robinias, like huge
+cables, join tree to tree. Peppers, vines, and convolvulus twine themselves
+round the trunks and branches, and hang in graceful pendants from the boughs.
+And the trees, besides being hung with climbers, are also decked with orchids
+and with foliaceous lichens and mosses. The wild banana with its crown of
+glistening leaves is everywhere conspicuous. Bamboos shoot up through the
+undergrowth to a hundred feet or more in height. The fallen trees are richly
+clothed with ferns typical of the hottest and dampest climates. And dendrobiums
+and other orchids fasten on the branches.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>At Kurseong there is another striking change, for the vegetation now becomes
+more characteristic of the temperate zone. The spring here vividly recalls the
+spring in England. Oaks of a noble species and magnificent foliage are flowering
+and the birch bursting into leaf. The violet, strawberry, maple, geranium, and
+bramble appear, and mosses and lichens carpet the banks and roadsides. But the
+species of these plants differ from their European prototypes, and are
+accompanied at this elevation (and for 2,000 feet higher up) with tree ferns
+forty feet in height, bananas, palms, figs, pepper, numbers of epiphytal
+orchids, and similar genuine tropical genera.</p>
+
+<p>From Kurseong we ascend through a magnificent forest of chestnut, walnut,
+oaks, and laurels. Hooker, when he subsequently visited the Khasia Hills in
+Assam, said that though the subtropical scenery on the outer Himalaya was on a
+much more gigantic scale, it was not comparable in beauty and luxuriance with
+the really tropical vegetation induced by the hot, damp, and insular climate of
+those perennially humid Khasia Hills. The forest of gigantic trees on the
+Himalaya, many of them deciduous, appear from a distance as masses of dark grey
+foliage, clothing mountains 10,000 feet high. Whereas in the Khasia Hills the
+individual trees are smaller, more varied in kind, of a brilliant green, and
+contrast with grey limestone and red sandstone rocks. Still, even of the forest
+between Kurseong and Darjiling, Hooker says that it is difficult to conceive a
+grander mass of vegetation—the straight shafts of the timber trees shooting
+aloft, some naked and clean with grey, pale, or brown bark; others literally
+clothed for yards with a continuous garment of epiphytes (air-plants), one mass
+of blossoms, especially the white orchids, coelogynes, which, bloom in a profuse
+manner, whitening their trunks like snow. More bulky trunks bear masses of
+interlacing climbers—vines, hydrangea, and peppers. And often the supporting
+tree has long ago decayed away and their climbers now enclose a hollow.
+Perpetual moisture nourishes this dripping forest, and pendulous mosses and
+lichens are met with in profusion.</p>
+
+<p>For this forest life, however, we cannot at present spare the attention that
+is its due, for we want above all things to see the mountains on the far side of
+this outer ridge. Tropical forests may be seen in many other parts of the world.
+But only here on all the Earth can we see mountains on so magnificent a scale.
+So we do not pause, but cross the ridge and come to the slopes and spurs which
+face northward, away from the plains and towards the main range of the Himalaya.</p>
+
+<p>Here is situated Darjiling, which ought to be set apart as a sacred place of
+pilgrimage for all the world. Directly facing the snowy range and set in the
+midst of a vast forest of oaks and laurels, rhododendrons, magnolias, and
+camellias, the branches and trunks of which are festooned with vines and smilax
+and covered with ferns and orchids, and at the base of which grow violets,
+lobelias, and geraniums, with berberries, brambles, and hydrangeas—it is adapted
+as few other places are for the contemplation of Nature's Beauty in its most
+splendid aspects.</p>
+
+<p>Its only disadvantage is that it is so continually shrouded in mist. The
+range on which it stands being the first range against which the moisture-laden
+currents from the Bay of Bengal strike, the rainfall is very heavy and amounts
+to 140 or 160 inches in the year. And even when rain is not actually falling
+there is much cloud hanging about the mountains. So the traveller cannot count
+upon seeing the snows. There is no certainty that as he tops the ridge or turns
+the corner he will see Kinchinjunga in the full blaze of its glory. He cannot be
+as sure of seeing it as he is of seeing a picture on entering a gallery. During
+the month of November alone is there a reasonable surety. All the rest of the
+year he must take his chance and possess his soul in patience till the mountain
+is graciously pleased to reveal herself.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps because of the uncertainty of seeing Kinchinjunga the view when it is
+seen is all the more impressive. The traveller waits for hours and days, even
+for only a glimpse. One minute's sight of the mountains would satisfy him. But
+still the clouds eddy about in fleecy billows wholly obscuring the mountains.
+Six thousand feet below may now and then be seen the silver streak of the Rangit
+River and forest-clad mountains beyond. Around him are dripping forests, each
+leaf glistening with freshest greenness, long mosses hanging from the boughs,
+and the most delicate ferns and noblest orchids growing on the stems and
+branches. All is very beautiful, but it is the mountain he wants to see; and
+still the cloud-waves collect and disperse, throw out tender streamers and
+feelers, disappear and collect again, but always keep a veil between him and the
+mountain.</p>
+
+<p>Then of a sudden there is a rent in the veil. Without an inkling of when it
+is to happen or what is to be revealed, those mists of infinite softness part
+asunder for a space. The traveller is told to look. He raises his eyes but sees
+nothing. He throws back his head to look higher. Then indeed he sees, and as he
+sees he gasps. For a moment the current of his being comes to a standstill. Then
+it rushes back in one thrill of joy. Much he will have heard about Kinchinjunga
+beforehand. Much he will remember of it if he has seen it before. But neither
+the expectation nor the memory ever comes up to the reality. From that time,
+henceforth and for ever, his whole life is lifted to a higher plane.</p>
+
+<p>Through the rent in the fleecy veil he sees clear and clean against the
+intense blue sky the snowy summit of Kinchinjunga, the culminating peak of
+lesser heights converging upward to it and all ethereal as spirit, white and
+pure in the sunshine, yet suffused with the delicatest hues of blue and mauve
+and pink. It is a vision of colour and warmth and light—a heaven of beauty,
+love, and truth.</p>
+
+<p>But what really thrills us is the thought that, incredibly high though it is,
+yet that heaven is part of earth, and may conceivably be attained by man. It is
+nearly double the height of Mont Blanc and more than six times the height of Ben
+Nevis, but still it is rooted in earth and part of our own home. This is what
+causes the stir within us.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly less striking than its height is its purity and serenity. The subtle
+tints of colour and the brilliant sunlight dispel any coldness we might feel,
+while the purity is still maintained. And the serenity is accentuated by the
+ceaseless movements of the eddying clouds through which the vision is seen.
+There is about Kinchinjunga the calm and repose of stupendous upward effort
+successfully achieved.</p>
+
+<p>A sense of solemn elevation comes upon us as we view the mountain. We are
+uplifted. The entire scale of being is raised. Our outlook on life seems all at
+once to have been heightened. And not only is there this sense of elevation: we
+seem purified also. Meanness, pettiness, paltriness seem to shrink away abashed
+at the sight of that radiant purity.</p>
+
+<p>The mountain has made appeal to, and called forth from us all that is most
+pure and most noble within us, and aroused our highest aspirations. Our heart,
+therefore, goes out lovingly to it. We long to see it again and again. We long
+to be always in a mood worthy of it. And we long to have that fineness of soul
+which would enable us to appreciate it still more fully. Glowing in the heart of
+the mountain is the pure flame of undaunted aspiration, and it sets something
+aglow in our hearts also which burns there unquenchably for the rest of our
+days. We see attainment of the I highest in the physical domain, and it stirs us
+to achieve the highest in the spiritual. Between ourselves and the mountain is
+the kinship of common effort towards high ends. And it is because of this
+kinship that we are able to see such lofty Beauty in the mountain.</p>
+
+<p>For only a few minutes are we granted this heavenly vision. Then the veil is
+drawn again. But in those few minutes we have received an impression which has
+gone right down into the depths of our soul and will last there for a lifetime.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>On other occasions the mountain is not so reserved, but reveals itself for
+whole days in all its glory. The central range of the Himalaya will be arrayed
+before us in its full majesty from one horizon to the other without a cloud to
+hide a single detail. We see the lesser ranges rolling up, wave after wave, in
+higher and higher effort towards the culminating line of peaks. And along this
+central line itself all the lesser heights we see converging on the supreme peak
+of Kinchinjunga. The scene, too, will be dazzling in the glorious sunshine and
+suffused with that purply-blue translucent atmosphere which gives to the whole a
+fairy-like, ethereal aspect.</p>
+
+<p>And on this occasion we have no hurried glimpse of the mountain. We have
+ample time to contemplate it, looking at it, turning away from it to rest our
+souls from so deep an emotion, looking at it again, time after time, till we
+have entered into its spirit and its spirit has entered into us. And always our
+eyes insensibly revert to the culminating-point—the summit of Kinchinjunga
+itself. We note all the rich forest foreground, the deep valley beneath us, the
+verdure-covered subsidiary ranges, and the strong buttresses of the higher
+peaks. But our eyes do not linger there. They unconsciously raise themselves
+beyond them to the summit ridge. Nor do we look long on the distant peaks on
+either hand. They are over 24,000 feet in height. But they are not the <i>
+highest.</i> So our eyes pass over peaks of every remarkable form—abrupt,
+rugged, and enticing, and we seek the highest peak of all. And Kinchinjunga is a
+worthy mountain-monarch. It is not a needle-point—a sudden upstart which might
+easily be upset. Kinchinjunga is grand and massive and of ample gesture, broad
+and stable and yet also culminating in a clear and definite point. There is no
+mistaking her superiority both in massiveness and height to every peak around
+her.</p>
+
+<p>And thick-mantled in deep and everlasting snow though the whole long range of
+mountains is, the spectacle of all this snow brings no chill upon us. For we are
+in latitudes more southern still than Italy and Greece—farther south than Cairo.
+The entire scene is bathed in warm and brilliant sunshine. The snows are
+glittering white, but with a white that does not strike cold upon us, for it is
+tinted in the tenderest way with the most delicate hues of blue and pink. They
+are, indeed, in the strictest sense not white at all, but a mingling of the very
+faintest essence of the rose, the violet, and the forget-me-not. And we view the
+distant mountains through an atmospheric veil which has the strange property of
+revealing instead of hiding the real nature of the object before which it
+stands. It does not conceal the mountains. It reveals them in their real
+nature—the spiritual. Each country has an atmosphere of its own. There is a blue
+of the Alps, a blue of Italy, a blue of Greece, and a blue of Kashmir. The blue
+of the Sikkim Himalaya, perhaps on account of the excessive amount of moisture
+in the air, has a special quality of its own. It seems to me to have more <i>
+colour</i> in it—a <i>fuller</i> colour, a bluer blue, a purpler purple than the
+atmosphere of these other countries. From this cause and from the greater
+brilliance of the sun there is a more satisfying <i>warmth</i> even in the
+snows.</p>
+
+<p>So besides beauty in the form of the mountains there is this exquisite
+loveliness of colour. In the immediate foreground are greens, fresh and shining
+and of every tint. And these shade away into deep purples and violets of the
+supporting ranges, and these again into those most delicate hues of the snows
+which vary according to the time of day, from decided rose-pink in the early
+morning and evening to, perhaps, faintest blue or violet in the full day. And
+over all and as a background is a sky of the intensest blue. What these colours
+are it is impossible to describe in words, for even the violet, the rose, and
+the forget-me-not have not the delicacy which these colours in the atmosphere
+possess. And assuredly no painter could do them justice, simply because paints
+and canvas are mediums far too coarse in which to reproduce the impression which
+such brilliance of light acting on a medium so fine as the thin air produces.
+The great Russian painter Verestchagin once visited Darjiling, and took his seat
+to paint the scene. He looked and looked, but did not paint. His wife kept
+handing him the brush and paints. But time after time he said: &quot;Not now, not
+now; it is all too splendid.&quot; Night came and the picture never was painted. And
+it never <i>could</i> be painted, though great artists most assuredly could at
+least point out to us in their pictures the subtler glories which are to be
+seen, and which we expect them to indicate to us.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>So the view of the snows from Darjiling, grand and almost overpowering though
+it is, has warmth in it too. The main impression is one of magnitude and
+amplitude, of vastness and immensity, and withal of serene composure. The first
+view of the mountain seen through a rent in the clouds was perhaps more
+uplifting, though this view excites a sense of elevation also, for the eye is
+continually being drawn to the highest point. But in this full view the
+impression of breadth and bigness of scale is combined with the impression of
+height. The <i>dimensions</i> of life in every direction seem to be enlarged. We
+seem to be able to look at things from a broader, bigger point of view, as well
+as a higher. We ourselves and the world at large are all on a larger scale than
+we had hitherto suspected. And while on a broader scale, we feel that things are
+always working <i>upward</i> and converging towards some lofty but distinct,
+defined summit. This also do we feel, as we look upon the view, that with all
+the bigness and massiveness and loftiness there is the very finest tenderness as
+well—such delicacy as we had never before imagined.</p>
+
+<p>And to anyone who really knows them the littleness of man in comparison with
+these mighty mountains is not the impression made upon him. He is not overawed
+and overcome by them. His soul goes out most lovingly to them because they have
+aroused in him all the greatness in his soul, and purified it—even if only for a
+time—of all its dross and despicableness. And he loves them for that. He does
+not go cringing along, feeling himself a worm in comparison with them. There is
+warm kinship between him and them. He knows what is in their soul. And they have
+aroused in his soul exactly what he rejoices in having aroused there, and which
+but for them might have remained for ever unsurmised. So he revels in their
+Beauty.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Another aspect in which we may see Kinchinjunga is in its aspect at dawn. It
+will be still night—a starlit night. The phantom snowy range and the fairy forms
+of the mountains will be bathed in that delicate yellow light the stars give
+forth. The far valley depths will be hidden in the sombrest purple. Overhead the
+sky will be glittering with brilliant gems set in a field of limpid sapphire.
+The hush of night will be over all—the hush which heralds some great and
+splendid pageant.</p>
+
+<p>Then, almost before we have realised it, the eastward-facing scarps of the
+highest peaks are struck with rays of mingled rose and gold, and gleam like
+heavenly realms set high above the still night-enveloped world below. Farther
+and farther along the line, deep and deeper down it, the flush extends. The
+sapphire of the sky slowly lightens in its hue. The pale yellow of the starlight
+becomes merged in the gold of dawn. White billowy mists of most delicate
+softness imperceptibly form themselves in the valley depths and float up the
+mountain-sides. The deep hum of insect life, the chirping of the birds, the
+sounds of men, begin to break the hush of night. The snows become a delicate
+pink, the valleys are flooded with purple light, the sky becomes intensest blue,
+and the sun at last itself appears above the mountains, and the ardent life of
+day vibrates once more.</p>
+
+<p>In the full glare of day the mountains are not seen at their very best. The
+best time of all to see them is in the evening. If we go out a little from
+Darjiling into the forest to some secluded spur we can enjoy an evening of rare
+felicity. On the edge of the spur the forest is more open. The ground is covered
+with grass and flowers and plants with many-coloured leaves. Rich orchids and
+tender ferns and pendant mosses clothe the trees. Graceful vines and creepers
+festoon themselves from bough to bough. The air is fragrant with the scent of
+flowers. Bright butterflies flutter noiselessly about. The soft purr of forest
+life drones around. Rays from the setting sun slant across the scene. The leaves
+in their freshest green and of every shade glitter like emeralds in the
+brilliant light.</p>
+
+<p>Through the trunks of the stately trees and under their overarching boughs we
+look out towards the snowy mountains. We look over the brink of the spur, down
+into the deeps of the valleys richly filled with tropical vegetation, their
+eastward-facing sides now of purplest purple, their westward-facing slopes
+radiant in the evening sunshine, with the full richness of their foliage shown
+up by the dazzling light. Far below we see the silver streak of some foaming
+river, and then as we raise our eyes we mark ridge rising behind ridge, higher
+and higher and each of a deeper shade of purple than the one in front. The lower
+are still clothed in forest, but the green has been merged in the deep purple of
+the atmosphere. The higher are bare rock till the snow appears. But just across
+them floats a long level wisp of fleecy cloud, and apparently the limits of
+earth have been reached and sky has begun. We would rest content with that. But
+our eyes are drawn higher still. And high above the cloud, and rendered
+inconceivably higher by its presence, emerges the snowy summit of Kinchinjunga,
+serene and calm and flushed with the rose of the setting sun. As a background is
+a sky of the clearest, bluest blue.</p>
+
+<p>These are the chief elements of the scene, but all is in process of incessant
+yet imperceptible change. The sunshine slowly softens, the purples deepen, the
+flush on the mountains reddens. The air becomes as soft as velvet. Not a leaf
+now stirs. A holy peace steals over the mountains and settles in the valleys.
+The snow mountains no longer look cold, hard, and austere. Their purity remains
+as true as ever. And they still possess their uplifting power. But they now
+speak of serenity and calm—not, indeed, of the unsatisfying ease of the
+slothful, but of the earned repose of high attainment. Great peace is about
+them—deep, strong, satisfying peace.</p>
+
+<p>The sun finally sets. Night has settled in the valleys. The lights of
+Darjiling sparkle in the darkness. But long afterwards a glow still remains on
+Kinchinjunga. Lastly that also fades away. And now night spreads her veil on
+every part. But here night brings with it no sense of gloom and darkness, much
+less death. Far otherwise, for now it seems as if we were only beginning our
+intenser and still wider life. The fret of ordinary life is soothed away in the
+serene ending of the day. The quietness, profound and meaningful, yet further
+calms our spirit. Every condition is now favourable for the life of that inmost
+soul of us, which is too sensitive often to emerge into the glare and rubs of
+daylight life, but which in this holy peace, in the presence of the heavenly
+mountains, and with the stars above to guide it, can reach out to its fullest
+extent and indulge its highest aspirations.</p><a name="7"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER VII</p>
+
+<p>HIGH SOLITUDES</p>
+
+<p>From these scenes of tropical luxuriance and teeming life I would transport
+the Artist to a region of austerest beauty, far at the back of the Himalaya,
+where only one white man as yet has penetrated: where no life at all exists—no
+tree, no simplest plant, no humblest animalcula; where, save for some rugged
+precipice too steep for snow to lie, and save also for the intense azure of the
+sky, all is radiant whiteness. A region far distant from any haunt of man, where
+reigns a mountain which acknowledges supremacy to Mount Everest alone. A region
+of completest solitude, where the solemn silence is unbroken by the twitter of a
+single bird or the drone of the smallest insect, and is disturbed only by the
+occasional thunder of an avalanche or the grinding crunch of the glacier as a
+reminder of the titanic forces which are perpetually though invisibly at work.</p>
+
+<p>Freezing this region is and full of danger. And there is no short cut to it
+and no easy means of transport. Only men in the prime of health can reach there
+and return. And it is only men whose faculties are at their finest who are fit
+to stand the austerity of its cold, stern beauty. It lies at the dividing line
+between India and Central Asia where the waters which flow to India are parted
+from the waters which flow to Central Asia, and where the Indian and Chinese
+Empires touch one another. It may be approached from two directions—from
+Turkistan or from Kashmir and the Karakoram Pass. The Artist had better approach
+it by Kashmir, for he will see there certain beauties which even Sikkim does not
+possess, and this will make him further realise the variety of beauty this earth
+displays.</p>
+
+<p>Kashmir is altogether different from Sikkim. In Sikkim the valleys are deep,
+steep, and narrow, and markedly inclined, so that the rivers run strong and
+there is no room or level for lakes. In Kashmir the main valley is from twenty
+to thirty miles broad and ninety miles long. Over a large portion it is nearly
+dead level. So the river is even and placid. And there are tranquil lakes and
+duck-haunted marshes.</p>
+
+<p>The climate is different, too. It is the climate of North Italy. Consequently
+there are no tropical forests, and the mountain-sides are covered with trees of
+the temperate zone—the stately deodar cedars, spruce fir, maples, walnut,
+sycamore, and birch; while in the valley itself grow poplars, willows,
+mulberries, and most beautiful of all, and a speciality of Kashmir, the
+magnificent chenar tree—akin to the plane tree of Europe, but larger, fuller,
+and richer in its foliage.</p>
+
+<p>In Kashmir there is also far more variety of colour than there is in Sikkim.
+And in the spring, with the willows and poplars in freshest green; the almond,
+pear, apple, apricot, and peach trees in full blossom, white and pink; the
+fields emerald with young wheat, blue with linseed, or yellow with mustard; and
+the village-borders purple with iris; or in the autumn when the chenars, the
+poplars, and apricots are turning to every tint of red and yellow and purple,
+Kashmir is in a glow of colour. And the famous Valley is all the more beautiful
+because it is ringed round with a circle of snowy mountains of at least Alpine
+magnitude, with a glimpse here and there, such as that of Nanga Parbat, of much
+more stupendous peaks beyond; and because the sky is so blue, the atmosphere so
+delicate in its hues, and the sunshine so general throughout the year.</p>
+
+<p>In this favoured land there is many a variety of beauty, but all is of the
+easy, pleasant kind. All the colours are soft and soothing. It is a land to
+dream of, a gentle and indulgent land of soft repose, and calm content, and
+quiet relaxation; a dreamy, peaceful land where life glides smoothly forward,
+and all makes for enjoyment and idleness and holiday.</p>
+
+<p>From the pleasant Vale of Kashmir the Artist would have to make his way up
+the Sind Valley—a valley, typical of those beautiful tributaries which add so
+much to the whole charm of Kashmir. These are comparatively narrow, and the
+mountain-sides are steep, but the valleys are not so narrow nor the sides so
+steep as the valleys of Sikkim, nor are the forests anything like so dense. The
+scenery is, indeed, much more Swiss in appearance with open pine forests,
+picturesque hamlets, grassy pasture-lands, flowery meadows, and clear, rushing
+rivers; and with the rocky crests or snow-capped summits of the engirdling
+mountains always in the background.</p>
+
+<p>But when we emerge from this delightful valley of the Sind River and cross
+the Zoji-la Pass, we come upon a very different style of country—bare, dreary,
+desolate, monotonous, uninteresting. The forest has all disappeared, for the
+rainfall is here slight. The moisture-laden clouds have precipitated themselves
+upon the seaward-facing slopes of the mountains we have already passed through.
+And because of this lack of rainfall the valleys are not cut out deep, but are
+high and broad. It is a delightful experience to pass from this brown,
+depressing landscape to the rich beauties of the Sind Valley and Kashmir. But to
+make the journey the other way round, and to pass <i>into</i>
+the gloomy region after being spoilt by the luxuries of Kashmir, is sadly
+disheartening at first.</p>
+
+<p>The experience has, however, its advantages, for it makes us throw off all
+ideas of soft ease we may have harboured in Kashmir, and reminds us that we have
+to prepare ourselves to face beauties of a far sterner kind. So we insensibly
+alter our whole attitude of mind, and as we plod our way through the mountains
+we summon up from within ourselves all the austerer stuff of which we are made.</p>
+
+<p>We cross some easy passes of 13,000 feet or so in height. We cross the River
+Indus. We reach Leh. We cross a 17,000 feet pass and then a glacier pass of
+18,000 feet, and then the watershed of India and Central Asia by the Karakoram
+Pass, nearly 19,000 feet in height. We are six hundred miles from the plains of
+India now, and in about as desolate a region as the world contains. Then,
+bearing westward, we make for the Aghil Pass. We have now got right in behind
+the Himalaya, and as we reach the top of the Aghil Pass we look towards the
+Himalaya from the Central Asian side, on what is known as the Karakoram Range,
+and here at last is the remote, secluded glacier region which has been the
+object of our search.</p>
+
+<p>Its glory bursts upon us as we top the last rise to the Aghil Pass. Across
+the deep valley is arrayed in bold and jagged outline a series of pinnacles of
+ice glistening in the brilliant sunshine, showing up in clearest definition
+against the intense blue sky, and rising abruptly and incredibly high above the
+rock-bound Oprang River. They are the mighty peaks which group around K<sub>2</sub>—the
+noblest cluster in the whole Himalaya.</p>
+
+<p>There are here no inviting grassy slopes and no enticing forests. The
+mountain-sides are all hard rock and rugged precipices. And the summits are of
+ice or with edges sharp and keen direct from Nature's workshop. But the sight,
+though it awes us, does not depress us or deter us. We are keyed up by high
+anticipation when we arrive on the threshold of this secluded region, and a
+fierce joy seizes us as we first set eyes on these mountains. We know we have
+before us one of the great sights of the world—something unique and apart,
+something the like of which we shall never see again. And awed as we are by the
+mountains' unsurpassed magnificence, we do not bow down in any abject way before
+them. We are not impressed by our littleness in comparison. They have, indeed,
+shown us that the world is something greater than we knew. But they have shown
+us also that <i>we</i> too are something greater than we knew. The peaks in
+their dazzling altitude have set an exacting standard for us. They have incited
+us to rise to that standard. Their call is great, but a thrill runs through us
+as we feel ourselves responding to the challenge, collecting ourselves together
+and gathering up every stiffest bit of ourselves to rise to their high standard.
+We feel nerved and steeled; and in high exhilaration we plunge down into the
+valley to join issue with the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived on the Oprang River we can turn either to the left or the right. If
+we turn to the left we get right in under a knot of stupendous peaks. Towering
+high and solitary above the rocky wall which bounds the valley on the south is a
+peak which may be K<sub>2</sub>, 28,250 feet in height, which must be somewhere
+in the neighbourhood. But the investigations of the Duke of the Abruzzi throw a
+doubt as to whether this can be K<sub>2</sub> itself. If it is not, it must be
+some unfixed and unnamed peak. At any rate it is a magnificent, upstanding peak
+rising proud and steep-sided high and clear above its neighbours. Then beyond
+it, farther up the Oprang Valley, we catch glimpses of that wondrous company of
+Gusherbrum Peaks—four of them over 26,000 feet in height, with rich glaciers
+flowing from them.</p>
+
+<p>But if we turn to the right on descending from the Aghil Pass, and if we turn
+again in the direction of the Mustagh Pass, we come to an icy realm which has
+about it, above every other region, the impress of both extreme remoteness and
+loftiest seclusion. As we ascend right up the glacier—either the one coming down
+from the Mustagh Pass or the one to the east running parallel with the general
+line of the Karakoram Range—we feel not only far away from but also high above
+the rest of the world. And we seem to have risen to an altogether purer region.
+Especially if we sleep in the open, without any tent, with the mountains always
+before us, with the stars twinkling brightly above us, do we have this sense of
+having ascended to a loftier and serener world.</p>
+
+<p>At the heads of these glaciers there is little else but snow and ice. The
+moraines have almost disappeared—or, rather, have hardly yet come into being.
+And the mountains are so deeply clothed in ice and snow, it is only when they
+are extremely steep that rock appears. The glacier-filled valley below and the
+mountain above are therefore almost purely white. The atmosphere, too, is
+marvellously clear, so that by day the mountains and glaciers glitter brightly
+in the sunshine, and at night the stars shine out with diamond brilliance. The
+effect on a moonlight night is that of fairyland. We see the mountains as
+clearly as we would by the daylight of many regions, but the light is now all
+silver, and the mountains not solid and substantial but ethereal as in a vision.</p>
+
+<p>The pureness of the beauty is unspotted. It is the direct opposite of the
+voluptuous beauty of Kashmir. No one would come here for repose and holiday. But
+we like to have been there once. We like to have attained even once in a
+lifetime to a world so refined and pure.</p>
+
+<p>Cold it may be—and dangerous. But we soon forget the cold. And the dangers
+only string us up to meet them, so that we are in a peculiarly alert, observant
+mood. And we have a secret joy in watching Nature in her most threatening
+aspects and in measuring ourselves against her.</p>
+
+<p>White it may be, but not colourless. For the whiteness of the snow is most
+exquisitely tinged with blue. The lakelets on the glacier are of deepest blue.
+They are encircled by miniature cliffs of ice of transparent green. The
+blue-ness of the sky is of a depth only seen in the highest regions. And the
+snowy summits of the mountains are tinged at sunset and dawn with finest flush
+of rose and primrose. So with all the whiteness there is, too, the most delicate
+colouring.</p>
+
+<p>Standing thus on the glacier and looking up to the snowy peaks all round us,
+we think how, wholly unobserved by men, they have reared themselves to these
+high altitudes and there remain century by century unseen by any human being.
+From deep within the interior of the earth they have arisen. And they are only
+touched by the whitest snowflakes. They are only touched by snowflakes fashioned
+from the moisture which the sun's rays have raised off the surface of the Indian
+Ocean, and which the monsoon winds have transported in invisible currents, high
+above the plains of India, till they are gently precipitated on these
+far-distant heights.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Blessed are the pure in heart,&quot; we are told, &quot;for they shall see God.&quot; And
+blessed are they who are able to ascend to a region like this, for here they
+cannot but be pure in heart, and cannot <i>help</i> seeing God. For the time
+being at least, they
+<i>have</i> to be pure. In the spotless purity of that region they cannot
+harbour any thought that is sordid or unclean. And they pray that ever after
+they may maintain what they have reached. For they know that if they could
+maintain it they would see beauties which in the murky state of common life it
+is impossible to perceive. In the white purity which this high region exacts
+they are forced to pierce through the superficial and unimportant and they catch
+sight of the real.</p>
+
+<p>They are in a remote and lofty solitude, and in touch with the naked
+elementals of which the world has built itself. But they do not feel alone. They
+feel themselves in a great Presence, and in a Presence with which they are most
+intimately in touch. And it is no dread Presence, but one which they delight to
+feel. Holiness is its essence, and their souls are purged and purified. They are
+suffused with it; it enters deeply into them, and translates them swiftly
+upward.</p><a name="8"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER VIII</p>
+
+<p>THE HEAVENS</p>
+
+<p>The remote glacier region gives us a sense of purity, and gives us, too, a
+vision of colour in its finest delicacy. But for depth, extent, and brilliancy
+of colour we must look to sunsets—and sunsets in those high desert regions where
+the outlook is widest and the atmosphere clearest.</p>
+
+<p>In deserts everywhere marvellous sunsets may be seen, for the comparative
+absence of moisture in the atmosphere and the presence of invisible particles of
+dust gives these sunsets an especial brilliancy. In the middle of the day a
+desert in its uniform brownness is dreary and monotonous to a degree. But at
+dawn and sunset when the sun's rays slant across the scene the desert glows with
+colour of every shade and hue and in ever-changing combination. In the Gobi
+Desert of Central Asia, in the Egyptian Desert, in the Arabian Desert, in
+Arizona, I have seen sunsets that thrill one with delight. But nowhere have I
+seen more glorious sunsets than in the highlands of Tibet. And what makes them
+there so remarkable is that the plains themselves are 15,000 feet above
+sea-level, so that the atmosphere is exceptionally clear. Great distances are
+therefore combined with unusual clearness. The country is open enough and the
+air clear enough for us to see far distances. And extent is a prime essential in
+the glory of a sunset.</p>
+
+<p>It is difficult to make those who have never been outside Europe understand
+what sunsets can be. In England, as Turner has shown, there are sunsets to be
+seen containing in abundance many such elements of beauty as varied and varying
+and great extent of colour. But the atmosphere here is so thick that the colours
+appear as if thrown on to a solid background. So the sunsets look opaque. On the
+continent of Europe the atmosphere is clearer and the opaqueness less
+pronounced. The colouring is in consequence more vivid. But—except in high
+Alpine regions—the clearness does not approach the clearness of Tibet. And
+neither in England nor on the Continent do we get the great
+<i>distances</i> of desert sunsets. And great distances increase immeasurably
+that feeling of <i>infinity</i> which is the chief glory in a sunset.</p>
+
+<p>The clearness of the atmosphere is important in this respect also, that it
+produces the effect upon the colours of the sunset that they seem more like the
+colours we see in precious stones than the colours a painter throws on a canvas.
+There is no milkiness or murkiness in them. The sky is so clear that we see a
+colour as we see the red in a ruby. We see deep into the colour. The colour
+comes right <i>out</i> of the sky and has not the appearance of being merely
+plastered on the surface.</p>
+
+<p>And the variety of the colours and the rapidity with which they change and
+merge and mingle into one another is another wonder of these desert sunsets. It
+would be wholly impossible to paint a picture of them which would adequately
+express the impression they give, for the main impression is derived from light,
+and the colours are therefore far more glowing than they could ever be
+reproduced on canvas. Nor can the changing effects be reproduced on a stationary
+medium. The nearest approach to the glory of a Tibet sunset which I have seen is
+a picture in pastel by Simon de Bussy a sunset in the Alps. But all
+pictures—even Turner's;—can only draw attention to the glory and show us what to
+look for. They cannot reproduce the impression in full. The medium through which
+the artist has to work—the paints and the canvas—are inadequate for his needs.</p>
+
+<p>If we try to describe the impression in words we are no better off. We can,
+indeed, compare the sunset colours with the colours of flowers and precious
+stones. But here also we miss the light which is the very foundation of the
+sunset beauties. And we have neither the changefulness nor the vast extent of
+the sunset colouring.</p>
+
+<p>To get the least idea of the variety of colours mixing, merging, and
+intermingling with one another we must go to the opal, though even there there
+is not the intensity of colour, and of course not the change nor extent. From an
+orange—especially a blood orange—we get a notion of the combined reds and
+yellows of the sunsets, though the reds may range deeper than orange into the
+reds of the ruby or the cardinal flower, and lighter into the pinks of the rose
+or the carnation; and the yellows range from the gold of the eseholtzia to the
+delicate hue of the primrose. And for the translucency of their yellower effects
+we must bring in the amber. Often there is a green which can only be matched by
+jade or emerald. And sometimes there is an effect with which only the amethyst
+can be compared. Then there are mauves and purples for which the precious stones
+have no parallel, and of which heliotrope, the harebell, and the violet give us
+the best idea. And the blues range from the deep blue of the sapphire and the
+gentian to the light blue of the turquoise and the forget-me-not.</p>
+
+<p>In these stones and flowers we get something near the actual colour, but the
+depth, the clearness, the luminosity, and the vast extent are all wanting, and
+these are all essential features of the sunset's glories. So we must imagine all
+these colours glowing with light and never still—perpetually changing from one
+to the other and shading off from one into the other, one colour emerging,
+rising to the dominant position, and then disappearing to give place to another,
+and effecting these changes imperceptibly yet rapidly also, for if we take our
+eyes away for even a few minutes we find that the aspect has altogether altered.</p>
+
+<p>From my camp in Tibet for weeks together I could be sure of witnessing every
+evening one of these glorious sunsets. For while the mighty monsoon clouds used
+to roll up on to the line of Himalayan peaks and pile themselves up there,
+billow upon billow, in magnificent array, dark and fearful in the general mass,
+but clear-edged and silver-tipped along the summits, yet beyond that line, in
+Tibet, the sky was nearly always clear and blue of the bluest. With nothing
+whatever to impede my view—no trees, nor houses, nor fences, nor obstacles of
+any kind—I could look out far over these open plains to distant hills; beyond
+them, again, to Mount Everest a hundred miles away; beyond it, again, to still
+more distant mountains; and, finally, behind them into the setting sun. And
+these far hills and snowy mountains, seen as they were across an absolutely open
+plain, seemed not to impede the view but only to heighten the impression of
+great distance. The eye would be led on from feature to feature, each receding
+farther into the distance till it seemed only a step from the farthest snowy
+mountain into the glowing sun itself.</p>
+
+<p>Every evening, whenever I could, I used to walk out alone into the open plain
+to feast my soul on the splendid scene. In the stern glacier region round K<sub>2</sub>
+had had to brace myself up and to summon up all that was toughest within me in
+order to cope with the terribly exacting conditions in which I found myself. In
+the presence of these calm but fervent sunsets there was a different feeling. I
+had a sense of expansion, a longing to let myself go. And I would feel myself
+craving to let myself go out all I could into these glowing depths of light and
+colour, and trying to open myself out to their beauty, that as much as possible
+of it should flow into me and glorify my whole being. I had the feeling that in
+those sunsets there was <i>any</i> length for my soul to go out to—that there
+was <i>infinite</i> room there for the soul's expansion. There was inexhaustible
+glory for the soul to absorb, and the soul was thirsting for it and could never
+have enough.</p>
+
+<p>Evening after evening came to me, too—quite unconsciously, and as it were
+inevitably—Shelley's words (slightly altered):</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &quot;Be thou, spirit
+bright,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; My spirit! Be thou me, most glorious one!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Be through my lips to unawakened earth<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The trumpet of a prophecy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was not that there was any particular message that I had to give. But
+there was aroused in me just this simple, insistent longing to let others know
+what glory there was in the world, and to be able to communicate to them
+something of the joy I was then feeling in beholding it. I was highly privileged
+in having this opportunity of witnessing a Tibetan sunset's splendours. I was
+yearning for others to share my enjoyment with me.</p>
+
+<p>The white radiance of the glacier region instils into us a sense of purity,
+and without the purity of heart which that stern region exacts we cannot see the
+sunset's glory in all its fulness. But now in these Tibetan sunsets we have not
+purity alone, but warmth and richness as well. They give an impression of
+infinity of glory. We catch alight from their consuming glory, and our hearts
+flame up in correspondence with them. The fervent glow in the Heart of Nature
+kindles a like glow in our own hearts; and we are enraptured by the Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>On our misty island we are apt to connect sunsets with coming darkness and a
+black end of things. And in gazing on them we are prone to have a sense of
+sadness mingled with our joy. They seem to mean for us a passage from light to
+darkness, and from life to death.</p>
+
+<p>But in the deserts we have no such feeling. As day imperceptibly fades away
+it is not black darkness that succeeds, but a light that enables us to see
+farther, a mellower light that enables us to see the Universe at large. From
+this earthly life we are transported to a higher, intenser, ampler life among
+the stars.</p>
+
+<p>And it is in the desert that we best live among the stars. In Europe we look
+up into the sky between trees and houses; and among the clouds and through a
+murky atmosphere we see a few stars. Even when we have a clear sky we seldom get
+a chance of seeing the whole expanse of the heavens all the way round. And even
+if we get this rare chance of a clear sky and a wide horizon we do not live with
+the stars in the open the night through and night after night.</p>
+
+<p>In the Gobi Desert I had this precious opportunity. And I had it when my
+whole being was tuned up to highest pitch. I was not in the limp state of one
+who steps out into his garden and looks up casually to the stars. I was tense
+with high enterprise. I was passing through unknown country on a journey across
+the Chinese Empire from Peking to India. I was keen and alive in every faculty,
+in a state of high exhilaration, and both observant and receptive. It was a rare
+chance, and much I wish now I had made more of it.</p>
+
+<p>My party in crossing the Gobi Desert consisted only of a Chinese guide, a
+Chinese servant, and a Mongol camel-man. As I had no European companion I was
+driven in upon myself. I had to explore a route never before traversed by
+Europeans, and the distance to be covered across the open steppes of Mongolia
+and over the Gobi Desert to the first town in Turkestan was twelve hundred
+miles. Beyond that was the whole length of Turkestan and the six-hundred-mile
+breadth of the Himalaya to be crossed before I should reach India. So I had a
+big task before me, and was stirring with the sense of high adventure and vast
+distances to overcome.</p>
+
+<p>To enable my eight camels to feed by daylight, I used to start at five
+o'clock in the afternoon and march till one or two in the morning. Sometimes in
+order to reach water we had to march all through the night and well into the
+following day. Frequently there were terrific sandstorms, but there were seldom
+any clouds. So the atmosphere was clear. In the distance were sometimes hills.
+But for the most part all round the desert was absolutely open. I could see for
+what seemed an indefinite distance in any direction. The conditions were ideal
+for observing the stars.</p>
+
+<p>Seated on my camel, or trudging along apart from my little caravan, I would
+watch the sun set in always varying splendour. No two sunsets were anything like
+the same. Each through the ascendancy of some one shade of colour, or through an
+unusual combination of colour, had a special beauty of its own. I would watch
+each ripening to the climax and then shade away into the beauty of the night.
+And when the day was over the night would reveal that higher, wider life which
+daylight only served to hide.</p>
+
+<p>The sunset glow would fade away. Star after star would spring into sight till
+the whole vault of heaven was glistening with diamond points of light. Above me
+and all round me stars were shining out of the deep sapphire sky with a
+brilliance only surpassed by the stars in the high Himalayan solitudes I have
+already described. And a great stillness would be over all—a silence even
+completer than the silence among the mountains, for there it was often broken by
+creaking of the ice, whereas here in the desert it was so profound that, when at
+the end of many weeks I arrived at a patch of grass and trees, the twittering of
+the birds and the whirr of insects sounded like the roar of a London street.</p>
+
+<p>In this unbroken stillness and with the eye free to rove all round with
+nothing in any direction to stay its vision, and being as I was many weeks'
+distance from any settled human habitation, I often had the feeling of being
+more connected with the starry firmament than with this Earth. In a curious way
+the bodily and the material seemed to exist no longer, and I would be in spirit
+among the stars. They served to guide us over the desert and I gradually became
+familiar with them. And I used to feel as much a part of the Stellar World as of
+this Earth. I lost all sense of being confined to Earth and took my place in the
+Universe at large. My home was the whole great Cosmos before me. The Cosmos, and
+not the Earth, was the whole to which I belonged.</p>
+
+<p>And in that unbroken quiet and amid this bright company of heaven my spirit
+seemed to become intenser and more daring. Right high up in the zenith, to
+infinite height, it would soar unfettered. And right round to any distance in
+any direction it would pierce its way. The height and distance of the highest
+and farthest stars I knew had been measured. I knew that the resulting number of
+miles is something so immense as to be altogether beyond human conception. I
+knew also that the number of stars, besides those few thousands which I saw, had
+to be numbered in hundreds of millions. All this was astonishing, and the
+knowledge of it filled me with wonder at the immensity of the Starry Universe.
+But it was not the mere magnitude of this world that impressed me. What stirred
+me was the Presence, subtly felt, of some mighty all-pervading Influence which
+ordered the courses of the heavenly hosts and permeated every particle.</p>
+
+<p>We cannot watch the sun go down day after day, and after it has set see the
+stars appear, rise to the meridian and disappear below the opposite horizon in
+regular procession, without being impressed by the order which prevails. We feel
+that the whole is kept together in punctual fashion, and is not mere chaos and
+chance. The presence of some Power upholding, sustaining, and directing the
+whole is deeply impressed upon us. And in this Presence so steadfast, so calm,
+so constant, we feel soothed and steadied. The frets and pains of ordinary life
+are stilled. Deep peace and satisfaction fill our souls.</p>
+
+<p>Sandstorms so terrific that we cannot stand before them or see a thing a foot
+or two distant come whirling across the desert, and all for the time seems
+turmoil and confusion and nothing is visible. But behind all we know the stars
+still pursue their mighty way. At the back of everything we realise there is a
+Power constant and dependable in whom we can absolutely put our trust.</p>
+
+<p>This is the impression—the impression of steadfastness, constancy, and
+reliability—which a nightly contemplation of the stars makes upon us. At the
+foundation of things is something dependable, something in which we can repose
+our faith. And so the sense of calm and confidence we feel.</p>
+
+<p>And in the desert we have no feeling that the stars pursue their course in
+cold indifference to us—that the Power which sustains them works its soulless
+way unregardful of the frettings of us little men. Not thus are we who watch the
+desert stars impressed. Quite otherwise. For nowhere do we feel the Influence
+nearer, more intimate or more beneficent. We seem in the very midst of the great
+Presence. We are immersed in it. It is pervading us on every side. We do not
+expect it to alter the whole course of Nature for our private good. But we feel
+confident that the course of Nature is for
+<i>good</i>—that Nature is a beneficent and no callous Power, and has good at
+heart. <i>Because</i> the foundations are so sure and good we can each pursue
+our way in confidence. This is the impression we get.</p>
+
+<p>And the Power which guides the stars upon their heavenly way, and which, in
+guiding them, guides us across the desert, does not reside, we feel, in lonely
+grandeur in the empty places of the heavens, but in the stars themselves—in
+their very constitution—in each individually and in all in their togetherness.
+It burns in each star and shines forth from it, and yet holds the whole together
+as we see it every night in that circling vault around us. The Activity does not
+appear to us to emanate from some Invisible Being dwelling wholly apart and
+isolated from the stars and this Earth, and sending forth invisible spiritual
+rays, as the Sun stands apart from the Earth but sends out rays of sunlight to
+it. It seems rather to dwell in the very heart and centre of each star, and the
+stars seem <i>spiritual</i> rather than material beings. So this Power, as we
+experience it in the desert, does not impress us as being awful and remote,
+gloomy and inexorable, enforcing unbending law and exacting terrible penalties.
+Our impression of it is that, though it preserves order with unfailing
+regularity, it is yet near and kindly, radiating with light and warmth. We not
+only feel it to be something steadfast, something on which we can rely and in
+which we may have confidence; we also feel warmed and kindled by it.</p>
+
+<p>So what we get from a nightly contemplation of the stars is a sense of happy
+companionship with Nature. The Heart of Nature as here revealed is both
+dependable and kindly. Nature is our friend. And in her certain friendship the
+balm of peace falls softly on us. Our hearts blend tenderly with the Heart of
+Nature; and in their union we see Beauty of the gentlest and most reassuring
+kind.</p><a name="9"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER IX</p>
+
+<p>HOME BEAUTY</p>
+
+<p>The Artist in his quest for Natural Beauty will have pursued it in the
+remotest and wildest parts of the Earth, where he can see Nature in her primeval
+and most elemental simplicity. He will have seen her in many and most varied
+aspects—the grandest, the wildest, and the most luxuriant. And from these
+numerous and so different manifestations of Nature he will have been enabled
+more fully to understand her meaning and comprehend her soul. Moreover, this
+contemplation of Nature will have evoked from within himself much that he had
+never suspected he possessed, and thereby his own soul also he will have learned
+to understand. And from this completer comprehension of his own soul and hers
+will have emerged a fuller community of heart between him and Nature. He will
+have come to worship her with a still more ardent devotion, and through the
+intensity of his love discovered richer and richer Beauty in her.</p>
+
+<p>But even yet he has not seen Natural Beauty where it can be found in its
+highest perfection. Only when there can be the most intimate possible
+relationship between him and the natural object he is contemplating can Beauty
+at its finest be seen. And this closest correspondence of all between him and
+Nature will only be when he is in the natural surroundings with which he has
+been familiar from childhood, and which have affected him in his most
+impressionable years.</p>
+
+<p>The Artist will have seen Nature as she manifests herself in the teeming life
+of a tropical forest and the most varied races of men; in the highest mountains
+and the widest deserts; in the glory of sunsets and the calm of stars. But it is
+in none of these that he will see deepest into the true Heart of Nature and
+understand her best. It is amid scenery which he has loved since boyhood, in the
+hearts of his own countrymen in their own country, that he will see deepest into
+Nature. And deepest of all will he see when from among his countrywomen he has
+united himself to the one of his own deliberate choice, and in this union
+realised in its fulness, strength, and intensity that Creative Love which
+springs from Nature's very heart, and is the ultimate fount and source of all
+Natural Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>We like to go out over all the Earth and see the wonders of it. And we learn
+to love the great mountains and rich forests and unfenced steppes and veldts and
+prairies. And we get to love also the various peoples among whom we have to work
+and travel. But in his heart of hearts each man likes to get back to the scenes
+of his childhood. The plainsman likes to get back again from the mountains to
+his level plains where the scene is closer and more intimate. The mountaineer
+likes to retire again from the plains into the mountains. The dweller on the
+veldt likes to get out of the forest on to the great open spaces once more. The
+inhabitant of the forest likes to get back there again from the plains. And the
+Englishman, though he loves the Alps and the Himalaya, is touched by nothing so
+deeply as by a Devonshire lane with its banks of primroses and violets. And he
+may have the greatest affection for peoples of other races among whom he may
+have had to work, yet it is his own countrymen that he will always really love.</p>
+
+<p>So the Artist comes back to home surroundings and his own people. And he will
+return with his sense of beauty quickened and refined by this wide and varied
+experience of Nature. His sensibility to the beauties of Nature will now be of
+rarest delicacy, and his capacity for fine discrimination and his feeling for
+distinction and excellence sure and keen.</p>
+
+<p>He will have been toned and tuned up to the highest pitch in his wrestling
+with Nature, and will have been purged and purified in the white region of the
+highest mountains. And in this high-strung state he will now see that creation
+and manifestation of Nature which of all natural objects will best declare her
+meaning, bring him into closer touch with her very Heart, and stir in him the
+deepest emotions. Between him and this object there will be possible the closest
+community of soul. Here then he will see Natural Beauty at its very finest.</p>
+
+<p>The natural object in which he will see this consummation of Beauty will be
+the woman who will be to him a kindred spirit, and whom he will first admire and
+then love.</p>
+
+<p>It was through the love of man and woman for each other in the far-off ages
+when love first came into the hearts of men that Natural Beauty also first
+dawned upon them. It is through that love that Natural Beauty has been
+continually growing in fulness and splendour. And it will be through that same
+love of man and woman for each other that the Artist will see Natural Beauty
+reach its highest perfection. For in this love man first learned to enter into
+the soul of another, to recognise samenesses between himself and another, and to
+live in communion with another. And so in time he came to recognise samenesses
+between what was in his heart and what was in the Heart of Nature, to enter into
+communion with Nature, and through the wedding of himself with Nature see the
+Beauty in her. He was able in some slight degree to be towards Nature what we
+see the midge buzzing round a man must be if that midge is to see the beauty of
+man. Just as the midge, if it is to see the beauty in man, must be able to
+recognise samenesses between its life and the life of man, so man to see Beauty
+in Nature had to recognise identity of life between him and Nature as he was
+first inspired to see it through the love of man and woman for each other. And
+now the Artist with his wide experience of Nature and united with his own
+countrywoman in his own country will recognise a still closer identity between
+himself and Nature, and so see an even fuller Beauty in her.</p>
+
+<p>Assuming the man and woman, both by their upbringing and by outward
+circumstances, to have been able to develop the best capacities within them and
+to be meeting now under conditions most favourable for their union, we shall see
+how perfect is the Beauty which may be revealed. The man will be in the prime of
+his manhood, and the woman in the prime of her womanhood. The man manly and
+radiating manhood, the woman womanly and radiating womanhood: their manhood and
+womanhood welling up within them, each eager to answer the call of the other.</p>
+
+<p>Hers will be no light and shallow beauty insipid as milk and water, but will
+be sweet as the violet, delicate as the primrose, pure as the lily, yet with all
+the sweetness, delicacy and purity, radiant as the sunrise. And they will be no
+pale and puny lovers, soft and mild as doves, and content to lead a dull and
+trivial life. They will be high of spirit, graceful, swift, and supple as the
+greyhound; and as keenly intent on living a full and varied life with every
+moment of it worth while as ever the greyhound is in pursuing its object. They
+will be capable of intense and passionate emotion, yet with all their eager
+impulsiveness they will have wills strong to keep themselves in hand, and to
+maintain their direction true through all the mazy intricacies of life and love.</p>
+
+<p>In the bringing together of such a pair Natural Beauty will play a vitally
+important part. Of all objects that Nature has produced—of all the offspring of
+the Earth—such a man and woman are the most beautiful. And we may assume that as
+they are drawn to each other they will put forth the very best of themselves and
+give out the utmost beauty that is in them. Moreover, they will be more
+beautiful to each other than they are to anybody else. Unconsciously they will
+reveal to each other what they
+<i>can</i> reveal to none other but themselves. Insensibly the windows of their
+souls will be opened to each other. The lovelight in their eyes—the lovelight
+which can
+<i>only</i> be shown to each other—will discover to them hidden depths of beauty
+they had never gathered they possessed.</p>
+
+<p>And this beauty will be something more than mere prettiness or handsomeness
+of face. The man will see the beauty of the woman—and she his—not only in the
+face and features, but in the presence, bearing, and carriage, in the gestures,
+movements, and behaviour. Behind the outward aspect he will see the inward
+spirit, the real self, the true nature, the radiant personality. And the beauty
+that he sees will fill him with a passionate yearning, both to give and to
+possess. He will want both to give the utmost and best of himself, and also to
+possess what so satisfies all the cravings of the soul. And whether it be to
+give or to possess that he most wants he will be unable to distinguish. But, in
+the craving to give and possess, the highest stimulus will be afforded him to
+exert every faculty to its limit. The effort will give zest, and with zest will
+come added powers of vision, so that he will be able to see both her and his
+inmost and utmost capabilities. And though the force of outward circumstances
+may prevent both her and him from ever completely fulfilling those latent
+possibilities, what they see of themselves and of each other in those divine
+moments may nevertheless be a perfectly true vision of their real and
+fundamental nature. Love is not so blind as is supposed. Love is capable of
+seeing clearer and deeper than any other faculty.</p>
+
+<p>What the Artist now sees with the eyes of Love will be the ground upon which
+he will have to form his judgment in the most critical decision of his life. For
+the moment will now have come when he will have to decide whether of all others
+he will give himself to her, and whether he can presume to ask of her that she
+will give herself to him—and each to the other for all the rest of their lives.
+It is a momentous decision to have to make. With his highly developed power of
+vision he will have divined her true nature. But he will have now to exercise
+his judgment on it—whether it will satisfy the needs of his whole being and
+whether his whole being is sufficient to satisfy her needs. Each has to be sure
+that his peculiar nature satisfies—and satisfies fully—his or her own peculiar
+needs, and that his peculiar nature satisfies the other's needs. A wrong
+decision here is fatal. The responsibility is fearful. All will depend upon his
+keenness of vision, his capacity for discrimination, and his soundness of
+judgment. The decision may be arrived at swiftly and consciously, or it may be
+come to unconsciously, gradually, and imperceptibly. But shorter or longer the
+time, consciously or unconsciously the method, it will have in the end to be
+made in a perfectly definite fashion—yes or no—and from that decision there can
+be no going back. And on that clear decision will hang the future welfare not
+only of the one who makes it, but of both. Each, therefore, has to decide for
+the welfare of both.</p>
+
+<p>This is the real Day of Judgment. And each is his own judge. Now all his and
+her past life and inborn nature is being put to the test in a fierce ordeal—and
+the fiery ordeal of love is more searching even than the ordeal of war. Every
+smallest blot and blemish, every slightest impurity is shown up in startling
+clearness. Every flaw at once betrays itself. What will not bear a strain
+immediately breaks down. There is not an imperfection which is not glaringly
+displayed. The other may not see it, but he himself will—and upon him is the
+responsibility.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder that both the one and the other hesitate to commit themselves
+finally and irrevocably! Can he with all his blots and blemishes, his failings
+and weaknesses, offer to give himself to the other? Is he worthy to receive all
+that he would expect to receive in return? Is he justified in asking that the
+whole being and the most sacred thing in life should be given over utterly to
+him? It seems astounding that any man should ever have the impudence to answer
+such questions in the affirmative. Doubtless he would not have had such
+effrontery but for two considerations.</p>
+
+<p>In the first place he knows that, imperfect as he may be—downright sinful as
+he may often have been—he is not bad at bottom. At heart, he knows for certain
+he has capacities for improvement which would come at once into being if only
+they had the opportunity for development. And he knows that the other could make
+those opportunities—could provide the stimulus which would awaken in him and
+bring to fruit many a hidden capability of good. Every faculty in him he now
+feels being quickened to an activity never known before. Blemishes he feels
+being purged away in the cleansing fires of pure love. He feels that with the
+other he will be, as he has never been before, his whole and his true self. And
+this is the first consideration which gives him confidence.</p>
+
+<p>The second is that he feels himself now to a very special degree in direct
+and intimate touch with the central Heart of Nature. Something from what he
+feels by instinct is the Divine Source of Life and Love comes springing up
+within him, penetrating him through and through, supporting and upholding him
+and urging him forward. He feels that he directly springs from that Source, and
+that it will ever sustain him as long as he is true to his own real self, and
+works for those high ends towards which he feels himself impelled.</p>
+
+<p>With strong faith, then, he makes his decision—with strong faith in
+<i>himself,</i> for he knows himself to be inspired by the same great Spirit
+which animates the whole world of which he is himself a part. And having in this
+faith made his decision, he girds himself for the poignant battle of love.</p>
+
+<p>And as in war so in love men—and women—rise to altogether unexpected heights
+of courage, endurance, and devotion. War is a fine spur to excellence. But love
+is an even finer. Every faculty is quickened and refined. Every high quality
+brought into fullest exercise. Daring and caution, utter disregard of self and
+selfishness in the extreme, are alike required. For the two will never achieve
+full wedded union until they have fought their way through many an interposing
+obstacle. Adroitness, and that rare quality, social courage, will be needed in
+dealing with ever-recurring, complicated, painful, and nerve-straining
+situations. Even in their attitude towards one another as they gradually come
+together the finest address will be required. For each has necessarily to be
+comparing himself and comparing the object of his love with others; and each
+feels that he is being similarly compared. There can be no final assurance till
+the union is completed. A single ill-judged word or action may ruin all. At any
+moment another may be preferred—or at least one of the two may find the other
+inadequate or deficient.</p>
+
+<p>All this will afford the highest stimulus to emulation. Each will strive to
+excel in what the other approves and appreciates—or at any rate to excel in what
+is his own particular line. He will be incited to show himself at his best and
+to be his best.</p>
+
+<p>But before the bliss of completest union is attained anguish and rapture in
+exquisite extremes will be experienced. For the soul of each will be exposed in
+all its quivering sensitiveness, and any but the most delicate touch will be a
+torture to it. Fortitude of the firmest will be required to bear the wounds
+which must necessarily come from this exposure. Each, too, will have to bear the
+pain of the suffering they must inevitably be causing to some few others—and
+those others among their very dearest.</p>
+
+<p>As the intimacy of union becomes closer and closer the call for bodily union
+will become more and more insistent. In the first instance—and this is a point
+which is specially worth noting—the desire was <i>entirely</i> for spiritual
+union, for union of the <i>spirits</i> of each. What each admired and loved in
+the other was his or her capacity for love. He realised what a wonderful love
+the other <i>could</i> give. And he yearned with all his heart to have that love
+directed towards himself. It was a purely spiritual union that his heart was set
+on. The thought of bodily union did not enter his head. But the need for bodily
+touch as a means of expressing human feeling is inherent in human nature, and
+becomes more and more urgent as the feeling becomes warmer. Friends have to
+shake hands with each other and pat each other on the back in order to show the
+warmth of their feeling for one another. Women affectionately embrace one
+another. Parents and children, brothers and sisters, kiss one another. It is
+impossible adequately to express affection without bodily touch. And in the case
+of lovers, as the love deepens so also deepens the compelling need to express
+this love in bodily union of the closest possible.</p>
+
+<p>And so the supreme moment arrives when each gives himself wholly, utterly,
+and for ever to the other—body, soul, and spirit—and they twain are one. And the
+remarkable result ensues that each in giving himself to the other has become
+more completely and truly himself than he has ever been before. He strives to
+become more and more closely wedded with the other. He yearns to give himself
+more completely and longs that there was more of himself to give. And he gives
+himself as completely as he can. Yet he has never before been so fully himself.
+The closeness and intimacy of the union, and all that he has received, has
+enabled him to bring forth and give utterance to what had lain deep and dormant
+within him—all his fondest hopes, his dearest dreams, his highest aspirations.
+Each is more himself in the other. He is, indeed, not himself without the other.
+Each has won possession of the other. Each has with joy and gladness given
+himself to the other. Each belongs to the other. Each is all the world to the
+other—a treasure without price. He is ever after in her as her own being. And
+she is in him as his own being. Apart from each other they are never again
+themselves. They are absorbed in mutual joy in one another.</p>
+
+<p>The intensity of delight is more than they can bear. It brims up and
+overflows and goes bursting out to all the world. By being able to be their
+whole selves they have become more closely in touch with the deepest Heart of
+Nature and nearest the Divine. In that hushed and sacred moment when the ecstasy
+of life and love is at its highest they have never felt stronger, purer,
+lighter, nearer the Divine. They have reached deep down to the most elemental
+part of their nature. And they have soared up highest to the most Divine. But
+Divine and elemental, spiritual and bodily, seem one. There seems to be nothing
+bodily which is not spiritual. And nothing elemental which is not Divine.</p>
+
+<p>It is not often that they will attain these culminating heights of spiritual
+exaltation. Nor will they be able long to remain there. The lark, the eagle, the
+airman, have all to come to earth again. And they spend most of their lives on
+the earth. But the lovers will have known what it is to soar. They will have
+found their wings. They will have seen heaven once, and breathed its air. And
+all nature, all human relationships, will be for ever after transfigured in
+heaven's light.</p>
+
+<p>The state of being to which these twain have now arrived is the highest and
+best in life. This spiritual union of man and woman—this union of their souls
+which their bodily union has made possible in completeness—is that which of all
+else has most value. The friendship of men for men and women for women is high
+up in the scale of being. But it is not at the supreme summit. The holy union of
+man and woman is higher still, because it is a relation of the <i>whole</i>
+being of each to the other, and because it brings both into direct and closest
+contact with the Primal Source of Things, and on the line which points them
+highest. The relationship satisfies the <i>whole</i>
+needs of the selves of each and satisfies the urgency of the Heart of Nature.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>So now our Artist will have experienced true spirituality in its highest
+degree; and having experienced also the most elemental in his nature, he will
+perforce have come in touch with Nature along her whole range. And his soul
+being at the finest pitch of sensitiveness, he will be able to appreciate
+Natural Beauty as never before. And nothing less than <i>natural</i> beauties,
+and nothing less than these beauties at their best, will in his exalted mood be
+satisfying to him. He will be driven irresistibly into the open air and the warm
+sunshine, and to the bosom of Mother-Earth. And there in the blue of heaven and
+in dreamy clouds; in the wide sea, or in tranquil lakes; in ethereal mountains
+or in verdant woodlands; in the loveliness of flowers, and in the music of the
+birds, he will find that which his spirit seeks—that to which his spirit wants
+to give response. Only there in the open, in the midst of Nature, will he find
+horizons wide enough, heights high enough, beauties rich enough, for his soul's
+needs.</p>
+
+<p>The flowers as he looks into them will disclose glories of colour, texture,
+form, and fragrance he never yet had seen. The comely forms of trees, their
+varying greenery, and the dancing sunlight on the leaves, will fill him with an
+intensity of delight that heretofore he had never known. And as once more he
+goes among his fellow-men he will see them in a newer and a truer light. His
+contact with them will be easier; his friendships deeper; his certainty of
+affection surer; and his capacity for entering into every joy and sorrow
+immeasurably enlarged.</p>
+
+<p>Through his love, our ideal Artist will have been enabled to reach deeper
+into the Heart of Nature than he had ever reached before, and to feel more
+intimately at one with her. And being thus in warmest touch with her, Natural
+Beauty, strong, deep, and delicate as only finest love can disclose, will be
+revealed to him. Enjoyment of Natural Beauty in its perfection is the prize he
+will have won.</p><a name="10"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER X</p>
+
+<p>THE NATURE OF NATURE</p>
+
+<p>The Artist is now in a position to take stock of Nature as a whole, of her
+nature, methods, and manner of working, of the motives which actuate her—of
+what, in short, she really is at heart. And having thus reviewed her, he will
+have to determine whether his wider and deeper knowledge of Nature confirms or
+detracts from the impression of her which he had gained from a contemplation of
+the forest's innumerable life. Upon this decision will depend his final attitude
+towards her. And upon his attitude towards her depends his capacity for enjoying
+Natural Beauty. For if he has any doubt in his mind as to the goodness of Nature
+or any hesitation about giving himself out to her, there is little prospect of
+his seeing Beauty in her. He will remain cold and unresponsive to her calls and
+enjoyment of Natural Beauty will not be for him.</p>
+
+<p>And each of us—each for himself—just as much as the Artist will have to make
+up his mind on this fundamental question. If we are to get the full enjoyment we
+should expect out of Natural Beauty we must have a clear and firm conception in
+our minds of what Nature really is, what is her essential character, whether at
+heart she is cold and callous or warm and loving. So far as we were justified in
+drawing conclusions regarding the character of Nature as a whole from what we
+saw of her manifestations in the life of the forest, we came to the conclusion
+that she was not so hard and repellent as she assuredly would be to us if her
+guiding principle of action were the survival of the fittest. We inferred,
+rather, from our observations of her in the forest that she was actuated by an
+aspiration towards what we ourselves hold to be of most worth and value. We were
+therefore not disillusioned by closer familiarity with her, but more closely
+drawn towards her, and therefore prepared to see more Beauty in her. Now we have
+to review Nature as a whole—that is, in the Starry World as well as on this
+Earth—and see if the same conclusions hold good, and if we are therefore
+justified in loving Nature, or if we should view her with suspicion and
+distrust, hold ourselves aloof from her, and cultivate a stoic courage in face
+of a Power whose character we must cordially dislike.</p>
+
+<p>There are men who hold that the appearance of life and love on this Earth is
+a mere flash in the pan and comes about by pure chance. They believe that life
+will be extinguished in a twinkling as we collide with some other star, or will
+simply flicker out again as the Sun's heat dies down and the Earth becomes cold.
+If this view be correct, then that impression of the reliability and kindliness
+of Nature which we formed when contemplating the stars in the desert would be a
+false impression; our feelings of friendship with Nature would at once freeze up
+and our vision of Beauty vanish like a wraith.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately Truth and Knowledge do not deal so cruel a blow at Beauty. Far
+from it: they take her side. There are no grounds for supposing that either
+chance or mechanism produces spirit, or that from merely physical and chemical
+combinations spirit can emerge. Spirit is no casual by-product of mechanical or
+chemical processes. Spirit is the governing factor regulating and controlling
+the physical movements—controlling them, indeed, with such orderliness that we
+may be apt from this very orderliness to regard the whole as a machine and fail
+to see that all is directed towards high spiritual ends.</p>
+
+<p>If we are to appeal to reason, it is much more reasonable to assume that
+spirit always existed, and that the conditions for the emergence of life were
+brought about on purpose, than to assume that spirit is a mere excretion, like
+perspiration, of chemical processes. Certainly the former assumptions more
+clearly fit the facts of the case. For these facts are, firstly, that we
+spiritual selves exist, next that we have ideas of goodness and a determination
+to achieve it, next that plant as well as animal life on this Earth is
+purposive, then that the stars, numbering anything from a hundred to a thousand
+million, each of them a sun and many of them presumably with planets, are made
+of the same materials as this Earth, the plants, animals, and ourselves are
+composed of; that these materials have the same properties; that the same
+fundamental laws of gravitation, heat, motion, chemical and electrical action
+prevail there as here; and lastly that they are all connected with the Earth by
+some medium or continuum of energies, which enables vibrations, of which the
+most obvious are the vibrations of light, to reach the Earth from them. These
+facts point towards the conclusion that the whole Universe, as well as ourselves
+and the animals and plants on this Earth, is actuated by spirit. Goodness we
+have seen to be working itself out on the Earth; and there is nothing we see in
+the world of stars that prevents us from concluding that in the Universe as well
+as on the Earth what <i>should</i> be is the ground of what <i>is</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Something higher than life, or life in some higher form than we know, may
+indeed have been brought into being among the stars. Life has appeared in an
+extraordinary variety of forms on this Earth, and it would necessarily appear in
+other forms elsewhere. And it is not difficult to imagine more perfect forms in
+which it might have developed. We men are the most highly developed beings on
+this planet. But our eyes and ears and other organs of sense take cognisance of
+only a few of the vibrations raining in upon our bodies from the outside world.
+There is a vast range of vibrations of the medium in which we are immersed of
+which our bodily organs take no cognisance whatever. If we had better developed
+organs we would be in much more intimate touch with the world about us, and be
+aware of influences and existences we are blind to now. Beings with these
+superior faculties may very possibly have come into existence among the stars.</p>
+
+<p>Nor is there anything unreasonable in the assumption that from the
+inhabitants of these stars in their <i>ensemble</i> issue influences which
+directly affect conditions on this Earth; that in the all in its togetherness is
+Purpose; and that it was due to the working of this Purpose that conditions were
+produced on the Earth which made the emergence of life possible. To some it may
+seem that it was only by chance that the atoms and molecules happened to come
+together in such a particular way that from the combination the emergence of
+life was possible. To men of such restricted vision it would seem equally a
+matter of chance that a heavenly song resulted when a dozen choirboys came
+together, opened their mouths and made a noise. But men of wider vision would
+have seen that this song was no matter of chance, but was the result of the
+working out of a purpose; that the choirboys were brought together for a
+purpose; and that that purpose was resident in each of a large number of people
+scattered about a parish, but who, though scattered, were all animated by the
+same purpose of maintaining a choir to sing hymns. So it is not unreasonable to
+suppose that when the particles came together under conditions that life
+resulted, they had been brought together in those conditions to fulfil a purpose
+resident in each of a number of beings and groups of beings scattered about the
+Universe, but who, though scattered, were nevertheless animated by the same
+purpose. Anyhow, this seems a more reasonable assumption than the assumption
+that the particles came together by pure chance.</p>
+
+<p>Beings with these superior faculties may very possibly have emerged among the
+stars. It would seem not at all improbable, therefore, that in some unrecognised
+way conditions on this Earth may be influenced in their general outlines by what
+is taking place in the Universe at large, in the same way as conditions in a
+village in India are affected by public opinion in England as epitomised in the
+decisions of the Cabinet. The remote Indian village is unaware that men in
+England have decided to grant responsible government to India in due course. And
+even if the villagers were told of this they would not realise the significance
+of the decision and how it would affect the fortunes of their village for good
+or ill during the next century or two. Conditions on this Earth may be similarly
+being affected by decisions made in other parts of the Universe—decisions the
+significance of which we would be as totally unable to recognise as the Indian
+villagers are to recognise the significance of the steps towards self-government
+which have just been made.</p>
+
+<p>The Universe is so interconnected, and there is so much interaction between
+the parts and the whole, that the Earth may be more affected than we think by
+what goes on in the Universe at large. If there are higher levels of being among
+the stars, it may well be that the successive rises to higher levels on this
+Earth—from inorganic to organic, from organic to mental, and from the mental to
+the spiritual—have come about through this interaction between the parts and the
+whole. Conditions on this Earth may be more affected than we are aware of by the
+Universe in its ensemble, and by the actions of higher beings in other Earths.</p>
+
+<p>In this very matter of Beauty, for example, it may quite possibly be the case
+that our intimation of Beauty has been received through the influence upon the
+most sensitive among us of beings in other parts of the Universe. We may be as
+unaware of the existence of those beings or of their having feelings towards us
+as the Indian villager is of the existence of the Cabinet in London or of the
+Cabinet's feelings towards him. But these stellar beings may be exerting their
+influence all the same. And it may be because of this influence that we men are
+able to see Beauty which escapes the eye of the eagle. Because of our higher
+receptiveness and responsiveness we may be able to receive and respond to
+spiritual calls from the Heart of Nature. And thus it may have been that we men
+learned to see Beauty, and now learn to see it more and more. There may be parts
+of the Universe where people live their lives in a blaze of Beauty, and are as
+anxious to impart to us their enjoyment of it as certain Freedom-loving
+Englishmen are to instil ideas of Freedom into the villagers of India.</p>
+
+<p>These, at any rate, are among the possibilities of existence. It would be the
+veriest chance if on this little speck of an Earth the highest beings of all had
+come to birth. It may be so, of course. But the probabilities seem to be
+enormously great against it. It seems far more probable that among the myriads
+of stars some higher beings than ourselves have come into existence, and that
+conditions on this Earth are affected by the influence which they exert. We are
+under no compulsion whatever to believe that we men are completely at the mercy
+of blind forces or that chance rules supreme in Nature. We have firm ground for
+holding that it is spirit which is supreme, and that every smallest part and the
+whole together are animated by Purpose.</p>
+
+<p>So when we view Nature in the tropical forests and in barren deserts, in
+mountains and in plains, in meadows and in woodlands, in seas and in stars, in
+animals and in men, we do not see Nature as a confused jumble with all her
+innumerable parts come together in haphazard fashion as the grains of sand
+shovelled into a heap—a chance aggregate of unrelated particles in which it is a
+mere toss-up which is next to which and how they are arranged. Nature is
+evidently not a chance collection of unrelated particles. We came to that
+conclusion when studying the forest, and a study of the stars shows nothing to
+weaken that conclusion. Nature is animated by Purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Yet because Nature is animated by Purpose, we need not regard her as a
+machine, a piece of mechanism which has been designed and put together, wound up
+and set going by some outside mechanician, and regard ourselves as cogs on the
+wheels, watching all the other wheels go round and through the maze of machinery
+catching sight of the mechanician standing by and watching his handiwork. A cog
+on the wheel as it revolved would be rigidly confined in its operations: it
+would have no choice as to what means it should employ to carry out its end. Yet
+even plants have the power of choice, as we have seen, and use different means
+to achieve the same end. They also spend their entire lives in selecting and
+rejecting—in selecting and assimilating what will nourish their growth and
+enable them to propagate their kind, and in rejecting what would be useless or
+harmful. These are something more than mechanical operations; and if Nature were
+a machine, not even plants, much less animals and men, could have been produced.
+The operations of Nature, though orderly, are not mechanical only, and we cannot
+regard Nature as a machine.</p>
+
+<p>And if Nature is purposive, she is at work at something more than the
+completion of a prearranged plan. We do not picture Nature as a <i>structure,</i>
+as a Cathedral, for example, designed by some super-architect, in process of
+construction. In a Cathedral each stone is perfectly and finally shaped and
+placed in a position in which it must ever after remain, and the whole shows
+signs of gradual completion as it is being built, and when it is built remains
+as it is. The architect has made I and carried out his plan, and there is an end
+of the matter. It is not thus that we view Nature, for everywhere we see signs
+of perfectibility in the component parts and in the whole together. Only if the
+Cathedral had in it the power to be continually making its foundations deeper,
+to be ever towering higher, and to be perpetually shaping itself into sublimer
+form, should we look on Nature as a Cathedral. But in that case the mind of the
+architect would have to dwell in each stone and in all together, and the
+Cathedral would be something more than a structure in the ordinary use of the
+word.</p>
+
+<p>Nature is not a chance collection of particles, nor is she a mere machine,
+nor some kind of structure like a Cathedral in course of construction. But she
+is a Power of some kind, and what we have to determine is the kind of Power she
+is. Now we have seen that running through the life of the forest, controlling
+and directing the whole, is an Organising Activity. And our observation of the
+stars leads us to think that this same Organising Activity runs through them
+also. There is quite evidently an Activity at work keeping the whole
+together—the particles which go to form great suns, the particles which go to
+form a flower, and the particles which go to form a man; and all in their
+togetherness. Only we would not look upon this Activity as working anywhere
+outside Nature: we would look for it within her. We would not regard it as
+emanating from some kind of spiritual central sun situated among the stars
+midway between us and the farthest star we see—as irradiating from some sort of
+centrally-situated spiritual power-house. As we look up into the starry heavens
+we cannot imagine the Activity as residing in the empty space between the stars
+or between the stars and the Earth on which we stand. It seems absurd to picture
+its dwelling-place there. Equally absurd does it seem to regard the Activity as
+emanating from some spiritual sun situated far beyond the confines of the stars,
+and from there emitting spiritual rays upon Nature, including us men. As we look
+out upon Nature we see that the Activity which animates her does not issue from
+any outside source, but is actually in her.</p>
+
+<p>We do not need to look for the seat of that animating Activity in the empty
+spaces of the starry heavens or anywhere beyond them. We look for it in the
+stars themselves, in our own star, in the Earth, in every particle of which the
+stars and Sun and Earth are composed, in every plant and animal, and in every
+human heart, and in the whole together. There it is—and especially in the human
+heart—that the soul of Nature resides. There is its dwelling-place. To each of
+us it is nearer than father is to son. It is as near as &quot;I&quot; am to each one of
+the myriad particles which in their togetherness go to make up the body and soul
+which is &quot;me.&quot; The spirit of Nature is resident in no remoteness of cold and
+empty space. It is deep within us and all around us. It permeates everything and
+everybody, everywhere and always. And if we wish to be unmistakably aware of its
+presence, we have only to look within ourselves, and whenever we are conscious
+of a higher perfection which something within, responding to the influences
+impinging insistently on us, is urging us to achieve; whenever we have a vision
+of something more perfect, more lovely, more lovable, and feel ourselves urged
+on to reach after that greater perfection—we are in those moments directly and
+unmistakably experiencing the Divine Spirit of Nature. Whenever we feel the
+Spirit within us showing us greater perfectibility and prompting us to make
+ourselves and others more perfect than we have been we are, in that moment,
+being directly influenced by the Spirit of Nature itself. We are receiving
+inspiration direct from the genius of Nature, the <i>driving</i> Spirit which is
+continually urging her on, and the <i>directing</i> Spirit which guides her to
+an end. We are in touch with the true Heart of Nature.</p>
+
+<p>So as we take a comprehensive view of Nature both in her outward bodily form
+and her inner spiritual reality, and find her to be an interconnected whole in
+which all the parts are interrelated with one another, one body and one mind,
+self-contained and self-conscious, and driven by a self-organising,
+self-governing, self-directing Activity—we should regard her as nothing <i>less</i>
+than a <i>Personal Being.</i>
+In ordinary language we speak of Nature as a Person, and when we so speak we
+should not regard ourselves as speaking figuratively: we should mean quite
+literally and as a fact that she is a Person. And we should look upon that
+Personal Being, in which we are ourselves included, as in process of realising
+an ideal hidden within her—an ideal which in its turn is ever perfecting itself.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>What is meant by Nature being a Person, and a Person actuated by a hidden
+ideal, and being in process of realising that ideal, and what is meant by an
+ideal perfecting itself, may be best explained with the help of an illustration.</p>
+
+<p>First it will be necessary to explain how we can regard Nature as a <i>
+Person,</i> or at least as nothing less than a Person—though possibly <i>more.</i>
+It is contended by many authorities that we cannot regard any collective being,
+such as a college or a regiment—and Nature is a collective being—as a true
+person. But their arguments are unconvincing. They allow that &quot;I&quot; am a person
+because &quot;I&quot; possess rationality and self-consciousness. But &quot;I&quot; am a system or
+organisation of innumerable beings—electrons, groupings of electrons, groups of
+groupings in rising complexity. &quot;I&quot;—the body and soul which makes up &quot;me&quot;—am
+nothing but a collective being myself. And if we take the case of &quot;England&quot; as
+an example of a collective being, we shall see that England has as much right to
+be considered a personal being as any single Englishman, composed as he is of
+innumerable separate beings.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps to one who is representing England among strange peoples the
+personality of England is more apparent than to those who are constantly living
+in England itself. To the foreign people among whom this representative is
+living England is a very real person. What she thinks about them, what she does,
+what her intentions are, what is her character and disposition, are matters of
+high interest; for upon England's good or ill will towards them may perhaps
+depend to a large extent their own future. Viewed from a distance like that,
+England quite obviously does possess a <i>character</i> of her own. She appears
+to some people large-hearted and generous; to others aggressive and domineering;
+to most solid, sensible, reasonable, steadfast, and steady. And to all she has a
+character quite distinctive and her own—quite different from the character of
+France or of Russia. And England with equal obviousness <i>thinks.</i> She forms
+her own opinions of other nations, of their character, intentions, activities,
+and feelings. She thinks over her own line of action in regard to them. She
+takes decisions. And she
+<i>acts.</i> She is for a long time suspicious of Russia, and takes measures to
+defend herself against any possible hostile Russian action. She later comes to
+the conclusion that there is no fundamental difference between her and Russia,
+so she takes steps to compose the superficial differences. Later still, when
+both she and Russia are being attacked by a common enemy, she deliberately
+places herself on terms of closest friendship with Russia, and both gives her
+help and receives help from her. At the same time, having come to the conclusion
+that Germany is threatening her very life, she makes war on Germany, and
+prosecutes that war with courage, endurance, steadfastness and intelligence, and
+with a determination to win at any cost. England has deep
+<i>feeling,</i> too. She had a feeling of high exaltation on the day she
+determined to fight for her life and freedom. She had a feeling of sadness and
+anxiety as things went against her at Mons, Ypres, Gallipoli, Kut. She was wild
+with joy when the war was victoriously concluded. And she was proud of herself
+as she thought how among the sister nations of the Empire of which she was the
+centre, and among the allied nations, she had played a great and noble part.</p>
+
+<p>Now when a body, like England, can thus think for itself, form its own
+decisions, take action, establish friendships, fight enemies, and feel deeply,
+surely that body must possess personality. In ordinary language England is
+always spoken of as a person. And ordinary language speaks with perfect accuracy
+in this respect.</p>
+
+<p>In her relations with individual Englishmen England also shows her
+personality. The representative abroad feels very vividly how she <i>expects</i>
+him to act in certain ways—ways in accordance with her character and her settled
+line of action. And she conveys these expectations to him not only in formal
+official instructions from her Government: the most important of those
+expectations are conveyed in a far more subtle and intimate but most
+unmistakable way. The English Government did not write officially to Nelson at
+Trafalgar that England expected every man to do his duty. But Nelson, standing
+there for England, knew very well that this was what England was expecting of
+him and of those serving under him. A representative would find it very hard to
+locate the exact dwelling-place of the heart and soul and mind of England,
+whether in Parliament, or in the Press, or in the Universities, or in factories,
+or in the villages. But that there is an England expecting him to behave himself
+in accordance with her traditions and character, and to act on certain general
+but quite definite lines, and who will admire and reward him if he acts
+faithfully to her expectations, and condemn and in extreme cases punish him if
+he is unfaithful, he has not the shadow of a doubt. Nor does he doubt that this
+England, besides expecting a certain general line of conduct, will and can <i>
+constrain</i> him to act in accordance with her settled determination—that she
+has authority and has power to give effect to her will.</p>
+
+<p>And the official governmental representatives are not the only
+representatives of England. <i>Every</i> Englishman is a representative of
+England. How representative he is he will experience as he finds himself among
+strange peoples outside his own country. He will find then that he has certain
+traits and traditions and characteristics which clearly distinguish him from the
+people among whom he is travelling. And unofficial though he may be, he will yet
+feel England expecting him to behave as an Englishman. And though he may not be
+so vividly aware of it when he is at home, he is still a representative of
+England when he is in England itself. In everyday life he is being expected and
+constrained by England to act in certain ways.</p>
+
+<p>Nor is it all a one-sided affair—England expecting so much of him and he
+having no say or control over what England does. On the contrary, the
+relationship is mutual. He goes to the making and shaping of England just as
+much as she goes to the making and shaping of him. He expects certain behaviour
+of her as she expects such of him. And if he has gained the confidence of his
+fellow-countrymen and has energy and determination, he may do much to affect her
+destiny.</p>
+
+<p>England is therefore, so it seems, a <i>person</i> just as much as a single
+Englishman is a person. Englishmen, in fact, only attain their full personality
+in an England which
+<i>has</i> personality.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Now Nature, I suggest, in spite of what has been said against the view, is a
+Person in exactly the same way as England is a person. Nature is a collective
+being made up of component beings—self-active electrons, self-active atoms,
+self-active suns and planets, self-active cells, plants, animals, men, and
+groups and nations of men—as England is made up of the land of England and all
+that springs therefrom, including the Englishmen themselves. Nature thinks and
+feels and strives as England thinks and feels and strives. And Nature cares for
+her children as England looks after her sons. It is often said, indeed, that
+Nature is hard and cruel. But it is only through the unfailing regularity and
+reliability of her fundamental laws—of her &quot;constitution&quot;—that freedom and
+progress are possible. If we could not depend upon perfect law we could make no
+advance whatever. We should all be abroad and uncertain. Yet in spite of her
+unbending rigidity over fundamentals, she does also show mercy and pity. A child
+toddling along downhill unregardful of the force of gravitation falls on its
+face and screams with pain. But Nature, represented by the mother, rushes up,
+seizes the little thing in her arms, presses it lovingly to her bosom, rock it
+and coaxes it and covers it with kisses.</p>
+
+<p>So if Nature can think and feel and strive and show mercy and
+loving-kindness, she is entitled to the dignity of personality. And when we
+stand back and regard Nature as a whole, we shall look upon her as a Person and
+nothing less.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>We have now to understand what is meant by saying that Nature is a Person
+actuated by a hidden ideal and being in process of realising that ideal. When
+travelling across the Gobi Desert I found a yellow rose—a dwarf, simple, single
+rose. It is known to botanists as <i>Rosa persica,</i> and is believed to be the
+original of all roses. I found it on the extreme outlying spurs of the Altai
+Mountains. Now, a seed of the rose, partly under the influence of its
+surroundings (soil, moisture, air, sunshine) but chiefly <i>by virtue of
+something which it contains within itself,</i> something inherent in its very
+nature, will grow up into a rose-bush and give forth roses. The seed develops
+into a rose, not because some outside super-gardener takes hold of each one of
+the million million ultra-microscopic particles of which it is made up and puts
+it carefully into its appointed place, as a builder might put the stones of a
+building into their exact places according to the plans of an architect; but
+because each of those minutest ultimate particles has that within it which
+prompts it to act of its own accord in response to the call of the whole. Each
+of these electrons is in incessant and terrific motion, moving at the rate of
+something like 180,000 miles a second, so placing it in position would be a
+difficult matter. Besides which, each electron is not a tiny bit of matter as we
+ordinarily conceive matter—something which we can touch and handle. It is a mere
+centre or nucleus of energy. Any placing of it in position by a super-gardener
+is therefore out of the question. Each of those little particles moves and acts
+of itself in accordance with its own inner promptings, and in response to the
+influence of those other myriads of particles and groups of particles about it.
+And that system of these groups of particles which is enclosed within the
+rondure of the seed must have within it the ideal of the rose to be. Each
+particle will act on its own initiative, but all will act under the mutual
+influence of one another, and in their togetherness will make up the
+rose-spirit, being informed by the ideal of the rose which in its turn will
+suffuse the whole. And this rose-spirit—this rose-disposition—as it gives itself
+play, so controls and directs their movements that eventually the full-blown
+rose comes into being.</p>
+
+<p>What happens is, we may imagine, much the same as what happened in the case
+of Australia. A handful of settlers from the mother-country formed the germ-seed
+from which the Australia of to-day has grown up. There was no external despot
+ordering each individual Australian to do this, that, and the other—to come this
+way and go that, and to stop in one place this year and in another place the
+next. Each Australian acting on his own initiative, and all in their
+togetherness, created the Australian spirit, which again reacting upon each
+Australian induced him to act in accordance with that spirit. And so in time
+Australia, assimilating individuals from outside and absorbing them into its
+texture, and imbuing them with the Australian spirit, grew up into manhood in
+the Great War and astonished the world by its strong individuality, its
+character, intelligence, determination, and good comradeship.</p>
+
+<p>In the same way these particles of the rose-seed, each acting of itself, in
+their collectivity formed the rose-spirit. And each was in turn imbued by the
+rose-spirit. They had in them unconsciously the ideal of the rose-bush with its
+roots, stem, branches, leaves, flowers, fruit, seed. In all their activities
+they were actuated by this ideal. It was always constraining them in the given
+direction. By reason of the working of it in the particles they could by no
+possibility arrange themselves into a may tree or a lilac bush. There was an
+inner core of activity which persisted through all the countless changes of the
+process, which permeated the whole and which kept it directed to the particular
+end it had all the time in view. That activity had, in fact, a well-defined
+disposition, and that disposition was defined by the ideal of the rose, and was
+to form a rose-bush bearing roses.</p>
+
+<p>That the rose-seed developed into the rose was due, therefore, not to the
+operation of any outside agent, but was due to the operation of the rose-spirit
+that it had within it, and which was persistently driving it to bring into
+actual being that ideal of the rose which was the essence of its spirit. The
+ideal of the rose was the motive-power of the whole process.</p>
+
+<p>Where the rose-spirit derived from we shall later on enquire. Here we must
+note a point of the utmost importance. The seed of this <i>Rosa persica</i> is
+imbued with the spirit of <i>Rosa persica.</i> It has this ideal working within
+it. But it is not confined within the rigid limits of that ideal. It has that
+ideal, but <i>something beyond also</i>—something in the <i>direction</i> of
+that ideal, but stretching on ahead to an illimitable distance. The rose-seed
+developed riot only into the rose-flower, but through the flowers into numerous
+rose-seeds. And from the original <i>Rosa persica</i> seeds have sprung roses of
+scores of varieties. Roses of every variety of form, colour, habit, texture are
+constantly appearing. By purposeful mating, and supplying favourable conditions
+of soil, temperature, etc., almost any kind of variety can be produced. So we
+have not only yellow roses of every shade from gold and cream to lemon, but also
+white and red and pink roses of every hue. We have single roses and roses as
+full as small cabbages. And we have dwarf roses and roses climbing 50 or 60 feet
+in height.</p>
+
+<p>From all this it is evident that within the original seed of <i>Rosa persica</i>
+was a rose-spirit which refused to be confined within the limits of <i>Rosa
+persica</i> only, but stretched out far beyond as well. The rose-spirit had
+latent in it, and was unconsciously stretching out to, all the beauties which
+roses have since attained to, and beyond that again to all the beauties that are
+yet to come. The horizon of the rose-spirit was never confined by a single
+plan—the plan of the <i>Rosa persica</i>—as the builder is confined by the plan
+of the architect, beyond which he cannot go. The rose-spirit could reach out
+along the line of roses to an unlimited extent. It could produce nothing but
+roses; it could not produce laburnums. But it could produce roses of unlimited
+variety, provided favourable conditions were available.</p>
+
+<p>But the <i>Rosa persica</i> was itself the outcome of a long line of
+development from a far-away primordial plant-germ. From that original plant-germ
+have sprung all the ferns and grasses, the shrubs and trees and flowers, of the
+present day. So in that plant-germ must have resided the plant-spirit with an
+ideal of all this variety of plant-life actuating it—unconsciously, of course,
+but most effectively for all that. The particles of that original germ in their
+individual activities and in their mutual influence upon one another were in
+their togetherness actuated by a plant-spirit which had in mind—so to speak—not
+only the reproduction of a plant precisely similar to the original plant, but
+one with the possibilities of development and of reproducing others with
+possibilities of still further development. All that plant life has so far
+attained and all that it will attain to in future—perhaps also all that it <i>
+might</i> have attained to—must have been present in the plant-spirit of that
+original plant-germ. And it is through the working out—the realising—of this
+ideal which actuated that plant-spirit, and through the response which this
+spirit made to the stimulus of its surroundings that all the wonderful
+development of plant life has taken place. The plant-spirit had to keep within
+the lines of plant life; it could not stray beyond it to develop lions and
+tigers. But within the lines of plant life it could stretch out to illimitable
+distances. All that was wanted was the stimulus of favourable conditions, and
+from its surroundings it could select, reject, assimilate, all that would
+further its end.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>In the Gobi Desert I also saw the wild horse—<i>Equus Prjevalskyi</i>—supposed
+to be the original horse. And as the rose springs from the seed, so the horse
+develops from the ovum. And by virtue of the horse-spirit, the horse-ideal, by
+which all the innumerable particles of that ovum is actuated, it develops into a
+horse, and not into a donkey or a cow. But the ovum of the original <i>Equus
+Prjevalskyi</i> must have had in it the ideal of something more than the <i>
+Equus Prjevalskyi,</i> for from the original stock has sprung the great variety
+of horses we see to-day—race-horses, cart-horses, hunters, polo ponies, Shetland
+ponies, etc. And these are still varying. And the <i>Equus Prjevalskyi</i> was
+itself the outcome of a long line of development. Like all other animals,
+including man, it must have sprung from an original animal-germ. And the
+particles of that original animal-germ must have had in them the animal-spirit
+actuated by the ideal of all the animals of the present day, including man, and
+ready to develop as soon as favourable conditions provided the necessary
+stimulus to which the germ was ready to respond.</p>
+
+<p>And both the original plant-germ and the original animal-germ sprang from an
+original plant-animal germ. And this, again, from the Earth itself. So that the
+Earth must always have had hidden in it the ideal of all plant and animal and
+human life—and not only the ideal of what it has reached at present, but of all
+it <i>will</i> become, and, it is important to note, of all it <i>might</i>
+become in future. It is the working of this ideal in the Earth, from the time
+five hundred million years or so ago when it budded off from the Sun as a fiery
+mist, that it has, under the influence of the light and heat of the Sun, and
+possibly also under the influences from the Stellar Universe as well, produced
+what we see to-day. The Earth-Spirit was inspired by this ideal, and in the
+ideal was this capacity for improving itself. And through the working of this
+ideal, and under the influence of the rest of the world, the Earth has developed
+from a flaming sphere into a molten ball, into a globe of barren land and sea,
+and so on into the verdure-covered and animal- and man-inhabited Earth of the
+present age. The Earth, like the rose-seed, contained within it a core of
+Activity which permeated every particle and constrained it with its
+fellow-particles to direct itself towards the ideal—a core of Activity which was
+animated by the ideal, while the ideal on its part had an innate faculty of
+perfecting itself.</p>
+
+<p>But the Earth is itself only a minute mite even of the Solar System. And the
+Sun is only one of perhaps a thousand million other stars, some so distant that
+light travelling at the rate of 186,000 miles a second must have started from
+them before the birth of Christ to reach us to-day. Nevertheless the Earth is
+composed of the same ultimate particles of matter that even the most distant
+stars are made of. The Earth, the Sun and stars, are composed of electrons which
+are all alike. Doubtless there are individual differences between electrons as
+there are between men, but in a general way they are as much alike as all men
+appear alike to an eagle. And of these electrons the whole Universe is made as
+well as the Earth. The same laws of motion, of gravitation, and of
+electro-magnetic and chemical attraction, obtain there as here. The scale of the
+Stellar World is immensely larger than the scale we are accustomed to on this
+Earth. But the same fundamental laws everywhere prevail, and the Earth and stars
+are composed of the same material.</p>
+
+<p>So it must have been from the Heart of Nature as a whole that the
+Earth-Spirit must have derived the ideal which actuated it. Deep in the Heart of
+Nature must have resided the ideal of the state of the Earth as it is to-day. In
+the great world as a whole, as in the rose-seed, must have been operating an
+ideal at least of what is on the Earth to-day, and of what this Earth will
+become and of what it might become; and possibly <i>also</i>
+of greater things which have already been realised, or <i>will</i> be realised
+and
+<i>might</i> be realised in the planets of other suns than our Sun. There must
+ever have been working throughout the Universe an Activity constraining the
+ultimate particles in a given direction. There must have been an Organising
+Activity, collecting the diffused particles together, grouping them into
+concentrated organisms and achieving loftier and loftier modes of being. Each of
+those inconceivably numerous and incredibly minute particles which make up the
+stars and the Earth and all on it—each one acted of itself. But each acted of
+itself under the influence of its fellows—that is, of every other particle; that
+is, of the <i>whole.</i> Each acted in response to its surroundings, but its
+surroundings were nothing short of the whole of Nature outside itself. Together
+they formed the Spirit of Nature with the ideal as its essence. And Nature in
+her turn acted on the particles—as Englishmen form the spirit of England and the
+spirit of England acts back upon individual Englishmen.</p>
+
+<p>It was the working of this Spirit, with its self-improving ideal, that has
+produced Nature as we see her to-day. The distant ideal furnished the
+motive-power by which the whole is driven forward. And this ideal was itself
+built up by the unceasing interaction of the whole upon the parts and the parts
+upon the whole. What was in the parts responded to the stimulus of what was in
+the whole, and the whole was affected by the activity of the parts. What was
+immanent responded to what was transcendent. And the transcendence was affected
+by the immanence.</p><a name="11"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER XI</p>
+
+<p>NATURE'S IDEAL</p>
+
+<p>If we have been right so far, we have arrived at the position that Nature is
+a Personal Being in process of realising an ideal operating within herself. We
+have now to satisfy ourselves as to the character of that ideal. What is the
+full ideal working in the whole of Nature we cannot possibly know. We can only
+know so much of it as can be detected with our imperfect faculties on this
+minute atom of the Universe on which we dwell. We cannot be sure we have even
+discerned the highest levels of the ideal. For there may be higher beings than
+ourselves on the planets of the stars, and among those higher beings higher
+qualities than any we know of, or can conceive, may have emerged. Love is the
+highest quality we know. But love in any true sense of the word—love as a
+self-conscious activity—has only emerged with man, and man has only appeared
+within the last half-million of the Earth's four or five hundred million years
+of existence as the Earth. We cannot, therefore, presume to say what is the
+ideal in its highest development for the whole of Nature.</p>
+
+<p>But from our experience here we can see what that ideal is up to (what for us
+is) a very high level, and we can make out what is apparently its fundamental
+characteristic. I obtained my best conception of it on the evening I left Lhasa
+at the conclusion of my Mission to Tibet in 1904, when I had an experience of
+such value for determining Nature's ideal, and, for me at any rate, so
+convincingly corroborative of the conclusions which others who have had similar
+experiences have drawn from them as to Nature's ideal, that I hope I may be
+excused for relating in some detail the circumstances in which it came to me.</p>
+
+<p>These circumstances, though not the experience itself, were somewhat
+exceptional. I was at that particular moment at the highest pitch of
+existence—that is to say, of my own existence. I had had an unusually wide
+experience of the wild countries of that most interesting and varied of the
+continents—Asia, and for that reason had been specially selected for the charge
+of a Mission to Tibet. However ill-qualified I might be for other tasks, for
+this particular business of establishing neighbourly relations with a very
+secluded and seclusive Asiatic people, difficult of approach both on account of
+their natural disposition and of the mighty mountain barrier which stood between
+them and the rest of the world, I was esteemed to have peculiar qualifications.
+My comrades were also men selected for their special qualifications—one for his
+knowledge of the Tibetans, another for his knowledge of the Chinese, another for
+his knowledge of geology, and so on. The troops engaged were selected for their
+experience in frontier warfare, and each man had had to pass a medical test. We
+were at the top of our physical fitness and ripe in experience.</p>
+
+<p>Besides British officers and a few British troops, there were among the
+soldiers Sikhs, Pathans, Gurkhas, a few Bengalis, a few Rajputs and Dogras; and
+among the followers were Bhutias and Lepchas from Sikkim, Baltis from Kashmir,
+Bhutanese from Bhutan. There were thus Christians, Mohammedans, Hindus, and
+Buddhists: men from an island in the Atlantic, and men from the remotest valleys
+of the Himalaya. And our destination had been a sacred city hidden two hundred
+miles behind the loftiest range of mountains in the world.</p>
+
+<p>On our way we had had to battle with the elements of Nature in very nearly
+their extremest forms and in every variety. We started in the sweltering heat of
+the plains of India in the hottest season. We passed the lower outer ranges of
+the Himalaya in the midst of torrential rain, like the heaviest thunder-shower
+in England, continuing all day long and day after day with scarcely a break, and
+penetrating through a waterproof coat as if it were paper. Following this we had
+to cross the main axis of the Himalaya in January, to pass the winter at an
+altitude of 15,000 feet above sea-level, and face blizzards which cut through
+heavy fur coats and left us as if we were standing before it in our bare bones.</p>
+
+<p>We had also had to battle with the Tibetans—not only in actual fighting, but
+in diplomacy as well. I had deliberately risked my life in order to effect a
+settlement by persuasion and without resort to arms. Officers and men at my
+request had done the same. Subsequently we had both attacked and been attacked.
+Five hundred of us had for two months to face the attacks of eight thousand
+Tibetans. Later, again, we had had a long, tough, diplomatic contest with the
+Tibetans.</p>
+
+<p>Besides battling with the elements and with the Tibetans, I had also had to
+battle with my own people—as is always and inevitably the case on such
+occasions. Military and political considerations had to contend against each
+other. This local question between India and Tibet was part of the general
+international question of the relations of European nations, Russia, France,
+Germany, Italy, America, with China, for Tibet was under the suzerainty of
+China. Local considerations had therefore to contend with international
+considerations. Then from the local point of view the permanent settlement of
+this particular question was desirable, whereas those responsible for the
+international situation would not object to a temporary arrangement of this
+single question as long as the whole general situation could be favourably
+secured. The Tibetan question was part of the whole question of our relations
+with Russia. Our relations with Russia were connected with our relations with
+France. We were coming to an arrangement with France as regards Egypt and
+Morocco. If we did anything in Tibet which vexed Russia she might be troublesome
+as regards Egypt, and make it difficult to come to an arrangement with France
+and to bring off the Anglo-French Entente. Of all these international
+considerations I was kept aware by Government even in the heart of Tibet. But my
+position required that I should stand up for the political as against the
+military, the local as against the international, and the permanent settlement
+as against the temporary arrangement. It was my duty vigorously to battle for
+this—as it was equally the duty of the military and those responsible for
+international affairs to battle for their own point of view. And of course I had
+to submit, after contesting my standpoint, to the decision of those in
+authority; though I had to contend for the particular, it was the general which
+had to prevail.</p>
+
+<p>In the end a settlement was reached, and in this remote city we had received
+congratulations from many different people in many different lands. The troops,
+my staff, and all about me were filled with delight at the success of our
+enterprise. Even the Tibetans themselves seemed pleased at the settlement; at
+any rate, they asked to be taken under our protection. On the morning we left
+Lhasa the Lama Regent, who in the absence of the Dalai Lama had conducted
+negotiations with us, paid us a farewell visit and gave us the impression of
+genuine goodwill towards us. We and the Tibetans had contended strongly against
+one another. But it seemed that a way had been found by which good relations
+between us could be maintained. We had discovered that fundamentally we were
+perfectly well-disposed towards each other, and means had been found for
+composing our differences. Throughout the Mission we had kept before us the
+supreme importance of securing this goodwill eventually. The Tibetan frontier
+runs with the Indian frontier for a thousand miles, and it would have been the
+height of folly to have stirred up in the Tibetans a lasting animosity. Far more
+important, then, than securing the actual treaty we regarded securing the
+permanent goodwill; and when I felt that through the exertion of my Staff and
+the good behaviour of the troops as well as through my own efforts the goodwill
+of the Tibetans really had been secured, my satisfaction was profound.</p>
+
+<p>It was after enduring all these hardships, after running all these risks, and
+after battling in all these controversies, that this deep satisfaction came upon
+me. For though at times I felt, as every leader feels in like circumstances,
+that success must have been due to everyone else besides myself—to the backing
+and firm direction I had received from Government, to the sound advice and help
+of my Staff, to the bravery and endurance of the troops, without all or any one
+of which aids success would have been unattainable—yet I could not help also
+feeling that I had often on my own responsibility to make decisions and run
+risks, and to give advice to Government; and that if I had erred in my decisions
+or in the advice I gave or in taking the risks, success most assuredly would not
+have been achieved, however much support I received from elsewhere. I had,
+therefore, that satisfaction a man naturally feels when his special
+qualifications and training and the experience he has gained during the best
+part of his life have proved of acknowledged good to his country. And this was
+the frame of mind in which I rode out of Lhasa on our march homeward.</p>
+
+<p>These were the circumstances in which I had the experience I now venture to
+describe. After arrival in camp I went off into the mountains alone. It was a
+heavenly evening. The sun was flooding the mountain slopes with slanting light.
+Calm and deep peace lay over the valley below me—the valley in which Lhasa lay.
+I seemed in tune with all the world and all the world seemed in tune with me. My
+experiences in many lands—in dear distant England; in India and China; in the
+forests of Manchuria, Kashmir, and Sikkim; in the desert of Gobi and the South
+African veldt; in the Himalaya mountains; and on many an ocean voyage; and
+experiences with such varied peoples as the Chinese and Boers, Tibetans and
+Mahrattas, Rajputs and Kirghiz—seemed all summed up in that moment. And yet here
+on the quiet mountain-side, filled as I was with the memories of many
+experiences that I had had in the high mountain solitudes and in the deserts of
+the world away from men, I seemed in touch with the wide Universe beyond this
+Earth as well.</p>
+
+<p>After the high tension of the last fifteen months, I was free to let my soul
+relax. So I let it open itself out without restraint. And in its sensitive state
+it was receptive of the finest impressions and quickly responsive to every call.
+I seemed to be truly in harmony with the Heart of Nature. My vision seemed
+absolutely clear. I felt I was seeing deep into the true heart of things. With
+my soul's eye I seemed to see what was really in men's hearts, in the heart of
+mankind as a whole and in the Heart of Nature as a whole.</p>
+
+<p>And my experience was this—and I try to describe it as accurately as I can. I
+had a curious sense of being literally in love with the world. There is no other
+way in which I can express what I then felt. I felt as if I could hardly contain
+myself for the love which was bursting within me. It seemed to me as if the
+world itself were nothing but love. We have all felt on some great occasion an
+ardent glow of patriotism. This was patriotism extended to the whole Universe.
+The country for which I was feeling this overwhelming intensity of love was the
+entire Universe. At the back and foundation of things I was certain was love—and
+not merely placid benevolence, but active, fervent, devoted love and nothing
+less. The whole world seemed in a blaze of love, and men's hearts were burning
+to be in touch with one another.</p>
+
+<p>It was a remarkable experience I had on that evening. And it was not merely a
+passing roseate flush due to my being in high spirits, such as a man feels who
+has had a good breakfast or has heard that his investments have paid a big
+dividend. I am not sure that I was at the moment in what are usually called high
+spirits. What I felt was more of the nature of a deep inner soul-satisfaction.
+And what I saw amounted to this—that evil is the superficial, goodness the
+fundamental characteristic of the world; affection and not animosity the root
+disposition of men towards one another. Men are inherently good not inherently
+wicked, though they have an uphill fight of it to find scope and room for their
+goodness to declare itself, and though they are placed in hard conditions and
+want every help they can to bring their goodness out. Fundamentally men are
+consuming with affection for one another and only longing for opportunity to
+exert that affection. They want to behave straightly, honourably, and in a
+neighbourly fashion towards one another, and are only too thankful when means
+and conditions can be found which will let them indulge this inborn feeling of
+fellowship. Wickedness, of course, exists. But wickedness is not the essential
+characteristic of men. It is due to ignorance, immaturity, and neglect, like the
+naughtinesses of children. It springs from the conditions in which men find
+themselves, and not from any radical inclination within themselves. With
+maturity and reasonable conditions the innate goodness which is the essential
+characteristic will assert itself. This is what came to me with burning
+conviction. And it arose from no ephemeral sense of exhilaration, nor has it
+since evaporated away. It has remained with me for fifteen years, and so I
+suppose will last for the rest of my life. Of course in a sense there has been
+disillusionment, both as to myself and as to the world. As one comes into the
+dull round of everyday life the glow fades away and all seems grey and
+colourless. Nevertheless, the conviction remains that the glow was the <i>real,</i>
+and that the grey is the superficial. The glow was at the heart and is what some
+day
+<i>will</i> be—or, anyhow, <i>might</i> be.</p>
+
+<p>An additional ground I have for believing it to be true is that on that
+mountain-side near Lhasa I had a specially favourable opportunity of looking at
+the world from, as it were, a proper focal distance. And it is only from a
+proper focal distance that we can see what things really are. If we put
+ourselves right up against a picture in the National Gallery we cannot possibly
+see its beauty—see what the picture really is. No man is a hero to his own
+valet. And that is not because a man is not a hero, but because the valet is too
+close to see the real man. Cecil Rhodes at close quarters was peevish,
+irritable, and like a big spoilt child. Now at a distance we know him, with all
+his faults, to have been a great-souled man. Social reformers near at hand are
+often intolerable bores and religious fanatics frequently a pestilential
+nuisance. We have to get well away from a man to see him as he really is. And so
+it is with mankind as a whole.</p>
+
+<p>So I become more and more certain that my vision was true. And the experience
+of the Great War strengthens my conviction. As we recede from it, what will
+stand out, we may be sure, are not the crimes and cruelties that have been
+committed and the suffering that has been caused, but the astounding heroism
+which was displayed, the self-sacrifice, the devotion and love of country that
+were shown—heroism and devotion such as have never before in the world's history
+been approached, and which was manifested by common everyday men and women in
+every branch of life and in every country.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>The conclusion I reach from this experience is that I was, at the moment I
+had it, intimately in touch with the true Heart of Nature. In my exceptionally
+receptive mood I was directly experiencing the genius of Nature in the very act
+of inspiring and vitalising the whole. I was seeing the Divinity in the Heart
+streaming like light and heat through every part of Nature, and with the
+dominating forcefulness of love lifting each to its own high level.</p>
+
+<p>And my experience was no unique experience. It was an experience the like of
+which has come to many men and many women in every land in all ages. It may not
+be common; but it is not unusual. And in all cases it gives the same certainty
+of conviction that the Heart of Nature is <i>good,</i> that men are not the
+sport of chance, but that Divine Love is a real, an effectively determining and
+the dominant factor in the processes of Nature, and Divine fellowship the
+essence of the ideal which is working throughout Nature and compelling all
+things unto itself.</p><a name="12"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>CHAPTER XII</p>
+
+<p>THE HEART OF NATURE</p>
+
+<p>That Nature is a Personal Being—or at least nothing <i>less</i> than a
+Personal Being—that she is actuated by an ideal, and that her ideal, so far as
+we are able to judge, is an ideal of Divine Fellowship, is the conclusion at
+which we have now arrived. But we shall understand Nature better, and so see her
+Beauty more fully, if we can understand how she works out this ideal in detail.
+And we shall best understand how she works it out if we examine what goes on
+within our own selves and see how <i>we</i>
+work out the ideal with which we believe Nature herself has inspired us. For it
+is in ourselves that the dominating spirit of Nature is most clearly manifested
+to us. And being ourselves the instruments and agents of Nature, and informed
+through and through with her spirit, we ought to be able to understand how she
+works if only we look carefully enough into the working of our own inner selves.</p>
+
+<p>What we find is that under the inspiration of the genius of Nature we are
+perpetually projecting in front of us a pattern or standard of what we think we
+ought to be, or should like to be, and of what we think our country and the
+world ought to be. We set up an ideal. It is generally very vague. But there is
+always at the back of our minds an idea of something more perfect. And this idea
+we bring out from time to time from its seclusion and set up before us as an end
+to aim at.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes we deliberately try to draw the outlines of this ideal more
+definitely. Each of us will picture a slightly different ideal to the rest. The
+ideal men will differ just as much as actual men, and the ideal countries as
+much as actual countries. No two will be exactly alike. And each of us will
+probably make his ideal man very different from himself—perhaps the exact
+opposite, for each will be peculiarly conscious of his own imperfections and
+shortcomings.</p>
+
+<p>But if the ideal man which each sets up differs in small particulars from
+what others set up, the general outline of all will probably be very much the
+same, as men in general are much the same when compared with other animals. All
+will be based on the idea of fellowship. So aided by examples chosen from among
+our friends, we may here attempt to build up an ideal type of man. For the
+effort will help us to realise better both what Nature is aiming at and how she
+works.</p>
+
+<p>Formerly we might have drawn this ideal man upright, straight, rigid,
+unbending. More recently we might have drawn him as a super-man, the
+fittest-to-survive kind of man, all muscular will, intent only on bending every
+other will to his and crashing relentlessly on through life like a bison in the
+forest. But nowadays we want a man with the same reliability as the upright
+type, but with grace and suppleness in place of rigidity; and with the same
+strength as the super-man, but with gentleness and consideration in proportion
+to the strength. We do not want a man of wood; and what we do want is not so
+much a super-man as a gentle-man—a man of courtesy and grace as well as
+strength.</p>
+
+<p>The stiff and stilted type of a bygone age will have melted under the warmth
+of deepening fellowship and become flowing and fluid. The man of this type will
+not only be full of consideration for others, but will naturally, out of a full
+and overflowing heart and of his own generous prompting, eagerly enter into the
+lives and pursuits, the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows of those with whom
+he is connected. And with all this wide <i>general</i> kindliness he will be
+something more than merely amiable and good-natured, and will have capacity for
+intense devotion for <i>particular</i> men and women. He will necessarily have
+fine tact and address, adroitness and skill in handling difficult and delicate
+situations, and the sensitiveness to appreciate the most hidden feelings of
+others. Wit and distinction he will have, too, with ability to discern the real
+nature of people and events, and to distinguish the best from the good, and the
+good from the indifferent and bad. He will also possess that peculiar sweetness
+of disposition which is only found when behind it is the surest strength. And
+with all his gentleness, tenderness, and capacity for sympathy he will have the
+grit and spirit to hold his own, to battle for his rights, and to fight for
+those conditions which are absolutely necessary for his full development. He
+will, in addition, have the initiative to think out and strike out his own line
+and to make his own mark.</p>
+
+<p>He will be a man of the world in the sense of being accustomed to meet and
+mix with men in many different walks of life and of many different
+nationalities. And he will be a man of the home in the sense of being devoted to
+his own family circle. He will be at home in the town and at home in the
+country; adapted to the varied society, interests, and pursuits which town life
+can afford, but devoted also to the country, to the open air and elemental
+nature and animals and plants.</p>
+
+<p>A fixed principle and firm determination with him will be to do his duty—to
+do his social duty, to do the right thing at whatever temporary cost to himself.
+The right thing for him will be that which produces most good. And he will deem
+that the most good which best promotes human fellowship, warms it with love,
+colours it with beauty, enlightens it with truth, and sweetens it with grace.
+Finally, and culminatingly, he will have that spirituality and fine
+sensitiveness of soul which will put him in touch with the true Heart of Nature
+and make him eagerly responsive to the subtlest promptings which spring
+therefrom; so he will be possessed of a profound conviction, rooted in the very
+depths of his being, that in doing the right thing, or in other words pursuing
+righteousness, he is carrying out the will and intention of that Divine Being
+whom we here call Nature but whom we might also call God.</p>
+
+<p>This, or something like it, is the ideal of a man which most of us would form
+under the impress and impetus of the indwelling genius of Nature. But this ideal
+can only be reached by an individual when his country also has reached it. He
+will be driven, therefore, to make his country behave and act up to this ideal.
+And his country cannot so act till the general society of nations conducts
+itself on the same general lines. His country, therefore, will be driven to make
+the general society of nations behave in accordance with the principles of high
+fellowship.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>We have made for ourselves the ideal of a man. It remains to show that the
+finest pitch of all is only reached in the union of man and woman. The man is
+not complete without the woman, nor the woman without the man. It is in their
+union, therefore, that the ideal in its greatest perfection will be seen. The
+flower which results from the working of the ideal in the Heart of Nature, as
+the flower of the rose results from the working of the rose-ideal in the heart
+of the rose-seed, we see in the love of man and woman at the supreme moment of
+their union. This is the very holiest thing in Nature. It is then that both the
+man and the woman are to the fullest extent themselves, both to be and to
+express all that is in them to be. They love then to their extreme capacity to
+love. They are gentle then to the utmost limit of tenderness. And they are
+strong then to the farthest stretch of their strength.</p>
+
+<p>And while they thus reach the very acme of Nature's ideal so far as we men
+can discern it, they, at the same time and in so doing, touch the very
+foundations of Nature as well. Mathematicians have discovered that there is no
+such thing as a perfectly straight line, and that curvature is a fundamental
+property of the physical world. So also is it in the spiritual world. As we
+reach the topmost height of the ideal we find that it has curved round, and that
+we are at that moment at the very base and foundation. What is attracting us
+forward in the farthest distance in front is the very thing that is urging us
+forward from behind. Pinnacle and foundation, source and end, meet.</p>
+
+<p>The love which attracted the man and woman together and which they keep
+striving to attain in higher and higher degree, is the same as the creative
+impulse which comes surging up from the very Heart of Nature. Direct and without
+ever a break it has come out of the remotest past and deepest deeps. Few seem
+aware of this, and yet it is an obvious fact—and a fact which vastly increases
+our sense of intimacy with Nature. It was due to the same impulse which has
+brought the man and woman together that they themselves were brought into being.
+Their parents had been attracted by the same vision of love and impelled by the
+same impulse. Their parents' parents had been similarly attracted and impelled,
+and so on back and back through the whole long line of ancestry, through half a
+million years to primitive men, back beyond them again through the long animal
+ancestry for scores of millions of years to the beginning of life. Even then
+there is no break. Direct from the very Fountain Source of Things this creative
+impulse has come bursting up into their hearts. At the moment of union they are
+straight along the direct line of the whole world-development, so far as this
+planet is concerned. The elemental in the natural impulse is the most ultimately
+elemental, for it derives itself straight from the pure Origin of Things. As
+they reach after the most Divine they are impelled by the most elemental. What,
+in fact, happens is that the elemental is inspired through and through with the
+Divine.</p>
+
+<p>The union of man and woman is the flower of Nature. But, like the rose, it
+bears within it the seed from which some still more beautiful flower may result.
+No pair, however sublime their union, suppose that it is the best that could by
+any possibility at any time exist. An absolutely perfect union depends upon an
+absolutely perfect pair in absolutely perfect surroundings. And no one supposes
+that he himself is perfect or that the world around him is perfect. So there is
+in the pair a consciousness of imperfection, a vision of perfection, and a
+desperate yearning to be more perfect and to make the world more perfect. Deep
+and strong as the creative impulse itself is the impulse to improvement. It is
+due to this impulse that the mother reaches over her child with such loving
+care, strives to shield it from all harm, social as well as physical, and to
+give it a better chance than she herself enjoyed. It is due to this same impulse
+that the man works to leave his profession, his business, his science, his art,
+his country, better than he found it. It is due to this impulse also that men as
+a whole are driven to improve the whole Earth, to improve plants, flowers,
+trees, animals, men, and make the world a better place for their successors than
+it has ever been for them.</p>
+
+<p>The pair—even the most splendid pair that has ever wedded—have deep within
+them this perhaps unrecognised impulse to improvement. They know that the rose
+can only bring forth roses, and that they can only bring forth men: they know
+that they cannot bring forth angels. But they know also that the rose, when
+wisely mated and its offspring provided with favourable surroundings of soil and
+air and sunshine, can give rise to blooms incomparably more perfect than itself.
+And they know that they themselves, if they have wisely mated, if they carefully
+tend their offspring and provide them with healthy, sunny, physical and social
+surroundings, can give rise, in generations to come, to unions of men and women
+incomparably more perfect than their own—as much more perfect as their union is
+than the unions of primitive men—richer in colour, more graceful in form,
+sweeter in fragrance, and of an altogether finer texture.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>This, then, is the ideal in its completeness which we set up before us. But
+we have no sooner set it up than we find that the presence of this ideal within
+us makes us restless, unsatisfied, discontented, till we have set to work to
+bring things up to it; and that when we do start improving them we are forthwith
+involved in endless strife. Improvement means effort. It does not come by
+itself. It is only effected by strong, persistent, determined effort. It was no
+easy matter for the particles in the rose-seed to battle their way through the
+hard seed-case, strike down into the soil, send up shoots into the air, stand
+steadfastly to their ideal of the rose, and produce a seed capable of bringing
+forth a still more perfect flower. And it is no easy matter for us to burst
+through our own shells, strike our roots far down into the soil of common
+humanity and common animality, and there firmly rooted strike up skyward, stand
+faithfully to our ideal, and produce something which will have capacity for
+still further improvement. Immense and sustained effort is required of us for
+this to be accomplished.</p>
+
+<p>Each man finds he has to battle with himself to make way for all the best in
+himself to come to the front. Each has to battle with the circumstances in which
+he is placed in order to find scope for the exercise of the best in himself.
+Each has to break his way through, as that wonder of Nature, poor primitive man,
+had to battle his way through the impediments of the tropical forests and the
+brute beasts by which he was surrounded. And just as primitive man was not the
+animal provided with the thickest hide like the rhinoceros, nor with sharpest
+claws like the lion, nor with the fiercest temper like the tiger, but was of all
+his fellows the one with the most sensitive nature, so are those nearest the
+ideal the most delicately sensitive of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>The ideal is never approached, much less attained, except by men and women of
+the most highly-strung natures—natures peculiarly susceptible to pain. And with
+this extra susceptibility to pain they have to expose to the risk of wounds and
+bruises the most sensitive parts of their natures. Suffering is therefore
+inevitably their lot. It is the invariable attendant of progress however
+beneficent. Excruciating pain each expects to have to endure—as every expectant
+mother and every soldier anticipates on the physical plane.</p>
+
+<p>We find, too, that in working out our ideal we are not only required to
+endure pain, but to submit to the sternest discipline. First, we need
+self-discipline. Each individual finds that he is required to exercise his
+faculties to the full, make the utmost of himself, attain to the highest of
+which he is capable, and be ready for any sacrifice. So he must train his
+faculties to the highest. He is required also to work in concert with his
+fellows. The stern obligation is therefore upon him to forgo his own private
+advantage in order that the common end may be achieved. This obligation he has
+readily to acknowledge and submit to. He has also to acknowledge what he owes to
+Nature, what is his
+<i>duty</i> to Nature. And that duty he has to perform and her authority he has
+to admit. He can retain his freedom and initiative and enterprise. But he has to
+obey the laws of Nature, acknowledge her authority, submit to her discipline. No
+soldiers were more full of independence and initiative than the Australians, but
+no troops at the end of the War realised better than they did that success can
+only be achieved through strictest discipline as well as freedom and initiative.
+The lover also knows that only through the sternest discipline and constraint
+upon himself is his object attained. Thus there is an imperative necessity upon
+a man to be orderly in his behaviour, loyal, faithful, dutiful, and obedient to
+the ideal within him. Any failure in loyalty and obedience is a sin against
+Nature and a sin against himself. The call of honour and of humanity is upon
+him, and that call he has to obey without hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>Equally are men expected to be ready to <i>exercise</i> authority, to
+maintain discipline and preserve order. The exercise of authority is no less an
+obligation and duty upon men than obedience to it. And the one has to be
+practised just as much as the other. Or, rather, the exercise of authority has
+to be practised more, for it is more difficult and more valuable. And the proper
+exercise of authority, maintenance of discipline, and preservation of order, is
+a duty men owe ultimately to Nature herself. For it is from Nature that they
+finally derive their authority and to Nature that they are ultimately
+responsible.</p>
+
+<p>Whether as captain of the eleven or as head of the house at school, as
+manager of an office or a business, as policeman or foreman, as corporal or
+Commander-in-Chief, as administrator or Prime Minister, whether as nurse,
+parent, or schoolmistress, a man or woman is in his position of authority
+directly or indirectly on the appointment or choice of those over whom he has to
+exercise authority. He is there to exercise authority for their benefit. They
+have placed him—as the public place the policeman—in authority for that purpose.
+And they have a right to expect that he will exercise his authority with
+decision, maintain discipline with firmness, and preserve order with even-handed
+justice. For only then can they themselves know where they are, get on with
+their own duties and affairs, and fulfil the law of their being. Ultimately
+those in authority are chosen by, and are responsible to, those over whom they
+exercise authority. And those who choose them expect and require them to
+exercise authority authoritatively.</p>
+
+<p>Each in his own particular sphere, in that particular place and for the time
+being, has to exercise his authority with strictness. Otherwise the rest cannot
+fulfil their own duties. The policeman has to exercise his authority even over a
+Prince, as otherwise there might be chaos in the streets and no one would be
+able to get about his business with surety. The whole people have chosen each
+for his particular position of authority, and for their benefit expect him to
+exercise it strictly.</p>
+
+<p>The people, again, spring from Nature as a whole. They are the
+representatives of Nature. Those in authority are therefore, in their particular
+province, for that particular purpose, and for the time being the
+representatives of Nature. They are accountable to Nature, and Nature expects
+them as her representatives to exercise authority with wisdom and discretion,
+but on the same basic principles of absolute fairness and perfect orderliness
+that she herself in her elemental aspects exercises her authority.</p>
+
+<p>Besides obeying authority and exercising authority, men have also to practise
+<i>leadership.</i> Merely to give and obey orders is nothing like sufficient. In
+most things a man follows some leader, but in each man there is one thing—his
+own particular line—in which he can <i>lead.</i> In that line he is expected to
+qualify himself for leadership, and be prepared to take the risks of high
+adventure. For it is only through leadership, through someone venturing out
+beyond the ruck and getting his fellows to follow him, that any progress is
+made. Mere obedience to authority and exercise of authority never initiate any
+new departure. These only provide the conditions for progress. In addition to
+these the divine gift of leadership is required. Leadership is therefore the
+supremely important quality which men require.</p>
+
+<p>But men cannot intelligently act in concert and alertly; cannot willingly
+submit themselves to a rigid discipline; cannot exercise authority with
+confidence and weight; and cannot lead so that others may follow, unless all are
+animated by the same idea. And they are not likely to sacrifice their lives for
+that idea unless they are convinced of its value. Only for the most precious
+things in life do men willingly give up their lives. And before they submit to
+unquestioning discipline and sacrifice themselves for an ideal they need a clear
+understanding of that ideal and a just appreciation of its value. So they think
+out the ideal with greater precision and make sure that what they are aiming at
+is nothing short of the highest. Now the ideal of fellowship enriched with
+beauty and elevated to the Divine is one which all can understand and of which
+all can see the value. Because it is the highest it is satisfying to the deepest
+needs and cravings of their nature, and is therefore of a value beyond all
+reckoning. Assured of that, they summon up all the courage and fortitude that is
+theirs, all their spirit and mettle, to endure unflinchingly the pain that must
+be theirs. And in spite of the effort, the long, strict training, the rigid
+discipline, the hardship and suffering they have to undergo, they joyfully play
+their part because they are assured in their hearts that what they are living
+for and would readily die for is supremely worth while. Deep in their hearts is
+that divine joy of battle that fighters for the highest always feel. And they
+fight with power and conviction because they know that their ideal has come into
+their hearts straight from Nature herself, and experience has shown that what
+Nature has in mind she does in the end achieve: she not only has the will and
+intention but the
+<i>power</i> to carry into effect what she determines.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>This is how we formulate the ideal to ourselves in ever-developing
+completeness; and this is how with pain and effort but with over-compensating
+joy we carry it into effect. And these experiences of ours in the formulation
+and working out of our ideal give us the clue to the manner in which Nature on
+her part works out <i>her</i> ideal. We are the representations and
+representatives of the whole, and we may assume that the whole works in much the
+same way as we ourselves work. If this be so we may expect to find that Nature
+will work as an <i>artist</i> works, that is, out of his own inner
+consciousness, spontaneously generating and continually creating new and
+original forms approaching (through a process of trial and error
+experimentation) more and more closely to that ideal of perfection which he has
+always, though often unconsciously, before him. And this is how we actually do
+find Nature working. We find her reaching after perfection of form, now in one
+direction, now in another; first in plants, next in animals, then in insects,
+then in birds, then in apes, then in men, here in one type and there in another,
+never reaching complete perfection anywhere, any more than the greatest artist
+ever does in any particular, but still reaching perfection in a higher and
+higher degree, and making the state of the whole of a richer and intenser
+perfection.</p>
+
+<p>We have, therefore, ample evidence that Nature is actuated by an intention to
+enrich perfection and is continually working towards it. So we have confidence
+that Nature, hard and exacting though she be, is <i>only</i> exacting in order
+that the Highest may be attained. We know that Nature is aiming at the Highest
+and nothing short of the Highest. And all the spirit of daring and adventure in
+us leaps to the call she makes.</p>
+
+<p>And we respond to the call with all the greater alacrity because we feel that
+the attainment of that Highest is dependent to a large degree upon ourselves. We
+have a sense of real responsibility in the matter. And for this reason—that
+though Nature lays down the great constitutional laws within which man, her
+completest representative, must work; and though Nature as a whole formulates
+the main outlines of her ideal; yet man
+<i>within that constitution</i> can make his own laws, and within its main
+outlines may refine and perfect the ideal.</p>
+
+<p>Nature may be working out her ideal on other stars through the agency of
+other kinds of beings more perfect than ourselves; and while the ideal in its
+main outlines may be the same there as the ideal which is working itself out on
+this planet, it may there have assumed a higher form and be more nearly
+attained. But on this planet the more definite formulation of the ideal and the
+measures for its attainment are in the hands of men. We can perfect the ideal
+for ourselves, and make laws and establish customs to ensure its attainment. We
+are not the slaves of a despotic ruler, or pawns in the hand of an external
+player. Within the limits of Nature's constitution, the laws we obey are laws of
+our own making; the authority we obey is the authority which we ourselves have
+set up; and both authority and laws we can change in accordance with the growing
+requirements of the ideal which we ourselves are perfecting.</p>
+
+<p>We go forward, therefore, with inextinguishable faith in the value of what we
+are battling for, and in the worthwhileness of all our efforts and endurances.
+And though the ideal, with which Nature has inspired us makes us restless and
+discontented, provokes us to increasing effort, causes us endless pain and
+suffering, and exacts from us the sacrifice even of our lives, we nevertheless
+love to have the ideal, and love Nature for implanting it in us.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>And now that we have seen what is the nature of Nature, what is the end she
+has before her, and how she works to accomplish her end, we feel that we have
+gone a long way towards knowing and understanding her. We have had a vision of
+the hidden Divinity by which she is inspired. And this mysterious Power we have
+not found reigning remote in the empty spaces of the heavens. We have found it
+dwelling in every minutest particle of which this Earth and all the world is
+built, and of which we ourselves also are made—dwelling in the earth, and in the
+air, and in the stars; and in every living thing, in beast and bird and insect,
+in flower, plant, and man—and dwelling in them all in their togetherness. We
+have found it to be both immanent and transcendent. It only exists—and can only
+exist—in these its single self-active representations. But in relation to each
+of them it is transcendent. Each star and flower, each beast and man, is its
+partial representation. But the whole together is that Power which while it
+transcends is yet resident in, and inspires, each single part which goes to its
+making. In the inmost heart of Nature, as the ground and source of Nature, yet
+permeating Nature to the uttermost confines, and reigning supreme over the
+whole, we find God; actuating the heart of God we find an ideal; and actuating
+the heart of the ideal we find an imperative urge towards perfection, an inborn
+necessity to perfect itself for ever—just as inside the rough exterior of
+Abraham Lincoln was the real Abraham Lincoln, at his heart was an ideal, and at
+the heart of the ideal an inner impulse towards perfection; or as within the
+exterior France is the real France, in the heart of France an ideal, and in the
+heart of the ideal the determination to perfect itself.</p>
+
+<p>This view of Nature is very different from that view of her which would
+regard the world as having been originally created by, and now being governed
+by, an always and already perfect Being, living as apart from it as the Sun is
+from the Earth, and being as distinct and separate from it as a father is from
+his son. And the difference in view must make a profound difference in our
+attitude to Nature, and therefore in our capacity for seeing and enjoying
+Natural Beauty. We may admire and worship but we can scarcely love, in any true
+sense of the word, a Being dwelling distant and aloof from us, and with whom,
+from the mere fact of his being perfect, it is most difficult for us to be on
+terms of homely intimacy and affection. But for a Being who, like our country,
+is one of whom we ourselves form part, we can have not only admiration and
+reverence but deep affection. We can and do love our country, for we form part
+of her, and have a voice and share in making and shaping her. We know that she
+cares for us, will look after us in misfortune, and will honour and love us if
+we serve her well and show her loyalty and devotion. And we can and do love
+Nature for precisely the same reasons. We feel ourselves part of her, and in
+intimate touch with her all round and always. And we have that which is so
+satisfying to us—the feeling that there is <i>reciprocity</i> of love between us
+and her. So our love is active, and it vehemently impels us to get to know her
+better and better, to get ourselves in ever closer touch with her, to discover
+the utmost fulness of her Beauty, and to communicate to others all that we have
+come to know and all the Beauty we have seen, so that others may share in our
+enjoyment and come to love Nature more even than we love her ourselves—love
+Nature in all her aspects, love physical Nature in the mountains, seas and
+deserts, the clouds, sunsets and stars, love plant Nature and animal Nature and
+human Nature; and, above all, love Divine Nature as best revealed in supreme men
+in their supreme moments.</p>
+
+<p>In some of her aspects Nature may be stern and exacting. But she is never
+sheerly hard. She is compounded of mercy and compassion as well as of rigid
+orderliness. And her essential character is Love—and Love of no impassive and
+insipid kind, but of a power and activity beyond all human conception.</p>
+
+<p>The importance and significance of this conclusion, if we accept it, is that
+we definitely abandon the repellent conception of Nature as governed by chance,
+or as cold and mechanical, or as guided solely by the principle of the survival
+of the fittest, and we accept instead the humaner and diviner view that Nature
+is actuated by Love; and, accepting that more winning conception, we can enter
+unreservedly into the Spirit of Nature and see her Beauty. Unless we had been
+assured in our minds, without any possibility of doubt whatever, that we could <i>
+love</i> Nature, we could never really have enjoyed her <i>Beauty.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>* * *</i></p>
+
+<p>So Nature is not something static, fixed, and immovable, determined once and
+for all like a rock is, at least to outward appearance. Nature is a Person, and
+a Person is a process. Nature flows. Nature is always moving on. As our thoughts
+are all connected with one another and passing into one another; as all events
+are connected with one another and are continually passing from one into
+another, and form one great all-inclusive event which is in continual process of
+happening; so is Nature always in process of passing from one state into another
+state, while the whole forms one great event for ever happening. And actuating
+the whole process, determining the whole great event, is an inner core of
+Activity which endures through all the changes. It is the &quot;I&quot; of Nature, which
+informs, directs, controls the whole from centre to utmost extremity through all
+space and all time. It is the Soul and Spirit, the Genius of Nature. It is what
+we should mean when we speak of God.</p>
+
+<p>Actuated by this spirit, whose essential character is Love, the process
+glides smoothly, unbrokenly, and wellnigh imperceptibly forward. As we lift our
+eyes and look out upon Nature in its present actually existing state, what we
+see in that instant is the whole achievement of the past, and it contains within
+it here and now the promise of all the future. All the past is in the present,
+and in it also is the potency of the future. The achievement fills us with
+admiration. The promise thrills us with hope. To that Spirit which has achieved
+this result, which actuates the process and ourselves with it, which determines
+the great event, which ensures the uniformity and law and order which are the
+foundations of our freedom, and the essential condition of all progress, our
+hearts are drawn out and yearningly stretch themselves out in a love boundless
+as the process itself.</p>
+
+<p>The more we find ourselves drawn to Nature and in harmony and love with her,
+the more Beauty do we see. In closest reciprocity Love of Nature inspires
+Natural Beauty and Natural Beauty promotes Love of Nature. And it is from the
+Heart of Nature that both Love and Beauty spring. Both also remain permanent and
+everlasting through all the changing processes of Nature—permanent but ever
+increasing in depth and height and volume. The promise of all the Love and
+Beauty of to-day was hidden in the womb of the past. In the womb of to-day is
+contained the promise of a Love and Beauty still more glorious. And ours it is
+to bring them into being.</p><a name="13"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>PART II</p>
+
+<p>NATURAL BEAUTY AND GEOGRAPHY</p><a name="14"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS TO THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY, DELIVERED AT THE
+ANNIVERSARY MEETING, MAY 31, 1920</p>
+
+<p>NATURAL BEAUTY AND GEOGRAPHICAL SCIENCE</p>
+
+<p>I have something to say which to old-fashioned geographers may appear very
+revolutionary, and which you may hesitate to accept straight away. But it has
+come to me as the result of much and varied geographical work in the field; of
+listening to many lectures before this Society; and of composing this Address
+and five lectures for you, firstly, as far back as 1888, on my journey across
+Central Asia from Peking to India; secondly, on my journey to Hunza and the
+Pamirs; thirdly, on Chitral; fourthly, on my mission to Tibet; and fifthly, on
+the Himalaya. And I expect when you come to think over what I have now to say
+you will find that, after all, my conclusions are not anything desperately
+revolutionary but something quite obvious and natural.</p>
+
+<p>What I want to lay before you for your very earnest consideration is
+this—that we should take a profounder and broader view of Geography, of its
+fundamental conception, and of its scope and aim, than we have hitherto taken;
+and should regard the Earth as
+<i>Mother</i>-Earth, and the <i>Beauty</i> of her features as within the purview
+of Geography.</p>
+
+<p>I will state my case as clearly and briefly as I can. Geography is a science.
+Science is learning, knowing, understanding. The object of geographical
+learning, knowing, understanding is the Earth. We must first, then, have a true
+conception of what the Earth really is. And next we must be certain in our minds
+as to what is most worth knowing about it.</p>
+
+<p>To begin with our conception of the Earth. At the dawn of Geography it was
+believed to be a flat disc. Later it was discovered to be a sphere. Then it was
+found to be not a hard solid sphere like a billiard-ball, but to be hard only on
+the surface, and within to be quick with fervent heat. Now it is coming to be
+regarded as spirit as well as body—as in its essential nature spiritual rather
+than material.</p>
+
+<p>When we get as far back as science is able to take us we find that the
+ultimate particles of which the Earth is made up are not minute specks of some
+substance or material, but are simply centres of radiant energy. Even with a
+microscope of infinite power we should never be able to see one, like we see a
+grain of pollen or a grain of sand. And if we had fingers of infinite delicacy,
+we should never be able to take one up between the forefinger and thumb and feel
+it. These ultimate particles are invisible and intangible. Nothing could be less
+substantial. And we find further that, inconceivably minute as they are, they <i>
+act of themselves</i> under the mutual influence of one another. The electrons
+are not like shot which have been heaped together by some outside agency, and
+which roll about the floor if someone outside gives them a push, but which will
+otherwise remain immobile. They congregate together of their own inner
+prompting. They are like a swarm of midges or bees in which each individual acts
+on its own impulsion, and, in the case of bees, all together form themselves
+into a definite organisation with a collective spirit of its own. The Earth is
+indeed influenced by its parent the Sun, and acts in accordance with the same
+laws and is swayed by the same impulses as govern the whole Universe, of which
+it is a minute though highly important mite. But the point is that the Earth is
+not something like a lump of clay which a potter takes in his hands and moulds
+into a ball. The Earth moulds itself from activities that it contains within
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>Running through the whole mighty swarm of electrons we call the Earth is a
+tendency to order, organisation, and system. The myriad millions of ultimate
+particles in their all-togetherness and from their interaction upon one another
+become possessed of an imperative urge towards excellence. The electrons group
+themselves into atoms; the atoms clump themselves together into molecules; the
+molecules combine into chemical compounds, and these into organisms of
+ever-increasing size and complexity. So in the process of the ages there came
+into being, from out of the very Earth itself, first, lowly forms of plants and
+animals, then higher and higher forms exhibiting higher and higher qualities,
+till the flowers of the field, the animals, and man himself came into existence.</p>
+
+<p>And now we reach the point I wish to make. If this account of the Earth which
+physicists and biologists give us be true, then we geographers should take a
+less material and a more spiritual view of the Earth than we have done, and
+should, like primitive people all the world over, regard her as Mother-Earth,
+and recognise our intimate connection with her. Primitive peoples everywhere
+regard the Earth as alive and as their Mother. And so intensely do they feel
+this liveness that many will not run the plough through the soil from dislike of
+lacerating the bosom of Mother-Earth. They see plants and trees spring up out of
+her, and these plants and trees providing them with fruits and seeds, leaves and
+roots, upon which to live. And they quite naturally look upon her as their
+Mother. And we men of the more advanced races have still more cause to consider
+her as our Mother, for we now know that not only the plants and trees but we
+ourselves sprang from her—as indeed we are nourished by her daily, eating her
+plants or the animals which feed on her plants. And as we judge of a lily, not
+by its origin, the ugly bulb, but by the climax, the exquisite flower; so we
+should not judge of the Earth by its origin, the fiery mist, but by its
+issue—ardent human fellowship. And if we thus judge her we shall find her a
+mother worthy of our affection.</p>
+
+<p>So the first point I have to put before you is that we geographers should
+regard the object of our science not as a magnified billiard-ball, but as a
+living being—as Mother-Earth. Not as hard, unimpressionable, dull, and inert,
+but as live, supple, sensitive, and active—active with an intensity of activity
+past all conceivability. Yet with no chaotic activity, but with activity having
+coherence and direction, and that direction towards excellence.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>Now as to what we ought to know about the Earth. While Geology concerns
+itself with its anatomy, Geography, by long convention, restricts its concern to
+the Earth's outward aspect. Accordingly, it is in the face and features of
+Mother-Earth that we geographers are mainly interested. We must know something
+of the general principles of geology, as painters have to know something of the
+anatomy of the human or animal body. But our special business as geographers is
+with the outward expression. And my second point is that the characteristic of
+the face and features of the Earth most worth learning about, knowing, and
+understanding is their Beauty; and that knowledge of their Beauty may be
+legitimately included within the scope of geographical science.</p>
+
+<p>It may be argued, indeed, that science is concerned with quantity—with what
+can be measured—and that Natural Beauty is quality which is something that
+eludes measurement. But geographical science, at least, should refuse to be
+confined within any such arbitrary limits and should take cognisance of quality
+as well as quantity. This is my contention. I am not maintaining that the actual
+enjoyment of the Natural Beauty of the Earth should be regarded as within the
+scope of geographical science, though this Society as a social body might well
+participate in such enjoyment. Enjoyment is feeling, whereas science is knowing;
+and feeling and knowing are distinct faculties. We can easily see the
+distinction. We may be travelling to Plymouth to embark for South Africa on some
+absorbing enterprise, and be so engrossed with thoughts of the adventure before
+us as to be unable to enjoy the famed West Country through which the train is
+passing, though all the time we were quite aware in our minds of its beauty. We
+are not actually enjoying the beauty, though we know quite well that it is
+there. On another occasion we may be returning after long absence in countries
+of far different character; our minds may be free from any disturbing thoughts;
+and we may be in a mood to enjoy to the full every beauty we see. England will
+then seem to us a veritable garden, the greenness of everything, the trimness of
+the hedges, the sheets of purple hyacinths, and some still remaining primroses,
+will startle us with joy, though we have long been aware of their beauty. This
+time we both know and enjoy the Natural Beauty. We see from this instance the
+distinction between knowing Natural Beauty and enjoying it. I am not claiming
+more than that <i>knowing</i> Natural Beauty—being aware of it—is part of
+Geography. But I <i>am</i> claiming liberty to extend our knowing up to the
+extreme limit when it merges into feeling.</p>
+
+<p>What we have now to consider is the value of this Natural Beauty. A region
+may be flat or mountainous, dry or wet, barren or fertile, useful or useless for
+either political or commercial purposes. But it is not its flatness or
+ruggedness, or its utility or inutility for political or commercial purposes,
+that we may find in the end is the most noteworthy characteristic, but its
+beauty—its own particular beauty. The conventional gold or oil prospector, or
+railway engineer, or seeker for sites for rubber or coffee plantation, or
+pasture-lands for sheep and cattle, may not bother his head about the beauty of
+the forests, the rivers, the prairies, and the mountains he is exploring. He is
+much too absorbed in the practical business of life to be distracted by anything
+so fanciful—as he thinks. Yet even he does see the beauty, and long afterwards
+he finds it is that which has stuck most firmly in his mind. And when he has
+unthinkingly destroyed it, future generations lament his action and take
+measures to preserve what remains. Advertisements, also, show us daily that
+nearly all countries—and it seems more especially new countries like Canada and
+New Zealand—regard Natural Beauty as one of their most valuable assets. And the
+reason why the Natural Beauty of the Earth is deemed so valuable a
+characteristic of its features is not hard to understand when we come to
+reflect. It is because Beauty is a quality which appeals to the universal in
+man—appeals to all men for all time, and appeals to them in an increasing
+degree. It is something which all men can admire and enjoy. And the more they
+enjoy it the more they want to get others to share in their enjoyment. Also the
+more Natural Beauty they see, the more, apparently, there is to see. Poets in
+their poems, and painters in their pictures, are continually pointing out to us
+less keen-sighted individuals new beauties in the features of the Earth. The
+mineral wealth of the Earth has its limits; even the productivity, though
+perennially renewed, is not unbounded. But the Natural Beauty is inexhaustible.
+And it is not only inexhaustible: it positively increases and multiplies the
+more we see of it and the more of us see it. So it has good claim to be
+considered the most valuable characteristic of the Earth.</p>
+
+<p>And if Beauty should prove to be its most valuable characteristic, it follows
+that knowledge of it is the knowledge about the Earth which is most worth
+having. It will certainly be the case that knowledge of other characteristics
+may be of more value to particular men for a special purpose for the time being.
+If an engineer has to build a railway, knowledge of the exact height above
+sea-level of various points and of the general configuration of the ground is of
+more value than knowledge of its beauty. But for the engineer himself, when he
+is not thinking of his railway, and for mankind in general, knowledge of the
+beauty may be the more valuable kind of knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>For years I was employed in exploring the region where three Empires meet,
+where the Himalaya, the Hindu Kush, and mountains which form the Roof of the
+World converge. I had to report on the extent to which it afforded a barrier
+against the advance of Russia towards India, and wherein it would lie the most
+appropriate boundary between India and Russia, between India and China, and
+between Russia and China. What I learned of that region as a barrier against
+invasion was of more value to the Viceroy and Commander-in-Chief in India and
+the political and military authorities in England in the discharge of their
+official duties than what I learned of its beauties. But this utility of the
+region as a military barrier is not the characteristic which has most value to
+men in general. What to them has most value is its beauty—the awful beauty of
+its terrific gorges and stupendous heights. And it is knowledge of this beauty
+which is most worth having, and which has most geographical value.</p>
+
+<p>Besides exploring the far region beyond Kashmir I was also employed for years
+in exercising a general supervision over the entire administration of Kashmir
+itself. Reports from experts used to come to me containing every description of
+geographical knowledge. Surveyors would send in maps for general purposes, for
+the construction of roads and railways, for the delimitation of village
+boundaries, and for registering the ownership of individual fields. Geologists
+would report on the crustal relief (as the features of Mother-Earth are
+inelegantly termed). Forestry, agricultural, and botanical experts would report
+on the productivity of the soil, on the plants and trees which are or might be
+grown, and on their present and possible distribution. Mineralogists would
+report on the minerals, their distribution and the possibility of commercially
+exploiting them. Every aspect of geographical science was presented to me. And
+each particular kind of knowledge for its own particular purpose was highly
+valuable. But the point I would wish to make is that my geographical knowledge
+of Kashmir would have been incomplete—and I would have been wanting in knowledge
+of its most valuable characteristic—if I had had no knowledge of its beauty. I
+might have had the most precise knowledge about the form and structure of the
+crustal relief of this portion of the Earth, of the productivity of the soil, of
+the distribution of its population, and of animals and plants, and about the
+effect of the crustal forms on the animals and plants, and of the animals and
+plants upon the crustal forms and of all upon man, and of man upon them all; but
+if I had had no knowledge of the beauty of these crustal forms and of the
+influence which their beauty has upon man, I should not have known what was most
+worth knowing about Kashmir. My geographical knowledge of that country would
+have been wanting in its most important particular.</p>
+
+<p>These illustrations will, I hope, make clear what I mean when I urge that
+Beauty may be the most valuable characteristic of the Earth's features, and that
+the scope of Geography should certainly be extended to include a knowledge of
+it.</p>
+
+<p>And there should be less hesitation in accepting the latter half of this
+conclusion when we note that Natural Beauty affects the movements of man, and
+that man is having an increasing effect upon Natural Beauty—spoiling it in too
+many cases, improving it in many others, but certainly having an effect upon it.
+There is thus a quite definite relation between man and Natural Beauty, and it
+should therefore be within the scope of Geography to take note of this
+relationship. To an increasing degree man now moves about in search of new
+Natural Beauty or to enjoy it where it has been already found. From all over the
+world men flock to Switzerland, drawn there by its beauty. Here at home they go
+to the Thames Valley, or Dartmoor, or the coast of Cornwall, or North Wales, or
+the Highlands, simply to enjoy the Natural Beauty. And railway companies and the
+Governments of Canada, Australia, and New Zealand think it worth while to spend
+large sums of money in publishing pictures of the beauty of the countries in
+which they are interested in order to attract holiday-makers or home-seekers to
+them.</p>
+
+<p>And here, as in other cases, man now is not content to be an impassive
+spectator and to be entirely controlled by his surroundings. He does not allow
+the &quot;crustal relief&quot; to have the upper hand in the matter. He will not admit
+that all he has to do is to adapt himself to his surroundings. That servile view
+of our position in the Universe is fast departing. We are determined to have the
+ascendancy. And much as we admire the Beauty of the Earth we set about improving
+it. We fail disastrously at times, I allow. But sometimes unconsciously, and
+sometimes deliberately, we succeed. We have in places made the Earth more
+beautiful than it was before we came, and we have certainly shown the
+possibility of this being done. From what I have seen in uninhabited countries I
+can realise what the river-valleys of England must have been like before the
+arrival of man—beautiful, certainly; but not <i>so</i> beautiful as now. They
+must have been an unrelieved mass of forest and marsh. Now the marshes are
+drained and turned into golden meadows. The woods are cleared in part and
+well-kept parks take their place, with trees specially selected, pruned, and
+trim, and made to stand out well by themselves so that their umbrageous forms
+may be properly seen. Gardens are laid out, the famous lawns of England are
+created, and flowering and variegated shrubs from many lands are planted round
+them. And homes are built—the simple homes of the poor and the stately homes of
+the rich—which in the setting of trees and lawns and gardens add unquestionably
+to the natural beauty of the land. St. James's Park, with its lake, its
+well-tended trees, its daisy-covered lawns, its flowerbeds, its may and lilac,
+laburnum and horse-chestnut, and with the towers of Westminster Abbey and the
+Houses of Parliament rising behind it, is certainly more beautiful than the same
+piece of land was two thousand years ago in its natural condition.</p>
+
+<p>What has been done in this respect in England is only typical of what is done
+in every country and of what has been done for ages past. The Moghul emperors,
+by the planting of gardens on the borders of the Dal Lake in Kashmir, added
+greatly to its beauty. And the Japanese are famous for the choice of beautiful
+surroundings for their temples and for the addition which they themselves, by
+the erection of graceful temples and by properly cared-for trees and gardens,
+make to the natural beauty of the place.</p>
+
+<p>So man is both affected by the Beauty of the Earth's features and himself
+affects that Beauty. And this relationship between man and the Natural Beauty of
+the Earth is one of which Geography should take as much cognisance as it does of
+the relationship between man and the productivity of the Earth.</p>
+
+<p>But Natural Beauty is manifested in an innumerable variety of forms. The
+whole Beauty is never manifested in any one particular feature or region, but
+each has its unique aspect. Each feature has its own peculiar beauty different
+from the beauty of any other feature. And what men naturally do, and what I
+would suggest geographers should deliberately do, is to compare the beauty of
+one region with the beauty of another, so that we may realise the beauty of each
+with a greater intensity and clearness. We can compare the beauty of Kashmir
+with the beauty of Switzerland and California. And the comparison will enable us
+to see more clearly and to appreciate the distinctive elements which make up the
+peculiar beauty of each of those countries. It has been frequently noticed that
+people who have always lived in the same place are unable to see its full
+beauty. The inhabitants of the Gilgit frontier, when I first went among them,
+had never left their mountains, and were altogether ignorant of the special
+grandeur of their beauty. They thought all the world was just the same. But men
+who have seen many varieties of Natural Beauty and have taken pains to compare
+the varieties with one another become trained to see more Beauty in each
+feature. Fresh discoveries of Beauty are thus made, and our knowledge of the
+Beauty of the Earth is thereby increased.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>What I hope, then, is that this Society should definitely recognise that
+learning to see the Beauty in natural features and comparing the peculiar
+beauties of the different features with one another is within the scope of
+Geography, and will indeed become its chief function. I should like to see the
+tradition established and well known and recognised that we encourage the search
+for Natural Beauty, and look upon the discovery of a new region which possesses
+special beauty, and the discovery of a new beauty in a region already well
+known, as among the most important geographical discoveries to be made. In this
+matter I trust our Society will take the lead. Englishmen are born lovers of
+Natural Beauty and born travellers. The search for Natural Beauty ought,
+therefore, to be a congenial task for this Society. As I have tried to make
+clear, we cannot really know and understand the Earth—which is the aim of
+Geography—until we have seen its beauties and compared the varying beauties of
+the different features with one another and seen how they affect man and man
+affects them. We are constituted as a Society for the purpose of diffusing
+geographical knowledge, and I trust that in future we shall regard knowledge of
+the Beauty of the Earth as the most important form of geographical knowledge
+that we can diffuse.</p>
+
+<p>When I was Writing out the lecture which I was invited to give before the
+Society on &quot;The Geographical Results of the Tibet Mission&quot; I could not resist
+devoting special attention to the natural beauty of Tibet. But as I read the
+manuscript through I feared that this attention to Beauty would be regarded by
+our Society as a lapse from the narrow path of pure Geography, and that I should
+be frowned upon in consequence and not regarded as a serious geographer. I
+ought, I feared, to have devoted more attention to survey matters, to the exact
+trend of the mountains, and the source and course of the rivers. But looking
+back now I see that my natural instinct was a right one—that a knowledge of the
+beauties of Tibet was not only one geographical result of the Mission, but the
+chief geographical result; and that, in fact, I ought to have paid not less but
+more attention, both in Tibet to noting its beauties in all their multitudinous
+variety, and in writing my lecture to expressing with point and precision what I
+had seen, so that you might share it with me, and learn what is the most
+valuable characteristic of Tibet.</p>
+
+<p>When the new tradition is established, and travellers become aware that we
+regard knowledge of Natural Beauty as within the scope of our activities, the
+error into which I fell will be avoided. We shall think travellers barbaric if
+they continue to concern themselves with all else about the face of the Earth
+except its Beauty. We shall no longer tolerate a geographer who will learn
+everything about the utility of a region for military, political, and commercial
+purposes, but who will take no trouble to see the beauty it contains. We shall
+expect a much higher standard of him. We shall expect him to cultivate the power
+of the eye till he has a true eye for country—a seeing eye; an eye that can see
+into the very heart and, through all the thronging details, single out the one
+essential quality; an eye which can not only observe but can make discoveries.
+We shall require him to have the capacity for discriminating the essential from
+the unessential, for bringing that essential into proper relief and placing upon
+it the due emphasis. When he thus has true vision and can really see a country,
+and when he has acquired the capacity for expressing either in words or in
+painting what lie has seen, so that he can communicate it to us, then he will
+have reached the standard which this Society should demand. And this is nothing
+less than saying that we expect of him that he should have in him something of
+the poet and the painter.</p>
+
+<p>Careless snap-shotting in the field and idle turning on of lantern slides at
+our meetings will no longer satisfy us. A traveller if he is going to photograph
+must spend the hours which a real artist would devote to discovering the
+essential beauty of a scene, and to composing his picture before he dreams of
+exposing his plate. But we want more than photographs: we want pictures to give
+that important element in Natural Beauty—the colour. And we want pictures
+painted in words as well as on canvas. Not shallow rhapsodising of the
+journalese and guide-book type, but true expression in which each noun exactly
+fits the object, each epithet is truly applicable, and each phrase is rightly
+turned, and in which the emphasis is placed on the precisely right point, and
+the whole composed so as distinctly to bring out that point.</p>
+
+<p>Then in time we shall gather together the most valuable knowledge about the
+Earth. And when a stranger from a far land comes to us to know about any
+particular country, we shall be able to provide him with something worth having.
+When an Australian comes to England and wishes to know its essential
+characteristics, we shall do something more than hand him over maps and
+treatises on the orography and hydrography, the distribution of rainfall, of
+plants and animals, and the population. We shall regard ourselves as having
+omitted to point out to him the essential characteristic of the land from which
+Englishmen have sprung and in which they dwell if we have not shown him the
+beauty of its natural features. We shall give him the maps as aids to finding
+his way about, and we shall give him the treatises. But we shall tell him that
+these are only aids for special purposes, and that if he is really to understand
+England he must know its beauty in its many aspects. He will then have the
+geographical knowledge of chief value about England.</p>
+
+<center>
+* * *
+</center>
+
+<p>A project in which the Society is now interested affords an excellent
+opportunity of applying the principles I have been trying to persuade you to
+adopt. The most prominent feature of this Earth, and the feature of most
+geographical interest, is the great range of the Himalaya Mountains. In this
+range the supreme summit is Mount Everest, the highest point on the Earth,
+29,002 feet above sea-level. Attempts have been made to ascend the second
+highest mountain, K<sub>2</sub>, 28,278 feet, notably by the Duke of the
+Abruzzi. Colonel Hon. Charles Bruce, Major Rawling, and others have had in mind
+the idea of ascending Mount Everest itself. And for more than a year past both
+the Alpine Club and this Society have been definitely entertaining the idea of
+helping forward the achievement of this object. We hope within the next few
+years to hear of a human being standing on the pinnacle of the Earth.</p>
+
+<p>If I am asked, What is the use of climbing this highest mountain? I reply, No
+use at all: no more use than kicking a football about, or dancing, or playing on
+the piano, or writing a poem, or painting a picture. The geologist predicts to a
+certainty that no gold will be found on the summit, and if gold did exist there
+no one would be able to work it. Climbing Mount Everest will not put a pound
+into anyone's pocket. It will take a good many pounds out of people's pockets.
+It will also entail the expenditure of much time and necessitate the most
+careful forethought and planning on the part of those who are organising the
+expedition. And it will mean that those who carry it out will have to keep
+themselves at the very highest pitch of physical fitness, mental alertness, and
+moral courage and endurance. They will have to be prepared to undergo the
+severest hardships and run considerable risks. And all this, I say, without the
+prospect of making a single penny. So there will be no <i>use</i> in climbing
+Mount Everest. If the ascent is made at all it will be made for the sheer love
+of the thing, from pure enjoyment—the enjoyment a man gets from pitting himself
+against a big obstacle.</p>
+
+<p>But if there is no <i>use,</i> there is unquestionably <i>good</i> in
+climbing Mount Everest. The accomplishment of such a feat will elevate the human
+spirit. It will give men—and especially us geographers—a feeling that we really
+are getting the upper hand on the Earth, that we are acquiring a true mastery of
+our surroundings. As long as we impotently creep about at the foot of these
+mighty mountains and gaze on their summits without attempting to ascend them, we
+entertain towards them a too excessive feeling of awe. We are almost afraid of
+them. We have a secret fear that they, the material, are dominating us, the
+spiritual. But as soon as we have stood on their summit we feel that <i>we</i>
+dominate <i>them</i>—that we, the spiritual, have ascendancy over them, the
+material. And if man stands on Earth's highest summit he will have an increased
+pride and confidence in himself in his struggle for ascendancy over matter. This
+is the incalculable good which the ascent of Mount Everest will confer.</p>
+
+<p>We who have lived among the peoples of the Himalaya are better able than most
+to appreciate how great this good is. We have seen how tame and meagre is their
+spirit in comparison with the spirit of, for example, the Swiss, or French, or
+Italian inhabitants of the Alps; and in comparison with what men's spirit ought
+to be. They have many admirable qualities, but they are fearful and
+unenterprising. Contact with them brings home to us what a spirit of daring and
+high adventure means to a people. And we are impressed with the necessity of
+taking every step possible to create, sustain, and strengthen this spirit in a
+people and in the human race generally. The ascent of Mount Everest, we believe,
+will be a big step in that direction.</p>
+
+<p>The actual climbing of this mountain this Society will leave in the hands of
+the Alpine Club, who have special experience in mountain climbing. But the
+reconnaissance and mapping of the mountain and its neighbourhood will fitly
+remain with us. And here we reach the point where the principles I have been
+offering for your consideration might be applied. Were it not that the size of
+the first party will have to be limited on account of transport and supply
+difficulties, I should greatly like to have a poet or a painter, or anyhow a
+climber like Mr. Freshfield with a poetic soul, a member of it. For I say quite
+deliberately and mean quite literally that the geography of Mount Everest and
+its vicinity will not be complete until it has been painted by some great
+painter and described by some great poet. Making the most accurate map of it
+will not be completing our knowledge of it. The map-maker only prepares the
+way—in some cases for the soldier or the politician or the engineer—in this case
+for the geologist, the naturalist, and above all for the painter and poet. Until
+we have a picture and a poem—in prose or verse—of Mount Everest we shall not
+really know it; our Geography will be incomplete, and, indeed, will lack its
+chief essential.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke of the Abruzzi, in his expedition to the second highest mountain in
+the world, took with him the finest mountain photographer there is—Signor
+Vittorio Sella—and he brought back superb photographs, for he is a true artist
+with a natural feeling for high mountains. But I have seen the very mountains
+that he photographed, and when I look at these photographs—the best that man can
+produce—I almost weep to think how little of the real character of great
+mountains they communicate to us. The sight of the photographs wrings me with
+disappointment that it was a photographer and not a painter who went there. Here
+in Europe are artists by the score painting year after year the same old
+European scenes. And there in the Himalaya is the grandest scenery in the world,
+and not a painter from Europe ever goes there—except just one, the great Russian
+Verestchagin, whose pictures, alas! are now buried somewhere in Russia. The
+Indian Services might do something, and they have indeed produced one great
+painter of Himalayan scenery, Colonel Tanner. But the Services are limited, and
+it is to Europe that we must mainly look.</p>
+
+<p>On the first expedition to Mount Everest it may be only possible to send a
+photographer. But this will be a pioneering expedition to open the way, at
+least, for the painter. And then we may have Mount Everest pictured in all her
+varied and ever-varying moods, as I have, from a distance, seen her for three
+most treasured months. Now serene and majestic; now in a tumult of fury. Now
+rooted solid on earth; now hung high in the azure. Now hard and material; now
+ethereal as spirit. Now stern and austere—cold, and white, and grey; now warm
+and radiant and of every most delicate hue. Now in one aspect, now in its
+precisely opposite, but always sublime and compelling; always pure and
+unspotted; and always pointing us starward.</p>
+
+<p>These are the pictures—either by painter or by poet—that we want. And they
+can only be painted by one who has himself gone in among the mountains,
+confronted them squarely, braced himself against them, faced and overcome
+them—realised their greatness, realised also that great as they are he is
+greater still.</p>
+
+<p>And this that we want of the greatest natural feature of the Earth is only
+typical of what this Society should require in regard to all Earth's other
+features in order to make our Geography complete. As men have pictured the
+loveliness of England, the fairness of France, the brilliance of Greece, so we
+want them to picture the spaciousness of Arabia, the luxuriance of Brazil, and
+the sublimity of the Himalaya. For not till that has been done will our
+Geography be complete. But when that has been accomplished and the quest for
+Beauty is being pushed to the remotest lands and Earth's farthest corners, even
+the British schoolboy will love his Geography, and our science will have won its
+final triumph. At nothing less, then, than the heart of the boy should our
+Society deign to aim.</p><a name="15"></a><br>
+<br>
+
+<p>AN ADDRESS TO THE UNION SOCIETY OF THE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON, DELIVERED
+ON MARCH 17, 1921.</p>
+
+<p>You have been good enough to leave to me the choice of subject on which to
+address you this evening, and I have chosen the subject &quot;Natural Beauty and
+Geography&quot; because I have the honour to hold at present the position of
+President of the Royal Geographical Society, and am therefore supposed to know
+something about Geography, and because a love of Natural Beauty is one of the
+great passions of my life.</p>
+
+<p>I believe the two are inseparably connected with one another, and, briefly,
+the view I want to put before you is this—.that a description of the Natural
+Beauty of the Earth should be included in Geography. By Geography we mean a <i>
+description</i> of the Earth. And we cannot adequately describe the Earth until
+we have observed it in all its aspects and really know and understand it. And we
+cannot really understand the Earth until we have entered into her spirit and
+feel ourselves in harmony with it. But
+<i>when</i> our spirit is in harmony with the spirit of the Earth we, in that
+instant, see the Beauty of the Earth. When we are seeing Beauty in the Earth we
+are understanding the Earth. In describing the Beauty of the Earth we shall be
+describing something that we really know about it—something of the real nature
+of the Earth.</p>
+
+<p>For this reason I maintain that Geography should be taken to include a
+description of the Natural Beauty of the Earth's features. The description of
+the Earth is not full and complete, and is lacking in its most important
+particular, when it excludes a description of Natural Beauty, and only includes
+scientific details about the size and shape of the earth; its configuration; the
+composition of the crust; the depth, area, and volume of the ocean; the
+temperature, degree of moisture and pressure of the atmosphere; the height of
+the mountains; the length, breadth, volume, course, and catchment area of its
+rivers; the mineral and vegetable products of various regions; the political
+areas into which it is divided; the relation of the political and commercial
+activities of the population to the physical character of the features and to
+the climate. I, of course, acknowledge the importance of all this geographical
+knowledge. To the historian and the statesman it is essential that he should
+know the part which a certain mountain range or river or desert has played in
+human history. A soldier must know with extreme accuracy the configuration of
+the country over which his army is operating. An engineer must know the exact
+level and contour of a region over which he has to lay a railway or construct a
+canal. A merchant must know whether a country produces cotton, tea, and sugar;
+or wheat, wool, and meat. For all these and others, each for his own particular
+purpose, we want the kind of information I have described above—that is, what
+usually goes under the name of Geography. But the point I wish now to urge is
+that we shall not have plucked the very flower of geographical knowledge until
+in addition to all this we have a knowledge of the
+<i>Beauty</i> of the Earth.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps you will understand me better if I illustrate my point. When a
+dressmaker has to make a dress for a lady she has to measure her with the
+minutest accuracy. She must gain a knowledge, by careful measurement, of the
+exact shape and size of the lady's body, its true contour, and the length and
+breadth of the limbs—just as an engineer must have accurate knowledge of the
+Earth's surface. And to the dressmaker <i>as</i> a dressmaker knowledge of the
+lady's beauty has no value whatever. The lady may have the beauty of form of a
+Venus, but if the dressmaker has only knowledge of that beauty and has not exact
+measurements she will never be able to make the dress. But for humanity at
+large—and, as far as that goes, for the dressmaker herself when she is free of
+her dressmaking—knowledge of the lady's beauty is the knowledge that really
+matters. Whether she is twenty-six inches round the waist or only twenty-five
+matters comparatively little.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Earth I regard as a lady—as dear Mother-Earth. A real living
+being—live enough, at any rate, to give birth to mankind, to microscopic
+animalculae first and through them to man. And no one can look at the features
+of Mother-Earth without recognising her Beauty. It is there staring us in the
+face. So I cannot conceive why we geographers should confine ourselves to the
+dressmaker attitude of mind and describe every other characteristic of the Earth
+except her Beauty. I should have thought that it was the very first thing with
+which we should have concerned ourselves—that the first duty of those who
+profess and call themselves geographers should have been to describe the beauty
+of their Mother-Earth.</p>
+
+<p>Say a visitor from Mars arrived upon the Earth, he would no doubt report on
+his return that the mountains here were so many thousands of feet high and the
+seas so many thousands of feet deep, and the area of the land and sea so many
+thousand square miles; that the productivity of the land in one quarter had had
+the effect of attracting a large part of the population to that quarter, and the
+aridity or cold of another portion had had the effect of preventing human
+settlement there; and that mountains, seas, or deserts confining certain groups
+of human beings tightly within given areas had had the effect of compacting them
+into highly organised political bodies. All this and much more geographical
+knowledge the Martian would bring back to Mars. But his fellow-Martians would
+tell him that this was all very interesting, but that what they really wanted to
+know was what the Earth was <i>like.</i> They would ask him if he had not some
+lantern slides of the Earth, some photographs, something which would convey to
+them an impression of the real character of the Earth. And then at last he would
+be driven to describe her Beauty.</p>
+
+<p>In the best words he could find he would express the impression which the
+Earth had made upon him. If he were a painter and if the Martians possess paint,
+he would paint pictures to express the feelings which a contemplation of the
+Earth had aroused in him. That is, he would show them the Beauty of the Earth in
+her various aspects. Perhaps he might not be able to see as much Beauty in her
+as we her children see. We may be too partial and see beauties that a stranger
+may not perceive. On the other hand, he might see beauties that we through being
+so accustomed to them have never recognised—as men living always within sight of
+some superb mountain scarcely appreciate its grandeur. Anyhow, he would describe
+to the Martians whatever he had seen of the Beauty of the Earth, and then at
+last they would feel that they were really able to know and understand her.</p>
+
+<p>To descend from these celestial spheres and to examine what actually happens
+among ourselves when we venture into an unknown portion of this globe and seek
+to know what is there, a chief ingredient in the lure which draws men on to fill
+up the blank spaces in the map is undoubtedly a love of Natural Beauty; and its
+Natural Beauty is certainly what above everything else regarding that region
+remains in their memories after it has been explored. It is not <i>only</i> love
+of Natural Beauty that draws men on. Love of adventure has much to do with it
+also. Men feel a fearful joy in pitting themselves against stern natural
+obstacles and being compelled to exert all their physical energy and endurance,
+and all their wit and nerve and courage, in order to overcome them. The stiffer
+the obstacle, the more insistent do they feel the call to measure themselves
+against it. They thrill to the expectation of having their full capacities and
+faculties drawn out. By some curious natural instinct they seem driven to put
+themselves into positions where they are forced to exert themselves to the full
+stretch of their capabilities. This same instinct tells them that they will be
+never so happy as when they are making the very utmost of themselves and
+exercising their whole being at its highest pitch. Anticipation of their joy in
+adventure is therefore no small part of the lure which draws men into the
+unknown. And with it also is ambition to make a name and achieve fame. Some,
+too, are drawn on by the hope of wealth through finding gold, diamonds, and so
+on. But from what I have seen of gold and diamond prospectors on the spot in the
+act of prospecting, I should say it was quite as much love of adventure as
+covetousness of wealth that drew them into unknown parts. For experience shows
+them only too often that it is not the prospector but the company promoter and
+financier who make the money even when the prospector finds the gold or
+diamonds. Yet prospectors go forward as cheerfully as ever. They are fascinated
+by the life of adventure.</p>
+
+<p>All this is true. Men delight in sheer adventure and in testing and
+sharpening themselves against formidable natural obstacles. Yet we shall find
+that love of Natural Beauty has an even greater share than love of adventure in
+enticing them to the unknown. Men picture to themselves beauties of the most
+wonderful kind which they expect to see—enchanting islands, mysterious forests,
+majestic rivers, heavenly mountains, delightful lakes. Instinct tells them that
+they will have the joy which comes from exerting their capacities to the full.
+But somewhere in the back of their being is, also this expectation of seeing
+wonders of Natural Beauty, and of seeing <i>more</i> of this Beauty from the
+very fact that they will be seeing it as a prize truly <i>won</i> and when their
+faculties are all tuned up to a fine pitch of appreciation.</p>
+
+<p>And when they return from the unknown, when the adventure is over, when they
+are again relaxed, it will be the Natural Beauty which they have seen that will
+remain in their memories long after they have forgotten their exertion, long
+after they have expended any wealth they may have found, long after they have
+recorded the exact measurements of the various features of the region.</p>
+
+<p>Curiosity to see the Natural Beauty of an unknown region is a principal
+ingredient in the lure that draws men to it. And Natural Beauty is what, above
+everything else in regard to the unknown region, stands out in men's memories on
+their return.</p>
+
+<p>This at any rate is my own experience, and we are perhaps on safer ground
+when we speak of what we have ourselves experienced than when we speak of what
+we imagine must be the experiences of others. Though in this case I have good
+reason to believe that my own experiences are very similar to the experiences of
+others, and may therefore be taken as typical.</p>
+
+<p>Almost my earliest recollections are of a Somersetshire village set in a
+lovely valley, fringed with woods and surrounded by hills. Up the hills on the
+side of the valley on which I lived I used constantly to go. But over the hills
+on the far side of the river I was never taken. So I used to picture to myself
+wonderful woods and rivers, and castles and great cities, and I longed to go
+there. The lure of Natural Beauty was beginning to make itself felt. As I grew
+to boyhood I was fortunate enough to be taken to North Wales, Devonshire and
+Cornwall, and later on to Switzerland and the South of France, and everywhere I
+saw much Natural Beauty. But, still, that only made me want to see more.</p>
+
+<p>In all these cases, however, I only went where I was taken. I did not go
+where I chose or with an object of my own. It was not till I was in India and
+had the first leave from my regiment that I could go where I liked. Now, where I
+liked was to the Himalaya. And if I look back now and enquire of myself what
+made me choose the Himalaya, I can say most clearly that it was because I had in
+my mind a vision of long snowy ranges, and dazzling peaks, and frowning
+precipices, and rushing torrents, and endless forests. I thought how glorious it
+would be to be able to wander about at will and see all the magnificent scenery,
+to feast on the&nbsp; Natural Beauty, and when I came back to be able to tell
+others of the wonders I had seen.</p>
+
+<p>So I made my first short trip in the Himalaya. But this only served to arouse
+my curiosity still more. I had seen some great mountains. But they were none of
+them more than 20,000 feet in height. I wanted to see still higher mountains. I
+heard, too, that up the valley of the Sutlej were some fearful gorges through
+which the river forced its way. I wanted to see them too, and see a great river
+in the very act of forcing its way through the mighty Himalaya. Above all, I
+wanted to see what lay on the other side of the Himalaya. I wanted to get into
+Tibet.</p>
+
+<p>That for the time being proved impossible, and my thoughts wandered off to
+the far eastern part of Asia. I had read a book called &quot;On the Amur,&quot; by
+Atkinson. Not altogether a very veracious book, but a fascinating book for all
+that. In it were alluring pictures of the broad, placid river. Rich forests came
+down to the water's edge. And on its surface were depicted delightful rafts and
+canoes. To glide down such a river, to camp on its banks and plunge into the
+forests which clothed them, seemed a joy second only to the joy of scrambling
+about the Himalaya. So with Mr. H. E. M. James—now Sir Evan James—I went to
+Manchuria, not, indeed, to reach the Amur itself, but to discover the source of
+its great tributary the Sungari, and to follow it down through the forests and
+over the plains for several hundred miles.</p>
+
+<p>Now, what I want to impress upon you is that in all these cases it was the
+Natural Beauty which was the attraction—it was the picture I made to myself of
+what these countries would be like that drew me on. And I am sure it is with
+others as it was with me. Natural Beauty is at bottom what incites the
+traveller.</p>
+
+<p>And, whether I had to go where I was taken or could go where I chose, it was
+the Natural Beauty that stuck in my memory. And when I returned it was of the
+Natural Beauty that I wished to tell my friends. And this, again, is the
+experience of others also. To this day, though I have never since seen them, I
+remember the beauties of Cader Idris and Dolgelly, Snowdon and Carnarvon, in
+North Wales, and of the rugged cliffs and long Atlantic waves on the Cornish
+coast. The Dart, here rippling over boulders and between rocky banks, here in
+deep, clear salmon pools, here merging into a long inlet of the sea and
+everywhere framed in wooded hill-sides, I have often again seen. But even if I
+had not, its beauty would never have departed from my memory. And it is the same
+with the first view of the Alps from the Jura, the view of Lake Geneva, of the
+Jungfrau, of the Pyrenees from Pau, and of the valley of the Loire. I have never
+seen those parts of Switzerland and of France since then, but their beauty
+remains with me to this day. And it is of their beauty that I have ever
+afterwards been naturally inclined to speak. When I talk about the Loire I do
+not tell my friends that it rises in a certain place, is so many miles long, at
+certain parts has a certain width, depth, and volume, and eventually flows into
+a certain sea. What I naturally speak about is its beauty, the rich valley
+through which it flows, the graceful bridges by which it is spanned, the
+picturesque old towns and romantic castles on the banks. And this is the common
+habit of mankind. Our friends may bore us—and we may bore our friends—with
+interminable accounts of the discomfort and inconveniences and the petty little
+incidents of travel. But when they and we have got through that and settle down
+to describe the country itself, it is of its beauty that we speak.</p>
+
+<p>Natural Beauty is what attracts us to a country. Its Natural Beauty is the
+fact about it which remains most persistently in our memory. And it is about its
+Natural Beauty that we are most inclined to speak. Lastly, when we are in
+distant countries it is of the Natural Beauty that we chiefly think. When our
+thoughts go back to the home country it is not on its exact measurements and
+configuration that they dwell, but on its beauty.</p>
+
+<p>From all of which considerations I conclude that any description of the Earth
+which excludes a description of its Natural Beauty is incomplete. Geography must
+include a description of Natural Beauty. And personally I would go so far as to
+say that the description of Natural Beauty is the most important part of
+Geography.</p>
+
+<p>Here I must answer an objection which may be raised—namely, that Natural
+Beauty is the concern of Aesthetics, not of Geography. An objector may freely
+acknowledge the value and importance of recognising and describing the Natural
+Beauty of a country, but may contend that this is beyond the province of
+Geography. It should be left to poets and painters, he might say, and
+geographers should confine themselves to the more prosaic business of exact
+measurement, of accurate delineation, of reasoning regarding the relation of the
+facts to one another, and of explaining the facts.</p>
+
+<p>To such an objector I would reply that Geography is an art as well as a
+science. And in parenthesis I may say that I doubt whether any science can be
+complete which has not art behind it. We shall never be able fully to know and
+understand the Earth or to describe what we see if we use our intellectual and
+reasoning powers alone. If we are to attain to a complete knowledge of the
+Earth, and if we are to describe what we learn about it in an adequate manner so
+that others may participate in our knowledge, then we must use our hearts as
+well as our heads. We must be artists as well as meticulous classifiers,
+cataloguers, and reasoners. The Earth is a living being, a throbbing,
+palpitating, living being—&quot;live&quot; enough to have given birth to the remote
+ancestors of mankind, and live enough, so some biologists consider, to be
+continually to this day generating the lowliest forms of organisms. To know and
+understand a living being, particularly when that living being happens to be his
+own Mother, man must use his heart as well as his head.</p>
+
+<p>With his head alone the geographer may do a vast amount of most useful and
+necessary work which will help us to understand the Earth. He may collect and
+classify facts about her and record measurements, and reason about these facts
+and measurements, but if he is to get the deepest vision of the Earth and learn
+the profoundest truth about her he must exercise his finest spiritual senses as
+well. And when he brings those faculties of the soul into play, it will be the
+Beauty on the face of Mother-Earth that he will see and that will disclose to
+him her real nature.</p>
+
+<p>And therefore I hold that if it be the function of Geography to know the
+Earth and to describe the Earth, then the objection that the description of its
+Natural Beauty is outside the scope of Geography is not a valid objection. The
+picture and the poem are as legitimate a part of Geography as the map.</p>
+
+<p>Some years ago in lecturing to the Royal Geographical Society I said that the
+Society ought to have given Wordsworth the Gold Medal. I meant that the poet by
+his vision had taught us more about the Lake District than any ordinary
+geographer had been able to see. With his finer sensibility he had been able to
+see deeper. He had been able to reveal to us truths about the district which no
+mere ordnance surveyor was able to disclose. He was a true discoverer—a
+geographical discoverer—a geographer of the highest type. He had helped us
+really to know and understand the district.</p>
+
+<p>Be it noted, too, that he did not, as some would think, put into the lakes
+and hills and valleys something from within himself which was not really in
+those natural features. The particular beauty that he saw there was there
+waiting to be revealed. The natural features aroused emotions in his sensitive
+soul, and his soul being aroused saw the beauty in them. If the district had
+been of billiard-table flatness, with no lakes, no hills, no valleys, then even
+he, with all his poetic feeling and imagination, could not have put into the
+district what it did not possess. The beauty that he saw was really there, only
+it required a poetic soul to discover and reveal it. The spirit of the poet put
+itself in touch with the spirit of the district and elicited from the district
+what was already in it. The spirit of Wordsworth and the spirit of the district
+acted and reacted upon one another and came into harmony with one another. And
+as he had the capacity for communicating to others what he himself had seen, we
+are now able to see in the Lakeland beauties which our forefathers had scarcely
+known.</p>
+
+<p>This is why I suggest to you that Natural Beauty should be considered as a
+legitimate part of Geography. And if you will look about you, you will note that
+Natural Beauty is having an increasing effect upon the movements of men. There
+is a very definite relationship between the Beauty of the Earth and her human
+inhabitants. The Poet Laureate builds his house on the top of Boar's Hill not
+because the soil is specially productive up there so that he may be able to grow
+food, for the soil is rather poor; not because water is easily available, for it
+is very difficult to get, as he found when his house took fire; not because of
+the climate, for the climate is just as good a hundred feet lower down; not
+because it is easily accessible to Oxford, for a big climb up the hill is
+entailed every time he returns from that city—not for any of these reasons did
+he build his house there, but because of the view which he obtains from that
+spot. It was Natural Beauty which drew, the Poet Laureate to Boar's Hill, as it
+was Natural Beauty which drew Tennyson to Blackdown to build Aldworth with a
+view all over the Surrey hills and the Sussex Downs.</p>
+
+<p>It is this same spell of Natural Beauty, too, which is drawing people all
+over England to build their houses on the most beautiful spots. Our great
+country-seats—the pride of England—are usually placed where the natural scenery
+is finest. Humbler dwellings whenever the owner has the opportunity of making a
+choice are for a similar reason built wherever a beautiful view, however
+limited, may be obtained. Whole towns even are built on spots where the
+surroundings are most beautiful, or, at any rate, if for some other reason they
+were located where they are they tend to spread in the direction of most beauty.
+Dartmouth was originally built where it is because that site made an excellent
+port. But the new town has spread all over the cliffs at the entrance of the
+harbour wherever a beautiful view may be found. It is the same with Torquay.
+People originally went there on account of the warm, soft air. But though they
+can get much the same air in any part of the Torquay area, where they like to
+build their houses is where they can get the finest views.</p>
+
+<p>On the Continent a similar tendency may be observed. Nice, Cannes, Monte
+Carlo, Biarritz, Montreux, Vevey, were no doubt originally located where they
+are for other reasons than only the facilities they afford for observing Natural
+Beauty, but that they have grown to what they are is undoubtedly due to Natural
+Beauty, and Natural Beauty has given the direction in which they have expanded.
+It is not by chance that villas and terraces and hotels have been built just on
+those particular points from which the most beautiful views may be seen.</p>
+
+<p>And how great is the influence of Natural Beauty upon the movements of men
+may be gathered from the amount of money railway&nbsp; companies and hotels
+spend in advertising the charms of the particular localities which they serve.
+Railway-carriages are full of photographs and tourist agencies of pictures of
+different points in the neighbourhood of the railway or hotel. And we may be
+certain that business companies would not go to the expense of setting up these
+photographs and pictures if they did not think that people were influenced by
+them and would be tempted to travel to the scenes they depict.</p>
+
+<p>The development of char-a-banc tours is another indication of the
+attraction—and the increasing attraction—of Natural Beauty. Since the War,
+especially, there has been a remarkable tendency of people of every rank in life
+to rush off whenever they can get a holiday to the most beautiful parts of these
+islands—to the moors of Yorkshire and Devonshire, to the Wye, the Dart, and the
+Severn, to the mountains of Wales, Westmoreland, and Scotland—to wherever
+Natural Beauty may be found. It is a noteworthy and most refreshing feature in
+our national life.</p>
+
+<p>Every summer, too, both here and on the Continent, people make their way to
+the most beautiful parts of Europe—to Switzerland or the Pyrenees, the Vosges or
+the Rhine. And in the Dominions and America whenever they get their holidays
+they likewise trek away to mountain, lake, or river, wherever Nature may be
+enjoyed at her best. Men may, to carry on the ordinary business of life, be
+compelled to live in cities and places which are chosen for other reasons than
+their facilities for observing Natural Beauty. But whenever they can get away
+from their ordinary duties the tendency of men—and a tendency increasing in
+strength—is to fly away to the moors and sea-coast and river-sides and wherever
+else they can see the beauties of the Earth.</p>
+
+<p>Then, again, men are increasingly sensitive about preserving Natural Beauty
+wherever it is best. It is quite true that men by the building of industrial
+towns and the erection of hideous factories, mining plant, gasometers, and so on
+terribly destroy Natural Beauty. But they are at least becoming conscious of
+their sins in this respect and of what they have lost thereby. They are
+therefore the more anxious to preserve what remains. And whenever there is an
+attempt to build on Box Hill, or erect an electric power-station on Dartmoor, a
+howl of execration is raised. And this howl means that men do value Natural
+Beauty and mean to preserve it.</p>
+
+<p>Young countries also realise its value. In California the Yosemite Valley is
+preserved for ever for human enjoyment. And in Canada, Australia, and South
+Africa national parks are protected against the encroachments of industrial
+enterprises.</p>
+
+<p>Men not only preserve spots of Natural Beauty; they also seek to improve
+them. The nobleman of ancient lineage and the new millionaire alike strive to
+add to the beauty of their estates. The hours they love best are the hours they
+can devote to opening up vistas, planting beautiful trees or flowering shrubs
+from distant lands, building up rockeries, forming artificial lakes, laying out
+lawns, and stocking their gardens with the choicest flowers.</p>
+
+<p>The effect of Natural Beauty upon man and of man upon Natural Beauty is
+immense. Geographers take note of the effect which the Alps by reason of their
+height and ruggedness, or the Rhine by reason of its length, breadth, and depth,
+have upon the activities of men—upon their history, politics, and economic life.
+My contention is that equally should geographers note the effect which these
+same natural features of the Earth by reason of their <i>beauty</i> have upon
+men's activities and movements.</p>
+
+<p>And when Natural Beauty is fully recognised as within the province of
+Geography, we shall be taught to pay to it the attention it deserves—taught to
+look for it, taught how to observe it, taught how to describe it, taught where
+are the regions of special beauty and wherein their beauty lies, and lastly
+taught where in an ordinary district Beauty may be found, for even in the
+flattest, dreariest region <i>some</i>
+beauty at some time of day or at some season may be discovered. We shall, in
+short, be taught to cultivate the sense for Natural Beauty, and how to put in
+fitting words a description of the beauty we see. Our geography textbooks,
+besides all the mathematical, physical, political, and commercial geography they
+contain, will tell us something of the Natural Beauty of the countries they set
+themselves to describe. And geographers when they set themselves to describe a
+new region will not think it necessary to confine themselves within the old
+limits, but will do what the ordinary man instinctively does—describe its
+beauties.</p>
+
+<p>Our methods of describing countries will thus radically change. A few years
+ago Colonel Tanner of the Survey of India read to the Royal Geographical Society
+a paper entitled &quot;Our Present Knowledge of the Himalaya.&quot; In that paper he gave
+an account of the height of the peaks, the trend of the mountain ranges, the
+course of the rivers, and a deal of other very valuable geographical
+information. But in only one single line did he make any remark about the
+natural beauty of that wonderful region. Yet this omission was not due to any
+lack of appreciation by Colonel Tanner of Himalayan beauty, for he himself had
+painted the finest pictures of the Himalaya which have yet been produced. He
+made no mention of it because he thought that to describe the natural beauty of
+the Himalaya was to stray beyond the bounds of Geography.</p>
+
+<p>Such a grievous misconception of the true scope of Geography will, I trust,
+be removed in future. And when it no longer exists Geography will require for
+its pursuit the exercise of the finest faculties of the soul as well as the
+strictest qualities of the intellect. It will call forth capacity for the
+closest and most accurate observation and the highest powers of description. To
+us adventure-loving and Nature-loving Englishmen it should of all subjects be
+the most popular.</p><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Heart of Nature, by Francis Younghusband
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heart of Nature, by Francis Younghusband
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Heart of Nature
+       or, The Quest for Natural Beauty
+
+Author: Francis Younghusband
+
+Release Date: November 9, 2008 [EBook #27213]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF NATURE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ruth Hart
+
+
+
+
+[Note:  for this online edition I have moved the Table of Contents to
+the beginning of the text and added three asterisks to mark breaks
+between sections.  I have also made the following spelling
+changes:  latitute to latitude and mountain ash berberis to mountain
+ash berberries]
+
+
+
+THE HEART OF NATURE
+
+OR
+
+THE QUEST FOR NATURAL BEAUTY
+
+
+BY SIR FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND
+K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E.
+PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY
+AUTHOR OF "THE HEART OF A CONTINENT"
+
+
+LONDON
+JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
+1921
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+Preface ix-x
+Introduction xv-xxviii
+
+PART I
+
+Chapter I. The Sikkim Himalaya.  The sacred Ganges--A beneficent
+power--Beauty of the plains--First sight of the Himalaya 3-12
+
+Chapter II. The Teesta Valley.  Mystery of the forest--The gorges
+--Sequestered glens 13-19
+
+Chapter III. The Forest.  Butterflies--Ferns--Orchids--Flower
+friends--Rhododendrons--Temperate vegetation--Primulas--Artic
+vegetation--The range of vegetation 20-37
+
+Chapter IV. The Denizens of the Forest.  Butterflies--Moths--Birds
+--Reptiles--Mammals--Animal beauty--Primitive man--Higher races
+38-54
+
+Chapter V. The Sum Impression.  Two views of Nature--Variety of
+life--Intensity of life--The battle of life--Adaptation and selection
+--Purposiveness--Purposeful structures--Interdependence--Organising
+Activity--Gradation--Care of offspring--the Activity not mechanical
+but Spiritual--Nature's end--a Common aspiration 55-85
+
+Chapter VI. Kinchinjunga.  The foothills--Darjiling--A vision of the
+mountain--Full view--Mountain grandeur--Dawn on the mountain
+--Sunset on the mountain 86-99
+
+Chapter VII. High Solitudes.  Kashmir--Barren mountains--Dazzling
+peaks--Purity of beauty 100-108
+
+Chapter VIII. The Heavens.  Desert sunsets--Tibetan sunsets--The
+stars--The whole universe our home--A Heavenly Presence 109-120
+
+Chapter IX. Home Beauty.  One's own country--Woman's beauty
+--Love and beauty--Their Divine Source--Wedding--Divine union
+--The Inmost Heart of Nature 121-134
+
+Chapter X. The Nature of Nature.  A spiritual background--Purpose
+in Nature--Higher beings--No confining plan--Immanent Spirit
+--Collective personality--England a Person--Nature a Person--Moved
+by an ideal--The ideal in plants--The ideal in animals--The ideal in
+the world 135-160
+
+Chapter XI. Nature's Ideal.  Battling with physical Nature--Battling
+with man--In tune with Nature--At the heart of the Universe is
+Love--Divine fellowship is Nature's Ideal 161-171
+
+Chapter XII. The Heart of Nature.  Picturing the Ideal--The Ideal
+Man--Man and woman--Perfecting the Ideal--Discipline necessary
+--Leadership--Nature's method--Our own responsibility--The
+lovability of nature--God at the Heart of Nature 172-192
+
+PART II
+
+Natural Beauty and Geography
+
+Presidential Address to the Royal Geographical Society 195-216
+
+An Address to the Union Society of University College, London
+217-235
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+The value of Knowledge and Character is duly impressed upon us.
+Of the value of Freedom we are told so much that we have come to
+regard it as an end in itself instead of only a means, or necessary
+condition. But Beauty we are half-inclined to connect with the
+effeminate. Poetry, Music, and Literature are under suspicion with
+the average English schoolboy, whose love of manliness he will
+share with nothing else. Yet love of Beauty persists in spite of all
+discouragement, and will not be suppressed. Natural Beauty,
+especially, insists on a place in our affections, derived originally
+from Love, and essentially and inseparably connected with it,
+Natural Beauty acknowledges supremacy to Love alone. And it
+deserves our generous recognition, for it is wholesome and
+refreshing for our souls.
+
+The acute observation and telling description of Natural Beauty is at
+least as necessary for the enjoyment of life as the pursuit of Natural
+Science to which so much attention is paid. For the concern of the
+former is the character, and of the latter only the cause of natural
+phenomena; and of the two, character is the more important. It is,
+indeed, high time that we Englishmen were more awake than we are
+to the value of Natural Beauty. For we are born lovers of Nature,
+and no more poetic race than ourselves exists. Our country at its best,
+on an early summer day, is the loveliest little home in all the world.
+And we go out from this island home of ours to every land. We have
+unrivalled opportunities, therefore, of seeing innumerable types of
+natural objects. By observing Nature in so many different aspects,
+and by comparing our impressions with one another, we ought to
+understand Nature better than any other race. And by entering more
+readily into communion with her we, better than others, should
+realise the Beauty she possesses.
+
+I am conscious of having myself made most inadequate use of the
+splendid opportunities my travels afforded me of seeing the Beauty
+of Nature. So I am all the more anxious that those following after
+me should not, by like omission, commit the same sin against
+themselves and against our country. We owe it to ourselves and to
+mankind to give full rein to our instinctive love of Natural Beauty,
+and to train and refine every inclination and capacity we have for
+appreciating it till we are able to see all those finer glories of which
+we now discern only the first faint glow.
+
+And if any other country excel us in appreciation, then it behoves us
+to brace ourselves up to emulate and surpass that country, and learn
+how to understand Nature better and see more Beauty. For in love of
+Natural Beauty, and in capacity for communicating that love,
+England ought to be preeminent. She above every other country
+should come nearest to the Heart of Nature.
+
+     F. E. Y.
+_June,_ 1921.
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+Town children let loose in a meadow dash with shouts of joy to
+pluck the nearest flowers. They ravenously pick handfuls and
+armfuls as if they could never have enough. They are exactly like
+animals in the desert rushing to water. They are satisfying a great
+thirst in their souls--the thirst for Beauty. Some of us remember, too,
+our first sight of snowy mountains in the Alps or in the Himalaya.
+We recall how our spirits _leaped_ to meet the mountains, how we
+gasped in wonder and greedily feasted our eyes on the glorious
+spectacle. In such cases as these there is something in the natural
+object that appeals to something in us. Something in us rushes out to
+meet the something in the natural object. A responsive chord is
+struck. A relationship is established. We and the natural object come
+into harmony with one another. We have recognised in the flower,
+the mountain, the landscape, something that is the same as what is in
+ourselves. We fall in love with the natural object. A marriage takes
+place. Our soul is wedded to the soul of the natural object. And at
+the very moment of wedding Beauty is born. It springs from Love,
+just as Love itself originally sprang from the wedding of primitive
+man and woman.
+
+In this process all will depend upon the mood. If we are not in the
+mood for it, we are unreceptive of Nature's impressions, and we are
+irresponsive. We do not come into touch with Nature. Consequently
+we see no Beauty. But if we are in a sensitive and receptive mood, if
+our minds are not preoccupied, and if our soul is open to the
+impressions which Nature is ever raining on it, then we respond to
+Nature's appeal. We feel ourselves in tune with her. We come into
+communion with her, and we see Beauty.
+
+If we are ourselves feeling sad and sorrowful when we look out on
+Nature, and there all should happen to be bright and gay, we shall
+feel out of harmony with Nature, we shall not feel in touch with her,
+and we shall not see Beauty.
+
+On the other hand, when we are in a glad and overflowing mood we
+shall be extraordinarily responsive to Nature's appeal, and see
+Beauty in a rugged, leafless oak tree or a poor old woman at the
+corner of some mean street. And if when we are in such a mood
+Nature happens to be at her best and brightest, as on some spring
+morning, the Beauty we shall then see will be overpowering, and we
+shall scarcely be able to contain ourselves for ecstasy of joy.
+
+We shall have discovered an identity between what is in Nature and
+what is in us. In looking on Nature, we shall have been introduced
+into a Presence, greater than ourselves but like ourselves, which stirs
+in us this which we feel. When we see Beauty in Nature we are
+discovering that Nature is not merely a body, but _has_ or _is_ a
+soul. And the joy we feel is produced by the satisfaction our soul
+feels in coming into touch and harmony with this soul of Nature.
+Our soul is recognising samenesses between what is in it and what is
+in the soul of Nature, and feels joy in the recognition.
+
+And the instinct of fellowship with our kind impels us to
+communicate to others what we ourselves have felt. We want to tell
+others what we have seen and what we have experienced.
+
+We long, too, to share the joy which others also must have felt in
+contemplating Nature. We want especially to know and feel what
+those with far more sensitive souls than our own--the great poets,
+painters, and musicians--have felt. So we communicate our feelings
+to others; and we communicate with others, either personally or
+through their books or pictures or music, so that we may find out
+from them what more to look for, and may know better how to look
+for it. By so doing, our souls become more sensitive to the
+impressions of Nature, and we are better able to express those
+impressions. Our power of vision increases. Our soul's eye acquires
+a keener insight and sees deeper into the soul of Nature. We are able
+to enter more into the spirit of Nature, and the spirit of Nature is able
+to enter more into us. We arrive at a completer understanding
+between ourselves and Nature, are more in harmony with her, and
+consequently see more Beauty.
+
+We see, indeed, what Nature really is. We see the reality behind the
+appearance--the content within the outward form. We are not for the
+moment concerned with the _cause_ but with the _character_ of
+Nature. We see the "I" behind the outward manifestation and
+representation. And if we have sympathy and understanding enough
+and are able truly to enter into the soul of Nature, we shall see the
+real "I" behind the common everyday "I"--just as the few who
+intimately know some great man see the real man behind the man
+who appears in the public eye--the real Beaconsfield or Kitchener
+behind the Beaconsfield or Kitchener of the daily press. And, as we
+see more of this real "I" in Nature and are better able to get in touch
+and harmony with her, so shall we see greater Beauty in Nature.
+
+If we have petty, meagre souls we shall find little in common with
+the great soul of Nature, and consequently see only shallow Beauty.
+If we have great souls we shall have more in common and see more
+Beauty. But to arrive at a full understanding of the real Nature we
+must observe her from every point of view and see her in all her
+aspects. Only so shall we be able to understand her real self and see
+her full Beauty. And her aspects and the points of view from which
+we may observe them change so incessantly that the greatest of us
+falters. The more we see of Nature, the more we find there is to
+understand. And the more we understand Nature and commune with
+her, the more Beauty do we find there is to see. So to arrive at a
+complete understanding of Nature and see all her Beauty is beyond
+the capacity of us finite men.
+
+Yet we are impelled to go on striving to see all we can. And in the
+following pages an attempt is made to show how, more Beauty in
+Nature may be discovered.
+
+Often in the Himalaya I have watched an eagle circling overhead. I
+have sat on the mountain-side and watched it sail majestically along
+in graceful curves and circles, and with perfect ease and poise. Far
+above the earth it would range, and seemingly without exertion glide
+easily over tracts that we poor men could only enter by prodigious
+effort. Captivated by its grace of motion, and jealous of its freedom,
+I would for hours watch it. And this eagle I knew, from the height
+and distance from which it would swoop down on its prey, to be
+possessed of eyesight of unrivalled keenness in addition to its
+capacity for movement.
+
+So this bird had opportunities such as no human being--not even an
+airman--has of seeing the earth and what is on it. At will it could
+glide over the loftiest mountain ranges. At will it could sail above
+the loveliest valleys. At will it could perch upon any chosen point
+and observe things at close range. In a single day this one eagle
+might have seen the finest natural scenery in the world--the highest
+mountain, the most varied forest, thickly populated plains and bare,
+open plains, peoples, animals, birds, insects, trees, flowers, all of the
+most varied description. In one day, and in the ordinary course of its
+customary circlings and sailings, it might have seen what men come
+from the ends of the Earth to view, and are content if they see only a
+hundredth part of what the eagle sees every day.
+
+From its mountain eerie in Upper Sikkim it might have seen the rose
+of dawn flushing the snowy summits of Kinchinjunga, and far away
+Mount Everest. And soaring aloft, the eagle might have looked out
+over the populous plains of India and seen, like silver streaks, the
+rivers flowing down from the Himalaya to join in the far distance
+the mighty Mother Ganges. Then its eye might have ranged over the
+vast forest which clothes in dense green mantle the plain at the foot
+of the mountains from Nepal to Bhutan and Assam, and from the
+plain spreads up on the mountain-sides themselves and reaches to
+the very borders of eternal snow. Over this vast forest with its
+treasures of tree and plant, animal and insect life, tropical, temperate,
+and alpine, the eagle might have soared; and then, passing over the
+Himalayan watershed, have looked down upon the treeless, open,
+undulating, almost uninhabited plain of Tibet, and in the distance
+seen the great Brahmaputra River, which, circling round Bhutan,
+cuts clean through the Himalaya and, turning westward, also joins
+the Ganges.
+
+In the whole world no more wonderful natural scenery is to be found.
+And the eagle with no unusual effort could see it all in a single day,
+and see it with a distinctness of sight no man could equal. But keen
+though its eyesight was and wide though its range, the eagle in all
+that beautiful region would see not a single beauty. Neither in the
+sunrise, nor in the snowy mountains, nor in the luxuriant tropical
+forest, nor in the flowers, the birds, the butterflies, nor in the people
+and animals, nor in the cataracts and precipices would it see any
+beauty whatever. The mountain would be to it a mere outline, the
+forests a patch of green, the rivers streaks of white, the animals just
+possible items of food. The eagle would see much, but it would see
+no beauty.
+
+Perhaps we shall understand why it is that the eagle with these
+unbounded opportunities sees no beauty if we consider the case of a
+little midge buzzing round a man's body. The midge is roughly in
+about the same relation to the body of a man that the eagle is to the
+body of the Earth. The midge in its hoverings sees vast tracts of the
+human body; sees the features--the nose, the eye, the mouth; sees the
+trunk and the limbs and the head. But even in the most beautiful of
+men it would see no beauty. And it would see no beauty because it
+would have no soul to understand expression. It might be hovering
+round the features of a man when the smile on his lips and the
+exaltation in his eyes were expressive of the highest ecstasy of soul,
+but the midge would see no beauty in those features because it had
+not the soul to enter into the soul of the man and understand the
+expression on his face. All the little shades and gradations and tones
+and lights in the features of the man would be quite meaningless to
+the midge because it would know nothing of the man's soul, of
+which the features and the changes and variations in them were the
+outward manifestation. The midge would know nothing of the
+reality of the man which lay hidden behind the appearance.
+
+It is the same with the eagle in respect to natural features as it is with
+the midge in respect to the features of the man. The eagle sees only
+the bare outward appearance of Nature, and sees no meaning in her
+features. It has no soul to enter into the soul of Nature and
+understand what the natural features are expressing. The delicate
+lights and shades and changes on the face of Nature have no
+meaning for it. It sees the bare appearance. It sees nothing of the
+reality behind the appearance. It has no soul to wed to the soul of
+Nature. It therefore sees no beauty.
+
+But now supposing that among all the midges that buzz about a man
+there happened to be an artist-midge with exceeding sensitiveness of
+soul, one which was able to recognise a fundamental identity of life
+between it and the man, one which was able to recognise
+samenesses of feelings and emotions and aspirations, and by
+recognition of the samenesses between it and the man enter into the
+very life and soul of the man, then that midge would be able to
+understand all the varying expressions on the face of the man, and
+by understanding those expressions see their beauty.
+
+We cannot expect an eagle in a similar way to have that
+sensitiveness of soul which would enable it to enter into the soul of
+Nature, understand Nature, and so see its Beauty. But what we
+cannot expect of the eagle we can expect of man. We can expect an
+Artist to appear who will be to the Earth what the artist-midge was
+to the man.
+
+Man does to some extent enter into the soul of Nature. He has
+_some_ understanding of Nature. He sees Beauty; and whenever he
+sees Beauty in Nature he is in touch with the soul of Nature. Even
+ordinary men see some of the Beauty of Nature and have some
+feeling of kinship with her. They have something in common
+between their soul and the soul of Nature. They have the sense of
+more in common between them and Nature than a midge has
+between it and a man.
+
+And in a delicately sensitive man such as an artist--painter, poet, or
+musician--this sense of kinship with Nature is highly developed. In
+regard to his relationship with Nature he is like the finely sensitive
+and cultured artist-midge would be in regard to a man--the midge
+who, through understanding the inner soul and character of the man,
+was able to read the expression on his features and see their beauty.
+
+What we ordinary men have to do, and what we especially want
+those gifted with unusually sensitive souls to do, is to bear in mind
+the difficulties which the midge has in understanding us and in
+seeing any beauty in us, and the way in which it would have to train
+and cultivate its faculties before it could ever hope to understand the
+expression on our features--to bear this in mind, and then to take
+ourselves in hand and develop the soul within us till it is fine enough
+and great enough to enter into the great soul of Nature.
+
+The sense of Beauty we all possess in some slight degree is in itself
+a proof that behind the outward appearance of Nature there is a
+spiritual reality--an "I"--just as behind the outward appearance of the
+man which the artist-midge sees there is the "I" of the man. And by
+cultivating this sense--that is, by training and developing our
+capacity to see deeper into the heart of Nature, see more significance
+and meaning in each shade and change of her features, and read
+more understandingly what is going on deep within her soul--we
+shall enable ourselves to see a fuller and richer Natural Beauty.
+
+So we look forward to the appearance among us of a great Artist
+who, born with an exceptionally sensitive soul, will deliberately
+heighten and intensify this sensitiveness, learn what others have
+experienced, compare notes with them, and train himself to detect
+the significance of every slightest indication which Nature gives of
+the workings of the soul within her; and then, recognising the
+sameness between his own feelings and the feelings of Nature, will
+fall deeply in love with her, give himself up utterly to her, marry her,
+and in their marriage give birth to Beauty of surpassing richness and
+intensity.
+
+What we await, then, is an Artist with a soul worthy of being
+wedded to Nature. Puny, shallow artists will not be able to see much
+more of Nature than a midge sees of a man. What we want is a man
+with the physique, the abounding health and spirits, the fine intellect,
+the poetic power and imagination, the love of animals and his
+fellow-men, the skill, fitness, and gay courage of a Julian Grenfell.
+We want a man with the opportunities he had of mixing from
+childhood in London and in country houses with every grade and
+condition of men, with statesmen, soldiers, men of art, hunting men,
+racing men, schoolboys, undergraduates, literary men, gamekeepers,
+old family retainers--every kind and sort of human being. We want a
+man of such qualifications combined with the qualifications of a
+Darwin--with his love of natural history, his power of close and
+accurate observation, his genius for drawing right inferences from
+what he observed, his wide knowledge of Nature in her many
+manifestations, his sympathetic touch with every plant and animal,
+and his warm, affectionate nature in all human intercourse.
+
+We want, in fact, a Naturalist-Artist--a combination of Julian
+Grenfell and Darwin. And this is no outrageously impossible, but a
+very likely and fitting combination. For Julian Grenfell wrote great
+poetry even in the trenches in Flanders between the two battles of
+Ypres. And with his love of country life, shooting, fishing, and
+hunting, his inclination might very easily have been directed
+towards natural history. If it had been and the opportunity had
+offered, we might have had the very type of Naturalist-Artist we are
+now awaiting. He would have had the physical fitness and capacity
+to endure hardships which are required for travel in parts of the
+Earth where the Natural Beauty is finest, and he would have had, too,
+the sensitiveness of soul to receive impressions and the power of
+expressing himself so that others might share with him the
+impressions he had felt. If after passing through the earlier stages of
+shooting and hunting birds and animals he had come to the more
+profitable stage of observing them, and had devoted to the
+observation of their habits and ways of life the same skill and
+acumen which he had shown in hunting them, he might, with his
+innate and genuine love of animals, very well have become a great
+naturalist as well as what he was--a great sportsman and a writer of
+great poetry.
+
+It is for the advent of such Naturalist-Artist that we wait. But we
+have to prepare the way for him and do our share in helping to
+produce him. And this will now be my endeavour, for it so happens
+that I have been blessed with opportunities--some of my own
+making, some provided for me--of seeing Nature on a larger scale
+and under more varied aspects than falls to the lot of most men. I am
+ashamed when I reflect how little use I have made of those
+opportunities--how little I was prepared and trained to make the
+most of them. But this at least I can do: I can point out to the coming
+Artist those parts of the world where he is likely to see the Beauty of
+Nature most fully, and in greatest variety.
+
+With this end in view I shall begin with the Sikkim Himalaya, over
+which the eagle flew, because it contains within a small area a
+veritable compendium of Nature. Rising directly out of the plains of
+India, practically within the tropics, these mountains rise far above
+the limits of perpetual snow. Their base is covered with luxuriant
+vegetation of a truly tropical character, and this vegetation extends
+through all the ranges from tropical to temperate and arctic. The
+animal, bird, and insect life does the same. And here also are to be
+found representative men of every clime. Similarly does the natural
+scenery vary from plain to highest mountain. There are roaring
+torrents and wide, placid rivers. The Sikkim Himalaya, looking
+down on the plains of India on the one side and the steppes of Tibet
+on the other, is the most suitable place I know for a study of Natural
+Beauty.
+
+But there are beauties in Kashmir and in the great Karakoram
+Mountains behind Kashmir which are not found in Sikkim. And
+there are beauties in the Desert which are not found in either Sikkim
+or Kashmir. So I must take the Artist to these regions also.
+
+And I choose Sikkim and Kashmir because these are easily
+accessible regions to which men with a thirst for Beauty can return
+again and again, till they are saturated with the atmosphere and have
+imbibed the true spirit of the region--till they have realised how
+much these natural features express sentiments which they, too, are
+wanting to express--their aspirations for the highest and purest, their
+longing for repose, their delight in warmth and affection, or
+whatever their sentiment might be. Thousands of Englishmen,
+cultured Indians, and travellers from all over the world, visit the
+Himalaya every year--some for sport, some for health, some for
+social enjoyment. Amongst these may be our Naturalist-Artist who
+year after year, drawn to Sikkim and Kashmir by his love of Natural
+Beauty, would learn to know Nature in the wonderfully varied
+aspects under which she is to be seen in those favoured regions, who
+would come into ever-deepening communion with her, would yearly
+see more Beauty in her, and would communicate to us the
+enjoyment he had felt.
+
+But Natural Beauty includes within its scope a great deal more than
+only natural scenery. It includes the beauty of all natural
+objects--men and women as well as mountains, animals, and plants. So these
+also the Artist will have to keep within his purview. And his love of
+Nature, and consequently his capacity for seeing Natural Beauty,
+will be all the surer if he uses his head as well as his heart in
+forming his final conception of her--that is to say, his final for the
+moment, as no man ever has or _can_ come to a literally final
+conception of Nature. So the Artist will pause now and then to test
+his view of Nature in the light of pure reason. For he will be well
+enough aware that neither Love nor Beauty can be perfect unless it
+be irradiated with Truth, and the three he will ever strive to keep
+together.
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+THE HEART OF NATURE
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE SIKKIM HIMALAYA
+
+The Sikkim Himalaya is a region first brought prominently into
+notice by the writings of Sir Joseph Hooker, the great naturalist, who
+visited it in 1848. It lies immediately to the east of Nepal, and can
+now be reached by a railway which ascends the outer range to
+Darjiling. It is drained by the Teesta River, up the main valley of
+which a railway runs for a short distance. The region is therefore
+easily accessible. For the purposes of this book it may be taken to
+include the flat open forest and grass-covered tract known as the
+Terai, immediately at the base of the mountain. This is only a few
+hundreds of feet above sea-level, so that from there to the summit of
+the Himalaya there is a rise of nearly 28,000 feet in about seventy
+miles. The lower part is in the 26th degree of latitude, so that the
+heat is tropical. And as the region comes within the sweep of the
+monsoon from the Bay of Bengal, there is not only great heat in the
+plains and lower valleys, but great moisture as well. The
+mountain-sides are in consequence clothed with a luxuriant vegetation.
+
+To enter this wonderful region the traveller has first to cross the
+Ganges--the sacred river of the Hindus. Great rivers have about
+them a fascination all their own. They produce in us a sense of
+everlastingness and irresistibility. The Ganges, more than a mile
+wide, comes sweeping along in deep majestic flood from the far
+distance to the far distance, on and on unendingly, from all time to
+all time, and in such depth and volume that nothing human can
+withstand it. In the dry season, when it is low and the sun is shining,
+it is placid and benign with a bright and smiling countenance.
+Stately temples, set amidst sacred groves and graceful palms, lighten
+the banks. On the broad steps of the bathing ghats are assembled
+crowds of pious worshippers in clothes of every brilliant hue. The
+river has an aspect of kindliness and geniality and life-givingness.
+Its waters and rich silt have brought plenty to many a barren acre,
+and the dwellers on its banks know well that it issues from the holy
+Himalaya.
+
+But the Ganges is not always in this gracious mood, and does not
+always wear this kindly aspect. In the rainy season it is a thing of
+terror. Overhead black, thundery clouds sweep on for days and
+weeks together towards the mountains. There is not a glimpse of sun.
+The rain descends as a deluge. The river is still further swollen by
+the melting of the snow on the Himalaya, and now comes swirling
+along in dark and angry mood, rising higher and higher in its banks,
+eating into them, and threatening to overtop them and carry death
+and destruction far and wide. Men no longer go down to meet it.
+They shrink back from it. They uneasily watch it till the fulness of
+its strength is spent and it has returned to its normal beneficent
+aspect.
+
+No wonder such a river is regarded as sacred. To the more primitive
+people it is literally a living person--and a person who may be
+propitiated, a person who may do them harm if they annoy him, and
+do them good if they make themselves agreeable to him and furnish
+him with what he wants. To the cultured Hindus it is an object of the
+deepest reverence. If they can bathe in its waters their sins are
+washed away. If after death their ashes can be cast on its broad
+bosom, they will be secure of everlasting bliss. From perhaps the
+earliest days of our race, for some hundreds of thousands of years,
+men may have lived upon its banks. For it was in the forests beside
+great rivers, in a warm and even climate, that primitive men must
+have lived. They would have launched their canoes upon its waters,
+and used it as their only pathway of communication with one
+another. And always they would have looked upon it with mingled
+awe and affection. Besides the sun it would have been the one great
+natural object which would attract their attention. Insensibly the
+sight of that ever-rolling flood must have deeply affected them.
+They must have come to love it as they beheld it through the greater
+part of the year. The sight of its destructive power may have made
+them recoil for a time in fear and awe. But this would be forgotten
+as the flood subsided, and the river was again smooth and smiling
+and passing peacefully along before them.
+
+So men do not run away from it. They gather to it. They build great
+cities on its banks, and come from great distances to see it. They
+perform pilgrimages every year in thousands to the spot where it
+issues from the Himalaya. And they penetrate even to its source far
+back and high up in the mountains.
+
+To the most enlightened, also, the Ganges should be an object of
+reverence for its antiquity, for its future, and for its power. From the
+surface of the Bay of Bengal the sun's rays have drawn particles of
+water into the atmosphere. Currents in the air have carried them for
+hundreds of miles over the sea and over the plains of Bengal, till the
+chill of the Himalaya Mountains has caused them to condense and
+fall in snow and rain. But some have been carried farther. They have
+been transported right over the Himalaya at a height of at least
+20,000 feet, till they have finally fallen in Tibet. It is a striking fact
+that some of the water in the Ganges is from rivers in Tibet which
+have cut their way clean through the mighty range of the Himalaya.
+The Arun River, for example, rises in Tibet and cuts through the
+Himalaya by a deep gorge in the region between Mount Everest and
+Kinchinjunga. These rivers are, indeed, much older than the
+mountains. They were running their course before the Himalaya
+were upheaved, and they kept wearing out a channel for themselves
+as the mountains rose and slowly over-towered them.
+
+Reverence, therefore, is due to the Ganges on account of its vast
+antiquity. Reverence also is due because it will flow on like now for
+hundreds of thousands and perhaps for millions of years to come.
+Round and round in never-ceasing cycle the water is drawn up from
+the ocean, is carried along in the clouds, descends upon the
+mountains, and gathers in the Ganges to flow once more into the sea.
+The Ganges may gradually change its course as it eats into first one
+bank and then the other. But it will flow on and on and on for as far
+into the future as the human eye can ken.
+
+And its power, so terrifying to primitive man--even to us at times
+--will become more and more a power for good. Already great canals
+have been taken from its main stream and its tributaries, and
+millions of acres have been irrigated by its water, thus helping to
+bring to birth great crops of wheat and rice, cotton, sugar-cane, and
+oil-seeds. Schemes for utilising the water-power in its fall through
+the mountains by converting it into electric power are in
+contemplation, so that railways may be run by it and power for great
+industries be furnished. Once more, too, the course of the river may
+become a line of communication as sea-planes are used to fly from
+town to town and alight upon its surface.
+
+So as we come to know the river in its deepest significance, our
+impression of its everlastingness and its irresistible power remains.
+But our sense of fear diminishes. We feel that the river is ready to
+co-operate with us. That it is capable of being taken in hand and led.
+That its power is not essentially destructive but beneficent. That
+there is in it almost inexhaustible capacity for helping plant and
+beast and man. And that it is a friend and anxious to help us.
+
+The Hindus have been right all along in worshipping it. Their
+worship, with tropical luxuriance, may have developed to
+extravagant lengths. But the instinct which promoted this worship
+was perfectly sound. The river bears within its breast great
+life-giving properties, and in worshipping the river the Hindus were
+half-consciously expressing their sense of dependence on these
+life-giving properties, and of affection and gratitude to the river for the
+benefits it conferred. Mere fear of its destructive character--fear
+alone--would not produce the desire for worship. They did and do
+fear the river, but behind the fear is a feeling that it _can_ be
+propitiated, that it _can_ be induced to help man and does not want
+to thwart him. And here they were perfectly right. We are at last
+learning the way by which this may be done, and now see clearly
+what the Hindus only vaguely felt, that the heart of the river is right
+enough--that once it is tamed and trained it can bring untold good to
+man.
+
+This the Artist will readily discern. He will enter into the spirit of
+the river. He will read its true character. Refusing to be terrorised by
+its more tremendous moods, he will exult in its might, and see in it a
+potent agency for good. In these ways the river will make its appeal
+to him; and responding to the appeal, the Artist will see great Beauty
+in the river and describe that Beauty to us.
+
+* * *
+
+Beyond the river, before we reach the mountain, we have to pass
+over absolutely level cultivated plains, without a single eminence in
+sight. To most they would appear dull, monotonous, uninteresting.
+There is no horizon to which the eye can wander and find
+satisfaction in remote distance. There is no hill to which to raise our
+eyes and our souls with them. The outlook is confined within the
+narrowest limits. Palm trees, banyan trees, houses, walled gardens,
+everywhere restrict it. The fields are small, the trees and houses
+numerous. Nothing distant is to be seen. To the European the
+prospect is depressing. But to the Bengali it is his very life. These
+densely inhabited plains are his home. They have, therefore, all the
+attraction which familiar scenes in which men have grown up from
+childhood always have. A Bengali prefers them to high mountains.
+He loves the sight of the brilliant emerald rice-fields, of the tall
+feathery palms, of the shady banyan trees, of the flaming poinsettias,
+the bright marigolds, cannas and bougainvillea, the many-coloured
+crotons and calladiums, the sweet-scented jasmine, oranges,
+tuberoses, and gardenia; and the gaudy jays, the swiftly darting
+parrots, and the playful squirrels. He loves, too, the bathing-pools,
+and the patient oxen, and the cool, sequestered gardens. And he
+loves these things for their very nearness. His attention is not
+distracted to distant horizons and inaccessible heights. All is close to
+the eye and easily visible. His world may be small, but it is all
+within reach. He can know well each tree and flower, each bird and
+animal. It is not a wide and varied life. But it is an intense and very
+vivid life; and to the Bengali, on that account, more preferable. And
+if it is confined it is at least confined in the open air, and in a climate
+of perpetual summer.
+
+* * *
+
+Beyond this highly cultivated and thickly populated part, and still in
+the plains, we come to a wild jungle country which stretches up to
+the foothills, and is swampy, pestilential, and swarming with every
+kind of biting insect. It is a nasty country to travel through. But it
+has its interests. There grow here remarkable grasses, with tall
+straight shoots gracefully bending over at the top from the weight of
+their feathery heads; and so high are these gigantic grasses that they
+often reach above the head of a man on an elephant. The areas
+covered by them are practically impenetrable to men on foot, and
+there is a mysterious feel about this region, for it is the haunt of
+rhinoceros, tigers, and boars. In passing through it we have an
+uneasy feeling that almost anything may appear on the instant, and
+that once we were on foot and away from the path we would be
+irretrievably lost--drowned in a sea of waving grass.
+
+From this sea of grass rise patches of forest and single trees. The
+most prevalent is the Sal tree _(Shorea robusta),_ a magnificent
+gregarious tree with a tall straight stem and thick glossy foliage. But
+the most conspicuous in March and April is the Dak tree _(Butea
+frondosa),_ an ungainly tree, but remarkable for its deep rich scarlet
+flowers, like gigantic sweet-peas but of a thick velvety texture.
+These flowers blossom before the leaves appear, and when the tree
+is in full bloom it looks like a veritable flame in the forest.
+
+Another beautiful tree which is found in this lower part is the
+_Acacia catechu,_ known in Northern India as the Khair tree, and
+found all about the foothills of the Himalaya. Not tall and stately,
+but rather contorted and ample like the oak, it has a graceful feathery
+foliage and a kindly inviting nature.
+
+* * *
+
+Proceeding over these level plains, which as we approach the
+mountains are covered with dense forest, stagnant morasses, and
+trim tea-gardens, we one morning awake to find that over the
+horizon to the north hangs a long cloud-like strip, white suffused
+with pink--level on its lower edge but with the upper edge irregular
+in outline. No one who had not seen snow mountains before would
+suppose for a moment that that strip could be a line of mountain
+summits. For there is not a trace of any connection with the earth.
+Between it and the earth is nothing but blue haze. And it is so high
+above the horizon that it seems incredible that any such connection
+could exist. Yet no one who _had_ seen snow mountains could
+doubt for an instant that that rose-flushed strip of white was the
+Himalaya. For it possesses two unmistakable characteristics which
+distinguish it from any cloud. Firstly, the lower edge is absolutely
+straight and horizontal: it is exactly parallel with the horizon.
+Secondly, the upper edge is jagged, and the outline of the jaggedness
+cuts clean and perfectly defined against the intense blue of the sky.
+
+No one who knows mountains could doubt that this line was the
+Himalaya, yet every time we see it afresh we marvel more. We
+know for certain that those sharp edges _are_ the summits of
+mountains whose base is on this solid earth. Yet, however sure we
+may be of that fact, we do not cease to wonder. And as we gaze
+upon that line of snowy summits no more--indeed, less--intrinsically
+beautiful than many a cloud, yet unspeakably more significant, we
+are curiously elated. Something in us leaps to meet the mountains.
+And we cannot keep our eyes away. We seem lifted up, and feel
+higher possibilities within ourselves and within the world than we
+had ever known before. As we travel onward we strain to keep the
+mountains continually in sight, for we cannot bear to leave them.
+We feel better men for having seen them, and for the remainder of
+our days we would keep them in continuing remembrance.
+
+* * *
+
+As we come closer under the mountains the base emerges from the
+haze and the line of snowy peaks disappears behind the nearer outer
+ranges. Then we come to these ranges themselves, which rise with
+considerable abruptness out of the level plains with very little
+intermediate modulation of form, and we find them densely clothed
+in forest--true, rich, luxuriant, tropical forest with all the delights of
+glistening foliage, graceful ferns and palms, glorious orchids, and
+brilliant butterflies.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE TEESTA VALLEY
+
+This great forest, which extends for hundreds of miles along the
+slopes of the Himalaya, reaches up from the plains to the snows. In
+the lower part it is a truly tropical forest, and about a tropical forest
+there is something peculiarly mysterious. A strange stillness is over
+all. Not, indeed, the absolute silence of the desert, where literally not
+a sound is heard; for here in the forest, even during the hot noonday
+quiet, there is always the purring of insect life. But that stillness
+when not a leaf moves and no harsh noise is heard, when an
+impressive hush is laid upon the scene and we seem to be in some
+mysterious Presence dominating all about us and rousing our
+expectancy.
+
+A kind of awe seizes us, and with it also comes a keen exhilaration.
+We can see at most for a hundred yards in any direction. But we
+know that the forest extends like this for hundreds of miles. And we
+realise that if we wandered off the track we might never find it again.
+It is all very awe-inspiring, and in some ways frightening. Still, we
+are thrilled by the sight of such a profusion, intensity, and variety of
+life. In this hot, steamy atmosphere plants and trees grow in
+luxuriant abundance. Every inch of soil is occupied. And these
+forests are not like woods in England, which contain only three or
+four species--oaks, beeches, sycamores, etc. In these Sikkim forests
+we seldom see two trees of the same kind standing next each other.
+One tree may be more prevalent than others, but there is always
+great variety in the forms and colours of the stems, the branches, the
+leaves, the flowers, the habit of growth. There are trees of immense
+height with tall, strong, straight stems, and there are shrubs like
+hydrangeas of every size and description. There are climbers as huge
+as cables. And there are gentle little plants hardly rising above the
+ground. There is no end to the variety of plant life, and we have an
+inner spring of delight as we come across treasure after treasure that
+hitherto we had only seen reared with infinite care in some
+expensive hot-house.
+
+And what we see is only, we feel, a stray sample of what there is to
+be seen. What may there not be in those forest depths which we dare
+not enter for fear of losing our way! What other towering forest
+monarchs might we not come across if we plunged into the forest!
+What other exquisite flowers, what insects, what birds, what animals!
+What wealth of insect life may there not be at the tops of the trees
+where the fierce sunshine hidden from us by their leaves is drawing
+out their flowers! What may there not be going on in the ground
+beneath us! We know, that in these forests, perhaps near enough to
+see us, though their forms are hidden by their likeness to their leafy
+surroundings and the dappled sunlight, are animals as various as
+elephants, tigers, leopards, foxes, squirrels, and bats; birds as
+various as hawks, parrots, and finches; and insects from butterflies,
+bees, and wasps to crickets, beetles, and ants. The forest, we know,
+in addition to all the wealth of tree and plant life, is teeming with
+animal and insect life, though of this we are able to see very little, so
+carefully do animals conceal themselves. In the night they emerge,
+and in the morning and evening there is a deafening din of insect life.
+But at noonday there is a soft and solemn hush, and we are tense
+with curiosity to know all that is going on in those mysterious forest
+depths and up among the tree-tops, so close but so impossible of
+access.
+
+The great forest is the very epitome of life. Concentrated here in
+small compass is every form and variety of living thing, from
+lowliest plant to forest monarch, from simplest animalcule to
+elephant, monkey, and man. There is life and abundant life all about
+us. But it is not the noisy, clamorous, obtrusive life of the city. It is a
+still, intense life, full of untold possibilities for good or harm. And
+herein lies its mystery: we see much, but we feel that there is
+infinitely more behind.
+
+Of this life of the forest in all its richness, intensity, and variety we
+shall come to know more as we ascend the Teesta Valley till it
+reaches the snows, and tropical plant and animal life changes first to
+temperate and then to arctic forms. But first we must note some
+beauties of the valley itself.
+
+* * *
+
+The valley of the great Teesta River, the valleys of its tributaries, the
+gorges through which the main river and its tributaries rush, the
+cascades pouring in succession down the mountain-sides, the
+sequestered glens and dells--all these have beauties which the
+terrific rain and the mists in which they are usually enveloped do not
+hide but augment.
+
+The River Teesta itself, though only a minor contributor to the
+Brahmaputra, is nevertheless during the rainy season, when it is fed
+both by the falling rain and by the melting snows and glaciers of the
+Kinchinjunga region, impressive in its might and energy. With a
+force and tumult that nothing could withstand it comes swirling
+down the valley. Before its rushing impetuosity everything would be
+swept away. For it is no little tossing torrent: it possesses depth and
+weight and volume, and sweeps majestically along in great waves
+and cataracts. In comparison with the serene composure of the lofty
+summits here is life and force and activity to the full--and
+destructive activity at that, to all appearance. Yet as, from the safety
+of a bridge by which the genius of man has spanned it, we look upon
+the turmoil, a strange thrill comes through us. There is such splendid
+energy in the river. We are fascinated by the power it displays. It is
+glorious to look upon. Alarming in a way it is. But we know it can
+only act within certain strictly defined bounds. A foot beyond those
+bounds it is powerless. And while it is already confined by Nature
+within these limits, we know the day will come when it will be
+completely within the control of man and its very power available
+for our own purposes. So in the end it is with no sense of terror that
+we watch the raging river in its headlong course. Rather do we enjoy
+the sight of such exultant energy, which will one day be at man's
+disposal. We rejoice with the river in a feeling of power, and herein
+lies its Beauty for us.
+
+* * *
+
+As we look at the tremendous gorges through which the river clears
+its way we again are filled with awe and wonder. Straight facing us
+is a clean, sheer cliff of hardest, sternest rock. It cannot be actually
+perpendicular, but to all appearance it is. And the mere sight of it
+strengthens our souls. Here is granite solidity, and yet no mere stolid
+obstinacy. For these cliffs have risen--so the geologists tell us
+--through their own internal energy to their present proud position.
+They have, indeed, had to give place to the river to this extent that
+they have had to acknowledge his previous right of way and to leave
+a passage for him in their upward effort. The river is careful to exact
+that much toll from them year by year. But having paid that toll,
+they have risen by a process of steady, long persistence, and have
+maintained themselves in their exalted position by sheer firmness
+and tenacity of character. And as, dripping with warm moisture and
+carrying with them in any available crevice graceful ferns and trees,
+they rise above us high up into the clouds, and form the buttresses of
+those snowy peaks of which we catch occasional glimpses, we are
+impressed not only with the height of the aspiration those peaks
+embody, but with the strength and persistency of purpose which was
+necessary to carry the aspiration into effect.
+
+Overpowered, indeed, we feel at times--shut in and overshadowed
+by what seems so infinitely greater than ourselves. The roaring river
+fills the centre of the gorge. The precipitous cliffs rise sheer on
+either hand. We seem for the moment too minute to cope with such
+titanic conditions. But sometimes by circumventing the cliffs and
+after a long tedious detour appearing high above them, sometimes
+by blasting a passage across their very face, we have proved
+ourselves able to overcome them. They no longer affright us. And as
+we return down the valley after a journey to its upmost limit, it is
+with nothing but sheer delight that we look upon these cliffs. They
+simply impress us with the strength that must go along with
+elevation of purpose if that purpose is to be achieved. Unbuttressed
+by these staunch cliffs the mountains could never have reached their
+present height. We glory, then, with the cliffs in their solidity and
+strength as they proudly face the world. And we recognise that in
+this firmness and consistency of purpose lies their especial Beauty.
+
+* * *
+
+In contrast with the swirling river and hard, rugged cliffs we, quite
+close to them, and hidden away in a modest tributary of a tributary
+in the quiet forest depths, will happen upon some deep sequestered
+pool which imbues us with a sense of the delicacy and reserve of
+Nature. We here see her in a peculiarly tender aspect. The pool is
+still and clear. The lulling murmurs of a waterfall show whence it
+draws its being. A gentle rivulet carries the overbrim away. It is
+bounded by rocks and boulders green with exquisite ferns and
+mosses. Overhanging it are weeping palms with long straight leaves.
+Trees, with erect stems as tall as Nelson's Column, strain upward to
+the light. Butterflies in numbers flutter noiselessly about. The air is
+absolutely still and of a feel like satin. Clouds of intangible softness
+and clean and white as snow float around, appear, dissolve, and
+reappear. Through the parting in the overhanging trees the intense
+blue sky is seen in glimpses. The sun here and there pierces through
+the arching foliage, and the greens of the foliage glisten brighter still.
+The whole atmosphere of the spot is one of reticence and reserve.
+Yet quiet though it be and restful though it be, there is no sense of
+stagnation. The pool, though deep and still, is vividly alive. Its
+waters are continually being renewed. And the forest, though not a
+leaf moves, is, we know, straining with all the energy of life for food
+and light, for air and moisture. So by this jewel of a pool in its
+verdant setting we have a sense of an activity which is gentle and
+refined. The glen's is a shy and intimate Beauty, especially
+congenial to us after the forceful Beauty of the river and the bold,
+proud Beauty of the cliffs. But it is no insipid Beauty: in its very
+quietness and confidence is strength.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE FOREST
+
+The Teesta Valley in its lowest part is only 700 feet above sea-level.
+It is deep and confined and saturated with perpetual moisture.
+Hardly a breath of wind stirs, and all plant life is forced as in a
+hothouse. The trees do not, indeed, grow as high as the Big Trees of
+California or the eucalyptus in Australia, but some of these in the
+Teesta Valley are 200 feet in height with buttressed trunks between
+40 and 50 feet in girth, and give the same impression of stateliness
+and calm composure. With incredible effort and incessant struggle
+they have attained their present proud position, and the traveller
+most willingly accords them the tribute that is their due.
+
+Grand tropical oaks nearly 50 feet in girth also occur, screw-pines
+50 feet in height with immense crowns of grassy leaves 4 feet long,
+palms of many kinds, rattan-canes, bamboos, plantains, and tall
+grasses such as only grow in dense, hot jungles. Gigantic climbers
+tackle the loftiest trees. One allied to the gourd bears immense
+yellowish-white pendulous blossoms; another bears curious
+pitcher-shaped flowers. Vines, peppers, and pothos interlace with the palms
+and plantains in impenetrable jungle. Orchids clothe the trees.
+Everywhere and always we hear the whirr and hum of insect life,
+sometimes soft and soothing, sometimes harsh and strident. And
+floating about wherever we look are butterflies innumerable, many
+dull and unpretentious, but some of a brilliancy of colour that makes
+us gasp with pleasure.
+
+We may be pouring with perspiration, pestered by flies and
+mosquitoes, and in constant dread of leeches. But we forget all such
+annoyances in the joy of these wonders of the tropics, whether they
+be trees or orchids, ferns or butterflies. And to see one of these
+gorgeous insects alight in front of us, slowly raise and lower his
+wings and turn himself about almost as if he were showing himself
+off for our especial pleasure, compensates us for every worry his
+fellows in the insect world may cause us.
+
+As might be expected, in the steamy, dripping atmosphere ferns are
+a predominating feature in the vegetation. Not less than two hundred
+different kinds are found. The most noticeable are the tree ferns, of
+which alone there are eight species. Their average height is about 20
+feet, but plants of 40 and 50 feet are not uncommon. And with their
+tall trunks and crown of immense graceful fronds they form a
+striking feature in the forest, and in the moister valleys where they
+attain their full luxuriance they may be seen in extensive groves as
+well as in little groups. Four kinds of maidenhair, always light and
+graceful and attractive, are found; and of ferns common to Europe,
+_Osmunda regalis,_ the Royal fern of Europe, and the European
+moonwort and alder's-tongue ferns. Then there is a fern which
+attains to gigantic proportions, especially in the cool forests, where
+its massive fronds grow to more than 5 yards in length and 3 in
+breadth, with a spread over all, measuring from tip to tip of opposite
+fronds, of 8 yards. One handsome climbing fern clothes the trunks of
+tall trees; another which climbs on grasses and the smaller shrubs is
+common; and another forms almost impenetrable thickets 15 or 20
+feet high. Of the kinds which grow on rocks and trees the most
+delicately beautiful are the filmy ferns, of which there are eight
+kinds. The Irish filmy is the largest, covering the face of large rocks
+under dense shade, its fronds growing to over a foot in length. Many
+polypodiums and aspleniums grow gracefully on the rocks and trees
+during the rainy season. One especially elegant polypodium growing
+on the ground has fronds about 6 or 7 feet long, and sometimes as
+much as 20 feet, and of proportionate width. Another conspicuous
+fern is the bird's-nest fern with its large, massive fronds growing
+under shade on rocks and stems of trees.
+
+Unless we are fern experts it is impossible for us to identify each
+among so many species. But, at any rate, we gather an impression of
+elegance and grace, often of airy lightness, and of wonderful variety
+of size and form.
+
+* * *
+
+From the ferns we look to the rest of the forest, and after the first
+bewilderment at the profusion and variety of vegetation we try to
+fasten on to a few individuals or types which we can identify as
+having seen elsewhere in some other part of India or in some
+palm-house in England. We are in the still, steamy atmosphere of a
+hot-house, and we are conscious that all round us, growing in luxuriant
+abundance, are rare and beautiful plants of which a single specimen
+would be treasured and treated with every fostering care in England.
+But we sigh to be able to recognise these treasures and make contact
+between home and this exceptionally favoured region--favoured,
+that is to say, as regards plant life. From among the giant trees, the
+bamboos, the palms, the climbers, the shrubs, the flowers, the
+orchids, we look out anxiously for friends--or at least for
+acquaintances whom we hope may develop into friends as we meet
+them again and again on our journeys through the forest.
+
+Of the flowers, the orchids are naturally the first to attract us. They
+shine out as real gems in the greenery around them. The eye jumps
+to them at once. Here seems to be something as nearly perfect in
+colour, form, and texture as it could possibly be. If the orchid is
+white it is of the purest whiteness, and shines chaste and unsullied
+amidst its dull surroundings. If it is purple, or pale yellow, or
+golden-yellow, or rose, or violet, or white, the colour has always a
+depth and purity which is deeply satisfying. And it seems to be
+because the waxy texture of these orchids is such a perfect medium
+for the display of colour that orchids are so exceptionally beautiful.
+The texture is of the very consistency best adapted for revealing the
+beauty of colour. And when we pluck a spray of these choice
+treasures from the forest branch and hold it in the sunlight, we feel
+we are seeing colour almost in perfection.
+
+The colour and texture are beautiful enough in themselves. But an
+added attraction in these orchids is their form--the curvature of their
+sepals and petals, and the wonderful little pitchers and cups and lips
+and tongues which an orchid exhibits. And the form is no mere
+geometrical pattern of lines and curves. It is obviously an ingenious
+contrivance devised for some special purpose. That purpose we now
+know to be the attraction of insects, who in sucking the orchid's
+honey will unconsciously carry on their wings or backs the flower's
+pollen to fertilise another orchid. Though whether the insect in the
+long centuries by probing at the orchid has forced it to adapt itself to
+it, or whether the flower has forced the insect to adapt itself to the
+flower, or whether--as seems most likely--a process of mutual
+adaptation has been going on century by century, and the flower and
+insect have been gradually adapting themselves to one another, is
+still a matter of discussion among naturalists.
+
+We cannot gather an orchid of any kind without marvelling at its
+intricate construction. And when we are looking at the orchid in its
+natural surroundings in the forest itself and see the enormous
+numbers and the immense variety, in size and form and habits, of
+the insects around the orchid, and think how the orchid has to select
+its own particular species of insect and cater for that, and the insect
+among all the flowers has to select the particular species of orchid;
+and how the insect, whether butterfly or bee or moth or gnat or ant,
+or any other of the numerous kinds of insect, and the orchid have to
+adapt themselves to each other--we see how marvellous the mutual
+adaptation of flower to insect and insect to flower must have been.
+We see how the particular species of orchid must have chosen the
+particular species of bee, and the particular species of bee that
+particular species of orchid, and the bee and orchid set themselves to
+adapt themselves to one another, the orchid using all the devices of
+colour, scent, sweetness of honey, to attract the insect, and gradually
+shaping itself so that the insect can better reach the honey, and the
+insect lengthening its proboscis and otherwise adapting itself so that
+it can better secure what it wants. And we see how perfectly--how
+nearly perfectly--the flower is designed for its purpose.
+
+But what is perhaps most remarkable of all about an orchid is that
+this marvel of colour and form and of texture of fabric unfolds itself
+from within a most ungainly, unsightly, unlikely-looking tuber.
+From shapeless, colourless tubers, which attach themselves to trunks
+and branches of trees and cling on to rocks, there emerge these
+peerless aristocrats of the flower-world, finished, polished,
+immaculate, and reigning supreme through sheer distinction and
+excellence at every point--and also because theirs is clearly no
+ephemeral convolvulus-like beauty which will fade and vanish away
+in a twinkling, but is a beauty intensely matured, strong and deep
+and firm.
+
+* * *
+
+Of the 450 species of orchids found in the Sikkim Forest, many are
+very rare. But fortunately the rarest are not the most beautiful in
+colour and form. Some very beautiful orchids are also very common.
+The most common are the dendrobiums, of which there are about
+forty species. The finest and best known is the _Dendrobium
+nobile._ It grows in the lower hills and valleys up to 5,000 feet, and
+also in the plains. The flowers vary both in size and shade of colour;
+but in Sikkim the sepals and petals are always purple, shading off
+into white at the base. The tip has a central blotch of very deep
+purple surrounded by a broad margin of pale yellow or white. This
+orchid is now very common in English hot-houses, so here is one
+point of contact with the tropical forest.
+
+The _D. densiflorum_ is equally common and grows in much the
+same region. It flowers in a dense cluster on a stalk somewhat after
+the fashion of a hyacinth. The sepals and petals of this beautiful
+species are of a pale yellow, while the lip is of a rich orange. One of
+the most charming of the Sikkim dendrobiums has the smell of
+violets, and the sepals and petals are white-tipped with violet, the
+stem being sometimes 2 1/2 feet long. Another noteworthy
+dendrobium is the _D. pierardi,_ whose prevailing colour is a
+beautiful rose or pale purple.
+
+After the dendrobiums the coelogyne are the most worth noting. The
+_ Coelogyne cristata_ is common at elevations of from 5,000 to
+8,000 feet, and flowers during March and April. It has numerous
+large flowers, which are pure white throughout, with the exception
+of the lamellae of the lip, which are yellow. It may be seen in flower
+in March in the orchid-house at Kew. In the forest it grows in such
+profusion as to make the trunk of a dead tree look as if it were
+covered with snow.
+
+The _C. humilis_ is known as the Himalayan crocus. It grows like a
+crocus from a pseudo-bulb at elevations from 7,000 to 8,500 feet,
+and flowers during February and March. The flowers are white and
+from 2 to 2 1/2 inches in diameter. The lip is speckled with purple
+towards the edge.
+
+Not so common but larger and handsomer than the dendrobiums are
+the cymbidiums, of which there are sixteen different species, usually
+with long grassy leaves and many-flowered drooping racemes with
+large handsome flowers. A very sweet-scented species is the
+_Cymbidium eburneum,_ which is common between elevations of
+1,000 to 3,000 feet, and flowers during March and April. The
+prevailing colour of the flowers is an ivory white, but the ridge on
+the lip is a brilliant yellow. This also may be seen at Kew in March.
+
+These are some of the commonest orchids and all now grow in
+England, so that we can begin to get a footing in the forest and not
+feel that it is so completely strange to us. And as we ascend higher
+we shall find many more friends among the flowers. And to guide us
+among the trees and flowers we fortunately have Sir Joseph Hooker,
+who in his "Himalayan Journals" has described this botanist's
+paradise in loving detail, so we cannot do better than follow him.
+Amid the many plants he mentions we can only select a few, but
+these few will at least help to give us some conception of the whole
+and show the range of variation as we ascend.
+
+As we proceed higher up the valley to an altitude of about 4,000 feet,
+European trees and plants begin to be intermingled with the tropical
+vegetation. Hornbeams appear, and birch, willow, alder, and walnut
+grow side by side with wild plantains, palms, and gigantic bamboos.
+Brambles, speedwells, forget-me-nots, and nettles grow mixed with
+figs, balsams, peppers, and huge climbing vines. The wild English
+strawberry is found on the ground, while above tropical orchids like
+the dendrobiums cover the trunks of the oaks. The bracken and the
+club-moss of our British moors grow associated with tree-ferns. And
+English grow alongside Himalayan mosses.
+
+The valley itself continues of the same character--deep with its steep
+sides clothed in forest and the path scrambling over spurs, making
+wide detours up side valleys, or scraping along the sides of cliffs
+which stand perpendicularly over the raging river below. Only here
+and there are clearings in the forest where Lepchas or Nepalese have
+built themselves a few wooden houses and roughly cultivated the
+land. Otherwise we are under the same green mantle of forest which
+extends everywhere over the mountains; and though we are now
+piercing straight through the main axis of the Himalaya, we seldom
+catch even a glimpse of the snowy heights which must be so near.
+
+But the vegetation is distinctly changing in character as we
+ascend--the most tropical trees and plants gradually disappearing, and more
+and more flowers of the temperate zone coming into evidence. And
+as we pierce farther into the mountains the climate becomes sensibly
+drier and the forest lighter. There is still a heavy enough rainfall to
+satisfy any ordinary plant or human being. But there is not the same
+deluge that descends upon the outer ridges. So the forest is not so
+dense. Frequently in its place social grasses clothe the
+mountain-sides; and yellow violets, primulas, anemones, delphiniums,
+currants, and saxifrages remind us of regions more akin to our own.
+
+Now, too, we have reached the habitat of the rhododendrons, which
+are so peculiarly a glory of Sikkim, and it is worth while to pause
+and take special note of them. Out of the thirty species which are
+found in Sikkim, all the most beautiful have been introduced
+--chiefly by Sir Joseph Hooker--into England, and are grown in many
+parks and gardens as well as at Kew. So English people can form
+some idea of what the flowering trees of the Sikkim Forest are like.
+But they must multiply by many times the few specimens they see in
+an English park or hot-house, and must realise that as cowslips are
+in a grassy meadow, so are these rhododendron trees in the Sikkim
+Forest. Red, mauve, white, or yellow, they grow as great flowers
+among the green giants of the forest and brighten it with colour. The
+separate blossoms of a rhododendron tree cannot compare in beauty
+with the individual orchid. There is in them neither the deep richness
+of colour nor wonder of form nor sense of deeply matured
+excellence. The claim of the rhododendron to favour is rather in the
+collective quantity and mass of flowers so that by sheer weight of
+numbers it can produce its effect of colour. In some of the upper
+valleys the mountain slopes are clothed in a deep green mantle
+glowing with bells of scarlet, white, or yellow.
+
+Perhaps the most splendid of these rhododendrons is
+_Rhododendron grande_ or _argenteum,_ which grows to a height
+of from 30 to 40 feet, and has waxy bell-shaped flowers of a
+yellowish-white suffused with pink, 2 to 3 inches long and about the
+same across. The scarlet _R. arboreum,_ so general in the Himalaya,
+is common in Sikkim and furnishes brilliant patches of colour in the
+forest. And a magnificent species is _R. Auchlandii_ or
+_Griffithianum,_ which has large white flowers tinged with pink, of
+a firm fleshy texture and with a mouth 5 inches across. It has been
+called the queen of all flowering shrubs. It grows well in Cornwall,
+and among the hybrids from it is the famous Pink Pearl.
+
+_R. Falconeri,_ a white-flowered species, is eminently characteristic
+of the genus in habit, place of growth and locality, never occurring
+below 10,000 feet. In foliage it is incomparably the finest. It throws
+out one or two trunks clean and smooth, 30 feet or so high, the
+branches terminated by immense leaves, deep green above edged
+with yellow and ruby red-brown below. The creamy white flowers
+are shaded with lilac and are slightly scented. They are produced in
+tightly-packed clusters 9 to 15 inches across and twenty or more in
+numbers.
+
+A peculiar (in that it is of all the species the only one that is
+epiphytal) but much the largest flowered species is the _R.
+Dalhousiae._ It grows, like the orchids, among ferns and moss upon
+the trunks of, large trees, especially oaks and magnolias, and attains
+a height of 6 to 8 feet. The flowers are three to seven in a head, and
+are 3 1/2 to 5 inches long and as much across the mouth, white with
+an occasional tinge of rose and very fragrant. In size, colour, and
+fragrance of the blossoms this is the noblest of the genus. It grows
+out-of-doors in Cornwall and in the greenhouse in other parts of
+England as a scraggy bush 10 to 12 feet high. _R. barbatum_ is a
+tree from 40 to 60 feet high, producing flowers of a rich scarlet or
+blood-colour, and sometimes puce or rich pink. It is one of the most
+beautiful of the Himalayan rhododendrons, and is now very
+common in England, growing freely out-of-doors. Another truly
+superb plant is _R. Maddeni,_ with very handsome pure white
+flowers 3 1/2 to 4 inches long and as much across the mouth. This is
+now a special favourite in England. It grows in large bushes in the
+open in Cornwall and is very sweet-scented. _R. virgatum_ is a
+beautiful delicately white-flowered shrub. And _R. campylo-carpum_
+displays masses of exquisite pale yellow bells of rarest delicacy.
+
+Besides rhododendrons, ash, walnut, and maple become more
+abundant as we ascend, and at 9,000 feet larch appears, and there are
+woods of a spruce resembling the Norwegian spruce in general
+appearance. Among the plants are wood-sorrel, bramble, nut, spiraea,
+and various other South European and North American genera.
+
+The climate is no longer stifling and the leeches have disappeared.
+We miss many beauties of the tropical forest. But, with the
+vegetation more and more resembling what we are accustomed to in
+Europe, we are feeling more at home. The path winds through cool
+and pleasant woods, following the varying contour of the
+mountain-sides. We are no longer oppressed by the strangeness of the life
+around us. At almost every turn we come across something new yet
+not wholly unfamiliar. And standing out especially in our memory
+of this region will be the sight of a gigantic lily rearing itself ten feet
+high in the forest, and as pure in its perfect whiteness as if it had
+been grown in a garden. It is the _Lilium giganteum,_ and it has
+fourteen flowers on a single stalk and each 4 1/2 inches long and the
+same across.
+
+We still love most of all the white violets we have as children picked
+in an English wood, and even this great white lily will never
+supplant them in our affections. But the sight of that glorious plant
+rising proudly from amidst the greenery of its forest setting will be
+for us more than any picture. And its being "wild" has the same
+fascination for us that a flower that is "wild," and not garden grown,
+has for a child. In a florist's shop we may see lilies even more
+beautiful than this, but the enjoyment we get from seeing the florist's
+production bears no comparison whatever with the enjoyment we
+get from seeing this lily in a distant Himalayan forest where not so
+many white men ever go. We often have experiences which
+perceptibly age us. But this is one of those experiences which most
+certainly make us younger. We are once again children finding
+flowers in a wood.
+
+As we proceed upward the valley opens out, the mountains recede
+and are less steep. They are also less wooded, their slopes become
+more covered with grass, and the river, no longer a raging torrent,
+now meanders in a broad bed. The great peaks are somewhere close
+by, but we do not see the highest, and for the Himalaya the scenery
+is somewhat tame. But the number of herbaceous plants is great. A
+complete record of them would include most of the common genera
+of Europe and North America. Among them are purple, yellow, pink,
+and white primulas, golden potentillas, gentians of deepest azure,
+delicate anemones, speedwells, fritillaries, oxalis, balsams, and
+ranunculus. One special treasure of this part is a great red rose
+_(Rosa macrophylla),_ one of the most beautiful of Himalayan
+plants whose single blossoms are as large as the palm of the hand.
+With these plants from the temperate zone are mixed the far outliers
+of the tropical genera--orchids, begonias, and others--whose ascent
+to these high regions has been favoured by the great summer heat
+and moisture.
+
+We are now in the region of the primulas for which (besides its
+orchids and rhododendrons) Sikkim is famous. Sikkim may indeed
+be called the headquarters of the Indian primroses, and many species
+are found there which appear to occur nowhere else. There are from
+thirty to forty species, the majority growing at altitudes from 12,000
+to 15,000 feet, two or three only being found below 10,000 feet, and
+two or three as high as 16,000 to 17,000 feet. The best known is the
+_ Primula sikkimensis,_ which grows well in England and resembles
+a gigantic cowslip. It thrills us to see it growing in golden masses in
+the high valleys in wet boggy places--though the precise colour may
+be better described as lemon-yellow rather than gold.
+
+The prevailing colour of the primulas is purple, but white, yellow,
+blue, and pink are also found. The _P. denticulata_ has purple to
+bright sapphire blue flowers, and great stretches of country are
+almost blue with the lovely heads of this primrose. Miles of country
+can be seen literally covered with _P. obtusifolia,_ which has purple
+flowers and a strong metallic smell. _P. Kingii_ is a lovely plant
+with flowers of such a dark claret colour that they are almost black.
+And perhaps the most striking primula is _P. Elwesiana,_ with large
+solitary deflexed purple flowers.
+
+Poppies also are a feature of the Sikkim vegetation. Near the huts
+the people cultivate a majestic species near _Menconopsis
+simplicifolia,_ but it grows in dense clusters 2 or 3 feet high. The
+flowers vary in diameter from 5 to 7 inches, and are an intensely
+vivid blue on opening, though they change before fading into purple.
+_M. simplicifolia_ itself is also found at altitudes from 12,000 to
+15,000 feet--a clear light blue species of special beauty, growing
+as a single flower on a single stem, and now to be seen at
+both Edinburgh and Kew. Another beautiful poppy is the _M.
+nepalensis,_ which grows in the central dampest regions of Sikkim
+at elevations of 10,000 to 11,000 feet and resembles a miniature
+hollyhock, the flowers being of a pale golden or sulphur-yellow, 2 or
+3 inches in diameter and several on a stalk.
+
+As Tangu is approached the valley expands into broad grassy flats,
+and here at about 13,000 feet the vegetation rapidly diminishes in
+stature and abundance, and the change in species is very great. Larch,
+maple, cherry, and spiraea disappear, leaving willows, juniper,
+stunted birch, silver fir, mountain ash berberries, currant,
+honeysuckle, azalea, and many rhododendrons. The turfy ground is
+covered with gentians, potentillas, geraniums, and purple and yellow
+meconopsis, delphiniums, orchids, saxifrage, campanulas,
+ranunculus, anemones, primulas (including the magnificent
+_Primula Sikkimensis),_ and three or four species of ferns. The
+country being now so much more open, the valley bottom and the
+mountain-sides glow with purples and yellows of various shades.
+Not even here, nor indeed anywhere in the Himalaya, do we see that
+mass and glow of colour we find in California, where wide sheets of
+meadow-land are ablaze with the purple of the lupins and the gold of
+the Californian poppy. But for the number of varieties of plants
+these upper valleys of the Teesta River can scarcely be excelled. As
+we ascend the mountain-sides above Tangu we find them covered
+with plants of numerous different kinds, and even at about 14,000
+feet Hooker gathered over two hundred plants.
+
+But now we are nearing the limit of plant life. At 17,000 feet the
+vegetation has ceased to be alpine and has become arctic, and the
+plants nearest the snow-line are minute primulas, saxifrages,
+gentians, grasses, sedges, some tufted wormwood, and a dwarf
+rhododendron, the most alpine of wooded plants.
+
+At the summit of the Donkia Pass Hooker found one flowering plant,
+the _Arenaria rupifragia._ The fescue _(Festuca ovina),_ a little fern
+_(Woodsia),_ and a saussurea ascend very near the summit. A
+pink-coloured woolly saussurea and _Delphinium glaciale_ are two of the
+most lofty plants, and are commonly found from 17,500 feet to
+18,000 feet. Besides some barren mosses several lichens grow on
+the top, as _Cladonia vermicularis,_ the yellow _Lecidea
+geographica_ and the orange _L. miniata._
+
+At 18,300 feet Hooker found on one stone only a fine Scottish lichen,
+a species of gyrophora, the "tripe de roche" of Arctic voyagers and
+the food of the Canadian hunters. It is also abundant in the Scotch
+Alps.
+
+On the summit of Bhomtso, 18,590 feet, the only plants were the
+lichens _Lecidea miniata_ (or _Parmalia miniata)_ mentioned
+above, and borrera. The first-named minute lichen is the most arctic,
+antarctic, alpine, and universally diffused in the world, and often
+occurs so abundantly as to colour the rocks an orange red.
+
+* * *
+
+The entire range of plant life, from the truly tropical to the hardiest
+arctic, is now complete. As we look back from the limit of perpetual
+snow we see the whole great procession in a glance. We have come
+across no African, nor South American, nor Australian plants, so we
+have not seen anything like the _whole_ of plant life. But the range
+from the tropic to the arctic has been complete and continuous. In no
+other region could we in so short a space as a hundred miles--the
+distance from Bath to London--see the entire range so fully
+represented.
+
+And actually _seeing_ how vast is the range and variety of plant life
+is a very different thing from knowing that it exists; seeing the
+flowers in the flesh is altogether different from only reading
+descriptions of them; and seeing them in masses and in their natural
+surroundings affects us quite differently from seeing only a few in a
+garden or in a hot-house. Here on the spot we feel close in touch
+with Nature's own heart. We see Nature's productions springing up
+fresh and new straight from the very fountain source. We have the
+joy of being able to stretch out a hand and pick a flower direct from
+its own surroundings, and to fondle it, examine it all round, admire
+its colour, form, and texture, compare its beauty with the beauty of
+other flowers and settle wherein its special beauty lies. We shall
+never be able to give to even the most exquisite orchid or the most
+perfect lily the same affection that we give to the primroses and
+violets of our native land. But we may be sure that our
+Naturalist-Artist, when he gathers together in his mind the impressions
+which have been made upon him by his passage through the tropical forests
+to the alpine uplands and thence to the limit of perpetual snow, will
+find that his sense of the variety of beauty to be found in trees and
+leaves, in ferns and flowers, has immeasurably expanded. He will
+have acquired a firmer grasp of plant life as a whole. He will have a
+truer measure of the beauty in it. And irresistibly, but most willingly,
+he will have been more closely drawn to Nature's heart.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE DENIZENS OF THE FOREST
+
+So far we have paid attention almost exclusively to the plant life.
+But all through Sikkim the insect life presses itself just as insistently
+on our notice. In the tropical portion it is unbelievably abundant and
+varied. It swarms about us and is ever present. And much of it is as
+beautiful as the flowers. For sheer attractiveness the butterflies are
+as compelling as the orchids. Mosquitoes, gnats, flies, leeches, every
+torment there is. But we forgive everything for the chance of being
+able to see alive and in the full glory of their colouring these brilliant
+gems of the insect world which we can in places view in hundreds
+and thousands at a time--and in extraordinary variety, for in this
+little country more than six hundred species are found--about ten
+times as many as are met with in England. Moreover, there is no
+season when they are wholly absent, for in the hot valleys they may
+be seen all the year round, though naturally there are more in the
+summer than in the winter.
+
+If it were not for other attractions we would like to concentrate our
+attention on these beautiful creatures alone. For they fascinate us by
+the daring of their colours, by their bold designs, by the way in
+which they blend the colours with one another, and by the extreme
+delicacy and chasteness of both colour and design. We are reluctant
+to take the life of a single one of the thousands we see, but yet we
+are itching, too, to lay hold of one after another as it sails into sight
+displaying some fresh beauty. We want to handle it as we would a
+flower, turn it about and examine it from every point of view till not
+a shade or aspect of its beauty has escaped us. In the presence of
+these brilliant butterflies we are children once more. We want to
+have them in our hands and feel that they are in our possession. It is
+tantalising merely to view them from a distance. We want to enjoy
+their beauty to the full.
+
+These butterflies of Sikkim are such complete strangers to us we do
+not even know their names. From the "Gazetteer," however, we
+learn that the most beautiful of them are the papilios, of which alone
+there are no less than forty-two species. And three of these--namely,
+the _Teinophalus imperialis_ (which occurs on Tiger Hill above
+Darjiling) and two ornithopteras, or bird-butterflies--are among the
+most splendid of all butterflies. The former is green on the upper
+side with yellow spots on the hind-wing, and the long tails are tipped
+with yellow. The two bird-butterflies are common in the low valleys
+from May to October. They are truly magnificent insects, measuring
+from 6 to 8 inches across. Their fore-wings are wholly of a velvety
+black and the hind-wing golden yellow scolloped with black.
+
+Of the well-known green species of papilio, with longish tails and
+blue or green spots on the hindwing, there are four species, of which
+one is European. Some have semi-transparent wings of a lace-like
+pattern, with long slender tails to the hind-wings, and are of a very
+elegant shape.
+
+A most gorgeously-coloured butterfly is the _Thaumantis diores,_
+black with large spots (which cover a great part of both fore and
+hind wings) of a brilliant metallic, changeable blue. It measures 4
+3/4 inches across the outspread wings. It avoids the direct sunlight
+and dodges about among the scrub growing under the deep shade of
+tall trees in the hottest and moistest valleys.
+
+One of the most lovely butterflies in the world is the
+_Stichophthalma camadeva,_ which is one of the largest of the
+Sikkim butterflies, being from 5 to 6 1/2 inches in expanse. It is
+more soberly coloured on the upper side than the last-named, being
+chiefly white and brown, but the underside is more beautiful, having
+a row of five red ocelli with black irides on each wing and other
+pretty markings.
+
+The lyccenides, or "blues," are represented by no less than 154
+species, several of them of surpassing beauty. Many are marked
+with changeable metallic hues on the upper side of the fore-wing:
+some violet, some with green, and some with golden bronze. The
+most lovely of all is the _Ilerea brahma,_ of which the colouring of
+the upper side of the male is unique.
+
+Then there is the curious leaf-butterfly, which has a marvellous
+resemblance to a dead leaf with its wings folded over the back and
+showing the underside only, the leaf-stalk veins being excellently
+mimicked. But when flying about its upper side, which is a deep
+violet-blue with a conspicuous yellowish bar across the fore-wing, is
+exposed, and the butterfly is then most beautiful. I have seen many
+of these lovely butterflies flying about in the Teesta Valley,
+glistening in the dappled light of the forest, and then settle on a
+branch; and unless I had actually seen them alight, I should never
+have known them from leaves.
+
+* * *
+
+The moths, though naturally not as beautiful as the butterflies, are
+far more numerous, there being something like two thousand species.
+Several of them are the largest of the insect race. And one of them,
+the famous atlas moth, is sometimes nearly a foot across. Next in
+size come several species of the genus _Actias,_ of which _selene_
+is the most common. It is of a pale green colour with a pinkish; spot,
+and has long slender tails. It measures about 8 inches across the
+fore-wings, and nearly as much from shoulder to the tip of the tail.
+
+* * *
+
+Other insects numerously represented in Sikkim are beetles, bugs,
+grasshoppers, praying insects, walking-stick insects, dragon-flies,
+ants, lantern-flies, cicadae, etc.
+
+* * *
+
+Plant life and insect life are abundant enough, but of birds there
+seem to be comparatively few. As we travel through the forest we do
+not notice many of them, and we do not hear many. We do not
+everywhere find great flocks of birds as we see swarms of insects.
+And we do not find the forest resounding with the songs of birds as
+it does with the hum and crackle of insects. In this respect we are
+disappointed.
+
+But the birds of Sikkim, if few in number, are great in variety. Birds
+feed on fruits, berries, seeds, insects, grubs, caterpillars, small
+animals, and even little birds. Some birds like a still, hot, damp
+climate. Other birds like a cold, dry climate. Some birds like the
+shade and quiet and protection of the forest. Others like the open and
+the sunshine. Some birds find their food in the water, others on the
+land. And the Sikkim Himalaya, from the plains to the mountains,
+provides such a rich variety of plant and insect life, such a variety of
+climate and of country, and so plentiful a supply of water, that birds
+of the widest difference of requirements can here be provided with
+their needs.
+
+Consequently birds of numerous different species make Sikkim their
+habitat, either permanently or for certain seasons of the year. And
+Gammie, who has specially studied the natural history of Sikkim,
+says in the "Sikkim Gazetteer" that in no part of the world of an
+equal area are birds more profusely represented in species. The birds
+may not be so numerous as in other parts, but they are more varied.
+Between five and six hundred species are represented, varying from
+the great vulture known as the lammergeyer, which is 9 1/2 feet
+across the outstretched wing, down to the tiny flower-pecker, barely
+exceeding 3 inches from the end of its beak to the tip of its tail.
+
+Of the birds found in the forest itself, the honey-suckers or sun-birds
+are perhaps the most beautiful. There are no gorgeous birds of
+paradise, and even resplendent parrots are not very numerous. But
+these little sun-birds glitter like jewels among the leafy foliage, and
+the lustrous metallic hues of different shades with which they are
+richly coloured on the head and long tail-feathers change and flash
+in the sunlight with every slightest movement.
+
+Not all so brilliant in colour but very delightful to watch are the
+fly-catchers. Of these there are no less than twenty-six species, the most
+remarkable being the fairy blue-chat, which is brilliantly marked
+with different shades of glistening blue, and another which is
+strikingly coloured in almost uniform verditer blue. In the very
+lowest valleys is found the beautiful paradise fly-catcher, with a
+long-pointed black crest, the rest of the plumage white with black
+shafts and the tail 14 inches in length. The quickness and agility this
+lovely bird displays as it darts and twists and turns in the pursuit of
+butterflies in their uneven dodging flight is one of the marvels of
+forest life.
+
+Game-birds are not abundant, but four species of pheasant are found,
+of which the largest and handsomest is the moonal, bronze-green
+glossed with gold and with a tail of cinnamon red. Sportsmen in the
+Himalaya are familiar with the sight of this radiantly-coloured bird
+swishing down the mountain-side with apparently the speed and
+almost the brilliancy of a flash of lightning. Not so handsome as the
+moonal, being small and greyish in colour on the back, is the
+blood-pheasant, remarkable for its blood-red streaks on the breast and its
+blood-red under-tail-coverts.
+
+Bulbuls are largely represented and may be seen in large flocks
+among the scrub--delightful, homely little birds with bright and
+cheery ways which specially attract us. Not very common, but to be
+found in the lower part of the valley, is the beautiful fairy bluebird, a
+large bird 10 inches in length with a glistening cobalt-blue upper
+part and velvet black beneath. The European cuckoo may be heard
+all day long in the season from about 3,500 feet upwards. And about
+a dozen other cuckoos visit Sikkim, of which by far the prettiest is
+the emerald cuckoo, a small bird not much more than 6 inches long,
+of a brilliant emerald green with golden sheen, and below white
+barred with shining green. Kingfishers are not numerous, as fish are
+scarce. But there are four species, of which the prettiest is a lovely
+little creature about 5 inches long, coloured with rufous, white, and
+different shades of blue and violet.
+
+These are only a few of the most striking birds; but to give an idea
+of the variety of other birds which may be found in Sikkim, many of
+which are hardly less beautiful than those above described, we may
+learn from Gammie that among the birds of prey there are eleven
+eagles; the peregrine falcon, a little pigmy falcon, and five other
+falcons; a big brown wood-owl, 2 feet in length, a pigmy owlet
+measuring only 6 inches, and nine other owls; and six kites;--among
+the game-birds, besides pheasants, three quails, two hill-partridges, a
+jungle-fowl, woodcock, a snow-cock, and a snow-partridge;--among
+other classes of birds, nine or ten species of pigeons and doves; the
+European raven and a jungle crow; one jay and several magpies; two
+hornbills, one of which is 4 feet in length; the common and the
+Nepal swallow; about thirty species of finches, among them being
+three bullfinches and eight rose-finches; three or four larks;
+numerous and varied tits; wagtails; five species of parrots; eight or
+nine species of wren; thrushes of a dozen species; ten species of
+robin; and, lastly, many species of waders such as florekin, cranes,
+plovers, snipe, sandpipers, coots, water-hen, storks, heron,
+cormorants, terns, divers, and ducks.
+
+* * *
+
+Reptiles are not commonly accounted among the beauties of Nature;
+but they must not be lost sight of in reviewing the life of the forest.
+The largest is the python, whose usual length is 12 feet, though
+individuals of 16 to 20 feet are not very rare. A very beautiful snake
+found in the cool forests is green with a broad black band on each
+side of the hinder half of the body and tail, the green scales being
+margined with black. Another snake of the same length is a
+handsome green whip-snake, graceful in its movements, but
+ferocious and aggressive in its habits, although quite harmless. The
+ordinary cobra is not uncommon. The giant cobra is also found in
+the lower valleys, and grows to a length of 12 or 13 feet. Four
+species of pit vipers are found. The krait occurs, but is not common.
+Altogether there are nine species of venomous snakes and thirty
+species of non-venomous snakes found in Sikkim.
+
+Of lizards there are ten species. One is popularly known as the
+chameleon on account of its rather showy colours, but does not
+really belong to that family. And a beautiful grass-snake, which, as
+it is limbless, is often mistaken for a tree-snake, is also of the lizard
+genus.
+
+Of frogs and toads there are about sixteen species. Among them are
+several prettily-coloured tree-frogs. Several of the species are
+recognised by their call.
+
+* * *
+
+Of mammals about eighty-one species are found. They include three
+monkeys, eight of the cat tribe, two civet cats, one tree cat, two
+mongooses, two of the dog tribe, five pole-cats and weasels, one
+ferret-badger, three otters, one cat-bear, two bears, one tree-shrew,
+one mole, six shrews, two water-shrews, twelve bats, four squirrels,
+two marmots, eight rats and mice, one vole, one porcupine, four deer,
+two forest-goats, one goat, one sheep, and one ant-eater.
+
+The common monkey of India, the Bengal monkey, is found in large
+companies at low elevations. The Himalayan monkey is abundant
+from 3,000 to 6,000 feet; and the Himalayan langur frequents the
+zone from 7,000 to 12,000 feet.
+
+The tiger inhabits the Terai at the foot of the mountains, but is only
+an occasional visitor to Sikkim proper. But the leopard and the
+clouded leopard are permanent residents and fairly common. This
+last is of a most beautiful mottled colouring. Another leopard is the
+snow-leopard, which inhabits high altitudes only. The marbled-cat is
+a miniature edition of the clouded leopard, and the leopard-cat of the
+common leopard. The large Indian civet-cat is not uncommon, but
+the spotted tiger-civet, a very beautiful and active creature, is rare.
+The jackal is not uncommon, and there is at least one species of
+wild-dog. These dogs hunt in packs and kill wild-pig, deer, goats,
+etc. A very peculiar and interesting animal is the cat-bear, which has
+the head and arms of a minute bear and the tail of a cat. The brown
+bear occurs at high altitudes, and the Himalayan black bear is
+common lower down. The black hill squirrel is a large handsome
+animal of the lower forests, and a very handsome flying squirrel
+inhabits the forests between 5,000 and 10,000 feet.
+
+The great Sikkim stag is not found in Sikkim proper, but inhabits the
+Chumbi Valley. The sambhar stag is abundant. The commonest of
+the deer tribe is the khakar, or barking deer. It is, says Hodgson,
+unmatched for flexibility and power of creeping through tangled
+underwood. The musk deer remains at high elevations.
+
+In addition to the above, elephants come up from the forests in the
+plains, and in these plain forests are found (besides tigers and boars)
+rhinoceros, bison, and buffalo.
+
+* * *
+
+This has been a long enumeration of the animal life, in its many
+branches, which is found in the forest. The mere cataloguing of it is
+sufficient to show the extent and variety of insect, bird, reptile, and
+mammal life which the forest contains. But it is with the beauty of
+this animal life, rather than with its extent and variety, that we are
+concerned. And if the Artist is to see its full beauty, he must see it
+with the eyes of the naturalist and sportsman--men whose eyes are
+trained to observe in minutest detail the form and colour and
+character of each animal, bird, or insect, and who know something
+of the life each has to lead, and the conditions in which it is placed.
+More sportsmen than naturalists, and more naturalists than artists,
+observe these and other animals in their natural surroundings. But,
+nowadays, at least photographers and cinematographers are going
+into the wilds to portray them. And perhaps naturalist-artists will
+arise who, every bit as keen as sportsmen now are to get to close
+quarters with game animals, will want to get into positions from
+which they will be able carefully to observe animals of all kinds and
+take note of every characteristic. These artists will have to be fully
+as alert as the sportsmen, and be able on the instant, and from a
+fleeting glimpse, to note the lines and shades and character of the
+animal. But, if they do this, they will, in all probability, bring back
+more lasting and deeper impressions of the animals than the
+sportsman with all his keen observation ever receives--and they will
+enjoy a greater pleasure. An artist, who from observing an animal in
+its own haunts, and from the sketches and notes he made there,
+could paint a picture of it in its own surroundings, would assuredly
+derive more pleasure from his enterprise than the sportsman who
+simply brought back the animal's head. In addition he would have
+enabled others to share his enjoyment with him. There is a great
+field here for the painter; and many would welcome a change from
+the same old cows and sheep tamely grazing in a meadow, which is
+all that artists usually present to us of animal life.
+
+Among the most conspicuous animals met with are the elephant, the
+bison, the buffalo, and the rhinoceros. And it would be hard to
+discover beauty in any of these. As we see the rhinoceros, for
+example, in the Zoological Gardens nothing could be more ugly. Yet
+we should not despair of finding beauty even in a rhinoceros if we
+could study him in his natural surroundings and understand all the
+circumstances of his life. If we observed him and his habits and
+habitat with the knowledge of the naturalist and the keenness of the
+sportsman, we might find that in his form and colour he does in his
+own peculiar fashion fitly express the purpose of his being. And
+whatever adequately expresses a definite purpose is beautiful.
+Where a dainty antelope would be altogether out of place, the
+ponderous rhinoceros may be completely in his element. Where a
+tender-skinned horse would be driven mad by insects, the
+thick-skinned beast passes the time untroubled. In a drawing-room a
+daintily-dressed lady is a vision of loveliness. In a ploughed field
+she would look ridiculous. In a drawing-room a peasant would look
+uncouth. In a field, as Millet has shown us, he possesses a beauty,
+dignified and touching. It is not impossible, therefore, that an artist
+who had the opportunity of entering into the life of a rhinoceros, as
+Millet had of entering into the life of a peasant, might discover
+beauty even in that monstrosity. This, however, I allow is an
+extreme case.
+
+In a less extreme case beauty has already been discovered. The bison
+does not at first sight strike us as a beautiful animal. Yet Mr.
+Stebbing, the naturalist-sportsman, says that, as he caught sight of
+one after a long stalk, and watched it with palpitating heart, he was
+fascinated by the grand sight--18 hands of coal-black beauty shining
+like satin in the light filtering through the branches of the trees.
+
+When we move on from the bison to the stag the beauty is evident
+enough. A stag carries himself right royally, and has a rugged,
+majestic beauty all his own. There are few more beautiful sights in
+the animal world than that of a lordly stag standing tense with
+preparedness to turn swiftly, and, on the instant, bound away in any
+direction.
+
+Not majestic like the great deer, but of a more airy grace and
+daintiness, are the smaller deer and antelope. The lightness of their
+tread, their suppleness of movement, and their spring and litheness,
+fill us with delight.
+
+* * *
+
+We now come to the crown of the animal kingdom--man. And in the
+Sikkim Himalaya are to be found men of all the stages of civilisation
+from the most primitive to the most advanced. Inhabiting the forests
+at the foot of the mountains are certain jungle peoples of extreme
+interest simply by reason of their primitiveness. They represent the
+very early stages of man, and in observing them in their own haunts,
+we shall understand something of the immensity and the delicacy of
+man's task in gaining his ascendancy in the animal world and
+acquiring a greater mastery over his surroundings.
+
+In these forests teeming with animal life of all kinds man had to hold
+his own against dangerous and stronger animals, and to supply
+himself with food in the face of many rivals. He had to be as alert as
+the sharpest-witted and as cunning as the most crafty, and to have
+physical fitness and endurance to stand the strain of incessant rivalry.
+This is what these jungle people have. Their alertness, their capacity
+to glide through the forest almost as stealthily as an animal, their
+keenness of sight, their acute sense of hearing, their knowledge of
+jungle lore and of the habits of animals, and their ability to stand
+long and hard physical strain, are the envy of us civilised men when
+we find ourselves among them. Particularly is this shown when
+tracking. They will note the slightest indication of the passage of the
+animal they are after--the faintest footprint, a stone overturned and
+showing the moisture on its under surface, a broken twig, a bitten
+leaf, the bark rubbed--and they will be able to judge from the exact
+appearance of these signs how long it is since the animal made them.
+They will, too, detect sounds which we civilised men would
+certainly never hear, and from a note of alarm in these sounds, or
+from excitement among birds, infer the presence of a dangerous
+animal.
+
+When seen outside the forests these jungle men look wild and
+unkempt, but seen in their natural surroundings and compared
+_there_ with the white man, they have a Beauty which is wanting in
+the white man. In _these_ surroundings they have a dignity and
+composure and assurance which the European lacks. They are on
+their own ground, and there they are beautiful.
+
+And these primitive men are worthy of being painted by the very
+greatest of painters, and of having their praises sung by the very first
+of poets. For it is they and their like who, with only such weapons as
+the forest affords and their own ingenuity devised, won the way
+through for us civilised men, won the battle against the fierce and
+much more powerful beasts around them, and by great daring and
+through sheer skill, courage, and endurance led the way to the light.
+It was a marvellous feat. For all the privileges and immunities which
+we men of to-day enjoy we have to thank these primitive forest men,
+and our gratitude could never be too great. They are deserving of the
+closest attention and the warmest appreciation.
+
+Not many of these really primitive peoples are nowadays left in the
+jungles. But the tea-gardens have attracted a primitive people, the
+Santals, who are typical of the true Dravidian stock of India--a jolly,
+cheerful, easy-going, and, on the whole, law-abiding, truthful, and
+honest people who love a roaming life, with plenty of hunting and
+fishing.
+
+The Lepchas of Sikkim have risen above the first primitive stage.
+They clothe themselves well and dwell in well-built houses. They do
+not possess for us the same essential interest as belongs to truly
+primitive people. But on account of their intimate knowledge of the
+forest and its denizens, and by reason also of their being a
+remarkably simple, gentle, and likeable people, they have an
+unusual attraction for travellers. Hooker, who was one of the first to
+live among them, and Claude White, who lived among them for
+many years, both write of them in affectionate terms. They are
+child-like and engaging, good-humoured, cheery and amiable, free and
+unrestrained. They have, too, a reputation for honesty and
+truthfulness.
+
+More vigorous, capable, and virile than the Lepchas are the
+Nepalese, who, migrating from Nepal, are found in great numbers in
+this region. They are more given to agriculture than the Lepchas,
+and are thrifty, industrious, and resourceful. Though excitable and
+aggressive, they are also law-abiding.
+
+Less numerous but prominent inhabitants of this region are the
+Bhutias, who consist of four classes; Bhutias, who are a mixed race
+of Tibetans and Lepchas; Sherpa Bhutias, who come from the east
+of Nepal, the word _sher_ merely meaning "east"; the Drukpa or
+Dharma Bhutias, whose home is Bhutan; and the Tibetan Bhutias
+from Tibet. They are strong, sturdy men, merry and cheerful.
+
+These Lepchas, Nepalese, and Bhutias are all of Mongolian origin,
+and therefore have the distinctively Mongolian appearance. But
+besides these, in Darjiling and on the tea-gardens are to be found
+Bengali clerks, Marwari merchants from Rajputana, Punjabi traders,
+Hindustani mechanics, and Chinese carpenters. And in addition to
+all these are British Government officials, tea-planters, and a
+continual stream of visitors from all parts of Europe and America,
+who come to Darjiling to view the snowy range.
+
+So that in this small region may be found representatives of every
+grade of civilisation and a great variety of types. And what an
+amount of Beauty--as distinct from mere prettiness--there is to
+discover in even the rough local people may be seen from the
+pictures of the Russian painter Verestchagin, engravings from which
+are given in his autobiographical sketches entitled "Vassili
+Verestchagin." This great painter evidently succeeded in getting
+inside the wild peoples he loved; and his pictures reveal to us
+beauties we might without them never have known. In these people's
+gait, their attitudes, their grouping, as well as in their features, he
+was able to discern the hardihood, the patience, the impetuosity, the
+gentleness of their character, and portray it for us.
+
+Putting aside the obvious differences between us and them, we are
+able to detect our fundamental identity of nature, have a
+fellow-feeling with them, recognise sameness between us and so see their
+beauty.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE SUM IMPRESSION
+
+The Artist has now to stand back and view the forest as a whole.
+And he must test his view in the light of reason--bring Truth to bear
+upon Beauty. The forest with its multitudinous and varied life,
+ranging from simplest to most cultured man, is an epitome of Nature
+so far as she is manifested on this planet. And he will from this
+epitome try to get a view of the real character of Nature. As he takes
+stock of the impressions which have been made upon him, he will
+have to form a conclusion of absolutely fundamental importance for
+the enjoyment of Natural Beauty.
+
+Men's hearts instinctively go out to Nature, and in consequence they
+see Beauty in her. As children they love flowers and love animals.
+And the most primitive races have the same feeling though they are
+just as callous in their treatment of animals as children are in their
+treatment of one another. In the more cultured races this instinctive
+love of Nature and appreciation of Natural Beauty has enormously
+developed. But if men ever came to hold the idea--as so many since
+the doctrine of the survival of the fittest has come into prominence
+are inclined to do--that Nature is at heart cold and hard, and recks
+nothing of human joys and sorrows, then love of Nature would fade
+away from men's hearts. Being out of sympathy and repelled from
+entering into deep communion with her, men would never again see
+Beauty in her. The enjoyment of Natural Beauty would pass from
+them for ever.
+
+So the Artist will try to get at the true Heart of Nature. If the
+Naturalist part of him tells him that at bottom Nature is merciless
+and unrelenting, utterly regardless of the things of most worth in life;
+that Nature is indeed "red in tooth and claw"; that all she cares
+for--all she selects as the fittest to survive--are the merely strongest,
+the most pushing and aggressive, the individuals who will simply
+trample down their neighbours in order that they themselves may
+"survive"; or if, again, the Naturalist convinces him that all he has
+seen in the forest has come about by pure chance; that it is by a mere
+fluke that we find orchids and not mushrooms, men and not
+monkeys, at the head of plant and animal life; and that Nature
+herself is wholly indifferent as to which of the two establishes its
+preeminence--then he will feel the chill upon his soul, he will shrivel
+up within himself, the very fountain-spring of Beauty will be frozen
+up, and never again will he see Beauty in any single one of Nature's
+manifestations.
+
+But if, on the other hand, the Naturalist is able to convince the Artist
+that in spite of the very evident struggle for existence Nature does
+not care twopence whether the "fittest" survive or not so long as
+what is best in the end prevails; that far from things coming about by
+mere chance Nature has a distinct end in view, and that end the
+accomplishment of what he himself most prizes, then the heart of
+the Artist will warm to the heart of Nature with a fervour it had
+never known before; his heart will throb with her heart, and every
+beauty he has seen in plain or mountain, in flower, bird, or man, will
+be a hundredfold increased.
+
+Which of these two views of Nature, so far as Nature can be judged
+from what we see of her on this planet, is correct, he has now to
+determine. The profound mystery which everywhere prevails in the
+forest and which exerts such a compelling spell upon us he will want
+to probe to the bottom. He will not be content with the outward
+prettiness of butterfly and orchid, or with the mere profusion and
+variety of life, or with the colossal size of animals and trees. He will
+want to burrow down and get at the very root and mainspring of this
+forest life. He will want to reach the very Heart of Nature here
+manifested in such manifold variety. He will want to arrive at the
+inner significance of all this variety of life. Then only will he
+understand Nature and be able to decide whether Nature is cruel and
+therefore to be feared, or kind and gracious and therefore to be loved.
+
+* * *
+
+Now, when we go into the forest and look into it in detail, the
+profusion is even greater than we expected. In this damp tropical
+region where there is ample heat and moisture, plant life comes
+springing out of the earth with a prolificness which seems
+inexhaustible. And when plant life is abundant, animal and insect
+life is abundant also. So profuse, indeed, is the output of living
+things that it seems simply wasteful. A single tree may produce
+thousands of flowers. Each flower may have dozens of seeds. The
+tree may go on flowering for a hundred or two hundred years. So a
+single tree may produce millions of seeds, each capable of growing
+into a forest giant like its parent.
+
+With insect life the same profusion of life is evident. A single moth
+or butterfly lays thousands of eggs. Mosquitoes, flies, gnats, midges,
+leeches swarm in myriads upon myriads.
+
+The abundance and superabundance of life is the first outstanding
+--though it will prove not the most important--impression made upon
+us by a contemplation of the forest as a whole.
+
+* * *
+
+Scarcely less striking than the abundance is the variety. Life does
+not spring up from the earth in forms as alike one another as two
+peas. Each individual plant or animal, however small, however
+simple, has its own distinctive characteristics, There is variety and
+variation everywhere. Variety in form, variety in colour, variety in
+size, variety in character and habit. In size there is the difference
+between the huge _terminalia_ towering up 200 feet high and the
+tiny little potentilla; between the atlas moth 12 inches in spread and
+the hardly discernible midges; between the elephant, massive
+enough to trample its way through the densest forest, and the
+humble little mouse peeping out of its hole in the ground. In colour
+the difference ranges from the light blue of the forget-me-not to the
+deep blue of the gentian; from the delicate pink of the dianthus to
+the deep crimson of the rhododendron; from the brilliant hues of the
+orchids to the dull browns and greens of inconspicuous tree flowers;
+from the vivid light greens, yellows, and reds of the young leaves of
+these tropical forests to the greyer green of their maturity; from the
+smiting reds and blues of the most gaudy butterflies, beetles, and
+dragon-flies to the modest browns of night-flying moths; from the
+gorgeous colours of the parrots to the familiar black of crows; from
+the yellow-striped tiger to the earth-coloured hare; from the
+dark-skinned aborigine to the yellow-skinned Mongolian and the fair
+European. Similarly do plants and animals vary in form: from the
+straight pines and palms to the spreading, umbrageous oaks and
+laurels; from upstanding lilies to parasitical orchids; from monstrous
+spiky beetles to symmetrical dragon-flies; from ungainly rhinoceros
+to graceful antelope; from short, sturdy Bhutias to tall, slim
+Hindustanis. Likewise in character individuals are as different as the
+strong, firm tree standing open-faced, four-square to all the world
+and the creeping, insinuating parasite; as the intelligent, industrious
+ant and the clumsy, plodding beetle; as the plucky boar and the timid
+hare; as the rough forest tribesman and the cultured Bengali.
+
+Lastly, there is variety among not only the different species of plants,
+animals, insects, etc., but also the individuals of the same species.
+We ourselves know the differences there are between one man and
+another, and as far as that goes between ourselves on one day and
+ourselves on the next. Each plant--and still more each animal--has
+its own unique individuality. Every cavalry officer, every shepherd,
+every dog-owner, every pigeon-fancier knows that each horse, sheep,
+dog, pigeon has its own individuality and is distinctly different from
+all others of its kind. And so does every gardener know that each
+rose, each tulip, each pansy is different from all other roses, tulips,
+and pansies. It is the same in the forest. Hardly two trees or plants of
+the same species develop their young leaves, open their flowers,
+ripen their seeds, and drop their leaves at the same time. Apart from
+the size of the flower and leaf there are differences in colour, shape,
+and marking. Each in appearance and in habit has an individuality of
+its own.
+
+Such is the variety in the abundant life of the forest that no two
+individuals, no two blades of grass, or no two leaves are in every
+detail precisely alike. And this is the second outstanding impression
+we receive.
+
+* * *
+
+The abundance and variety of life are evident enough. Not so
+evident but equally noteworthy is the intensity. In the still forest one
+of the giant trees looks utterly impassive and immobile. It stands
+there calm and unmoved. Not a leaf stirs. Yet the whole and every
+minutest part of it is instinct with intensest life. It is made up of
+countless microscopic cells in unceasing activity. Highly sensitive
+and mobile cells form the root-tips and insinuate their way into
+every crevice in search of food for the tree, rejecting what is
+unpalatable and forwarding what is useful for building up and
+sustaining the monarch. Other cells take in necessary food from the
+air. Others build up the trunk and its protective bark. Others, and
+most important of all, go to make up the flowers of the tree and the
+organs of reproduction which enable the tree to propagate its kind.
+
+All this activity of the separate cells and combinations of cells is
+taking place. And in addition there is that activity of them all in their
+togetherness, that activity which keeps the cells together, and which
+if relaxed for a moment would mean that the cells would all collapse
+as the grains of dust in an eddying dust-devil at a street corner
+collapse once the gust of wind which stirred them and keeps them
+together drops away. What must be the intensity of life required to
+develop the tree from the seed and to rear that giant straight up from
+the level soil 200 feet into the air and maintain it there two hundred
+years, we can only imagine; for to outward appearance the tree is
+quite impassive. It does not move a muscle of its face to reveal the
+intensity of life within.
+
+The tree is characteristic of every living thing. Every plant and every
+animal, however seemingly sluggish, is working to fulfil its life, to
+nourish itself, to reproduce its kind.
+
+* * *
+
+Now, the amount of air and sunshine for plants may be practically
+unlimited, but air and sunshine are not all that plants require. They
+want soil and moisture as well. And the standing-room for plants is
+strictly limited. The forest stretches away up to the snows; but there
+it stops. Necessarily, therefore, there must be the keenest and most
+incessant struggle among the plants for standing-room. Only a
+comparatively few can be accommodated. The rest cannot survive.
+And as the number of plants which can survive is thus limited, the
+number of animals is limited also, for animals are dependent on
+plants. Plants, therefore, in spite of their eminently pacific
+appearance are engaged in a fierce struggle with one another for
+standing-room. And animals are likewise engaged in a struggle
+among themselves for the plants.
+
+There is competition among the roots of the different individual
+plants for the food and water of the soil. And there is competition
+among the leaves for the sunlight. Each plant is pushing its roots
+downwards and spreading outward for more food and to root itself
+more firmly. Each is straining upward to receive more sunlight.
+Each is struggling with its fellows for room and means to develop its
+life. Competitors in hundreds and thousands are forced to withdraw
+and succumb. And even when a forest giant has defeated all
+competitors and reached its full maturity it has still to maintain the
+struggle and hold its own continually against other individuals
+whose roots are reaching out below and whose branches are
+spreading out above; against climbers who would smother it; and
+against parasites who would suck its very life-blood. The battle,
+moreover, is often not so much between one species and another
+species as between individuals of the same species. And it is a war
+which continues through life.
+
+The struggle for existence among the plants and trees is keen beyond
+imagination. And the struggle among the insects, birds and beasts,
+and man for the plants and products of the trees is no less severe. So
+now our impression is that of an abundant, varied and intense life in
+which the individuals are perpetually struggling with one another for
+bare existence.
+
+* * *
+
+Under these stringent and stressful conditions does each living being
+come into the world. He has to battle his way through--or succumb.
+Plants as well as men, and men as well as plants. So, as we look into
+the structure of animals and plants, we are not surprised to find that
+in order to cope with their surroundings they have developed organs
+which are specially adapted to enable them to secure the needful
+food, to hold their own against the competition of their neighbours,
+to meet the exigencies of their surroundings, and to pursue their own
+life to the full extent of its possibilities. Even plants are like sentient
+beings in this respect. The sensitive tips of their roots are organs
+admirably adapted for feeling their way through the soil and
+selecting from its constituents what will best nourish the plant. The
+leaves opening out to the air and sunshine are other organs adapted
+for gathering in nourishment. And thorns and poisonous juices are
+means adapted to fend off destructive neighbours. The eyes and ears
+in animals are other instances of organs which enable them to see
+what will serve them as food, or to hear what may be possible
+enemies, and to make use of what will help them to the proper
+fulfilment of their life.
+
+We see each individual plant and animal striving to the best of his
+ability to adjust himself to the conditions in which he finds himself,
+trying to adapt himself to his surroundings--to his physical
+surroundings, such as the climate and soil, and to his social
+surroundings, consisting of his plant and animal neighbours and
+rivals. We shall probably notice, too, that he seems to be driven by
+some inner impulse (which in its turn is a responding to the impress
+of the totality of the individual's surroundings) to strive to do
+something more than merely adapt himself to his surroundings. He
+is urged on to rise superior to them.
+
+So the course of the individual's life is continually being affected by
+surroundings which compel him to adapt himself to them on pain of
+extinction if he fails. On the other hand, he is himself, in his own
+small way, affecting his surroundings and causing _them_ to adapt
+themselves to _him._ Even the humblest plant takes from the
+surrounding soil and air what it needs as food and changes it in the
+process of assimilation, so that the surroundings are, to a slight
+extent at least, changed by the activity of the plant. And we already
+have noticed how a plant's insect surroundings have to adapt
+themselves to the plant. There is reciprocal action, therefore--the
+surroundings forcing the individual to adapt himself to them, and the
+individual causing the surroundings to adapt themselves to him.
+
+Here we have reached the point where, besides the struggle for
+existence among the individuals of an abundant, varied, and intense
+life, there is adaptation among the individuals to their surroundings
+and of their surroundings to the individuals.
+
+* * *
+
+We have now to note how with the adaptation goes selection. Set
+amid these physical and organic surroundings, some helpful, some
+harmful, the individual has to spend his life in selecting and
+rejecting what will further or hinder his natural development. He has
+to reject much, for there is much that will harm him. He has to select
+a little--for that little is vitally necessary for his upbuilding and
+maintenance. From among the elements of the soil he has to choose
+those particular elements that he needs. Thus a plant selects through
+its roots from the elements of the soil, and through its leaves from
+the elements of the air, those elements and in those quantities that it
+needs for nourishment and growth. But it has also, by means of
+thorns or poison juices or other device, to protect itself from being
+itself selected by some animal for that animal's own nourishment
+and growth.
+
+So the individual is constantly selecting, and is as constantly on the
+guard against being selected. The principle of selection among the
+abundant and varied life is in continual operation. And unless he
+selects wisely he will not survive; for he will either have insufficient
+to live on or else have what is harmful to his life. Nor will he
+survive unless he is able to fend off those who would select him for
+their own maintenance. There is selection everywhere--selection
+_by_ the individual and selection _of_ the individual by surrounding
+neighbours and circumstances.
+
+* * *
+
+Thus far we have only recapitulated what most men are familiar
+with since Darwin commenced preaching the doctrine of Evolution
+by Natural Selection sixty years ago. But the Naturalist-Artist of the
+future will probably not be content with the conclusion to which so
+many jump that all that Nature teaches or expects of individuals
+--plants, beasts, or men--is that they should adapt themselves to their
+surroundings and fit themselves to survive; that all Nature has at
+heart is adaptability of individuals to their surroundings and
+their fitness to survive. The lowly amoeba can perform these
+unenterprising functions more fitly than himself. And the Artist
+would never be satisfied with so mean and meagre an ambition as
+merely to adapt himself to his surroundings and fit himself to
+survive. If he saw evidence of no higher expectation than that in the
+workings of Nature, his heart would certainly not cleave to her heart.
+And there being estrangement and coolness between his heart and
+hers, he would see no Beauty in Nature and his pursuit of Natural
+Beauty might here end.
+
+But an instinct within him tells him that this cannot be the last word
+as to Nature's character and methods. He himself is constantly
+risking his life with no thought of trying to survive, and he sees his
+neighbours doing the same. And his inclination is to go a good deal
+farther than tamely adapting himself to his surroundings. He wants
+and strives to rise superior to them--and he finds his neighbours
+likewise striving. So with this instinct goading him on he is driven to
+probe deeper still into the mystery of the forest life.
+
+* * *
+
+Of selection and adaptation we have seen evidence throughout the
+whole forest life. Now, where there is selection and where there is
+adaptation there must be _purposiveness._ Selection implies the
+power of choice, and we have seen how plants as well as animals
+deliberately and effectively exercise this power of choice. And
+adaptation implies adjustment to an end, and we have seen how
+wonderfully plants no less than animals adapt themselves to certain
+ends. And where individuals have the power of choice and exercise
+that power; and where they have the power of adapting themselves
+to certain ends and exercise that power, there obviously is
+purposiveness.
+
+Purposiveness runs like a streak through every activity. It permeates
+the whole forest life. It is observable in plants no less than in
+animals. Naturalists, indeed, regard trees and plants as truly sentient
+beings. And the means plants employ to compass the end they have
+in view, are truly wonderful. Still more remarkable is the fact that
+hardly two attain their object by exactly the same means. The
+tropical forest is full of climbing plants bent upon reaching the
+sunlight. But some climb by coiling round the trunk of a tree like a
+snake, some swarm up it by holding on with claws, some ascend by
+means of adhering aerial roots, and some reach what they want by
+pushing through a tangle of branches spreading out arms and
+hauling themselves up. And when plants have attained maturity and
+flowered, the flowers employ numberless ways of attracting insects
+for the purpose of fertilisation. In a still, tropical forest, such as that
+of Lower Sikkim, there is no hope of the pollen being carried from
+one flower to another by air-currents. The flowers have therefore to
+devise a means for the transport of the pollen. Efforts are made to
+induce winged creatures--insects in most cases, but sometimes
+birds--to render assistance. Colours for day-flying insects and scent for
+night-flying insects are accordingly employed as means to this end.
+Brilliant colours attract butterflies and bees by day. Strong scent
+--sometimes pleasant to our taste, sometimes the reverse--attracts
+moths and other insects by night. And the flowers which depend on
+their scents and not on colour are usually white or dull brown or
+green. And this scent is not exhaled when it is not needed, but only
+when the insects which the flowers wish to attract are about.
+
+Orchids especially seem to _know_ what they want. Their aerial
+roots wander about in search of what they want and seem to smell
+their way. They use discrimination in utilising their knowledge.
+They _choose._ And each individual seems to choose in its own way.
+From among many means of achieving the same end they make a
+definite choice, and different plants make different choices--they use
+different means.
+
+Plants, therefore, quite evidently employ means to an end. They
+have an end in view--sometimes their own maintenance, sometimes
+the perpetuation of their kind, sometimes something else--and they
+employ means to achieve that end. They are, that is to say,
+_purposive_ in their nature.
+
+* * *
+
+Evidence of purposiveness is also furnished by the wonderful organs
+of adaptation, root-tips, leaves, eyes, lungs, etc. It is extremely
+improbable that they came into being--or even started to come into
+being--by mere chance alone. The odds are countless millions to one
+against the atoms, molecules, and cells--myriads in number--of any
+one of these organs of adaptation having by mere chance grouped
+themselves in such a way as to form an effective eye, or lung, or leaf.
+It is, literally speaking, infinitely improbable that the organs of
+adaptation we see in a forest, in plant and animal, should have come
+into existence through chance alone.
+
+The organs of adaptation are distinctly and definitely purposive
+structures--not purposed, perhaps, but certainly purposeful. In its
+struggle with its surroundings and with competitors the individual
+has been compelled to bring into being organs to fulfil a purpose. It
+is not the case that the organ was first created and then a use found
+for it, or use made of it. What actually happens is that first there is a
+vague but insistent reaching out towards an end, towards the
+fulfilment of some inner want or need--the need for food or to
+propagate, or whatever it may be--and that to achieve that end, or
+fulfil that need, the individual is driven to create a special
+organisation--as an Air Ministry was created during the War to fulfil
+the new need for fighting in the air--and so a new organ is produced:
+an essentially purposive structure such as the eye or the lung, though
+unpurposed before the need arose. The organs we see, therefore, are
+outward and visible signs of the existence within of a definite
+striving towards an end--that is, of a purpose.
+
+The forest shows an abundant, varied, and intense life in which
+individuals are for ever battling with one another. But all is not
+happening by chance. Everywhere we see signs of purposiveness.
+Purposiveness--the striving towards an end--stands out as a
+dominating feature in forest life. Selections and adaptations are
+made, but they are made with some purpose in view. Purpose
+governs the adaptations and selections. What that purpose is we
+shall try and discover as we get to know still more of Nature.
+
+* * *
+
+So far we have been observing individuals as separate individuals.
+Now we must look at them gathered together as a whole. And the
+first point we note is that though each individual has his own unique
+individuality, whether he be plant or man, all are kept together as a
+single whole. We have seen the individuals battling with one another,
+competing with one another, struggling against one another. But that
+is only one side of the picture. Just as remarkable as the way in
+which they have to resist one another is the way in which they
+depend on one another. Their interdependence is, therefore, the
+point we have now to note.
+
+Since Darwin drew our attention to the struggle for existence and
+survival of the fittest, the perpetual strife in Nature has been clear
+enough. But hard, selfish, cruel, brutal though the struggle
+frequently is, though the strong will often trample mercilessly on the
+weak and let the unfit go to the wall without any consideration
+whatever; yet the very strongest and fittest individual could not
+survive for a moment by itself alone. And what is just as remarkable
+as the struggle between individuals is their dependence upon one
+another.
+
+All plants depend upon the natural elements--the soil, water, air, and
+light. Animals depend on plants. And many animals depend upon
+other animals. A forest tree in its maturity is covered with blossoms,
+some conspicuous, others inconspicuous to sight, but very
+conspicuous to smell. These blossoms, either by sight or scent,
+attract butterflies, bees, moths, and other insects to sip their nectar,
+and in so doing carry away the pollen of the flowers, and
+unwittingly pass it on to another flower and fertilise it. The insect
+thus enables the tree to procreate its species. But the butterfly, after
+sipping the nectar of the flower of the tree, deposits its eggs on the
+under surface of the leaves, and the leaves give nourishment to the
+caterpillars into which these eggs develop. Besides this, the flowers,
+having been fertilised by the insects, develop into fruits or berries
+containing seeds; and these fruits, berries, and seeds form food for
+monkeys, birds, bats, and rodents. In quarrelling for these many are
+dropped and form food for mice and others below. Birds, finding
+food so near, pair, build their nests, and bring up their young in its
+branches. And in addition to the birds which are attracted by the
+berries, fruits, and seeds, other birds which are attracted by the
+caterpillars come there and build their nests. Without the flowers the
+bees would be starved; without the bees or other insects the flowers
+would not be fertilised and the tree would not perpetuate itself.[*]
+
+[*] I take this illustration from Rodway's "In the Guiana Forest." It
+applies equally to any tropical forest.
+
+The lives of all individuals, whether plants, beasts, or men, are thus
+curiously interwoven with and interdependent on one another. They
+are also dependent upon the chemical elements in the soil and air.
+And even then the dependence does not cease, for they depend, too,
+upon the light and heat from the Sun. And the Sun itself, and this
+Earth as well, are subtly connected with the whole Stellar Universe.
+
+It is only within limits that any individual can be regarded as a
+distinct and separate entity. It has its own unique individuality, it is
+true. But it is also connected with all the rest of the forest and with
+all the rest of the Earth, of the Solar System, and of the Universe.
+Each individual is to _some_ extent dependent upon all other
+individuals. All influence and are influenced by all the rest. There is
+mutual influence everywhere. And all are connected in a whole--the
+whole influencing each individual and each individual influencing
+the whole.
+
+So besides the resistance of individuals to one another, there is
+attraction. Besides conflict there is co-operation. Besides
+independence there is interdependence.
+
+The life of the forest thus forms a whole. Individuals have their due
+allowance of freedom. But they are kept together in a whole.
+Running through the individuals in their ensemble, binding them
+together, in spite of the tether they are allowed, must therefore be
+some kind of Organising Activity. We cannot look into that
+marvellous forest life without seeing that at the back of it, working
+all the way through it, controlling, guiding, inspiring every
+movement, is some dominating Activity, which, while allowing
+individuals freedom for experimenting by the process of trial and
+error, yet keeps them all bound together as a whole. And when we
+note the evidence of purposiveness everywhere so abundant, we
+cannot resist the conclusion that this Activity also gives _direction._
+
+It is not necessary to suppose that this Activity emanates from any
+thing or person _outside_ Nature. It may perfectly well exercise its
+control and guidance from within--just as the activity which is "I"
+controls, consciously or unconsciously, directly or indirectly, the
+movements and actions of every particle of which "my" body is
+made up. But what we cannot but assume is that throughout this
+prolific and marvellously varied forest life, through every tiny plant
+and every forest giant, through every leaf and petal, through each
+little insect and every bird and butterfly, through the wild beasts of
+the jungle, the wary forest folk, and the most cultured men--through
+each and all and the whole in its collectedness there runs some kind
+of unifying Activity, holding the whole together, ordering all,
+dominating all, directing all--just as the orchid-spirit holds together
+and directs the activities of each particle which goes to make up the
+orchid; or the eagle-spirit directs the activities of each particle which
+goes to make up the eagle.
+
+Suffusing the whole, embracing the whole, permeating each single
+member of the whole, there must be an organising and directing
+Activity, or we should not see the order and purposiveness we do.
+
+We shall now see that this Organising Activity gives not only
+direction, but an _upward_ direction to the whole which it controls.
+
+* * *
+
+We have already noted that among individuals the variety is such
+that no two are exactly alike. Each individual, however nearly alike,
+varies in some slight degree from every other. And new variations
+are constantly being created. Now we have to note that besides
+variation there is _gradation._ There is a _scale_ of being. And
+individuals are graded on that scale. One is higher than another.
+
+As there are gradations in height from the plains to the outlying
+spurs of the Himalaya, and from these again to the higher ridges,
+and from these on to the great mountains, and finally to
+Kinchinjunga and Mount Everest; and as there are gradations in size
+from tiny plants to the giant trees; so there are gradations in worth
+and value from the simple lichen or moss to the highly complex
+orchid; from the microscopic animalculae of a stagnant pond to
+monkeys and men; from simple primitive men to the highly cultured
+Bengali; and from the simple Bengali villager to the poet
+Rabindranath Tagore. Everywhere there is scale, gradation, grade.
+The differences between individuals is not on the level but on
+ascending stages. Even in very primitive communities, where all
+men are equal to the extent that there are no formal chiefs, one or
+two men always stand out pre-eminently above the rest, above the
+younger, the less skilful, the less experienced.
+
+There is variation everywhere, and wherever there is variation there
+is gradation. Living beings are no more exactly _equal_ than they
+are exactly _alike._ Either in proficiency, or in speed, or in strength,
+or in cunning, or in alertness, or in general worth, one is superior to
+the other. We determine which is the faster horse by pitting one
+against the other in a race. We find out which is the superior boxer
+by making the two men fight each other. We find out which is the
+cleverest boy by testing him at an examination. We expect to
+determine which is the ablest political leader by making him submit
+himself to a General Election. We decide which is the most beautiful
+rose or orchid by putting the various flowers before a committee of
+judges. It is seldom possible to say with strict accuracy which one
+individual is superior to the other, and to arrange the various
+individuals in their truly right place in the scale. But quite evidently
+we do recognise the scale and recognise that theoretically it is
+possible to grade each individual on it, even though our practical
+methods may be somewhat rough-and-ready.
+
+This fact that gradation, as well as variation, exists is one of the
+great facts we have to note. For it indicates that the Organising
+Activity which keeps the individuals together is not keeping them
+together on a uniform dead level like the ocean, but is propelling
+them upward like the mountain. The significance of this fact has not
+hitherto been adequately noted. We are for ever speaking of equality
+when there is no equality. We have never noted with sufficient
+attention that everywhere there are grades and degrees. But it is a
+fact which a contemplation of the forest indelibly impresses on us.
+And it is a most welcome and inspiring fact, for it gives us a vision
+of higher things and promotes a zealous emulation among us.
+
+* * *
+
+And the Organising Activity is not only upward-reaching, but
+forward-looking. It looks to the future. We have remarked how the
+individuals strive and compete with one another in order to get food
+and air and light with which to nourish and maintain themselves.
+But self-maintenance is not their only object. They seek to propagate
+themselves--to perpetuate their kind. They even make provision for
+their offspring. They go further still and _sacrifice_ themselves that
+their offspring may flourish.
+
+Here again selfishness is not the last word. Even plants will make
+provision for their offspring, and in the last resort will sacrifice
+themselves that their offspring may survive. A plant will fight with
+its neighbours for the means wherewith to build itself up. But it will
+also provide for more than mere maintenance. It will build up organs
+for the purpose of propagating itself. Even ferns have their organs
+for producing seeds. And many a plant will make a supreme effort to
+produce offspring rather than die without having perpetuated its kind.
+And plants--and of course more markedly animals and men--do not
+stop with merely reproducing their kind. Besides devoting their
+energies to propagation, they will deliberately make special
+_provision_ for their offspring; they will supply it with albumen and
+starch. And many insects are not only indefatigable, but highly
+intelligent, in providing food for their young even before the young
+are hatched out. They do not lay their eggs on any plant at random,
+but will wander for miles to find a plant on which their young can
+feed, and they then lay their eggs on that plant. Individual plants,
+insects, animals, or men may be frightfully selfish in their hard
+struggle for existence, but the one thing in regard to which no
+individual is selfish is in regard to its offspring. Primitive man,
+utterly callous about the sufferings of animals and of his own
+fellow-men and even of his wife, is tenderly careful of his child
+while it remains a child--and this is a very significant trait in his
+character.
+
+However indifferent the individual may be to the sufferings of those
+about him, he will make any sacrifice for his offspring. There is
+some instinct within plants and animals alike which impels them to
+sacrifice themselves that their kind may continue.
+
+So that Activity which is at the source of all life, and is keeping
+living things together in an interconnected whole, not only forces
+them upward in the scale of being, but is also driving them to look
+forward into the future, to provide for the future--and, indeed, to
+make the future better than the present.
+
+* * *
+
+This seems to be the way--judging by what we see in the forest--the
+Activity works. Things have I not come to be as they are by the
+slap-dash, irresponsible, unregulated methods of mere chance. We cannot
+fail to see that chance does play _some_ part. One seed from a tree
+may fall into a rivulet and be swept away to the sea, while another
+may be borne by a gust of wind, or by a bird, on to rich soil where
+competitors are few, and be able to grow up into a monarch of the
+forest, to live for a hundred years, and to give birth to thousands like
+itself. This is true. But chance will not produce the advancement and
+progress which is observable. Chance will not produce a single one
+of those organs of adaptation we see in myriads in the forest. And
+chance would not have made the barren earth of a hundred million
+years ago bring forth the plant, animal, and human life we see on it
+to-day.
+
+The Activity does not work on the haphazard methods of pure
+chance. Nor, on the other hand, are its operations conducted in the
+rigid, mechanical method of a machine. Nor, again, can the result we
+see be due to the working of blind physical and chemical processes
+alone. There is a great deal too much variety and spontaneity and
+originality about. We could not possibly look upon the forest as a
+machine--even of the most complicated kind. A machine goes
+grinding round and round, producing things of exactly the same
+pattern. Whereas no two things exactly alike are ever turned out in
+the forest. And blind physical and chemical processes could by
+_themselves_--by themselves alone--never produce the novelties,
+the entirely new and unique things, and things higher and higher in
+the scale of being, which we see in the forest. Only a man
+impervious to the teaching of common sense could suppose that the
+care which plant, beast, and man alike show for their offspring could
+be the result of bare physical and chemical processes without the
+inclusion with these processes of any other agency whatsoever.
+
+Nor, on the other hand, do we see any signs of the forest being the
+result of a preconceived plan gradually being worked out--as a
+bridge is gradually built up according to the previously thought out
+plan of the engineer. The carrying out of a plan means that in course
+of time the plan will be completed, and that each stage is a step
+towards its completion. But in the forest life there is no sign of any
+beginning of an approach towards the completion of a plan. There is
+no tendency to a closing in. There is a reaching upward, it is true.
+But there is also a splaying outward. One line leads up to man. But
+others splay out to insects, birds, and elephants.
+
+Another noticeable fact is that nowhere is perfection reached. If a
+plan were being worked we should expect to see the lower stages
+--like the foundations of the bridge--well and truly laid, incapable of
+improvement. But no living being--neither the lowliest nor the
+highest--is itself as a whole or in any one particular absolutely
+perfect. There is room for improvement everywhere. Most
+wonderful things we see. But not perfection. The eye is a wonderful
+thing. But an oculist would point out defects in even the best.
+
+And if it be argued that there has not been sufficient time yet to
+work out a plan, the reply is that there has been infinite time. Time
+is infinite. If the Activity were merely working out a plan, the plan
+would have been completed ages ago.
+
+So the Organising Activity which we see must be working at the
+back of things, keeping all the separate individuals together in a
+connected whole, not only preserves the strictest order among them,
+but grants them freedom, stimulates emulation among them, inspires
+them to reach upward and to look into and provide for the future.
+Such an Activity is no mere mechanical activity. It is a purposive
+Activity. It is an essentially _spiritual_ Activity. Spirit is not the
+casual flash flaming up from the working of blind physical and
+chemical forces. Spirit dominates these blind forces. Spirit is a true
+determining factor in the whole process. Spirit is at the root and
+source and permeates the whole.
+
+This Spiritual Activity is what in ordinary language we speak of as
+"the Spirit of Nature," and emanates from the Heart of Nature.
+
+* * *
+
+When, therefore, our Artist sums up his impressions of Nature as
+epitomised in the life of the forest; when he has been able to feel
+that he has, as it were, got inside the skin of Nature, entered into her
+Spirit and really understood her--as the artist-midge we have
+referred to would enter into the nature of a man and try and
+understand him--he will probably find that Nature works in very
+much the same way as he himself works, and is of much the same
+character as himself.
+
+The Artist will observe that Nature neither works by mere chance,
+tossing up at each turning whether she shall go to the right or to the
+left, and quite indifferent as to which way she takes; nor in the set
+and rigid manner of a machine; nor yet, again, in the cut-and-dried
+fashion which the execution of a previously conceived plan implies.
+Order everywhere the Artist will have observed. But order need not
+mean woodenness and machinery. Order is simply the absolutely
+essential prerequisite of any Freedom. And it is Freedom that the
+Artist everywhere observes. Nature is not closed in by the designed
+overarch of an eventually-to-be-completed plan. The zenith and
+horizon are always open. There is always order, but there is scope
+illimitable for Nature's workings.
+
+So the sum impression the Artist will probably receive is that Nature
+is in her essential character an Artist like himself--that she creates
+and goes on creating, just as he creates and goes on creating. A
+painter who is a true artist and not a mere copyist paints "out of his
+head," as the saying goes, pictures which are true creations
+--something new and unique, though founded on and related to the
+pre-existing. And there is no limit to the pictures he might paint out
+of his head. He is not tied down in advance by any preconceived
+plan. According as he is roused and stirred by the complex life
+around him, he could--if he were physically able--go on for ever
+painting picture after picture, each a new creation. In the same way a
+poet could go on writing poems. The poet does not turn out poems
+like a machine turns out pins, each like the other. He is not tied
+down to what he writes. He writes out of his own heart what he likes.
+And he does not and _could_ not turn out two poems exactly the
+same. Nor does he write according to plan as the bridge-builder
+works according to the plan of the engineer. He works as he goes.
+He works by spontaneous creativeness. He is utterly original--a true
+creator. And even so will our Artist hold that Nature works.
+
+The letters of Nature's alphabet which the Artist sees in the forest
+are not in the places they are either through mere chance or
+according to a definitely prepared plan. The letters form words, the
+words form lines, and the lines form poems. The Artist reads
+the words and understands the meaning of the poems, and so
+understands the character of the Poet--the Poet whose name is
+Nature. But the Artist knows that the words and lines and poems he
+sees in the forest are there as spontaneous creations from the mind
+of Nature as poems arise in his own mind. And he knows that
+Nature could go on--and must go on--creating these poems, painting
+these pictures, for ever and ever.
+
+Nature will, indeed, work to an end as an Artist works to an end.
+Nature has purposiveness as an Artist has purposiveness. But that
+end is something which Nature, like the Artist, is always revising,
+re-creating, improving, perfecting. An Artist has the general end of
+creating Beauty, but he is always striving to enrich and intensify it,
+to create it in greater and greater perfection. And even so does
+Nature work.
+
+* * *
+
+As the Artist puts himself in touch with the Heart of Nature, the
+dominant impression he receives is of Nature ever straining after
+higher, perfection, ever striving to achieve a greater excellence, and
+create beings with higher and higher, modes of life. He sees her
+straining upward in the mountain, in the trees, in the climbers on the
+trees, in every blade of grass. He sees the whole of life, straining to
+achieve higher and higher forms, more perfect flowers, more
+intelligent animals, more spiritual men. He sees the life of the seas
+stretching up out of the seas on to the land. He sees the life of the
+land striving to reach the highest points on the land. And he sees it
+also soaring up into the air and making itself at home there, too.
+Everywhere he sees evidence of aspiration and upward effort.
+
+But he notes also that with this upward effort there goes a downward
+pull. The mountain strives upward, but it is drawn down by the
+forces of gravitation. The eagle soars up in the sky, but has to come
+down to earth to rest and feed. The poet aspires to heaven, but has to
+stop on earth and earn his daily bread.
+
+Nature, like himself, the Artist finds, is engaged in a constant
+struggle between an impulse to excentration and the necessity for
+concentration. She wants to fly off to the zenith and to the horizon,
+but is continually being drawn into the centre. She wants to let
+herself go, but has to keep herself in. And all this is to the good. For
+the necessity for concentration only serves to strengthen and refine
+her aspiration. And the net result is higher and higher perfection.
+She cannot rise any higher in a mountain, so she rises in a higher
+form in a tree. She cannot rise any higher in a tree, so she rises in
+higher form in an orchid. She cannot rise any higher in an orchid, so
+she rises in higher form in a man. She cannot rise any higher in man
+as an intelligent animal, so she rises in higher form in man as a
+spiritual being, capable of spiritual appreciation and of spiritual
+communion with her.
+
+The gravitation to a centre--the necessity for concentration--does not
+suppress and crush the aspiration of Nature; it only serves to compel
+the aspiration to refine and perfect itself.
+
+In this spirit of aspiration checked by concentration the Artist will
+surely find what is after his own heart. He will recognise that what is
+going on in Nature is the same as what goes on in his own heart. He
+and Nature have a common aspiration. As he aspires but has to
+concentrate, so does Nature aspire but has to concentrate. As he
+works, so does Nature work. What he aims at, that also does Nature
+aim at. And when the Naturalist within him convinces him that, so
+far as forest life reveals it, this is Nature's manner and this is
+Nature's end, then his heart goes out to the Heart of Nature, his heart
+and her heart become one; and from that community of heart Beauty
+unending springs.
+
+He will without reserve or hesitation be able to throw his whole
+heart into the enjoyment of Natural Beauty in a way that would have
+been utterly impossible if he had had to come to the conclusion that
+Nature cared only for the brutally fittest, wholly irrespective of their
+worth, or that Nature was at the mercy of chance and had no wish,
+intention, or power to make good prevail over ill. And with his
+instinctive love of Natural Beauty thus confirmed and strengthened
+by this testing of his instinct against what cool reasoning on the facts
+revealed by observation in the forest had to say about it, he can with
+lightened heart search still further into Nature, and see her in higher,
+wider, deeper aspects than the forest alone can disclose.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+KINCHINJUNGA
+
+Aspiration is the root sentiment at the Heart of Nature as she
+manifests herself in the forest--aspiration upward checked by
+concentration upon the inmost centre. And the very emblem of the
+aspiration of Nature kept in hand and under control is to be found in
+that proud pinnacle of the Sikkim Himalaya, Kinchinjunga, as it is
+seen from Darjiling rising from amidst the rich tropical forests
+which clothe its base. To Darjiling, therefore, we should be wise to
+go.
+
+To reach it we must ascend the slopes of the outer ranges which rise
+abruptly from the plains. A giant forest now replaces the stunted and
+bushy timber of the Terai proper and clothes the steep mountain-sides
+with dense, deep-green, dripping vegetation. The trees are of
+great height, and are sheathed and festooned with climbing plants of
+many kinds. Bauhinias and robinias, like huge cables, join tree to
+tree. Peppers, vines, and convolvulus twine themselves round the
+trunks and branches, and hang in graceful pendants from the boughs.
+And the trees, besides being hung with climbers, are also decked
+with orchids and with foliaceous lichens and mosses. The wild
+banana with its crown of glistening leaves is everywhere
+conspicuous. Bamboos shoot up through the undergrowth to a
+hundred feet or more in height. The fallen trees are richly clothed
+with ferns typical of the hottest and dampest climates. And
+dendrobiums and other orchids fasten on the branches.
+
+* * *
+
+At Kurseong there is another striking change, for the vegetation now
+becomes more characteristic of the temperate zone. The spring here
+vividly recalls the spring in England. Oaks of a noble species and
+magnificent foliage are flowering and the birch bursting into leaf.
+The violet, strawberry, maple, geranium, and bramble appear, and
+mosses and lichens carpet the banks and roadsides. But the species
+of these plants differ from their European prototypes, and are
+accompanied at this elevation (and for 2,000 feet higher up) with
+tree ferns forty feet in height, bananas, palms, figs, pepper, numbers
+of epiphytal orchids, and similar genuine tropical genera.
+
+From Kurseong we ascend through a magnificent forest of chestnut,
+walnut, oaks, and laurels. Hooker, when he subsequently visited the
+Khasia Hills in Assam, said that though the subtropical scenery on
+the outer Himalaya was on a much more gigantic scale, it was not
+comparable in beauty and luxuriance with the really tropical
+vegetation induced by the hot, damp, and insular climate of those
+perennially humid Khasia Hills. The forest of gigantic trees on the
+Himalaya, many of them deciduous, appear from a distance as
+masses of dark grey foliage, clothing mountains 10,000 feet high.
+Whereas in the Khasia Hills the individual trees are smaller, more
+varied in kind, of a brilliant green, and contrast with grey limestone
+and red sandstone rocks. Still, even of the forest between Kurseong
+and Darjiling, Hooker says that it is difficult to conceive a grander
+mass of vegetation--the straight shafts of the timber trees shooting
+aloft, some naked and clean with grey, pale, or brown bark; others
+literally clothed for yards with a continuous garment of epiphytes
+(air-plants), one mass of blossoms, especially the white orchids,
+coelogynes, which, bloom in a profuse manner, whitening their
+trunks like snow. More bulky trunks bear masses of interlacing
+climbers--vines, hydrangea, and peppers. And often the supporting
+tree has long ago decayed away and their climbers now enclose a
+hollow. Perpetual moisture nourishes this dripping forest, and
+pendulous mosses and lichens are met with in profusion.
+
+For this forest life, however, we cannot at present spare the attention
+that is its due, for we want above all things to see the mountains on
+the far side of this outer ridge. Tropical forests may be seen in many
+other parts of the world. But only here on all the Earth can we see
+mountains on so magnificent a scale. So we do not pause, but cross
+the ridge and come to the slopes and spurs which face northward,
+away from the plains and towards the main range of the Himalaya.
+
+Here is situated Darjiling, which ought to be set apart as a sacred
+place of pilgrimage for all the world. Directly facing the snowy
+range and set in the midst of a vast forest of oaks and laurels,
+rhododendrons, magnolias, and camellias, the branches and trunks
+of which are festooned with vines and smilax and covered with ferns
+and orchids, and at the base of which grow violets, lobelias, and
+geraniums, with berberries, brambles, and hydrangeas--it is adapted
+as few other places are for the contemplation of Nature's Beauty in
+its most splendid aspects.
+
+Its only disadvantage is that it is so continually shrouded in mist.
+The range on which it stands being the first range against which the
+moisture-laden currents from the Bay of Bengal strike, the rainfall is
+very heavy and amounts to 140 or 160 inches in the year. And even
+when rain is not actually falling there is much cloud hanging about
+the mountains. So the traveller cannot count upon seeing the snows.
+There is no certainty that as he tops the ridge or turns the corner he
+will see Kinchinjunga in the full blaze of its glory. He cannot be as
+sure of seeing it as he is of seeing a picture on entering a gallery.
+During the month of November alone is there a reasonable surety.
+All the rest of the year he must take his chance and possess his soul
+in patience till the mountain is graciously pleased to reveal herself.
+
+Perhaps because of the uncertainty of seeing Kinchinjunga the view
+when it is seen is all the more impressive. The traveller waits for
+hours and days, even for only a glimpse. One minute's sight of the
+mountains would satisfy him. But still the clouds eddy about in
+fleecy billows wholly obscuring the mountains. Six thousand feet
+below may now and then be seen the silver streak of the Rangit
+River and forest-clad mountains beyond. Around him are dripping
+forests, each leaf glistening with freshest greenness, long mosses
+hanging from the boughs, and the most delicate ferns and noblest
+orchids growing on the stems and branches. All is very beautiful, but
+it is the mountain he wants to see; and still the cloud-waves collect
+and disperse, throw out tender streamers and feelers, disappear and
+collect again, but always keep a veil between him and the mountain.
+
+Then of a sudden there is a rent in the veil. Without an inkling of
+when it is to happen or what is to be revealed, those mists of infinite
+softness part asunder for a space. The traveller is told to look. He
+raises his eyes but sees nothing. He throws back his head to look
+higher. Then indeed he sees, and as he sees he gasps. For a moment
+the current of his being comes to a standstill. Then it rushes back in
+one thrill of joy. Much he will have heard about Kinchinjunga
+beforehand. Much he will remember of it if he has seen it before.
+But neither the expectation nor the memory ever comes up to the
+reality. From that time, henceforth and for ever, his whole life is
+lifted to a higher plane.
+
+Through the rent in the fleecy veil he sees clear and clean against the
+intense blue sky the snowy summit of Kinchinjunga, the culminating
+peak of lesser heights converging upward to it and all ethereal as
+spirit, white and pure in the sunshine, yet suffused with the
+delicatest hues of blue and mauve and pink. It is a vision of colour
+and warmth and light--a heaven of beauty, love, and truth.
+
+But what really thrills us is the thought that, incredibly high though
+it is, yet that heaven is part of earth, and may conceivably be
+attained by man. It is nearly double the height of Mont Blanc and
+more than six times the height of Ben Nevis, but still it is rooted in
+earth and part of our own home. This is what causes the stir within
+us.
+
+Hardly less striking than its height is its purity and serenity. The
+subtle tints of colour and the brilliant sunlight dispel any coldness
+we might feel, while the purity is still maintained. And the serenity
+is accentuated by the ceaseless movements of the eddying clouds
+through which the vision is seen. There is about Kinchinjunga the
+calm and repose of stupendous upward effort successfully achieved.
+
+A sense of solemn elevation comes upon us as we view the
+mountain. We are uplifted. The entire scale of being is raised. Our
+outlook on life seems all at once to have been heightened. And not
+only is there this sense of elevation: we seem purified also.
+Meanness, pettiness, paltriness seem to shrink away abashed at the
+sight of that radiant purity.
+
+The mountain has made appeal to, and called forth from us all that is
+most pure and most noble within us, and aroused our highest
+aspirations. Our heart, therefore, goes out lovingly to it. We long to
+see it again and again. We long to be always in a mood worthy of it.
+And we long to have that fineness of soul which would enable us to
+appreciate it still more fully. Glowing in the heart of the mountain is
+the pure flame of undaunted aspiration, and it sets something aglow
+in our hearts also which burns there unquenchably for the rest of our
+days. We see attainment of the I highest in the physical domain, and
+it stirs us to achieve the highest in the spiritual. Between ourselves
+and the mountain is the kinship of common effort towards high ends.
+And it is because of this kinship that we are able to see such lofty
+Beauty in the mountain.
+
+For only a few minutes are we granted this heavenly vision. Then
+the veil is drawn again. But in those few minutes we have received
+an impression which has gone right down into the depths of our soul
+and will last there for a lifetime.
+
+* * *
+
+On other occasions the mountain is not so reserved, but reveals itself
+for whole days in all its glory. The central range of the Himalaya
+will be arrayed before us in its full majesty from one horizon to the
+other without a cloud to hide a single detail. We see the lesser
+ranges rolling up, wave after wave, in higher and higher effort
+towards the culminating line of peaks. And along this central line
+itself all the lesser heights we see converging on the supreme peak
+of Kinchinjunga. The scene, too, will be dazzling in the glorious
+sunshine and suffused with that purply-blue translucent atmosphere
+which gives to the whole a fairy-like, ethereal aspect.
+
+And on this occasion we have no hurried glimpse of the mountain.
+We have ample time to contemplate it, looking at it, turning away
+from it to rest our souls from so deep an emotion, looking at it again,
+time after time, till we have entered into its spirit and its spirit has
+entered into us. And always our eyes insensibly revert to the
+culminating-point--the summit of Kinchinjunga itself. We note all
+the rich forest foreground, the deep valley beneath us, the
+verdure-covered subsidiary ranges, and the strong buttresses of the higher
+peaks. But our eyes do not linger there. They unconsciously raise
+themselves beyond them to the summit ridge. Nor do we look long
+on the distant peaks on either hand. They are over 24,000 feet in
+height. But they are not the _highest._ So our eyes pass over peaks
+of every remarkable form--abrupt, rugged, and enticing, and we
+seek the highest peak of all. And Kinchinjunga is a worthy
+mountain-monarch. It is not a needle-point--a sudden upstart which might
+easily be upset. Kinchinjunga is grand and massive and of ample
+gesture, broad and stable and yet also culminating in a clear and
+definite point. There is no mistaking her superiority both in
+massiveness and height to every peak around her.
+
+And thick-mantled in deep and everlasting snow though the whole
+long range of mountains is, the spectacle of all this snow brings no
+chill upon us. For we are in latitudes more southern still than Italy
+and Greece--farther south than Cairo. The entire scene is bathed in
+warm and brilliant sunshine. The snows are glittering white, but
+with a white that does not strike cold upon us, for it is tinted in the
+tenderest way with the most delicate hues of blue and pink. They are,
+indeed, in the strictest sense not white at all, but a mingling of the
+very faintest essence of the rose, the violet, and the forget-me-not.
+And we view the distant mountains through an atmospheric veil
+which has the strange property of revealing instead of hiding the real
+nature of the object before which it stands. It does not conceal the
+mountains. It reveals them in their real nature--the spiritual. Each
+country has an atmosphere of its own. There is a blue of the Alps, a
+blue of Italy, a blue of Greece, and a blue of Kashmir. The blue of
+the Sikkim Himalaya, perhaps on account of the excessive amount
+of moisture in the air, has a special quality of its own. It seems to me
+to have more _colour_ in it--a _fuller_ colour, a bluer blue, a
+purpler purple than the atmosphere of these other countries. From
+this cause and from the greater brilliance of the sun there is a more
+satisfying _warmth_ even in the snows.
+
+So besides beauty in the form of the mountains there is this exquisite
+loveliness of colour. In the immediate foreground are greens, fresh
+and shining and of every tint. And these shade away into deep
+purples and violets of the supporting ranges, and these again into
+those most delicate hues of the snows which vary according to the
+time of day, from decided rose-pink in the early morning and
+evening to, perhaps, faintest blue or violet in the full day. And over
+all and as a background is a sky of the intensest blue. What these
+colours are it is impossible to describe in words, for even the violet,
+the rose, and the forget-me-not have not the delicacy which these
+colours in the atmosphere possess. And assuredly no painter could
+do them justice, simply because paints and canvas are mediums far
+too coarse in which to reproduce the impression which such
+brilliance of light acting on a medium so fine as the thin air produces.
+The great Russian painter Verestchagin once visited Darjiling, and
+took his seat to paint the scene. He looked and looked, but did not
+paint. His wife kept handing him the brush and paints. But time after
+time he said: "Not now, not now; it is all too splendid." Night came
+and the picture never was painted. And it never _could_ be painted,
+though great artists most assuredly could at least point out to us in
+their pictures the subtler glories which are to be seen, and which we
+expect them to indicate to us.
+
+* * *
+
+So the view of the snows from Darjiling, grand and almost
+overpowering though it is, has warmth in it too. The main
+impression is one of magnitude and amplitude, of vastness and
+immensity, and withal of serene composure. The first view of the
+mountain seen through a rent in the clouds was perhaps more
+uplifting, though this view excites a sense of elevation also, for the
+eye is continually being drawn to the highest point. But in this full
+view the impression of breadth and bigness of scale is combined
+with the impression of height. The _dimensions_ of life in every
+direction seem to be enlarged. We seem to be able to look at things
+from a broader, bigger point of view, as well as a higher. We
+ourselves and the world at large are all on a larger scale than we had
+hitherto suspected. And while on a broader scale, we feel that things
+are always working _upward_ and converging towards some lofty
+but distinct, defined summit. This also do we feel, as we look upon
+the view, that with all the bigness and massiveness and loftiness
+there is the very finest tenderness as well--such delicacy as we had
+never before imagined.
+
+And to anyone who really knows them the littleness of man in
+comparison with these mighty mountains is not the impression made
+upon him. He is not overawed and overcome by them. His soul goes
+out most lovingly to them because they have aroused in him all the
+greatness in his soul, and purified it--even if only for a time--of all
+its dross and despicableness. And he loves them for that. He does
+not go cringing along, feeling himself a worm in comparison with
+them. There is warm kinship between him and them. He knows what
+is in their soul. And they have aroused in his soul exactly what he
+rejoices in having aroused there, and which but for them might have
+remained for ever unsurmised. So he revels in their Beauty.
+
+* * *
+
+Another aspect in which we may see Kinchinjunga is in its aspect at
+dawn. It will be still night--a starlit night. The phantom snowy range
+and the fairy forms of the mountains will be bathed in that delicate
+yellow light the stars give forth. The far valley depths will be hidden
+in the sombrest purple. Overhead the sky will be glittering with
+brilliant gems set in a field of limpid sapphire. The hush of night
+will be over all--the hush which heralds some great and splendid
+pageant.
+
+Then, almost before we have realised it, the eastward-facing scarps
+of the highest peaks are struck with rays of mingled rose and gold,
+and gleam like heavenly realms set high above the still
+night-enveloped world below. Farther and farther along the line, deep and
+deeper down it, the flush extends. The sapphire of the sky slowly
+lightens in its hue. The pale yellow of the starlight becomes merged
+in the gold of dawn. White billowy mists of most delicate softness
+imperceptibly form themselves in the valley depths and float up the
+mountain-sides. The deep hum of insect life, the chirping of the
+birds, the sounds of men, begin to break the hush of night. The
+snows become a delicate pink, the valleys are flooded with purple
+light, the sky becomes intensest blue, and the sun at last itself
+appears above the mountains, and the ardent life of day vibrates
+once more.
+
+In the full glare of day the mountains are not seen at their very best.
+The best time of all to see them is in the evening. If we go out a little
+from Darjiling into the forest to some secluded spur we can enjoy an
+evening of rare felicity. On the edge of the spur the forest is more
+open. The ground is covered with grass and flowers and plants with
+many-coloured leaves. Rich orchids and tender ferns and pendant
+mosses clothe the trees. Graceful vines and creepers festoon
+themselves from bough to bough. The air is fragrant with the scent
+of flowers. Bright butterflies flutter noiselessly about. The soft purr
+of forest life drones around. Rays from the setting sun slant across
+the scene. The leaves in their freshest green and of every shade
+glitter like emeralds in the brilliant light.
+
+Through the trunks of the stately trees and under their overarching
+boughs we look out towards the snowy mountains. We look over the
+brink of the spur, down into the deeps of the valleys richly filled
+with tropical vegetation, their eastward-facing sides now of purplest
+purple, their westward-facing slopes radiant in the evening sunshine,
+with the full richness of their foliage shown up by the dazzling light.
+Far below we see the silver streak of some foaming river, and then
+as we raise our eyes we mark ridge rising behind ridge, higher and
+higher and each of a deeper shade of purple than the one in front.
+The lower are still clothed in forest, but the green has been merged
+in the deep purple of the atmosphere. The higher are bare rock till
+the snow appears. But just across them floats a long level wisp of
+fleecy cloud, and apparently the limits of earth have been reached
+and sky has begun. We would rest content with that. But our eyes
+are drawn higher still. And high above the cloud, and rendered
+inconceivably higher by its presence, emerges the snowy summit of
+Kinchinjunga, serene and calm and flushed with the rose of the
+setting sun. As a background is a sky of the clearest, bluest blue.
+
+These are the chief elements of the scene, but all is in process of
+incessant yet imperceptible change. The sunshine slowly softens, the
+purples deepen, the flush on the mountains reddens. The air
+becomes as soft as velvet. Not a leaf now stirs. A holy peace steals
+over the mountains and settles in the valleys. The snow mountains
+no longer look cold, hard, and austere. Their purity remains as true
+as ever. And they still possess their uplifting power. But they now
+speak of serenity and calm--not, indeed, of the unsatisfying ease of
+the slothful, but of the earned repose of high attainment. Great peace
+is about them--deep, strong, satisfying peace.
+
+The sun finally sets. Night has settled in the valleys. The lights of
+Darjiling sparkle in the darkness. But long afterwards a glow still
+remains on Kinchinjunga. Lastly that also fades away. And now
+night spreads her veil on every part. But here night brings with it no
+sense of gloom and darkness, much less death. Far otherwise, for
+now it seems as if we were only beginning our intenser and still
+wider life. The fret of ordinary life is soothed away in the serene
+ending of the day. The quietness, profound and meaningful, yet
+further calms our spirit. Every condition is now favourable for the
+life of that inmost soul of us, which is too sensitive often to emerge
+into the glare and rubs of daylight life, but which in this holy peace,
+in the presence of the heavenly mountains, and with the stars above
+to guide it, can reach out to its fullest extent and indulge its highest
+aspirations.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+HIGH SOLITUDES
+
+From these scenes of tropical luxuriance and teeming life I would
+transport the Artist to a region of austerest beauty, far at the back of
+the Himalaya, where only one white man as yet has penetrated:
+where no life at all exists--no tree, no simplest plant, no humblest
+animalcula; where, save for some rugged precipice too steep for
+snow to lie, and save also for the intense azure of the sky, all is
+radiant whiteness. A region far distant from any haunt of man,
+where reigns a mountain which acknowledges supremacy to Mount
+Everest alone. A region of completest solitude, where the solemn
+silence is unbroken by the twitter of a single bird or the drone of the
+smallest insect, and is disturbed only by the occasional thunder of an
+avalanche or the grinding crunch of the glacier as a reminder of the
+titanic forces which are perpetually though invisibly at work.
+
+Freezing this region is and full of danger. And there is no short cut
+to it and no easy means of transport. Only men in the prime of health
+can reach there and return. And it is only men whose faculties are at
+their finest who are fit to stand the austerity of its cold, stern beauty.
+It lies at the dividing line between India and Central Asia where the
+waters which flow to India are parted from the waters which flow to
+Central Asia, and where the Indian and Chinese Empires touch one
+another. It may be approached from two directions--from Turkistan
+or from Kashmir and the Karakoram Pass. The Artist had better
+approach it by Kashmir, for he will see there certain beauties which
+even Sikkim does not possess, and this will make him further realise
+the variety of beauty this earth displays.
+
+Kashmir is altogether different from Sikkim. In Sikkim the valleys
+are deep, steep, and narrow, and markedly inclined, so that the rivers
+run strong and there is no room or level for lakes. In Kashmir the
+main valley is from twenty to thirty miles broad and ninety miles
+long. Over a large portion it is nearly dead level. So the river is even
+and placid. And there are tranquil lakes and duck-haunted marshes.
+
+The climate is different, too. It is the climate of North Italy.
+Consequently there are no tropical forests, and the mountain-sides
+are covered with trees of the temperate zone--the stately deodar
+cedars, spruce fir, maples, walnut, sycamore, and birch; while in the
+valley itself grow poplars, willows, mulberries, and most beautiful
+of all, and a speciality of Kashmir, the magnificent chenar tree--akin
+to the plane tree of Europe, but larger, fuller, and richer in its foliage.
+
+In Kashmir there is also far more variety of colour than there is in
+Sikkim. And in the spring, with the willows and poplars in freshest
+green; the almond, pear, apple, apricot, and peach trees in full
+blossom, white and pink; the fields emerald with young wheat, blue
+with linseed, or yellow with mustard; and the village-borders purple
+with iris; or in the autumn when the chenars, the poplars, and
+apricots are turning to every tint of red and yellow and purple,
+Kashmir is in a glow of colour. And the famous Valley is all the
+more beautiful because it is ringed round with a circle of snowy
+mountains of at least Alpine magnitude, with a glimpse here and
+there, such as that of Nanga Parbat, of much more stupendous peaks
+beyond; and because the sky is so blue, the atmosphere so delicate in
+its hues, and the sunshine so general throughout the year.
+
+In this favoured land there is many a variety of beauty, but all is of
+the easy, pleasant kind. All the colours are soft and soothing. It is a
+land to dream of, a gentle and indulgent land of soft repose, and
+calm content, and quiet relaxation; a dreamy, peaceful land where
+life glides smoothly forward, and all makes for enjoyment and
+idleness and holiday.
+
+From the pleasant Vale of Kashmir the Artist would have to make
+his way up the Sind Valley--a valley, typical of those beautiful
+tributaries which add so much to the whole charm of Kashmir.
+These are comparatively narrow, and the mountain-sides are steep,
+but the valleys are not so narrow nor the sides so steep as the valleys
+of Sikkim, nor are the forests anything like so dense. The scenery is,
+indeed, much more Swiss in appearance with open pine forests,
+picturesque hamlets, grassy pasture-lands, flowery meadows, and
+clear, rushing rivers; and with the rocky crests or snow-capped
+summits of the engirdling mountains always in the background.
+
+But when we emerge from this delightful valley of the Sind River
+and cross the Zoji-la Pass, we come upon a very different style of
+country--bare, dreary, desolate, monotonous, uninteresting. The
+forest has all disappeared, for the rainfall is here slight. The
+moisture-laden clouds have precipitated themselves upon the
+seaward-facing slopes of the mountains we have already passed
+through. And because of this lack of rainfall the valleys are not cut
+out deep, but are high and broad. It is a delightful experience to pass
+from this brown, depressing landscape to the rich beauties of the
+Sind Valley and Kashmir. But to make the journey the other way
+round, and to pass _into_ the gloomy region after being spoilt by the
+luxuries of Kashmir, is sadly disheartening at first.
+
+The experience has, however, its advantages, for it makes us throw
+off all ideas of soft ease we may have harboured in Kashmir, and
+reminds us that we have to prepare ourselves to face beauties of a far
+sterner kind. So we insensibly alter our whole attitude of mind, and
+as we plod our way through the mountains we summon up from
+within ourselves all the austerer stuff of which we are made.
+
+We cross some easy passes of 13,000 feet or so in height. We cross
+the River Indus. We reach Leh. We cross a 17,000 feet pass and then
+a glacier pass of 18,000 feet, and then the watershed of India and
+Central Asia by the Karakoram Pass, nearly 19,000 feet in height.
+We are six hundred miles from the plains of India now, and in about
+as desolate a region as the world contains. Then, bearing westward,
+we make for the Aghil Pass. We have now got right in behind the
+Himalaya, and as we reach the top of the Aghil Pass we look
+towards the Himalaya from the Central Asian side, on what is
+known as the Karakoram Range, and here at last is the remote,
+secluded glacier region which has been the object of our search.
+
+Its glory bursts upon us as we top the last rise to the Aghil Pass.
+Across the deep valley is arrayed in bold and jagged outline a series
+of pinnacles of ice glistening in the brilliant sunshine, showing up in
+clearest definition against the intense blue sky, and rising abruptly
+and incredibly high above the rock-bound Oprang River. They are
+the mighty peaks which group around K2--the noblest cluster in the
+whole Himalaya.
+
+There are here no inviting grassy slopes and no enticing forests. The
+mountain-sides are all hard rock and rugged precipices. And the
+summits are of ice or with edges sharp and keen direct from Nature's
+workshop. But the sight, though it awes us, does not depress us or
+deter us. We are keyed up by high anticipation when we arrive on
+the threshold of this secluded region, and a fierce joy seizes us as we
+first set eyes on these mountains. We know we have before us one
+of the great sights of the world--something unique and apart,
+something the like of which we shall never see again. And awed as
+we are by the mountains' unsurpassed magnificence, we do not bow
+down in any abject way before them. We are not impressed by our
+littleness in comparison. They have, indeed, shown us that the world
+is something greater than we knew. But they have shown us also that
+_we_ too are something greater than we knew. The peaks in their
+dazzling altitude have set an exacting standard for us. They have
+incited us to rise to that standard. Their call is great, but a thrill runs
+through us as we feel ourselves responding to the challenge,
+collecting ourselves together and gathering up every stiffest bit of
+ourselves to rise to their high standard. We feel nerved and steeled;
+and in high exhilaration we plunge down into the valley to join issue
+with the mountains.
+
+Arrived on the Oprang River we can turn either to the left or the
+right. If we turn to the left we get right in under a knot of stupendous
+peaks. Towering high and solitary above the rocky wall which
+bounds the valley on the south is a peak which may be K2, 28,250
+feet in height, which must be somewhere in the neighbourhood. But
+the investigations of the Duke of the Abruzzi throw a doubt as to
+whether this can be K2 itself. If it is not, it must be some unfixed
+and unnamed peak. At any rate it is a magnificent, upstanding peak
+rising proud and steep-sided high and clear above its neighbours.
+Then beyond it, farther up the Oprang Valley, we catch glimpses of
+that wondrous company of Gusherbrum Peaks--four of them over
+26,000 feet in height, with rich glaciers flowing from them.
+
+But if we turn to the right on descending from the Aghil Pass, and if
+we turn again in the direction of the Mustagh Pass, we come to an
+icy realm which has about it, above every other region, the impress
+of both extreme remoteness and loftiest seclusion. As we ascend
+right up the glacier--either the one coming down from the Mustagh
+Pass or the one to the east running parallel with the general line of
+the Karakoram Range--we feel not only far away from but also high
+above the rest of the world. And we seem to have risen to an
+altogether purer region. Especially if we sleep in the open, without
+any tent, with the mountains always before us, with the stars
+twinkling brightly above us, do we have this sense of having
+ascended to a loftier and serener world.
+
+At the heads of these glaciers there is little else but snow and ice.
+The moraines have almost disappeared--or, rather, have hardly yet
+come into being. And the mountains are so deeply clothed in ice and
+snow, it is only when they are extremely steep that rock appears.
+The glacier-filled valley below and the mountain above are therefore
+almost purely white. The atmosphere, too, is marvellously clear, so
+that by day the mountains and glaciers glitter brightly in the
+sunshine, and at night the stars shine out with diamond brilliance.
+The effect on a moonlight night is that of fairyland. We see the
+mountains as clearly as we would by the daylight of many regions,
+but the light is now all silver, and the mountains not solid and
+substantial but ethereal as in a vision.
+
+The pureness of the beauty is unspotted. It is the direct opposite of
+the voluptuous beauty of Kashmir. No one would come here for
+repose and holiday. But we like to have been there once. We like to
+have attained even once in a lifetime to a world so refined and pure.
+
+Cold it may be--and dangerous. But we soon forget the cold. And
+the dangers only string us up to meet them, so that we are in a
+peculiarly alert, observant mood. And we have a secret joy in
+watching Nature in her most threatening aspects and in measuring
+ourselves against her.
+
+White it may be, but not colourless. For the whiteness of the snow is
+most exquisitely tinged with blue. The lakelets on the glacier are of
+deepest blue. They are encircled by miniature cliffs of ice of
+transparent green. The blue-ness of the sky is of a depth only seen in
+the highest regions. And the snowy summits of the mountains are
+tinged at sunset and dawn with finest flush of rose and primrose. So
+with all the whiteness there is, too, the most delicate colouring.
+
+Standing thus on the glacier and looking up to the snowy peaks all
+round us, we think how, wholly unobserved by men, they have
+reared themselves to these high altitudes and there remain century
+by century unseen by any human being. From deep within the
+interior of the earth they have arisen. And they are only touched by
+the whitest snowflakes. They are only touched by snowflakes
+fashioned from the moisture which the sun's rays have raised off the
+surface of the Indian Ocean, and which the monsoon winds have
+transported in invisible currents, high above the plains of India, till
+they are gently precipitated on these far-distant heights.
+
+"Blessed are the pure in heart," we are told, "for they shall see God."
+And blessed are they who are able to ascend to a region like this, for
+here they cannot but be pure in heart, and cannot _help_ seeing God.
+For the time being at least, they _have_ to be pure. In the spotless
+purity of that region they cannot harbour any thought that is sordid
+or unclean. And they pray that ever after they may maintain what
+they have reached. For they know that if they could maintain it they
+would see beauties which in the murky state of common life it is
+impossible to perceive. In the white purity which this high region
+exacts they are forced to pierce through the superficial and
+unimportant and they catch sight of the real.
+
+They are in a remote and lofty solitude, and in touch with the naked
+elementals of which the world has built itself. But they do not feel
+alone. They feel themselves in a great Presence, and in a Presence
+with which they are most intimately in touch. And it is no dread
+Presence, but one which they delight to feel. Holiness is its essence,
+and their souls are purged and purified. They are suffused with it; it
+enters deeply into them, and translates them swiftly upward.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE HEAVENS
+
+The remote glacier region gives us a sense of purity, and gives us,
+too, a vision of colour in its finest delicacy. But for depth, extent,
+and brilliancy of colour we must look to sunsets--and sunsets in
+those high desert regions where the outlook is widest and the
+atmosphere clearest.
+
+In deserts everywhere marvellous sunsets may be seen, for the
+comparative absence of moisture in the atmosphere and the presence
+of invisible particles of dust gives these sunsets an especial
+brilliancy. In the middle of the day a desert in its uniform brownness
+is dreary and monotonous to a degree. But at dawn and sunset when
+the sun's rays slant across the scene the desert glows with colour of
+every shade and hue and in ever-changing combination. In the Gobi
+Desert of Central Asia, in the Egyptian Desert, in the Arabian Desert,
+in Arizona, I have seen sunsets that thrill one with delight. But
+nowhere have I seen more glorious sunsets than in the highlands of
+Tibet. And what makes them there so remarkable is that the plains
+themselves are 15,000 feet above sea-level, so that the atmosphere is
+exceptionally clear. Great distances are therefore combined with
+unusual clearness. The country is open enough and the air clear
+enough for us to see far distances. And extent is a prime essential in
+the glory of a sunset.
+
+It is difficult to make those who have never been outside Europe
+understand what sunsets can be. In England, as Turner has shown,
+there are sunsets to be seen containing in abundance many such
+elements of beauty as varied and varying and great extent of colour.
+But the atmosphere here is so thick that the colours appear as if
+thrown on to a solid background. So the sunsets look opaque. On the
+continent of Europe the atmosphere is clearer and the opaqueness
+less pronounced. The colouring is in consequence more vivid.
+But--except in high Alpine regions--the clearness does not approach the
+clearness of Tibet. And neither in England nor on the Continent do
+we get the great _distances_ of desert sunsets. And great distances
+increase immeasurably that feeling of _infinity_ which is the chief
+glory in a sunset.
+
+The clearness of the atmosphere is important in this respect also,
+that it produces the effect upon the colours of the sunset that they
+seem more like the colours we see in precious stones than the
+colours a painter throws on a canvas. There is no milkiness or
+murkiness in them. The sky is so clear that we see a colour as we see
+the red in a ruby. We see deep into the colour. The colour comes
+right _out_ of the sky and has not the appearance of being merely
+plastered on the surface.
+
+And the variety of the colours and the rapidity with which they
+change and merge and mingle into one another is another wonder of
+these desert sunsets. It would be wholly impossible to paint a picture
+of them which would adequately express the impression they give,
+for the main impression is derived from light, and the colours are
+therefore far more glowing than they could ever be reproduced on
+canvas. Nor can the changing effects be reproduced on a stationary
+medium. The nearest approach to the glory of a Tibet sunset which I
+have seen is a picture in pastel by Simon de Bussy a sunset in the
+Alps. But all pictures--even Turner's;--can only draw attention to the
+glory and show us what to look for. They cannot reproduce the
+impression in full. The medium through which the artist has to
+work--the paints and the canvas--are inadequate for his needs.
+
+If we try to describe the impression in words we are no better off.
+We can, indeed, compare the sunset colours with the colours of
+flowers and precious stones. But here also we miss the light which is
+the very foundation of the sunset beauties. And we have neither the
+changefulness nor the vast extent of the sunset colouring.
+
+To get the least idea of the variety of colours mixing, merging, and
+intermingling with one another we must go to the opal, though even
+there there is not the intensity of colour, and of course not the
+change nor extent. From an orange--especially a blood orange--we
+get a notion of the combined reds and yellows of the sunsets, though
+the reds may range deeper than orange into the reds of the ruby or
+the cardinal flower, and lighter into the pinks of the rose or the
+carnation; and the yellows range from the gold of the eseholtzia to
+the delicate hue of the primrose. And for the translucency of their
+yellower effects we must bring in the amber. Often there is a green
+which can only be matched by jade or emerald. And sometimes
+there is an effect with which only the amethyst can be compared.
+Then there are mauves and purples for which the precious stones
+have no parallel, and of which heliotrope, the harebell, and the violet
+give us the best idea. And the blues range from the deep blue of the
+sapphire and the gentian to the light blue of the turquoise and the
+forget-me-not.
+
+In these stones and flowers we get something near the actual colour,
+but the depth, the clearness, the luminosity, and the vast extent are
+all wanting, and these are all essential features of the sunset's glories.
+So we must imagine all these colours glowing with light and never
+still--perpetually changing from one to the other and shading off
+from one into the other, one colour emerging, rising to the dominant
+position, and then disappearing to give place to another, and
+effecting these changes imperceptibly yet rapidly also, for if we take
+our eyes away for even a few minutes we find that the aspect has
+altogether altered.
+
+From my camp in Tibet for weeks together I could be sure of
+witnessing every evening one of these glorious sunsets. For while
+the mighty monsoon clouds used to roll up on to the line of
+Himalayan peaks and pile themselves up there, billow upon billow,
+in magnificent array, dark and fearful in the general mass, but
+clear-edged and silver-tipped along the summits, yet beyond that line, in
+Tibet, the sky was nearly always clear and blue of the bluest. With
+nothing whatever to impede my view--no trees, nor houses, nor
+fences, nor obstacles of any kind--I could look out far over these
+open plains to distant hills; beyond them, again, to Mount Everest a
+hundred miles away; beyond it, again, to still more distant
+mountains; and, finally, behind them into the setting sun. And these
+far hills and snowy mountains, seen as they were across an
+absolutely open plain, seemed not to impede the view but only to
+heighten the impression of great distance. The eye would be led on
+from feature to feature, each receding farther into the distance till it
+seemed only a step from the farthest snowy mountain into the
+glowing sun itself.
+
+Every evening, whenever I could, I used to walk out alone into the
+open plain to feast my soul on the splendid scene. In the stern
+glacier region round K2 had had to brace myself up and to summon
+up all that was toughest within me in order to cope with the terribly
+exacting conditions in which I found myself. In the presence of
+these calm but fervent sunsets there was a different feeling. I had a
+sense of expansion, a longing to let myself go. And I would feel
+myself craving to let myself go out all I could into these glowing
+depths of light and colour, and trying to open myself out to their
+beauty, that as much as possible of it should flow into me and
+glorify my whole being. I had the feeling that in those sunsets there
+was _any_ length for my soul to go out to--that there was _infinite_
+room there for the soul's expansion. There was inexhaustible glory
+for the soul to absorb, and the soul was thirsting for it and could
+never have enough.
+
+Evening after evening came to me, too--quite unconsciously, and as
+it were inevitably--Shelley's words (slightly altered):
+
+          "Be thou, spirit bright,
+     My spirit! Be thou me, most glorious one!
+     Be through my lips to unawakened earth
+     The trumpet of a prophecy."
+
+It was not that there was any particular message that I had to give.
+But there was aroused in me just this simple, insistent longing to let
+others know what glory there was in the world, and to be able to
+communicate to them something of the joy I was then feeling in
+beholding it. I was highly privileged in having this opportunity of
+witnessing a Tibetan sunset's splendours. I was yearning for others
+to share my enjoyment with me.
+
+The white radiance of the glacier region instils into us a sense of
+purity, and without the purity of heart which that stern region exacts
+we cannot see the sunset's glory in all its fulness. But now in these
+Tibetan sunsets we have not purity alone, but warmth and richness
+as well. They give an impression of infinity of glory. We catch
+alight from their consuming glory, and our hearts flame up in
+correspondence with them. The fervent glow in the Heart of Nature
+kindles a like glow in our own hearts; and we are enraptured by the
+Beauty.
+
+On our misty island we are apt to connect sunsets with coming
+darkness and a black end of things. And in gazing on them we are
+prone to have a sense of sadness mingled with our joy. They seem to
+mean for us a passage from light to darkness, and from life to death.
+
+But in the deserts we have no such feeling. As day imperceptibly
+fades away it is not black darkness that succeeds, but a light that
+enables us to see farther, a mellower light that enables us to see the
+Universe at large. From this earthly life we are transported to a
+higher, intenser, ampler life among the stars.
+
+And it is in the desert that we best live among the stars. In Europe
+we look up into the sky between trees and houses; and among the
+clouds and through a murky atmosphere we see a few stars. Even
+when we have a clear sky we seldom get a chance of seeing the
+whole expanse of the heavens all the way round. And even if we get
+this rare chance of a clear sky and a wide horizon we do not live
+with the stars in the open the night through and night after night.
+
+In the Gobi Desert I had this precious opportunity. And I had it
+when my whole being was tuned up to highest pitch. I was not in the
+limp state of one who steps out into his garden and looks up casually
+to the stars. I was tense with high enterprise. I was passing through
+unknown country on a journey across the Chinese Empire from
+Peking to India. I was keen and alive in every faculty, in a state of
+high exhilaration, and both observant and receptive. It was a rare
+chance, and much I wish now I had made more of it.
+
+My party in crossing the Gobi Desert consisted only of a Chinese
+guide, a Chinese servant, and a Mongol camel-man. As I had no
+European companion I was driven in upon myself. I had to explore a
+route never before traversed by Europeans, and the distance to be
+covered across the open steppes of Mongolia and over the Gobi
+Desert to the first town in Turkestan was twelve hundred miles.
+Beyond that was the whole length of Turkestan and the six-hundred-mile
+breadth of the Himalaya to be crossed before I should reach
+India. So I had a big task before me, and was stirring with the sense
+of high adventure and vast distances to overcome.
+
+To enable my eight camels to feed by daylight, I used to start at five
+o'clock in the afternoon and march till one or two in the morning.
+Sometimes in order to reach water we had to march all through the
+night and well into the following day. Frequently there were terrific
+sandstorms, but there were seldom any clouds. So the atmosphere
+was clear. In the distance were sometimes hills. But for the most
+part all round the desert was absolutely open. I could see for what
+seemed an indefinite distance in any direction. The conditions were
+ideal for observing the stars.
+
+Seated on my camel, or trudging along apart from my little caravan,
+I would watch the sun set in always varying splendour. No two
+sunsets were anything like the same. Each through the ascendancy
+of some one shade of colour, or through an unusual combination of
+colour, had a special beauty of its own. I would watch each ripening
+to the climax and then shade away into the beauty of the night. And
+when the day was over the night would reveal that higher, wider life
+which daylight only served to hide.
+
+The sunset glow would fade away. Star after star would spring into
+sight till the whole vault of heaven was glistening with diamond
+points of light. Above me and all round me stars were shining out of
+the deep sapphire sky with a brilliance only surpassed by the stars in
+the high Himalayan solitudes I have already described. And a great
+stillness would be over all--a silence even completer than the silence
+among the mountains, for there it was often broken by creaking of
+the ice, whereas here in the desert it was so profound that, when at
+the end of many weeks I arrived at a patch of grass and trees, the
+twittering of the birds and the whirr of insects sounded like the roar
+of a London street.
+
+In this unbroken stillness and with the eye free to rove all round with
+nothing in any direction to stay its vision, and being as I was many
+weeks' distance from any settled human habitation, I often had the
+feeling of being more connected with the starry firmament than with
+this Earth. In a curious way the bodily and the material seemed to
+exist no longer, and I would be in spirit among the stars. They
+served to guide us over the desert and I gradually became familiar
+with them. And I used to feel as much a part of the Stellar World as
+of this Earth. I lost all sense of being confined to Earth and took my
+place in the Universe at large. My home was the whole great
+Cosmos before me. The Cosmos, and not the Earth, was the whole
+to which I belonged.
+
+And in that unbroken quiet and amid this bright company of heaven
+my spirit seemed to become intenser and more daring. Right high up
+in the zenith, to infinite height, it would soar unfettered. And right
+round to any distance in any direction it would pierce its way. The
+height and distance of the highest and farthest stars I knew had been
+measured. I knew that the resulting number of miles is something so
+immense as to be altogether beyond human conception. I knew also
+that the number of stars, besides those few thousands which I saw,
+had to be numbered in hundreds of millions. All this was astonishing,
+and the knowledge of it filled me with wonder at the immensity of
+the Starry Universe. But it was not the mere magnitude of this world
+that impressed me. What stirred me was the Presence, subtly felt, of
+some mighty all-pervading Influence which ordered the courses of
+the heavenly hosts and permeated every particle.
+
+We cannot watch the sun go down day after day, and after it has set
+see the stars appear, rise to the meridian and disappear below the
+opposite horizon in regular procession, without being impressed by
+the order which prevails. We feel that the whole is kept together in
+punctual fashion, and is not mere chaos and chance. The presence of
+some Power upholding, sustaining, and directing the whole is deeply
+impressed upon us. And in this Presence so steadfast, so calm, so
+constant, we feel soothed and steadied. The frets and pains of
+ordinary life are stilled. Deep peace and satisfaction fill our souls.
+
+Sandstorms so terrific that we cannot stand before them or see a
+thing a foot or two distant come whirling across the desert, and all
+for the time seems turmoil and confusion and nothing is visible. But
+behind all we know the stars still pursue their mighty way. At the
+back of everything we realise there is a Power constant and
+dependable in whom we can absolutely put our trust.
+
+This is the impression--the impression of steadfastness, constancy,
+and reliability--which a nightly contemplation of the stars makes
+upon us. At the foundation of things is something dependable,
+something in which we can repose our faith. And so the sense of
+calm and confidence we feel.
+
+And in the desert we have no feeling that the stars pursue their
+course in cold indifference to us--that the Power which sustains
+them works its soulless way unregardful of the frettings of us little
+men. Not thus are we who watch the desert stars impressed. Quite
+otherwise. For nowhere do we feel the Influence nearer, more
+intimate or more beneficent. We seem in the very midst of the great
+Presence. We are immersed in it. It is pervading us on every side.
+We do not expect it to alter the whole course of Nature for our
+private good. But we feel confident that the course of Nature is for
+_good_--that Nature is a beneficent and no callous Power, and has
+good at heart. _Because_ the foundations are so sure and good we
+can each pursue our way in confidence. This is the impression we
+get.
+
+And the Power which guides the stars upon their heavenly way, and
+which, in guiding them, guides us across the desert, does not reside,
+we feel, in lonely grandeur in the empty places of the heavens, but in
+the stars themselves--in their very constitution--in each individually
+and in all in their togetherness. It burns in each star and shines forth
+from it, and yet holds the whole together as we see it every night in
+that circling vault around us. The Activity does not appear to us to
+emanate from some Invisible Being dwelling wholly apart and
+isolated from the stars and this Earth, and sending forth invisible
+spiritual rays, as the Sun stands apart from the Earth but sends out
+rays of sunlight to it. It seems rather to dwell in the very heart and
+centre of each star, and the stars seem _spiritual_ rather than
+material beings. So this Power, as we experience it in the desert,
+does not impress us as being awful and remote, gloomy and
+inexorable, enforcing unbending law and exacting terrible penalties.
+Our impression of it is that, though it preserves order with unfailing
+regularity, it is yet near and kindly, radiating with light and warmth.
+We not only feel it to be something steadfast, something on which
+we can rely and in which we may have confidence; we also feel
+warmed and kindled by it.
+
+So what we get from a nightly contemplation of the stars is a sense
+of happy companionship with Nature. The Heart of Nature as here
+revealed is both dependable and kindly. Nature is our friend. And in
+her certain friendship the balm of peace falls softly on us. Our hearts
+blend tenderly with the Heart of Nature; and in their union we see
+Beauty of the gentlest and most reassuring kind.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+HOME BEAUTY
+
+The Artist in his quest for Natural Beauty will have pursued it in the
+remotest and wildest parts of the Earth, where he can see Nature in
+her primeval and most elemental simplicity. He will have seen her in
+many and most varied aspects--the grandest, the wildest, and the
+most luxuriant. And from these numerous and so different
+manifestations of Nature he will have been enabled more fully to
+understand her meaning and comprehend her soul. Moreover, this
+contemplation of Nature will have evoked from within himself much
+that he had never suspected he possessed, and thereby his own soul
+also he will have learned to understand. And from this completer
+comprehension of his own soul and hers will have emerged a fuller
+community of heart between him and Nature. He will have come to
+worship her with a still more ardent devotion, and through the
+intensity of his love discovered richer and richer Beauty in her.
+
+But even yet he has not seen Natural Beauty where it can be found
+in its highest perfection. Only when there can be the most intimate
+possible relationship between him and the natural object he is
+contemplating can Beauty at its finest be seen. And this closest
+correspondence of all between him and Nature will only be when he
+is in the natural surroundings with which he has been familiar from
+childhood, and which have affected him in his most impressionable
+years.
+
+The Artist will have seen Nature as she manifests herself in the
+teeming life of a tropical forest and the most varied races of men; in
+the highest mountains and the widest deserts; in the glory of sunsets
+and the calm of stars. But it is in none of these that he will see
+deepest into the true Heart of Nature and understand her best. It is
+amid scenery which he has loved since boyhood, in the hearts of his
+own countrymen in their own country, that he will see deepest into
+Nature. And deepest of all will he see when from among his
+countrywomen he has united himself to the one of his own
+deliberate choice, and in this union realised in its fulness, strength,
+and intensity that Creative Love which springs from Nature's very
+heart, and is the ultimate fount and source of all Natural Beauty.
+
+We like to go out over all the Earth and see the wonders of it. And
+we learn to love the great mountains and rich forests and unfenced
+steppes and veldts and prairies. And we get to love also the various
+peoples among whom we have to work and travel. But in his heart
+of hearts each man likes to get back to the scenes of his childhood.
+The plainsman likes to get back again from the mountains to his
+level plains where the scene is closer and more intimate. The
+mountaineer likes to retire again from the plains into the mountains.
+The dweller on the veldt likes to get out of the forest on to the great
+open spaces once more. The inhabitant of the forest likes to get back
+there again from the plains. And the Englishman, though he loves
+the Alps and the Himalaya, is touched by nothing so deeply as by a
+Devonshire lane with its banks of primroses and violets. And he
+may have the greatest affection for peoples of other races among
+whom he may have had to work, yet it is his own countrymen that
+he will always really love.
+
+So the Artist comes back to home surroundings and his own people.
+And he will return with his sense of beauty quickened and refined
+by this wide and varied experience of Nature. His sensibility to the
+beauties of Nature will now be of rarest delicacy, and his capacity
+for fine discrimination and his feeling for distinction and excellence
+sure and keen.
+
+He will have been toned and tuned up to the highest pitch in his
+wrestling with Nature, and will have been purged and purified in the
+white region of the highest mountains. And in this high-strung state
+he will now see that creation and manifestation of Nature which of
+all natural objects will best declare her meaning, bring him into
+closer touch with her very Heart, and stir in him the deepest
+emotions. Between him and this object there will be possible the
+closest community of soul. Here then he will see Natural Beauty at
+its very finest.
+
+The natural object in which he will see this consummation of Beauty
+will be the woman who will be to him a kindred spirit, and whom he
+will first admire and then love.
+
+It was through the love of man and woman for each other in the
+far-off ages when love first came into the hearts of men that Natural
+Beauty also first dawned upon them. It is through that love that
+Natural Beauty has been continually growing in fulness and
+splendour. And it will be through that same love of man and woman
+for each other that the Artist will see Natural Beauty reach its
+highest perfection. For in this love man first learned to enter into the
+soul of another, to recognise samenesses between himself and
+another, and to live in communion with another. And so in time he
+came to recognise samenesses between what was in his heart and
+what was in the Heart of Nature, to enter into communion with
+Nature, and through the wedding of himself with Nature see the
+Beauty in her. He was able in some slight degree to be towards
+Nature what we see the midge buzzing round a man must be if that
+midge is to see the beauty of man. Just as the midge, if it is to see
+the beauty in man, must be able to recognise samenesses between its
+life and the life of man, so man to see Beauty in Nature had to
+recognise identity of life between him and Nature as he was first
+inspired to see it through the love of man and woman for each other.
+And now the Artist with his wide experience of Nature and united
+with his own countrywoman in his own country will recognise a still
+closer identity between himself and Nature, and so see an even fuller
+Beauty in her.
+
+Assuming the man and woman, both by their upbringing and by
+outward circumstances, to have been able to develop the best
+capacities within them and to be meeting now under conditions most
+favourable for their union, we shall see how perfect is the Beauty
+which may be revealed. The man will be in the prime of his
+manhood, and the woman in the prime of her womanhood. The man
+manly and radiating manhood, the woman womanly and radiating
+womanhood: their manhood and womanhood welling up within
+them, each eager to answer the call of the other.
+
+Hers will be no light and shallow beauty insipid as milk and water,
+but will be sweet as the violet, delicate as the primrose, pure as the
+lily, yet with all the sweetness, delicacy and purity, radiant as the
+sunrise. And they will be no pale and puny lovers, soft and mild as
+doves, and content to lead a dull and trivial life. They will be high of
+spirit, graceful, swift, and supple as the greyhound; and as keenly
+intent on living a full and varied life with every moment of it worth
+while as ever the greyhound is in pursuing its object. They will be
+capable of intense and passionate emotion, yet with all their eager
+impulsiveness they will have wills strong to keep themselves in
+hand, and to maintain their direction true through all the mazy
+intricacies of life and love.
+
+In the bringing together of such a pair Natural Beauty will play a
+vitally important part. Of all objects that Nature has produced--of all
+the offspring of the Earth--such a man and woman are the most
+beautiful. And we may assume that as they are drawn to each other
+they will put forth the very best of themselves and give out the
+utmost beauty that is in them. Moreover, they will be more beautiful
+to each other than they are to anybody else. Unconsciously they will
+reveal to each other what they _can_ reveal to none other but
+themselves. Insensibly the windows of their souls will be opened to
+each other. The lovelight in their eyes--the lovelight which can
+_only_ be shown to each other--will discover to them hidden depths
+of beauty they had never gathered they possessed.
+
+And this beauty will be something more than mere prettiness or
+handsomeness of face. The man will see the beauty of the woman
+--and she his--not only in the face and features, but in the presence,
+bearing, and carriage, in the gestures, movements, and behaviour.
+Behind the outward aspect he will see the inward spirit, the real self,
+the true nature, the radiant personality. And the beauty that he sees
+will fill him with a passionate yearning, both to give and to possess.
+He will want both to give the utmost and best of himself, and also to
+possess what so satisfies all the cravings of the soul. And whether it
+be to give or to possess that he most wants he will be unable to
+distinguish. But, in the craving to give and possess, the highest
+stimulus will be afforded him to exert every faculty to its limit. The
+effort will give zest, and with zest will come added powers of vision,
+so that he will be able to see both her and his inmost and utmost
+capabilities. And though the force of outward circumstances may
+prevent both her and him from ever completely fulfilling those latent
+possibilities, what they see of themselves and of each other in those
+divine moments may nevertheless be a perfectly true vision of their
+real and fundamental nature. Love is not so blind as is supposed.
+Love is capable of seeing clearer and deeper than any other faculty.
+
+What the Artist now sees with the eyes of Love will be the ground
+upon which he will have to form his judgment in the most critical
+decision of his life. For the moment will now have come when he
+will have to decide whether of all others he will give himself to her,
+and whether he can presume to ask of her that she will give herself
+to him--and each to the other for all the rest of their lives. It is a
+momentous decision to have to make. With his highly developed
+power of vision he will have divined her true nature. But he will
+have now to exercise his judgment on it--whether it will satisfy the
+needs of his whole being and whether his whole being is sufficient
+to satisfy her needs. Each has to be sure that his peculiar nature
+satisfies--and satisfies fully--his or her own peculiar needs, and that
+his peculiar nature satisfies the other's needs. A wrong decision here
+is fatal. The responsibility is fearful. All will depend upon his
+keenness of vision, his capacity for discrimination, and his
+soundness of judgment. The decision may be arrived at swiftly and
+consciously, or it may be come to unconsciously, gradually, and
+imperceptibly. But shorter or longer the time, consciously or
+unconsciously the method, it will have in the end to be made in a
+perfectly definite fashion--yes or no--and from that decision there
+can be no going back. And on that clear decision will hang the
+future welfare not only of the one who makes it, but of both. Each,
+therefore, has to decide for the welfare of both.
+
+This is the real Day of Judgment. And each is his own judge. Now
+all his and her past life and inborn nature is being put to the test in a
+fierce ordeal--and the fiery ordeal of love is more searching even
+than the ordeal of war. Every smallest blot and blemish, every
+slightest impurity is shown up in startling clearness. Every flaw at
+once betrays itself. What will not bear a strain immediately breaks
+down. There is not an imperfection which is not glaringly displayed.
+The other may not see it, but he himself will--and upon him is the
+responsibility.
+
+No wonder that both the one and the other hesitate to commit
+themselves finally and irrevocably! Can he with all his blots and
+blemishes, his failings and weaknesses, offer to give himself to the
+other? Is he worthy to receive all that he would expect to receive in
+return? Is he justified in asking that the whole being and the most
+sacred thing in life should be given over utterly to him? It seems
+astounding that any man should ever have the impudence to answer
+such questions in the affirmative. Doubtless he would not have had
+such effrontery but for two considerations.
+
+In the first place he knows that, imperfect as he may be--downright
+sinful as he may often have been--he is not bad at bottom. At heart,
+he knows for certain he has capacities for improvement which
+would come at once into being if only they had the opportunity for
+development. And he knows that the other could make those
+opportunities--could provide the stimulus which would awaken in
+him and bring to fruit many a hidden capability of good. Every
+faculty in him he now feels being quickened to an activity never
+known before. Blemishes he feels being purged away in the
+cleansing fires of pure love. He feels that with the other he will be,
+as he has never been before, his whole and his true self. And this is
+the first consideration which gives him confidence.
+
+The second is that he feels himself now to a very special degree in
+direct and intimate touch with the central Heart of Nature.
+Something from what he feels by instinct is the Divine Source of
+Life and Love comes springing up within him, penetrating him
+through and through, supporting and upholding him and urging him
+forward. He feels that he directly springs from that Source, and that
+it will ever sustain him as long as he is true to his own real self, and
+works for those high ends towards which he feels himself impelled.
+
+With strong faith, then, he makes his decision--with strong faith in
+_himself,_ for he knows himself to be inspired by the same great
+Spirit which animates the whole world of which he is himself a part.
+And having in this faith made his decision, he girds himself for the
+poignant battle of love.
+
+And as in war so in love men--and women--rise to altogether
+unexpected heights of courage, endurance, and devotion. War is a
+fine spur to excellence. But love is an even finer. Every faculty is
+quickened and refined. Every high quality brought into fullest
+exercise. Daring and caution, utter disregard of self and selfishness
+in the extreme, are alike required. For the two will never achieve full
+wedded union until they have fought their way through many an
+interposing obstacle. Adroitness, and that rare quality, social
+courage, will be needed in dealing with ever-recurring, complicated,
+painful, and nerve-straining situations. Even in their attitude towards
+one another as they gradually come together the finest address will
+be required. For each has necessarily to be comparing himself and
+comparing the object of his love with others; and each feels that he
+is being similarly compared. There can be no final assurance till the
+union is completed. A single ill-judged word or action may ruin all.
+At any moment another may be preferred--or at least one of the two
+may find the other inadequate or deficient.
+
+All this will afford the highest stimulus to emulation. Each will
+strive to excel in what the other approves and appreciates--or at any
+rate to excel in what is his own particular line. He will be incited to
+show himself at his best and to be his best.
+
+But before the bliss of completest union is attained anguish and
+rapture in exquisite extremes will be experienced. For the soul of
+each will be exposed in all its quivering sensitiveness, and any but
+the most delicate touch will be a torture to it. Fortitude of the firmest
+will be required to bear the wounds which must necessarily come
+from this exposure. Each, too, will have to bear the pain of the
+suffering they must inevitably be causing to some few others--and
+those others among their very dearest.
+
+As the intimacy of union becomes closer and closer the call for
+bodily union will become more and more insistent. In the first
+instance--and this is a point which is specially worth noting--the
+desire was _entirely_ for spiritual union, for union of the _spirits_ of
+each. What each admired and loved in the other was his or her
+capacity for love. He realised what a wonderful love the other
+_could_ give. And he yearned with all his heart to have that love
+directed towards himself. It was a purely spiritual union that his
+heart was set on. The thought of bodily union did not enter his head.
+But the need for bodily touch as a means of expressing human
+feeling is inherent in human nature, and becomes more and more
+urgent as the feeling becomes warmer. Friends have to shake hands
+with each other and pat each other on the back in order to show the
+warmth of their feeling for one another. Women affectionately
+embrace one another. Parents and children, brothers and sisters, kiss
+one another. It is impossible adequately to express affection without
+bodily touch. And in the case of lovers, as the love deepens so also
+deepens the compelling need to express this love in bodily union of
+the closest possible.
+
+And so the supreme moment arrives when each gives himself
+wholly, utterly, and for ever to the other--body, soul, and spirit--and
+they twain are one. And the remarkable result ensues that each in
+giving himself to the other has become more completely and truly
+himself than he has ever been before. He strives to become more and
+more closely wedded with the other. He yearns to give himself more
+completely and longs that there was more of himself to give. And he
+gives himself as completely as he can. Yet he has never before been
+so fully himself. The closeness and intimacy of the union, and all
+that he has received, has enabled him to bring forth and give
+utterance to what had lain deep and dormant within him--all his
+fondest hopes, his dearest dreams, his highest aspirations. Each is
+more himself in the other. He is, indeed, not himself without the
+other. Each has won possession of the other. Each has with joy and
+gladness given himself to the other. Each belongs to the other. Each
+is all the world to the other--a treasure without price. He is ever after
+in her as her own being. And she is in him as his own being. Apart
+from each other they are never again themselves. They are absorbed
+in mutual joy in one another.
+
+The intensity of delight is more than they can bear. It brims up and
+overflows and goes bursting out to all the world. By being able to be
+their whole selves they have become more closely in touch with the
+deepest Heart of Nature and nearest the Divine. In that hushed and
+sacred moment when the ecstasy of life and love is at its highest
+they have never felt stronger, purer, lighter, nearer the Divine. They
+have reached deep down to the most elemental part of their nature.
+And they have soared up highest to the most Divine. But Divine and
+elemental, spiritual and bodily, seem one. There seems to be nothing
+bodily which is not spiritual. And nothing elemental which is not
+Divine.
+
+It is not often that they will attain these culminating heights of
+spiritual exaltation. Nor will they be able long to remain there. The
+lark, the eagle, the airman, have all to come to earth again. And they
+spend most of their lives on the earth. But the lovers will have
+known what it is to soar. They will have found their wings. They
+will have seen heaven once, and breathed its air. And all nature, all
+human relationships, will be for ever after transfigured in heaven's
+light.
+
+The state of being to which these twain have now arrived is the
+highest and best in life. This spiritual union of man and woman--this
+union of their souls which their bodily union has made possible in
+completeness--is that which of all else has most value. The
+friendship of men for men and women for women is high up in the
+scale of being. But it is not at the supreme summit. The holy union
+of man and woman is higher still, because it is a relation of the
+_whole_ being of each to the other, and because it brings both into
+direct and closest contact with the Primal Source of Things, and on
+the line which points them highest. The relationship satisfies the
+_whole_ needs of the selves of each and satisfies the urgency of the
+Heart of Nature.
+
+* * *
+
+So now our Artist will have experienced true spirituality in its
+highest degree; and having experienced also the most elemental in
+his nature, he will perforce have come in touch with Nature along
+her whole range. And his soul being at the finest pitch of
+sensitiveness, he will be able to appreciate Natural Beauty as never
+before. And nothing less than _natural_ beauties, and nothing less
+than these beauties at their best, will in his exalted mood be
+satisfying to him. He will be driven irresistibly into the open air and
+the warm sunshine, and to the bosom of Mother-Earth. And there in
+the blue of heaven and in dreamy clouds; in the wide sea, or in
+tranquil lakes; in ethereal mountains or in verdant woodlands; in the
+loveliness of flowers, and in the music of the birds, he will find that
+which his spirit seeks--that to which his spirit wants to give response.
+Only there in the open, in the midst of Nature, will he find horizons
+wide enough, heights high enough, beauties rich enough, for his
+soul's needs.
+
+The flowers as he looks into them will disclose glories of colour,
+texture, form, and fragrance he never yet had seen. The comely
+forms of trees, their varying greenery, and the dancing sunlight on
+the leaves, will fill him with an intensity of delight that heretofore he
+had never known. And as once more he goes among his fellow-men
+he will see them in a newer and a truer light. His contact with them
+will be easier; his friendships deeper; his certainty of affection surer;
+and his capacity for entering into every joy and sorrow
+immeasurably enlarged.
+
+Through his love, our ideal Artist will have been enabled to reach
+deeper into the Heart of Nature than he had ever reached before, and
+to feel more intimately at one with her. And being thus in warmest
+touch with her, Natural Beauty, strong, deep, and delicate as only
+finest love can disclose, will be revealed to him. Enjoyment of
+Natural Beauty in its perfection is the prize he will have won.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE NATURE OF NATURE
+
+The Artist is now in a position to take stock of Nature as a whole, of
+her nature, methods, and manner of working, of the motives which
+actuate her--of what, in short, she really is at heart. And having thus
+reviewed her, he will have to determine whether his wider and
+deeper knowledge of Nature confirms or detracts from the
+impression of her which he had gained from a contemplation of the
+forest's innumerable life. Upon this decision will depend his final
+attitude towards her. And upon his attitude towards her depends his
+capacity for enjoying Natural Beauty. For if he has any doubt in his
+mind as to the goodness of Nature or any hesitation about giving
+himself out to her, there is little prospect of his seeing Beauty in her.
+He will remain cold and unresponsive to her calls and enjoyment of
+Natural Beauty will not be for him.
+
+And each of us--each for himself--just as much as the Artist will
+have to make up his mind on this fundamental question. If we are to
+get the full enjoyment we should expect out of Natural Beauty we
+must have a clear and firm conception in our minds of what Nature
+really is, what is her essential character, whether at heart she is cold
+and callous or warm and loving. So far as we were justified in
+drawing conclusions regarding the character of Nature as a whole
+from what we saw of her manifestations in the life of the forest, we
+came to the conclusion that she was not so hard and repellent as she
+assuredly would be to us if her guiding principle of action were the
+survival of the fittest. We inferred, rather, from our observations of
+her in the forest that she was actuated by an aspiration towards what
+we ourselves hold to be of most worth and value. We were therefore
+not disillusioned by closer familiarity with her, but more closely
+drawn towards her, and therefore prepared to see more Beauty in her.
+Now we have to review Nature as a whole--that is, in the Starry
+World as well as on this Earth--and see if the same conclusions hold
+good, and if we are therefore justified in loving Nature, or if we
+should view her with suspicion and distrust, hold ourselves aloof
+from her, and cultivate a stoic courage in face of a Power whose
+character we must cordially dislike.
+
+There are men who hold that the appearance of life and love on this
+Earth is a mere flash in the pan and comes about by pure chance.
+They believe that life will be extinguished in a twinkling as we
+collide with some other star, or will simply flicker out again as the
+Sun's heat dies down and the Earth becomes cold. If this view be
+correct, then that impression of the reliability and kindliness of
+Nature which we formed when contemplating the stars in the desert
+would be a false impression; our feelings of friendship with Nature
+would at once freeze up and our vision of Beauty vanish like a
+wraith.
+
+Fortunately Truth and Knowledge do not deal so cruel a blow at
+Beauty. Far from it: they take her side. There are no grounds for
+supposing that either chance or mechanism produces spirit, or that
+from merely physical and chemical combinations spirit can emerge.
+Spirit is no casual by-product of mechanical or chemical processes.
+Spirit is the governing factor regulating and controlling the physical
+movements--controlling them, indeed, with such orderliness that we
+may be apt from this very orderliness to regard the whole as a
+machine and fail to see that all is directed towards high spiritual
+ends.
+
+If we are to appeal to reason, it is much more reasonable to assume
+that spirit always existed, and that the conditions for the emergence
+of life were brought about on purpose, than to assume that spirit is a
+mere excretion, like perspiration, of chemical processes. Certainly
+the former assumptions more clearly fit the facts of the case. For
+these facts are, firstly, that we spiritual selves exist, next that we
+have ideas of goodness and a determination to achieve it, next that
+plant as well as animal life on this Earth is purposive, then that the
+stars, numbering anything from a hundred to a thousand million,
+each of them a sun and many of them presumably with planets, are
+made of the same materials as this Earth, the plants, animals, and
+ourselves are composed of; that these materials have the same
+properties; that the same fundamental laws of gravitation, heat,
+motion, chemical and electrical action prevail there as here; and
+lastly that they are all connected with the Earth by some medium or
+continuum of energies, which enables vibrations, of which the most
+obvious are the vibrations of light, to reach the Earth from them.
+These facts point towards the conclusion that the whole Universe, as
+well as ourselves and the animals and plants on this Earth, is
+actuated by spirit. Goodness we have seen to be working itself out
+on the Earth; and there is nothing we see in the world of stars that
+prevents us from concluding that in the Universe as well as on the
+Earth what _should_ be is the ground of what _is_.
+
+Something higher than life, or life in some higher form than we
+know, may indeed have been brought into being among the stars.
+Life has appeared in an extraordinary variety of forms on this Earth,
+and it would necessarily appear in other forms elsewhere. And it is
+not difficult to imagine more perfect forms in which it might have
+developed. We men are the most highly developed beings on this
+planet. But our eyes and ears and other organs of sense take
+cognisance of only a few of the vibrations raining in upon our
+bodies from the outside world. There is a vast range of vibrations of
+the medium in which we are immersed of which our bodily organs
+take no cognisance whatever. If we had better developed organs we
+would be in much more intimate touch with the world about us, and
+be aware of influences and existences we are blind to now. Beings
+with these superior faculties may very possibly have come into
+existence among the stars.
+
+Nor is there anything unreasonable in the assumption that from the
+inhabitants of these stars in their _ensemble_ issue influences which
+directly affect conditions on this Earth; that in the all in its
+togetherness is Purpose; and that it was due to the working of this
+Purpose that conditions were produced on the Earth which made the
+emergence of life possible. To some it may seem that it was only by
+chance that the atoms and molecules happened to come together in
+such a particular way that from the combination the emergence of
+life was possible. To men of such restricted vision it would seem
+equally a matter of chance that a heavenly song resulted when a
+dozen choirboys came together, opened their mouths and made a
+noise. But men of wider vision would have seen that this song was
+no matter of chance, but was the result of the working out of a
+purpose; that the choirboys were brought together for a purpose; and
+that that purpose was resident in each of a large number of people
+scattered about a parish, but who, though scattered, were all
+animated by the same purpose of maintaining a choir to sing hymns.
+So it is not unreasonable to suppose that when the particles came
+together under conditions that life resulted, they had been brought
+together in those conditions to fulfil a purpose resident in each of a
+number of beings and groups of beings scattered about the Universe,
+but who, though scattered, were nevertheless animated by the same
+purpose. Anyhow, this seems a more reasonable assumption than the
+assumption that the particles came together by pure chance.
+
+Beings with these superior faculties may very possibly have
+emerged among the stars. It would seem not at all improbable,
+therefore, that in some unrecognised way conditions on this Earth
+may be influenced in their general outlines by what is taking place
+in the Universe at large, in the same way as conditions in a village in
+India are affected by public opinion in England as epitomised in the
+decisions of the Cabinet. The remote Indian village is unaware that
+men in England have decided to grant responsible government to
+India in due course. And even if the villagers were told of this they
+would not realise the significance of the decision and how it would
+affect the fortunes of their village for good or ill during the next
+century or two. Conditions on this Earth may be similarly being
+affected by decisions made in other parts of the Universe--decisions
+the significance of which we would be as totally unable to recognise
+as the Indian villagers are to recognise the significance of the steps
+towards self-government which have just been made.
+
+The Universe is so interconnected, and there is so much interaction
+between the parts and the whole, that the Earth may be more
+affected than we think by what goes on in the Universe at large. If
+there are higher levels of being among the stars, it may well be that
+the successive rises to higher levels on this Earth--from inorganic to
+organic, from organic to mental, and from the mental to the
+spiritual--have come about through this interaction between the parts
+and the whole. Conditions on this Earth may be more affected than
+we are aware of by the Universe in its ensemble, and by the actions
+of higher beings in other Earths.
+
+In this very matter of Beauty, for example, it may quite possibly be
+the case that our intimation of Beauty has been received through the
+influence upon the most sensitive among us of beings in other parts
+of the Universe. We may be as unaware of the existence of those
+beings or of their having feelings towards us as the Indian villager is
+of the existence of the Cabinet in London or of the Cabinet's feelings
+towards him. But these stellar beings may be exerting their influence
+all the same. And it may be because of this influence that we men
+are able to see Beauty which escapes the eye of the eagle. Because
+of our higher receptiveness and responsiveness we may be able to
+receive and respond to spiritual calls from the Heart of Nature. And
+thus it may have been that we men learned to see Beauty, and now
+learn to see it more and more. There may be parts of the Universe
+where people live their lives in a blaze of Beauty, and are as anxious
+to impart to us their enjoyment of it as certain Freedom-loving
+Englishmen are to instil ideas of Freedom into the villagers of India.
+
+These, at any rate, are among the possibilities of existence. It would
+be the veriest chance if on this little speck of an Earth the highest
+beings of all had come to birth. It may be so, of course. But the
+probabilities seem to be enormously great against it. It seems far
+more probable that among the myriads of stars some higher beings
+than ourselves have come into existence, and that conditions on this
+Earth are affected by the influence which they exert. We are under
+no compulsion whatever to believe that we men are completely at
+the mercy of blind forces or that chance rules supreme in Nature.
+We have firm ground for holding that it is spirit which is supreme,
+and that every smallest part and the whole together are animated by
+Purpose.
+
+So when we view Nature in the tropical forests and in barren deserts,
+in mountains and in plains, in meadows and in woodlands, in seas
+and in stars, in animals and in men, we do not see Nature as a
+confused jumble with all her innumerable parts come together in
+haphazard fashion as the grains of sand shovelled into a heap--a
+chance aggregate of unrelated particles in which it is a mere toss-up
+which is next to which and how they are arranged. Nature is
+evidently not a chance collection of unrelated particles. We came to
+that conclusion when studying the forest, and a study of the stars
+shows nothing to weaken that conclusion. Nature is animated by
+Purpose.
+
+Yet because Nature is animated by Purpose, we need not regard her
+as a machine, a piece of mechanism which has been designed and
+put together, wound up and set going by some outside mechanician,
+and regard ourselves as cogs on the wheels, watching all the other
+wheels go round and through the maze of machinery catching sight
+of the mechanician standing by and watching his handiwork. A cog
+on the wheel as it revolved would be rigidly confined in its
+operations: it would have no choice as to what means it should
+employ to carry out its end. Yet even plants have the power of
+choice, as we have seen, and use different means to achieve the
+same end. They also spend their entire lives in selecting and
+rejecting--in selecting and assimilating what will nourish their
+growth and enable them to propagate their kind, and in rejecting
+what would be useless or harmful. These are something more than
+mechanical operations; and if Nature were a machine, not even
+plants, much less animals and men, could have been produced. The
+operations of Nature, though orderly, are not mechanical only, and
+we cannot regard Nature as a machine.
+
+And if Nature is purposive, she is at work at something more than
+the completion of a prearranged plan. We do not picture Nature as a
+_structure,_ as a Cathedral, for example, designed by some
+super-architect, in process of construction. In a Cathedral each stone is
+perfectly and finally shaped and placed in a position in which it
+must ever after remain, and the whole shows signs of gradual
+completion as it is being built, and when it is built remains as it is.
+The architect has made I and carried out his plan, and there is an end
+of the matter. It is not thus that we view Nature, for everywhere we
+see signs of perfectibility in the component parts and in the whole
+together. Only if the Cathedral had in it the power to be continually
+making its foundations deeper, to be ever towering higher, and to be
+perpetually shaping itself into sublimer form, should we look on
+Nature as a Cathedral. But in that case the mind of the architect
+would have to dwell in each stone and in all together, and the
+Cathedral would be something more than a structure in the ordinary
+use of the word.
+
+Nature is not a chance collection of particles, nor is she a mere
+machine, nor some kind of structure like a Cathedral in course of
+construction. But she is a Power of some kind, and what we have to
+determine is the kind of Power she is. Now we have seen that
+running through the life of the forest, controlling and directing the
+whole, is an Organising Activity. And our observation of the stars
+leads us to think that this same Organising Activity runs through
+them also. There is quite evidently an Activity at work keeping the
+whole together--the particles which go to form great suns, the
+particles which go to form a flower, and the particles which go to
+form a man; and all in their togetherness. Only we would not look
+upon this Activity as working anywhere outside Nature: we would
+look for it within her. We would not regard it as emanating from
+some kind of spiritual central sun situated among the stars midway
+between us and the farthest star we see--as irradiating from some
+sort of centrally-situated spiritual power-house. As we look up into
+the starry heavens we cannot imagine the Activity as residing in the
+empty space between the stars or between the stars and the Earth on
+which we stand. It seems absurd to picture its dwelling-place there.
+Equally absurd does it seem to regard the Activity as emanating
+from some spiritual sun situated far beyond the confines of the stars,
+and from there emitting spiritual rays upon Nature, including us men.
+As we look out upon Nature we see that the Activity which animates
+her does not issue from any outside source, but is actually in her.
+
+We do not need to look for the seat of that animating Activity in the
+empty spaces of the starry heavens or anywhere beyond them. We
+look for it in the stars themselves, in our own star, in the Earth, in
+every particle of which the stars and Sun and Earth are composed, in
+every plant and animal, and in every human heart, and in the whole
+together. There it is--and especially in the human heart--that the soul
+of Nature resides. There is its dwelling-place. To each of us it is
+nearer than father is to son. It is as near as "I" am to each one of the
+myriad particles which in their togetherness go to make up the body
+and soul which is "me." The spirit of Nature is resident in no
+remoteness of cold and empty space. It is deep within us and all
+around us. It permeates everything and everybody, everywhere and
+always. And if we wish to be unmistakably aware of its presence,
+we have only to look within ourselves, and whenever we are
+conscious of a higher perfection which something within,
+responding to the influences impinging insistently on us, is urging us
+to achieve; whenever we have a vision of something more perfect,
+more lovely, more lovable, and feel ourselves urged on to reach after
+that greater perfection--we are in those moments directly and
+unmistakably experiencing the Divine Spirit of Nature. Whenever
+we feel the Spirit within us showing us greater perfectibility and
+prompting us to make ourselves and others more perfect than we
+have been we are, in that moment, being directly influenced by the
+Spirit of Nature itself. We are receiving inspiration direct from the
+genius of Nature, the _driving_ Spirit which is continually urging
+her on, and the _directing_ Spirit which guides her to an end. We are
+in touch with the true Heart of Nature.
+
+So as we take a comprehensive view of Nature both in her outward
+bodily form and her inner spiritual reality, and find her to be an
+interconnected whole in which all the parts are interrelated with one
+another, one body and one mind, self-contained and self-conscious,
+and driven by a self-organising, self-governing, self-directing
+Activity--we should regard her as nothing _less_ than a _Personal
+Being._ In ordinary language we speak of Nature as a Person, and
+when we so speak we should not regard ourselves as speaking
+figuratively: we should mean quite literally and as a fact that she is a
+Person. And we should look upon that Personal Being, in which we
+are ourselves included, as in process of realising an ideal hidden
+within her--an ideal which in its turn is ever perfecting itself.
+
+* * *
+
+What is meant by Nature being a Person, and a Person actuated by a
+hidden ideal, and being in process of realising that ideal, and what is
+meant by an ideal perfecting itself, may be best explained with the
+help of an illustration.
+
+First it will be necessary to explain how we can regard Nature as a
+_Person,_ or at least as nothing less than a Person--though possibly
+_more._ It is contended by many authorities that we cannot regard
+any collective being, such as a college or a regiment--and Nature is a
+collective being--as a true person. But their arguments are
+unconvincing. They allow that "I" am a person because "I" possess
+rationality and self-consciousness. But "I" am a system or
+organisation of innumerable beings--electrons, groupings of
+electrons, groups of groupings in rising complexity. "I"--the body
+and soul which makes up "me"--am nothing but a collective being
+myself. And if we take the case of "England" as an example of a
+collective being, we shall see that England has as much right to be
+considered a personal being as any single Englishman, composed as
+he is of innumerable separate beings.
+
+Perhaps to one who is representing England among strange peoples
+the personality of England is more apparent than to those who are
+constantly living in England itself. To the foreign people among
+whom this representative is living England is a very real person.
+What she thinks about them, what she does, what her intentions are,
+what is her character and disposition, are matters of high interest; for
+upon England's good or ill will towards them may perhaps depend to
+a large extent their own future. Viewed from a distance like that,
+England quite obviously does possess a _character_ of her own. She
+appears to some people large-hearted and generous; to others
+aggressive and domineering; to most solid, sensible, reasonable,
+steadfast, and steady. And to all she has a character quite distinctive
+and her own--quite different from the character of France or of
+Russia. And England with equal obviousness _thinks._ She forms
+her own opinions of other nations, of their character, intentions,
+activities, and feelings. She thinks over her own line of action in
+regard to them. She takes decisions. And she _acts._ She is for a
+long time suspicious of Russia, and takes measures to defend herself
+against any possible hostile Russian action. She later comes to the
+conclusion that there is no fundamental difference between her and
+Russia, so she takes steps to compose the superficial differences.
+Later still, when both she and Russia are being attacked by a
+common enemy, she deliberately places herself on terms of closest
+friendship with Russia, and both gives her help and receives help
+from her. At the same time, having come to the conclusion that
+Germany is threatening her very life, she makes war on Germany,
+and prosecutes that war with courage, endurance, steadfastness and
+intelligence, and with a determination to win at any cost. England
+has deep _feeling,_ too. She had a feeling of high exaltation on the
+day she determined to fight for her life and freedom. She had a
+feeling of sadness and anxiety as things went against her at Mons,
+Ypres, Gallipoli, Kut. She was wild with joy when the war was
+victoriously concluded. And she was proud of herself as she thought
+how among the sister nations of the Empire of which she was the
+centre, and among the allied nations, she had played a great and
+noble part.
+
+Now when a body, like England, can thus think for itself, form its
+own decisions, take action, establish friendships, fight enemies, and
+feel deeply, surely that body must possess personality. In ordinary
+language England is always spoken of as a person. And ordinary
+language speaks with perfect accuracy in this respect.
+
+In her relations with individual Englishmen England also shows her
+personality. The representative abroad feels very vividly how she
+_expects_ him to act in certain ways--ways in accordance with her
+character and her settled line of action. And she conveys these
+expectations to him not only in formal official instructions from her
+Government: the most important of those expectations are conveyed
+in a far more subtle and intimate but most unmistakable way. The
+English Government did not write officially to Nelson at Trafalgar
+that England expected every man to do his duty. But Nelson,
+standing there for England, knew very well that this was what
+England was expecting of him and of those serving under him. A
+representative would find it very hard to locate the exact
+dwelling-place of the heart and soul and mind of England, whether in
+Parliament, or in the Press, or in the Universities, or in factories, or
+in the villages. But that there is an England expecting him to behave
+himself in accordance with her traditions and character, and to act on
+certain general but quite definite lines, and who will admire and
+reward him if he acts faithfully to her expectations, and condemn
+and in extreme cases punish him if he is unfaithful, he has not the
+shadow of a doubt. Nor does he doubt that this England, besides
+expecting a certain general line of conduct, will and can _constrain_
+him to act in accordance with her settled determination--that she has
+authority and has power to give effect to her will.
+
+And the official governmental representatives are not the only
+representatives of England. _Every_ Englishman is a representative
+of England. How representative he is he will experience as he finds
+himself among strange peoples outside his own country. He will find
+then that he has certain traits and traditions and characteristics which
+clearly distinguish him from the people among whom he is
+travelling. And unofficial though he may be, he will yet feel
+England expecting him to behave as an Englishman. And though he
+may not be so vividly aware of it when he is at home, he is still a
+representative of England when he is in England itself. In everyday
+life he is being expected and constrained by England to act in certain
+ways.
+
+Nor is it all a one-sided affair--England expecting so much of him
+and he having no say or control over what England does. On the
+contrary, the relationship is mutual. He goes to the making and
+shaping of England just as much as she goes to the making and
+shaping of him. He expects certain behaviour of her as she expects
+such of him. And if he has gained the confidence of his
+fellow-countrymen and has energy and determination, he may do much to
+affect her destiny.
+
+England is therefore, so it seems, a _person_ just as much as a single
+Englishman is a person. Englishmen, in fact, only attain their full
+personality in an England which _has_ personality.
+
+* * *
+
+Now Nature, I suggest, in spite of what has been said against the
+view, is a Person in exactly the same way as England is a person.
+Nature is a collective being made up of component beings--self-active
+electrons, self-active atoms, self-active suns and planets, self-active
+cells, plants, animals, men, and groups and nations of men--as
+England is made up of the land of England and all that springs
+therefrom, including the Englishmen themselves. Nature thinks and
+feels and strives as England thinks and feels and strives. And Nature
+cares for her children as England looks after her sons. It is often said,
+indeed, that Nature is hard and cruel. But it is only through the
+unfailing regularity and reliability of her fundamental laws--of her
+"constitution"--that freedom and progress are possible. If we could
+not depend upon perfect law we could make no advance whatever.
+We should all be abroad and uncertain. Yet in spite of her unbending
+rigidity over fundamentals, she does also show mercy and pity. A
+child toddling along downhill unregardful of the force of gravitation
+falls on its face and screams with pain. But Nature, represented by
+the mother, rushes up, seizes the little thing in her arms, presses it
+lovingly to her bosom, rock it and coaxes it and covers it with kisses.
+
+So if Nature can think and feel and strive and show mercy and
+loving-kindness, she is entitled to the dignity of personality. And
+when we stand back and regard Nature as a whole, we shall look
+upon her as a Person and nothing less.
+
+* * *
+
+We have now to understand what is meant by saying that Nature is a
+Person actuated by a hidden ideal and being in process of realising
+that ideal. When travelling across the Gobi Desert I found a yellow
+rose--a dwarf, simple, single rose. It is known to botanists as _Rosa
+persica,_ and is believed to be the original of all roses. I found it on
+the extreme outlying spurs of the Altai Mountains. Now, a seed of
+the rose, partly under the influence of its surroundings (soil,
+moisture, air, sunshine) but chiefly _by virtue of something which it
+contains within itself,_ something inherent in its very nature, will
+grow up into a rose-bush and give forth roses. The seed develops
+into a rose, not because some outside super-gardener takes hold of
+each one of the million million ultra-microscopic particles of which
+it is made up and puts it carefully into its appointed place, as a
+builder might put the stones of a building into their exact places
+according to the plans of an architect; but because each of those
+minutest ultimate particles has that within it which prompts it to act
+of its own accord in response to the call of the whole. Each of these
+electrons is in incessant and terrific motion, moving at the rate of
+something like 180,000 miles a second, so placing it in position
+would be a difficult matter. Besides which, each electron is not a
+tiny bit of matter as we ordinarily conceive matter--something which
+we can touch and handle. It is a mere centre or nucleus of energy.
+Any placing of it in position by a super-gardener is therefore out of
+the question. Each of those little particles moves and acts of itself in
+accordance with its own inner promptings, and in response to the
+influence of those other myriads of particles and groups of particles
+about it. And that system of these groups of particles which is
+enclosed within the rondure of the seed must have within it the ideal
+of the rose to be. Each particle will act on its own initiative, but all
+will act under the mutual influence of one another, and in their
+togetherness will make up the rose-spirit, being informed by the
+ideal of the rose which in its turn will suffuse the whole. And this
+rose-spirit--this rose-disposition--as it gives itself play, so controls
+and directs their movements that eventually the full-blown rose
+comes into being.
+
+What happens is, we may imagine, much the same as what happened
+in the case of Australia. A handful of settlers from the
+mother-country formed the germ-seed from which the Australia of to-day
+has grown up. There was no external despot ordering each
+individual Australian to do this, that, and the other--to come this
+way and go that, and to stop in one place this year and in another
+place the next. Each Australian acting on his own initiative, and all
+in their togetherness, created the Australian spirit, which again
+reacting upon each Australian induced him to act in accordance with
+that spirit. And so in time Australia, assimilating individuals from
+outside and absorbing them into its texture, and imbuing them with
+the Australian spirit, grew up into manhood in the Great War and
+astonished the world by its strong individuality, its character,
+intelligence, determination, and good comradeship.
+
+In the same way these particles of the rose-seed, each acting of itself,
+in their collectivity formed the rose-spirit. And each was in turn
+imbued by the rose-spirit. They had in them unconsciously the ideal
+of the rose-bush with its roots, stem, branches, leaves, flowers, fruit,
+seed. In all their activities they were actuated by this ideal. It was
+always constraining them in the given direction. By reason of the
+working of it in the particles they could by no possibility arrange
+themselves into a may tree or a lilac bush. There was an inner core
+of activity which persisted through all the countless changes of the
+process, which permeated the whole and which kept it directed to
+the particular end it had all the time in view. That activity had, in
+fact, a well-defined disposition, and that disposition was defined by
+the ideal of the rose, and was to form a rose-bush bearing roses.
+
+That the rose-seed developed into the rose was due, therefore, not to
+the operation of any outside agent, but was due to the operation of
+the rose-spirit that it had within it, and which was persistently
+driving it to bring into actual being that ideal of the rose which was
+the essence of its spirit. The ideal of the rose was the motive-power
+of the whole process.
+
+Where the rose-spirit derived from we shall later on enquire. Here
+we must note a point of the utmost importance. The seed of this
+_Rosa persica_ is imbued with the spirit of _Rosa persica._ It has
+this ideal working within it. But it is not confined within the rigid
+limits of that ideal. It has that ideal, but _something beyond also_
+--something in the _direction_ of that ideal, but stretching on ahead to
+an illimitable distance. The rose-seed developed riot only into the
+rose-flower, but through the flowers into numerous rose-seeds. And
+from the original _Rosa persica_ seeds have sprung roses of scores
+of varieties. Roses of every variety of form, colour, habit, texture are
+constantly appearing. By purposeful mating, and supplying
+favourable conditions of soil, temperature, etc., almost any kind of
+variety can be produced. So we have not only yellow roses of every
+shade from gold and cream to lemon, but also white and red and
+pink roses of every hue. We have single roses and roses as full as
+small cabbages. And we have dwarf roses and roses climbing 50 or
+60 feet in height.
+
+From all this it is evident that within the original seed of _Rosa
+persica_ was a rose-spirit which refused to be confined within the
+limits of _Rosa persica_ only, but stretched out far beyond as well.
+The rose-spirit had latent in it, and was unconsciously stretching out
+to, all the beauties which roses have since attained to, and beyond
+that again to all the beauties that are yet to come. The horizon of the
+rose-spirit was never confined by a single plan--the plan of the
+_Rosa persica_--as the builder is confined by the plan of the
+architect, beyond which he cannot go. The rose-spirit could reach
+out along the line of roses to an unlimited extent. It could produce
+nothing but roses; it could not produce laburnums. But it could
+produce roses of unlimited variety, provided favourable conditions
+were available.
+
+But the _Rosa persica_ was itself the outcome of a long line of
+development from a far-away primordial plant-germ. From that
+original plant-germ have sprung all the ferns and grasses, the shrubs
+and trees and flowers, of the present day. So in that plant-germ must
+have resided the plant-spirit with an ideal of all this variety of
+plant-life actuating it--unconsciously, of course, but most effectively for
+all that. The particles of that original germ in their individual
+activities and in their mutual influence upon one another were in
+their togetherness actuated by a plant-spirit which had in mind--so to
+speak--not only the reproduction of a plant precisely similar to the
+original plant, but one with the possibilities of development and of
+reproducing others with possibilities of still further development. All
+that plant life has so far attained and all that it will attain to in
+future--perhaps also all that it _might_ have attained to--must have
+been present in the plant-spirit of that original plant-germ. And it is
+through the working out--the realising--of this ideal which actuated
+that plant-spirit, and through the response which this spirit made to
+the stimulus of its surroundings that all the wonderful development
+of plant life has taken place. The plant-spirit had to keep within the
+lines of plant life; it could not stray beyond it to develop lions and
+tigers. But within the lines of plant life it could stretch out to
+illimitable distances. All that was wanted was the stimulus of
+favourable conditions, and from its surroundings it could select,
+reject, assimilate, all that would further its end.
+
+* * *
+
+In the Gobi Desert I also saw the wild horse--_Equus Prjevalskyi_
+--supposed to be the original horse. And as the rose springs from the
+seed, so the horse develops from the ovum. And by virtue of the
+horse-spirit, the horse-ideal, by which all the innumerable particles
+of that ovum is actuated, it develops into a horse, and not into a
+donkey or a cow. But the ovum of the original _Equus Prjevalskyi_
+must have had in it the ideal of something more than the _Equus
+Prjevalskyi,_ for from the original stock has sprung the great variety
+of horses we see to-day--race-horses, cart-horses, hunters, polo
+ponies, Shetland ponies, etc. And these are still varying. And the
+_Equus Prjevalskyi_ was itself the outcome of a long line of
+development. Like all other animals, including man, it must have
+sprung from an original animal-germ. And the particles of that
+original animal-germ must have had in them the animal-spirit
+actuated by the ideal of all the animals of the present day, including
+man, and ready to develop as soon as favourable conditions
+provided the necessary stimulus to which the germ was ready to
+respond.
+
+And both the original plant-germ and the original animal-germ
+sprang from an original plant-animal germ. And this, again, from the
+Earth itself. So that the Earth must always have had hidden in it the
+ideal of all plant and animal and human life--and not only the ideal
+of what it has reached at present, but of all it _will_ become, and, it
+is important to note, of all it _might_ become in future. It is the
+working of this ideal in the Earth, from the time five hundred
+million years or so ago when it budded off from the Sun as a fiery
+mist, that it has, under the influence of the light and heat of the Sun,
+and possibly also under the influences from the Stellar Universe as
+well, produced what we see to-day. The Earth-Spirit was inspired by
+this ideal, and in the ideal was this capacity for improving itself.
+And through the working of this ideal, and under the influence of the
+rest of the world, the Earth has developed from a flaming sphere into
+a molten ball, into a globe of barren land and sea, and so on into the
+verdure-covered and animal- and man-inhabited Earth of the present
+age. The Earth, like the rose-seed, contained within it a core of
+Activity which permeated every particle and constrained it with its
+fellow-particles to direct itself towards the ideal--a core of Activity
+which was animated by the ideal, while the ideal on its part had an
+innate faculty of perfecting itself.
+
+But the Earth is itself only a minute mite even of the Solar System.
+And the Sun is only one of perhaps a thousand million other stars,
+some so distant that light travelling at the rate of 186,000 miles a
+second must have started from them before the birth of Christ to
+reach us to-day. Nevertheless the Earth is composed of the same
+ultimate particles of matter that even the most distant stars are made
+of. The Earth, the Sun and stars, are composed of electrons which
+are all alike. Doubtless there are individual differences between
+electrons as there are between men, but in a general way they are as
+much alike as all men appear alike to an eagle. And of these
+electrons the whole Universe is made as well as the Earth. The same
+laws of motion, of gravitation, and of electro-magnetic and chemical
+attraction, obtain there as here. The scale of the Stellar World is
+immensely larger than the scale we are accustomed to on this Earth.
+But the same fundamental laws everywhere prevail, and the Earth
+and stars are composed of the same material.
+
+So it must have been from the Heart of Nature as a whole that the
+Earth-Spirit must have derived the ideal which actuated it. Deep in
+the Heart of Nature must have resided the ideal of the state of the
+Earth as it is to-day. In the great world as a whole, as in the
+rose-seed, must have been operating an ideal at least of what is on the
+Earth to-day, and of what this Earth will become and of what it
+might become; and possibly _also_ of greater things which have
+already been realised, or _will_ be realised and _might_ be realised
+in the planets of other suns than our Sun. There must ever have been
+working throughout the Universe an Activity constraining the
+ultimate particles in a given direction. There must have been an
+Organising Activity, collecting the diffused particles together,
+grouping them into concentrated organisms and achieving loftier
+and loftier modes of being. Each of those inconceivably numerous
+and incredibly minute particles which make up the stars and the
+Earth and all on it--each one acted of itself. But each acted of itself
+under the influence of its fellows--that is, of every other particle;
+that is, of the _whole._ Each acted in response to its surroundings,
+but its surroundings were nothing short of the whole of Nature
+outside itself. Together they formed the Spirit of Nature with the
+ideal as its essence. And Nature in her turn acted on the particles--as
+Englishmen form the spirit of England and the spirit of England acts
+back upon individual Englishmen.
+
+It was the working of this Spirit, with its self-improving ideal, that
+has produced Nature as we see her to-day. The distant ideal
+furnished the motive-power by which the whole is driven forward.
+And this ideal was itself built up by the unceasing interaction of the
+whole upon the parts and the parts upon the whole. What was in the
+parts responded to the stimulus of what was in the whole, and the
+whole was affected by the activity of the parts. What was immanent
+responded to what was transcendent. And the transcendence was
+affected by the immanence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+NATURE'S IDEAL
+
+If we have been right so far, we have arrived at the position that
+Nature is a Personal Being in process of realising an ideal operating
+within herself. We have now to satisfy ourselves as to the character
+of that ideal. What is the full ideal working in the whole of Nature
+we cannot possibly know. We can only know so much of it as can be
+detected with our imperfect faculties on this minute atom of the
+Universe on which we dwell. We cannot be sure we have even
+discerned the highest levels of the ideal. For there may be higher
+beings than ourselves on the planets of the stars, and among those
+higher beings higher qualities than any we know of, or can conceive,
+may have emerged. Love is the highest quality we know. But love in
+any true sense of the word--love as a self-conscious activity--has
+only emerged with man, and man has only appeared within the last
+half-million of the Earth's four or five hundred million years of
+existence as the Earth. We cannot, therefore, presume to say what is
+the ideal in its highest development for the whole of Nature.
+
+But from our experience here we can see what that ideal is up to
+(what for us is) a very high level, and we can make out what is
+apparently its fundamental characteristic. I obtained my best
+conception of it on the evening I left Lhasa at the conclusion of my
+Mission to Tibet in 1904, when I had an experience of such value
+for determining Nature's ideal, and, for me at any rate, so
+convincingly corroborative of the conclusions which others who
+have had similar experiences have drawn from them as to Nature's
+ideal, that I hope I may be excused for relating in some detail the
+circumstances in which it came to me.
+
+These circumstances, though not the experience itself, were
+somewhat exceptional. I was at that particular moment at the highest
+pitch of existence--that is to say, of my own existence. I had had an
+unusually wide experience of the wild countries of that most
+interesting and varied of the continents--Asia, and for that reason
+had been specially selected for the charge of a Mission to Tibet.
+However ill-qualified I might be for other tasks, for this particular
+business of establishing neighbourly relations with a very secluded
+and seclusive Asiatic people, difficult of approach both on account
+of their natural disposition and of the mighty mountain barrier which
+stood between them and the rest of the world, I was esteemed to
+have peculiar qualifications. My comrades were also men selected
+for their special qualifications--one for his knowledge of the
+Tibetans, another for his knowledge of the Chinese, another for his
+knowledge of geology, and so on. The troops engaged were selected
+for their experience in frontier warfare, and each man had had to
+pass a medical test. We were at the top of our physical fitness and
+ripe in experience.
+
+Besides British officers and a few British troops, there were among
+the soldiers Sikhs, Pathans, Gurkhas, a few Bengalis, a few Rajputs
+and Dogras; and among the followers were Bhutias and Lepchas
+from Sikkim, Baltis from Kashmir, Bhutanese from Bhutan. There
+were thus Christians, Mohammedans, Hindus, and Buddhists: men
+from an island in the Atlantic, and men from the remotest valleys of
+the Himalaya. And our destination had been a sacred city hidden
+two hundred miles behind the loftiest range of mountains in the
+world.
+
+On our way we had had to battle with the elements of Nature in very
+nearly their extremest forms and in every variety. We started in the
+sweltering heat of the plains of India in the hottest season. We
+passed the lower outer ranges of the Himalaya in the midst of
+torrential rain, like the heaviest thunder-shower in England,
+continuing all day long and day after day with scarcely a break, and
+penetrating through a waterproof coat as if it were paper. Following
+this we had to cross the main axis of the Himalaya in January, to
+pass the winter at an altitude of 15,000 feet above sea-level, and face
+blizzards which cut through heavy fur coats and left us as if we were
+standing before it in our bare bones.
+
+We had also had to battle with the Tibetans--not only in actual
+fighting, but in diplomacy as well. I had deliberately risked my life
+in order to effect a settlement by persuasion and without resort to
+arms. Officers and men at my request had done the same.
+Subsequently we had both attacked and been attacked. Five hundred
+of us had for two months to face the attacks of eight thousand
+Tibetans. Later, again, we had had a long, tough, diplomatic contest
+with the Tibetans.
+
+Besides battling with the elements and with the Tibetans, I had also
+had to battle with my own people--as is always and inevitably the
+case on such occasions. Military and political considerations had to
+contend against each other. This local question between India and
+Tibet was part of the general international question of the relations
+of European nations, Russia, France, Germany, Italy, America, with
+China, for Tibet was under the suzerainty of China. Local
+considerations had therefore to contend with international
+considerations. Then from the local point of view the permanent
+settlement of this particular question was desirable, whereas those
+responsible for the international situation would not object to a
+temporary arrangement of this single question as long as the whole
+general situation could be favourably secured. The Tibetan question
+was part of the whole question of our relations with Russia. Our
+relations with Russia were connected with our relations with France.
+We were coming to an arrangement with France as regards Egypt
+and Morocco. If we did anything in Tibet which vexed Russia she
+might be troublesome as regards Egypt, and make it difficult to
+come to an arrangement with France and to bring off the
+Anglo-French Entente. Of all these international considerations I was kept
+aware by Government even in the heart of Tibet. But my position
+required that I should stand up for the political as against the
+military, the local as against the international, and the permanent
+settlement as against the temporary arrangement. It was my duty
+vigorously to battle for this--as it was equally the duty of the
+military and those responsible for international affairs to battle for
+their own point of view. And of course I had to submit, after
+contesting my standpoint, to the decision of those in authority;
+though I had to contend for the particular, it was the general which
+had to prevail.
+
+In the end a settlement was reached, and in this remote city we had
+received congratulations from many different people in many
+different lands. The troops, my staff, and all about me were filled
+with delight at the success of our enterprise. Even the Tibetans
+themselves seemed pleased at the settlement; at any rate, they asked
+to be taken under our protection. On the morning we left Lhasa the
+Lama Regent, who in the absence of the Dalai Lama had conducted
+negotiations with us, paid us a farewell visit and gave us the
+impression of genuine goodwill towards us. We and the Tibetans
+had contended strongly against one another. But it seemed that a
+way had been found by which good relations between us could be
+maintained. We had discovered that fundamentally we were
+perfectly well-disposed towards each other, and means had been
+found for composing our differences. Throughout the Mission we
+had kept before us the supreme importance of securing this goodwill
+eventually. The Tibetan frontier runs with the Indian frontier for a
+thousand miles, and it would have been the height of folly to have
+stirred up in the Tibetans a lasting animosity. Far more important,
+then, than securing the actual treaty we regarded securing the
+permanent goodwill; and when I felt that through the exertion of my
+Staff and the good behaviour of the troops as well as through my
+own efforts the goodwill of the Tibetans really had been secured, my
+satisfaction was profound.
+
+It was after enduring all these hardships, after running all these risks,
+and after battling in all these controversies, that this deep
+satisfaction came upon me. For though at times I felt, as every
+leader feels in like circumstances, that success must have been due
+to everyone else besides myself--to the backing and firm direction I
+had received from Government, to the sound advice and help of my
+Staff, to the bravery and endurance of the troops, without all or any
+one of which aids success would have been unattainable--yet I could
+not help also feeling that I had often on my own responsibility to
+make decisions and run risks, and to give advice to Government;
+and that if I had erred in my decisions or in the advice I gave or in
+taking the risks, success most assuredly would not have been
+achieved, however much support I received from elsewhere. I had,
+therefore, that satisfaction a man naturally feels when his special
+qualifications and training and the experience he has gained during
+the best part of his life have proved of acknowledged good to his
+country. And this was the frame of mind in which I rode out of
+Lhasa on our march homeward.
+
+These were the circumstances in which I had the experience I now
+venture to describe. After arrival in camp I went off into the
+mountains alone. It was a heavenly evening. The sun was flooding
+the mountain slopes with slanting light. Calm and deep peace lay
+over the valley below me--the valley in which Lhasa lay. I seemed
+in tune with all the world and all the world seemed in tune with me.
+My experiences in many lands--in dear distant England; in India and
+China; in the forests of Manchuria, Kashmir, and Sikkim; in the
+desert of Gobi and the South African veldt; in the Himalaya
+mountains; and on many an ocean voyage; and experiences with
+such varied peoples as the Chinese and Boers, Tibetans and
+Mahrattas, Rajputs and Kirghiz--seemed all summed up in that
+moment. And yet here on the quiet mountain-side, filled as I was
+with the memories of many experiences that I had had in the high
+mountain solitudes and in the deserts of the world away from men, I
+seemed in touch with the wide Universe beyond this Earth as well.
+
+After the high tension of the last fifteen months, I was free to let my
+soul relax. So I let it open itself out without restraint. And in its
+sensitive state it was receptive of the finest impressions and quickly
+responsive to every call. I seemed to be truly in harmony with the
+Heart of Nature. My vision seemed absolutely clear. I felt I was
+seeing deep into the true heart of things. With my soul's eye I
+seemed to see what was really in men's hearts, in the heart of
+mankind as a whole and in the Heart of Nature as a whole.
+
+And my experience was this--and I try to describe it as accurately as
+I can. I had a curious sense of being literally in love with the world.
+There is no other way in which I can express what I then felt. I felt
+as if I could hardly contain myself for the love which was bursting
+within me. It seemed to me as if the world itself were nothing but
+love. We have all felt on some great occasion an ardent glow of
+patriotism. This was patriotism extended to the whole Universe. The
+country for which I was feeling this overwhelming intensity of love
+was the entire Universe. At the back and foundation of things I was
+certain was love--and not merely placid benevolence, but active,
+fervent, devoted love and nothing less. The whole world seemed in a
+blaze of love, and men's hearts were burning to be in touch with one
+another.
+
+It was a remarkable experience I had on that evening. And it was not
+merely a passing roseate flush due to my being in high spirits, such
+as a man feels who has had a good breakfast or has heard that his
+investments have paid a big dividend. I am not sure that I was at the
+moment in what are usually called high spirits. What I felt was more
+of the nature of a deep inner soul-satisfaction. And what I saw
+amounted to this--that evil is the superficial, goodness the
+fundamental characteristic of the world; affection and not animosity
+the root disposition of men towards one another. Men are inherently
+good not inherently wicked, though they have an uphill fight of it to
+find scope and room for their goodness to declare itself, and though
+they are placed in hard conditions and want every help they can to
+bring their goodness out. Fundamentally men are consuming with
+affection for one another and only longing for opportunity to exert
+that affection. They want to behave straightly, honourably, and in a
+neighbourly fashion towards one another, and are only too thankful
+when means and conditions can be found which will let them
+indulge this inborn feeling of fellowship. Wickedness, of course,
+exists. But wickedness is not the essential characteristic of men. It is
+due to ignorance, immaturity, and neglect, like the naughtinesses of
+children. It springs from the conditions in which men find
+themselves, and not from any radical inclination within themselves.
+With maturity and reasonable conditions the innate goodness which
+is the essential characteristic will assert itself. This is what came to
+me with burning conviction. And it arose from no ephemeral sense
+of exhilaration, nor has it since evaporated away. It has remained
+with me for fifteen years, and so I suppose will last for the rest of
+my life. Of course in a sense there has been disillusionment, both as
+to myself and as to the world. As one comes into the dull round of
+everyday life the glow fades away and all seems grey and colourless.
+Nevertheless, the conviction remains that the glow was the _real,_
+and that the grey is the superficial. The glow was at the heart and is
+what some day _will_ be--or, anyhow, _might_ be.
+
+An additional ground I have for believing it to be true is that on that
+mountain-side near Lhasa I had a specially favourable opportunity
+of looking at the world from, as it were, a proper focal distance. And
+it is only from a proper focal distance that we can see what things
+really are. If we put ourselves right up against a picture in the
+National Gallery we cannot possibly see its beauty--see what the
+picture really is. No man is a hero to his own valet. And that is not
+because a man is not a hero, but because the valet is too close to see
+the real man. Cecil Rhodes at close quarters was peevish, irritable,
+and like a big spoilt child. Now at a distance we know him, with all
+his faults, to have been a great-souled man. Social reformers near at
+hand are often intolerable bores and religious fanatics frequently a
+pestilential nuisance. We have to get well away from a man to see
+him as he really is. And so it is with mankind as a whole.
+
+So I become more and more certain that my vision was true. And the
+experience of the Great War strengthens my conviction. As we
+recede from it, what will stand out, we may be sure, are not the
+crimes and cruelties that have been committed and the suffering that
+has been caused, but the astounding heroism which was displayed,
+the self-sacrifice, the devotion and love of country that were
+shown--heroism and devotion such as have never before in the world's
+history been approached, and which was manifested by common
+everyday men and women in every branch of life and in every
+country.
+
+* * *
+
+The conclusion I reach from this experience is that I was, at the
+moment I had it, intimately in touch with the true Heart of Nature. In
+my exceptionally receptive mood I was directly experiencing the
+genius of Nature in the very act of inspiring and vitalising the whole.
+I was seeing the Divinity in the Heart streaming like light and heat
+through every part of Nature, and with the dominating forcefulness
+of love lifting each to its own high level.
+
+And my experience was no unique experience. It was an experience
+the like of which has come to many men and many women in every
+land in all ages. It may not be common; but it is not unusual. And in
+all cases it gives the same certainty of conviction that the Heart of
+Nature is _good,_ that men are not the sport of chance, but that
+Divine Love is a real, an effectively determining and the dominant
+factor in the processes of Nature, and Divine fellowship the essence
+of the ideal which is working throughout Nature and compelling all
+things unto itself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE HEART OF NATURE
+
+That Nature is a Personal Being--or at least nothing _less_ than a
+Personal Being--that she is actuated by an ideal, and that her ideal,
+so far as we are able to judge, is an ideal of Divine Fellowship, is the
+conclusion at which we have now arrived. But we shall understand
+Nature better, and so see her Beauty more fully, if we can
+understand how she works out this ideal in detail. And we shall best
+understand how she works it out if we examine what goes on within
+our own selves and see how _we_ work out the ideal with which we
+believe Nature herself has inspired us. For it is in ourselves that the
+dominating spirit of Nature is most clearly manifested to us. And
+being ourselves the instruments and agents of Nature, and informed
+through and through with her spirit, we ought to be able to
+understand how she works if only we look carefully enough into the
+working of our own inner selves.
+
+What we find is that under the inspiration of the genius of Nature we
+are perpetually projecting in front of us a pattern or standard of what
+we think we ought to be, or should like to be, and of what we think
+our country and the world ought to be. We set up an ideal. It is
+generally very vague. But there is always at the back of our minds
+an idea of something more perfect. And this idea we bring out from
+time to time from its seclusion and set up before us as an end to aim
+at.
+
+Sometimes we deliberately try to draw the outlines of this ideal
+more definitely. Each of us will picture a slightly different ideal to
+the rest. The ideal men will differ just as much as actual men, and
+the ideal countries as much as actual countries. No two will be
+exactly alike. And each of us will probably make his ideal man very
+different from himself--perhaps the exact opposite, for each will be
+peculiarly conscious of his own imperfections and shortcomings.
+
+But if the ideal man which each sets up differs in small particulars
+from what others set up, the general outline of all will probably be
+very much the same, as men in general are much the same when
+compared with other animals. All will be based on the idea of
+fellowship. So aided by examples chosen from among our friends,
+we may here attempt to build up an ideal type of man. For the effort
+will help us to realise better both what Nature is aiming at and how
+she works.
+
+Formerly we might have drawn this ideal man upright, straight, rigid,
+unbending. More recently we might have drawn him as a super-man,
+the fittest-to-survive kind of man, all muscular will, intent only on
+bending every other will to his and crashing relentlessly on through
+life like a bison in the forest. But nowadays we want a man with the
+same reliability as the upright type, but with grace and suppleness in
+place of rigidity; and with the same strength as the super-man, but
+with gentleness and consideration in proportion to the strength. We
+do not want a man of wood; and what we do want is not so much a
+super-man as a gentle-man--a man of courtesy and grace as well as
+strength.
+
+The stiff and stilted type of a bygone age will have melted under the
+warmth of deepening fellowship and become flowing and fluid. The
+man of this type will not only be full of consideration for others, but
+will naturally, out of a full and overflowing heart and of his own
+generous prompting, eagerly enter into the lives and pursuits, the
+hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows of those with whom he is
+connected. And with all this wide _general_ kindliness he will be
+something more than merely amiable and good-natured, and will
+have capacity for intense devotion for _particular_ men and women.
+He will necessarily have fine tact and address, adroitness and skill in
+handling difficult and delicate situations, and the sensitiveness to
+appreciate the most hidden feelings of others. Wit and distinction he
+will have, too, with ability to discern the real nature of people and
+events, and to distinguish the best from the good, and the good from
+the indifferent and bad. He will also possess that peculiar sweetness
+of disposition which is only found when behind it is the surest
+strength. And with all his gentleness, tenderness, and capacity for
+sympathy he will have the grit and spirit to hold his own, to battle
+for his rights, and to fight for those conditions which are absolutely
+necessary for his full development. He will, in addition, have the
+initiative to think out and strike out his own line and to make his
+own mark.
+
+He will be a man of the world in the sense of being accustomed to
+meet and mix with men in many different walks of life and of many
+different nationalities. And he will be a man of the home in the
+sense of being devoted to his own family circle. He will be at home
+in the town and at home in the country; adapted to the varied society,
+interests, and pursuits which town life can afford, but devoted also
+to the country, to the open air and elemental nature and animals and
+plants.
+
+A fixed principle and firm determination with him will be to do his
+duty--to do his social duty, to do the right thing at whatever
+temporary cost to himself. The right thing for him will be that which
+produces most good. And he will deem that the most good which
+best promotes human fellowship, warms it with love, colours it with
+beauty, enlightens it with truth, and sweetens it with grace. Finally,
+and culminatingly, he will have that spirituality and fine
+sensitiveness of soul which will put him in touch with the true Heart
+of Nature and make him eagerly responsive to the subtlest
+promptings which spring therefrom; so he will be possessed of a
+profound conviction, rooted in the very depths of his being, that in
+doing the right thing, or in other words pursuing righteousness, he is
+carrying out the will and intention of that Divine Being whom we
+here call Nature but whom we might also call God.
+
+This, or something like it, is the ideal of a man which most of us
+would form under the impress and impetus of the indwelling genius
+of Nature. But this ideal can only be reached by an individual when
+his country also has reached it. He will be driven, therefore, to make
+his country behave and act up to this ideal. And his country cannot
+so act till the general society of nations conducts itself on the same
+general lines. His country, therefore, will be driven to make the
+general society of nations behave in accordance with the principles
+of high fellowship.
+
+* * *
+
+We have made for ourselves the ideal of a man. It remains to show
+that the finest pitch of all is only reached in the union of man and
+woman. The man is not complete without the woman, nor the
+woman without the man. It is in their union, therefore, that the ideal
+in its greatest perfection will be seen. The flower which results from
+the working of the ideal in the Heart of Nature, as the flower of the
+rose results from the working of the rose-ideal in the heart of the
+rose-seed, we see in the love of man and woman at the supreme
+moment of their union. This is the very holiest thing in Nature. It is
+then that both the man and the woman are to the fullest extent
+themselves, both to be and to express all that is in them to be. They
+love then to their extreme capacity to love. They are gentle then to
+the utmost limit of tenderness. And they are strong then to the
+farthest stretch of their strength.
+
+And while they thus reach the very acme of Nature's ideal so far as
+we men can discern it, they, at the same time and in so doing, touch
+the very foundations of Nature as well. Mathematicians have
+discovered that there is no such thing as a perfectly straight line, and
+that curvature is a fundamental property of the physical world. So
+also is it in the spiritual world. As we reach the topmost height of
+the ideal we find that it has curved round, and that we are at that
+moment at the very base and foundation. What is attracting us
+forward in the farthest distance in front is the very thing that is
+urging us forward from behind. Pinnacle and foundation, source and
+end, meet.
+
+The love which attracted the man and woman together and which
+they keep striving to attain in higher and higher degree, is the same
+as the creative impulse which comes surging up from the very Heart
+of Nature. Direct and without ever a break it has come out of the
+remotest past and deepest deeps. Few seem aware of this, and yet it
+is an obvious fact--and a fact which vastly increases our sense of
+intimacy with Nature. It was due to the same impulse which has
+brought the man and woman together that they themselves were
+brought into being. Their parents had been attracted by the same
+vision of love and impelled by the same impulse. Their parents'
+parents had been similarly attracted and impelled, and so on back
+and back through the whole long line of ancestry, through half a
+million years to primitive men, back beyond them again through the
+long animal ancestry for scores of millions of years to the beginning
+of life. Even then there is no break. Direct from the very Fountain
+Source of Things this creative impulse has come bursting up into
+their hearts. At the moment of union they are straight along the
+direct line of the whole world-development, so far as this planet is
+concerned. The elemental in the natural impulse is the most
+ultimately elemental, for it derives itself straight from the pure
+Origin of Things. As they reach after the most Divine they are
+impelled by the most elemental. What, in fact, happens is that the
+elemental is inspired through and through with the Divine.
+
+The union of man and woman is the flower of Nature. But, like the
+rose, it bears within it the seed from which some still more beautiful
+flower may result. No pair, however sublime their union, suppose
+that it is the best that could by any possibility at any time exist. An
+absolutely perfect union depends upon an absolutely perfect pair in
+absolutely perfect surroundings. And no one supposes that he
+himself is perfect or that the world around him is perfect. So there is
+in the pair a consciousness of imperfection, a vision of perfection,
+and a desperate yearning to be more perfect and to make the world
+more perfect. Deep and strong as the creative impulse itself is the
+impulse to improvement. It is due to this impulse that the mother
+reaches over her child with such loving care, strives to shield it from
+all harm, social as well as physical, and to give it a better chance
+than she herself enjoyed. It is due to this same impulse that the man
+works to leave his profession, his business, his science, his art, his
+country, better than he found it. It is due to this impulse also that
+men as a whole are driven to improve the whole Earth, to improve
+plants, flowers, trees, animals, men, and make the world a better
+place for their successors than it has ever been for them.
+
+The pair--even the most splendid pair that has ever wedded
+--have deep within them this perhaps unrecognised impulse to
+improvement. They know that the rose can only bring forth roses,
+and that they can only bring forth men: they know that they cannot
+bring forth angels. But they know also that the rose, when wisely
+mated and its offspring provided with favourable surroundings of
+soil and air and sunshine, can give rise to blooms incomparably
+more perfect than itself. And they know that they themselves, if they
+have wisely mated, if they carefully tend their offspring and provide
+them with healthy, sunny, physical and social surroundings, can give
+rise, in generations to come, to unions of men and women
+incomparably more perfect than their own--as much more perfect as
+their union is than the unions of primitive men--richer in colour,
+more graceful in form, sweeter in fragrance, and of an altogether
+finer texture.
+
+* * *
+
+This, then, is the ideal in its completeness which we set up before us.
+But we have no sooner set it up than we find that the presence of this
+ideal within us makes us restless, unsatisfied, discontented, till we
+have set to work to bring things up to it; and that when we do start
+improving them we are forthwith involved in endless strife.
+Improvement means effort. It does not come by itself. It is only
+effected by strong, persistent, determined effort. It was no easy
+matter for the particles in the rose-seed to battle their way through
+the hard seed-case, strike down into the soil, send up shoots into the
+air, stand steadfastly to their ideal of the rose, and produce a seed
+capable of bringing forth a still more perfect flower. And it is no
+easy matter for us to burst through our own shells, strike our roots
+far down into the soil of common humanity and common animality,
+and there firmly rooted strike up skyward, stand faithfully to our
+ideal, and produce something which will have capacity for still
+further improvement. Immense and sustained effort is required of us
+for this to be accomplished.
+
+Each man finds he has to battle with himself to make way for all the
+best in himself to come to the front. Each has to battle with the
+circumstances in which he is placed in order to find scope for the
+exercise of the best in himself. Each has to break his way through, as
+that wonder of Nature, poor primitive man, had to battle his way
+through the impediments of the tropical forests and the brute beasts
+by which he was surrounded. And just as primitive man was not the
+animal provided with the thickest hide like the rhinoceros, nor with
+sharpest claws like the lion, nor with the fiercest temper like the
+tiger, but was of all his fellows the one with the most sensitive
+nature, so are those nearest the ideal the most delicately sensitive of
+mankind.
+
+The ideal is never approached, much less attained, except by men
+and women of the most highly-strung natures--natures peculiarly
+susceptible to pain. And with this extra susceptibility to pain they
+have to expose to the risk of wounds and bruises the most sensitive
+parts of their natures. Suffering is therefore inevitably their lot. It is
+the invariable attendant of progress however beneficent.
+Excruciating pain each expects to have to endure--as every
+expectant mother and every soldier anticipates on the physical plane.
+
+We find, too, that in working out our ideal we are not only required
+to endure pain, but to submit to the sternest discipline. First, we need
+self-discipline. Each individual finds that he is required to exercise
+his faculties to the full, make the utmost of himself, attain to the
+highest of which he is capable, and be ready for any sacrifice. So he
+must train his faculties to the highest. He is required also to work in
+concert with his fellows. The stern obligation is therefore upon him
+to forgo his own private advantage in order that the common end
+may be achieved. This obligation he has readily to acknowledge and
+submit to. He has also to acknowledge what he owes to Nature, what
+is his _duty_ to Nature. And that duty he has to perform and her
+authority he has to admit. He can retain his freedom and initiative
+and enterprise. But he has to obey the laws of Nature, acknowledge
+her authority, submit to her discipline. No soldiers were more full of
+independence and initiative than the Australians, but no troops at the
+end of the War realised better than they did that success can only be
+achieved through strictest discipline as well as freedom and
+initiative. The lover also knows that only through the sternest
+discipline and constraint upon himself is his object attained. Thus
+there is an imperative necessity upon a man to be orderly in his
+behaviour, loyal, faithful, dutiful, and obedient to the ideal within
+him. Any failure in loyalty and obedience is a sin against Nature and
+a sin against himself. The call of honour and of humanity is upon
+him, and that call he has to obey without hesitation.
+
+Equally are men expected to be ready to _exercise_ authority, to
+maintain discipline and preserve order. The exercise of authority is
+no less an obligation and duty upon men than obedience to it. And
+the one has to be practised just as much as the other. Or, rather, the
+exercise of authority has to be practised more, for it is more difficult
+and more valuable. And the proper exercise of authority,
+maintenance of discipline, and preservation of order, is a duty men
+owe ultimately to Nature herself. For it is from Nature that they
+finally derive their authority and to Nature that they are ultimately
+responsible.
+
+Whether as captain of the eleven or as head of the house at school,
+as manager of an office or a business, as policeman or foreman, as
+corporal or Commander-in-Chief, as administrator or Prime
+Minister, whether as nurse, parent, or schoolmistress, a man or
+woman is in his position of authority directly or indirectly on the
+appointment or choice of those over whom he has to exercise
+authority. He is there to exercise authority for their benefit. They
+have placed him--as the public place the policeman--in authority for
+that purpose. And they have a right to expect that he will exercise
+his authority with decision, maintain discipline with firmness, and
+preserve order with even-handed justice. For only then can they
+themselves know where they are, get on with their own duties and
+affairs, and fulfil the law of their being. Ultimately those in authority
+are chosen by, and are responsible to, those over whom they
+exercise authority. And those who choose them expect and require
+them to exercise authority authoritatively.
+
+Each in his own particular sphere, in that particular place and for the
+time being, has to exercise his authority with strictness. Otherwise
+the rest cannot fulfil their own duties. The policeman has to exercise
+his authority even over a Prince, as otherwise there might be chaos
+in the streets and no one would be able to get about his business
+with surety. The whole people have chosen each for his particular
+position of authority, and for their benefit expect him to exercise it
+strictly.
+
+The people, again, spring from Nature as a whole. They are the
+representatives of Nature. Those in authority are therefore, in their
+particular province, for that particular purpose, and for the time
+being the representatives of Nature. They are accountable to Nature,
+and Nature expects them as her representatives to exercise authority
+with wisdom and discretion, but on the same basic principles of
+absolute fairness and perfect orderliness that she herself in her
+elemental aspects exercises her authority.
+
+Besides obeying authority and exercising authority, men have also
+to practise _leadership._ Merely to give and obey orders is nothing
+like sufficient. In most things a man follows some leader, but in
+each man there is one thing--his own particular line--in which he can
+_lead._ In that line he is expected to qualify himself for leadership,
+and be prepared to take the risks of high adventure. For it is only
+through leadership, through someone venturing out beyond the ruck
+and getting his fellows to follow him, that any progress is made.
+Mere obedience to authority and exercise of authority never initiate
+any new departure. These only provide the conditions for progress.
+In addition to these the divine gift of leadership is required.
+Leadership is therefore the supremely important quality which men
+require.
+
+But men cannot intelligently act in concert and alertly; cannot
+willingly submit themselves to a rigid discipline; cannot exercise
+authority with confidence and weight; and cannot lead so that others
+may follow, unless all are animated by the same idea. And they are
+not likely to sacrifice their lives for that idea unless they are
+convinced of its value. Only for the most precious things in life do
+men willingly give up their lives. And before they submit to
+unquestioning discipline and sacrifice themselves for an ideal they
+need a clear understanding of that ideal and a just appreciation of its
+value. So they think out the ideal with greater precision and make
+sure that what they are aiming at is nothing short of the highest.
+Now the ideal of fellowship enriched with beauty and elevated to the
+Divine is one which all can understand and of which all can see the
+value. Because it is the highest it is satisfying to the deepest needs
+and cravings of their nature, and is therefore of a value beyond all
+reckoning. Assured of that, they summon up all the courage and
+fortitude that is theirs, all their spirit and mettle, to endure
+unflinchingly the pain that must be theirs. And in spite of the effort,
+the long, strict training, the rigid discipline, the hardship and
+suffering they have to undergo, they joyfully play their part because
+they are assured in their hearts that what they are living for and
+would readily die for is supremely worth while. Deep in their hearts
+is that divine joy of battle that fighters for the highest always feel.
+And they fight with power and conviction because they know that
+their ideal has come into their hearts straight from Nature herself,
+and experience has shown that what Nature has in mind she does in
+the end achieve: she not only has the will and intention but the
+_power_ to carry into effect what she determines.
+
+* * *
+
+This is how we formulate the ideal to ourselves in ever-developing
+completeness; and this is how with pain and effort but with
+over-compensating joy we carry it into effect. And these experiences of
+ours in the formulation and working out of our ideal give us the clue
+to the manner in which Nature on her part works out _her_ ideal.
+We are the representations and representatives of the whole, and we
+may assume that the whole works in much the same way as we
+ourselves work. If this be so we may expect to find that Nature will
+work as an _artist_ works, that is, out of his own inner
+consciousness, spontaneously generating and continually creating
+new and original forms approaching (through a process of trial and
+error experimentation) more and more closely to that ideal of
+perfection which he has always, though often unconsciously, before
+him. And this is how we actually do find Nature working. We find
+her reaching after perfection of form, now in one direction, now in
+another; first in plants, next in animals, then in insects, then in birds,
+then in apes, then in men, here in one type and there in another,
+never reaching complete perfection anywhere, any more than the
+greatest artist ever does in any particular, but still reaching
+perfection in a higher and higher degree, and making the state of the
+whole of a richer and intenser perfection.
+
+We have, therefore, ample evidence that Nature is actuated by an
+intention to enrich perfection and is continually working towards it.
+So we have confidence that Nature, hard and exacting though she be,
+is _only_ exacting in order that the Highest may be attained. We
+know that Nature is aiming at the Highest and nothing short of the
+Highest. And all the spirit of daring and adventure in us leaps to the
+call she makes.
+
+And we respond to the call with all the greater alacrity because we
+feel that the attainment of that Highest is dependent to a large degree
+upon ourselves. We have a sense of real responsibility in the matter.
+And for this reason--that though Nature lays down the great
+constitutional laws within which man, her completest representative,
+must work; and though Nature as a whole formulates the main
+outlines of her ideal; yet man _within that constitution_ can make
+his own laws, and within its main outlines may refine and perfect the
+ideal.
+
+Nature may be working out her ideal on other stars through the
+agency of other kinds of beings more perfect than ourselves; and
+while the ideal in its main outlines may be the same there as the
+ideal which is working itself out on this planet, it may there have
+assumed a higher form and be more nearly attained. But on this
+planet the more definite formulation of the ideal and the measures
+for its attainment are in the hands of men. We can perfect the ideal
+for ourselves, and make laws and establish customs to ensure its
+attainment. We are not the slaves of a despotic ruler, or pawns in the
+hand of an external player. Within the limits of Nature's constitution,
+the laws we obey are laws of our own making; the authority we obey
+is the authority which we ourselves have set up; and both
+authority and laws we can change in accordance with the growing
+requirements of the ideal which we ourselves are perfecting.
+
+We go forward, therefore, with inextinguishable faith in the value of
+what we are battling for, and in the worthwhileness of all our efforts
+and endurances. And though the ideal, with which Nature has
+inspired us makes us restless and discontented, provokes us to
+increasing effort, causes us endless pain and suffering, and exacts
+from us the sacrifice even of our lives, we nevertheless love to have
+the ideal, and love Nature for implanting it in us.
+
+* * *
+
+And now that we have seen what is the nature of Nature, what is the
+end she has before her, and how she works to accomplish her end,
+we feel that we have gone a long way towards knowing and
+understanding her. We have had a vision of the hidden Divinity by
+which she is inspired. And this mysterious Power we have not found
+reigning remote in the empty spaces of the heavens. We have found
+it dwelling in every minutest particle of which this Earth and all the
+world is built, and of which we ourselves also are made--dwelling in
+the earth, and in the air, and in the stars; and in every living thing, in
+beast and bird and insect, in flower, plant, and man--and dwelling in
+them all in their togetherness. We have found it to be both immanent
+and transcendent. It only exists--and can only exist--in these its
+single self-active representations. But in relation to each of them it is
+transcendent. Each star and flower, each beast and man, is its partial
+representation. But the whole together is that Power which while it
+transcends is yet resident in, and inspires, each single part which
+goes to its making. In the inmost heart of Nature, as the ground and
+source of Nature, yet permeating Nature to the uttermost confines,
+and reigning supreme over the whole, we find God; actuating the
+heart of God we find an ideal; and actuating the heart of the ideal we
+find an imperative urge towards perfection, an inborn necessity to
+perfect itself for ever--just as inside the rough exterior of Abraham
+Lincoln was the real Abraham Lincoln, at his heart was an ideal, and
+at the heart of the ideal an inner impulse towards perfection; or as
+within the exterior France is the real France, in the heart of France
+an ideal, and in the heart of the ideal the determination to perfect
+itself.
+
+This view of Nature is very different from that view of her which
+would regard the world as having been originally created by, and
+now being governed by, an always and already perfect Being, living
+as apart from it as the Sun is from the Earth, and being as distinct
+and separate from it as a father is from his son. And the difference in
+view must make a profound difference in our attitude to Nature, and
+therefore in our capacity for seeing and enjoying Natural Beauty.
+We may admire and worship but we can scarcely love, in any true
+sense of the word, a Being dwelling distant and aloof from us, and
+with whom, from the mere fact of his being perfect, it is most
+difficult for us to be on terms of homely intimacy and affection. But
+for a Being who, like our country, is one of whom we ourselves
+form part, we can have not only admiration and reverence but deep
+affection. We can and do love our country, for we form part of her,
+and have a voice and share in making and shaping her. We know
+that she cares for us, will look after us in misfortune, and will
+honour and love us if we serve her well and show her loyalty and
+devotion. And we can and do love Nature for precisely the same
+reasons. We feel ourselves part of her, and in intimate touch with
+her all round and always. And we have that which is so satisfying to
+us--the feeling that there is _reciprocity_ of love between us and her.
+So our love is active, and it vehemently impels us to get to know her
+better and better, to get ourselves in ever closer touch with her, to
+discover the utmost fulness of her Beauty, and to communicate to
+others all that we have come to know and all the Beauty we have
+seen, so that others may share in our enjoyment and come to love
+Nature more even than we love her ourselves--love Nature in all her
+aspects, love physical Nature in the mountains, seas and deserts, the
+clouds, sunsets and stars, love plant Nature and animal Nature and
+human Nature; and, above all, love Divine Nature as best revealed in
+supreme men in their supreme moments.
+
+In some of her aspects Nature may be stern and exacting. But she is
+never sheerly hard. She is compounded of mercy and compassion as
+well as of rigid orderliness. And her essential character is Love--and
+Love of no impassive and insipid kind, but of a power and activity
+beyond all human conception.
+
+The importance and significance of this conclusion, if we accept it,
+is that we definitely abandon the repellent conception of Nature as
+governed by chance, or as cold and mechanical, or as guided solely
+by the principle of the survival of the fittest, and we accept instead
+the humaner and diviner view that Nature is actuated by Love; and,
+accepting that more winning conception, we can enter unreservedly
+into the Spirit of Nature and see her Beauty. Unless we had been
+assured in our minds, without any possibility of doubt whatever, that
+we could _love_ Nature, we could never really have enjoyed her
+_Beauty._
+
+* * *
+
+So Nature is not something static, fixed, and immovable, determined
+once and for all like a rock is, at least to outward appearance. Nature
+is a Person, and a Person is a process. Nature flows. Nature is
+always moving on. As our thoughts are all connected with one
+another and passing into one another; as all events are connected
+with one another and are continually passing from one into another,
+and form one great all-inclusive event which is in continual process
+of happening; so is Nature always in process of passing from one
+state into another state, while the whole forms one great event for
+ever happening. And actuating the whole process, determining the
+whole great event, is an inner core of Activity which endures
+through all the changes. It is the "I" of Nature, which informs,
+directs, controls the whole from centre to utmost extremity through
+all space and all time. It is the Soul and Spirit, the Genius of Nature.
+It is what we should mean when we speak of God.
+
+Actuated by this spirit, whose essential character is Love, the
+process glides smoothly, unbrokenly, and wellnigh imperceptibly
+forward. As we lift our eyes and look out upon Nature in its present
+actually existing state, what we see in that instant is the whole
+achievement of the past, and it contains within it here and now the
+promise of all the future. All the past is in the present, and in it also
+is the potency of the future. The achievement fills us with
+admiration. The promise thrills us with hope. To that Spirit which
+has achieved this result, which actuates the process and ourselves
+with it, which determines the great event, which ensures the
+uniformity and law and order which are the foundations of our
+freedom, and the essential condition of all progress, our hearts are
+drawn out and yearningly stretch themselves out in a love boundless
+as the process itself.
+
+The more we find ourselves drawn to Nature and in harmony and
+love with her, the more Beauty do we see. In closest reciprocity
+Love of Nature inspires Natural Beauty and Natural Beauty
+promotes Love of Nature. And it is from the Heart of Nature that
+both Love and Beauty spring. Both also remain permanent and
+everlasting through all the changing processes of Nature--permanent
+but ever increasing in depth and height and volume. The promise of
+all the Love and Beauty of to-day was hidden in the womb of the
+past. In the womb of to-day is contained the promise of a Love and
+Beauty still more glorious. And ours it is to bring them into being.
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+NATURAL BEAUTY AND GEOGRAPHY
+
+
+
+PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS TO THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY, DELIVERED
+AT THE ANNIVERSARY MEETING, MAY 31, 1920
+
+NATURAL BEAUTY AND GEOGRAPHICAL SCIENCE
+
+I have something to say which to old-fashioned geographers may
+appear very revolutionary, and which you may hesitate to accept
+straight away. But it has come to me as the result of much and
+varied geographical work in the field; of listening to many lectures
+before this Society; and of composing this Address and five lectures
+for you, firstly, as far back as 1888, on my journey across Central
+Asia from Peking to India; secondly, on my journey to Hunza and
+the Pamirs; thirdly, on Chitral; fourthly, on my mission to Tibet; and
+fifthly, on the Himalaya. And I expect when you come to think over
+what I have now to say you will find that, after all, my conclusions
+are not anything desperately revolutionary but something quite
+obvious and natural.
+
+What I want to lay before you for your very earnest consideration is
+this--that we should take a profounder and broader view of
+Geography, of its fundamental conception, and of its scope and aim,
+than we have hitherto taken; and should regard the Earth as
+_Mother_-Earth, and the _Beauty_ of her features as within the
+purview of Geography.
+
+I will state my case as clearly and briefly as I can. Geography is a
+science. Science is learning, knowing, understanding. The object of
+geographical learning, knowing, understanding is the Earth. We
+must first, then, have a true conception of what the Earth really is.
+And next we must be certain in our minds as to what is most worth
+knowing about it.
+
+To begin with our conception of the Earth. At the dawn of
+Geography it was believed to be a flat disc. Later it was discovered
+to be a sphere. Then it was found to be not a hard solid sphere like a
+billiard-ball, but to be hard only on the surface, and within to be
+quick with fervent heat. Now it is coming to be regarded as spirit as
+well as body--as in its essential nature spiritual rather than material.
+
+When we get as far back as science is able to take us we find that the
+ultimate particles of which the Earth is made up are not minute
+specks of some substance or material, but are simply centres of
+radiant energy. Even with a microscope of infinite power we should
+never be able to see one, like we see a grain of pollen or a grain of
+sand. And if we had fingers of infinite delicacy, we should never be
+able to take one up between the forefinger and thumb and feel it.
+These ultimate particles are invisible and intangible. Nothing could
+be less substantial. And we find further that, inconceivably minute
+as they are, they _act of themselves_ under the mutual influence of
+one another. The electrons are not like shot which have been heaped
+together by some outside agency, and which roll about the floor if
+someone outside gives them a push, but which will otherwise remain
+immobile. They congregate together of their own inner prompting.
+They are like a swarm of midges or bees in which each individual
+acts on its own impulsion, and, in the case of bees, all together form
+themselves into a definite organisation with a collective spirit of its
+own. The Earth is indeed influenced by its parent the Sun, and acts
+in accordance with the same laws and is swayed by the same
+impulses as govern the whole Universe, of which it is a minute
+though highly important mite. But the point is that the Earth is not
+something like a lump of clay which a potter takes in his hands and
+moulds into a ball. The Earth moulds itself from activities that it
+contains within itself.
+
+Running through the whole mighty swarm of electrons we call the
+Earth is a tendency to order, organisation, and system. The myriad
+millions of ultimate particles in their all-togetherness and from their
+interaction upon one another become possessed of an imperative
+urge towards excellence. The electrons group themselves into atoms;
+the atoms clump themselves together into molecules; the molecules
+combine into chemical compounds, and these into organisms of
+ever-increasing size and complexity. So in the process of the ages
+there came into being, from out of the very Earth itself, first, lowly
+forms of plants and animals, then higher and higher forms exhibiting
+higher and higher qualities, till the flowers of the field, the animals,
+and man himself came into existence.
+
+And now we reach the point I wish to make. If this account of the
+Earth which physicists and biologists give us be true, then we
+geographers should take a less material and a more spiritual view of
+the Earth than we have done, and should, like primitive people all
+the world over, regard her as Mother-Earth, and recognise our
+intimate connection with her. Primitive peoples everywhere regard
+the Earth as alive and as their Mother. And so intensely do they feel
+this liveness that many will not run the plough through the soil from
+dislike of lacerating the bosom of Mother-Earth. They see plants and
+trees spring up out of her, and these plants and trees providing them
+with fruits and seeds, leaves and roots, upon which to live. And they
+quite naturally look upon her as their Mother. And we men of the
+more advanced races have still more cause to consider her as our
+Mother, for we now know that not only the plants and trees but we
+ourselves sprang from her--as indeed we are nourished by her daily,
+eating her plants or the animals which feed on her plants. And as we
+judge of a lily, not by its origin, the ugly bulb, but by the climax, the
+exquisite flower; so we should not judge of the Earth by its origin,
+the fiery mist, but by its issue--ardent human fellowship. And if we
+thus judge her we shall find her a mother worthy of our affection.
+
+So the first point I have to put before you is that we geographers
+should regard the object of our science not as a magnified
+billiard-ball, but as a living being--as Mother-Earth. Not as hard,
+unimpressionable, dull, and inert, but as live, supple, sensitive, and
+active--active with an intensity of activity past all conceivability.
+Yet with no chaotic activity, but with activity having coherence and
+direction, and that direction towards excellence.
+
+* * *
+
+Now as to what we ought to know about the Earth. While Geology
+concerns itself with its anatomy, Geography, by long convention,
+restricts its concern to the Earth's outward aspect. Accordingly, it is
+in the face and features of Mother-Earth that we geographers are
+mainly interested. We must know something of the general
+principles of geology, as painters have to know something of the
+anatomy of the human or animal body. But our special business as
+geographers is with the outward expression. And my second point is
+that the characteristic of the face and features of the Earth most
+worth learning about, knowing, and understanding is their Beauty;
+and that knowledge of their Beauty may be legitimately included
+within the scope of geographical science.
+
+It may be argued, indeed, that science is concerned with quantity
+--with what can be measured--and that Natural Beauty is quality
+which is something that eludes measurement. But geographical
+science, at least, should refuse to be confined within any such
+arbitrary limits and should take cognisance of quality as well as
+quantity. This is my contention. I am not maintaining that the actual
+enjoyment of the Natural Beauty of the Earth should be regarded as
+within the scope of geographical science, though this Society as a
+social body might well participate in such enjoyment. Enjoyment is
+feeling, whereas science is knowing; and feeling and knowing are
+distinct faculties. We can easily see the distinction. We may be
+travelling to Plymouth to embark for South Africa on some
+absorbing enterprise, and be so engrossed with thoughts of the
+adventure before us as to be unable to enjoy the famed West
+Country through which the train is passing, though all the time we
+were quite aware in our minds of its beauty. We are not actually
+enjoying the beauty, though we know quite well that it is there. On
+another occasion we may be returning after long absence in
+countries of far different character; our minds may be free from any
+disturbing thoughts; and we may be in a mood to enjoy to the full
+every beauty we see. England will then seem to us a veritable garden,
+the greenness of everything, the trimness of the hedges, the sheets of
+purple hyacinths, and some still remaining primroses, will startle us
+with joy, though we have long been aware of their beauty. This time
+we both know and enjoy the Natural Beauty. We see from this
+instance the distinction between knowing Natural Beauty and
+enjoying it. I am not claiming more than that _knowing_ Natural
+Beauty--being aware of it--is part of Geography. But I _am_
+claiming liberty to extend our knowing up to the extreme limit when
+it merges into feeling.
+
+What we have now to consider is the value of this Natural Beauty. A
+region may be flat or mountainous, dry or wet, barren or fertile,
+useful or useless for either political or commercial purposes. But it
+is not its flatness or ruggedness, or its utility or inutility for
+political or commercial purposes, that we may find in the end is the most
+noteworthy characteristic, but its beauty--its own particular beauty.
+The conventional gold or oil prospector, or railway engineer, or
+seeker for sites for rubber or coffee plantation, or pasture-lands for
+sheep and cattle, may not bother his head about the beauty of the
+forests, the rivers, the prairies, and the mountains he is exploring. He
+is much too absorbed in the practical business of life to be distracted
+by anything so fanciful--as he thinks. Yet even he does see the
+beauty, and long afterwards he finds it is that which has stuck most
+firmly in his mind. And when he has unthinkingly destroyed it,
+future generations lament his action and take measures to preserve
+what remains. Advertisements, also, show us daily that nearly all
+countries--and it seems more especially new countries like Canada
+and New Zealand--regard Natural Beauty as one of their most
+valuable assets. And the reason why the Natural Beauty of the Earth
+is deemed so valuable a characteristic of its features is not hard to
+understand when we come to reflect. It is because Beauty is a
+quality which appeals to the universal in man--appeals to all men for
+all time, and appeals to them in an increasing degree. It is something
+which all men can admire and enjoy. And the more they enjoy it the
+more they want to get others to share in their enjoyment. Also the
+more Natural Beauty they see, the more, apparently, there is to see.
+Poets in their poems, and painters in their pictures, are continually
+pointing out to us less keen-sighted individuals new beauties in the
+features of the Earth. The mineral wealth of the Earth has its limits;
+even the productivity, though perennially renewed, is not unbounded.
+But the Natural Beauty is inexhaustible. And it is not only
+inexhaustible: it positively increases and multiplies the more we see
+of it and the more of us see it. So it has good claim to be considered
+the most valuable characteristic of the Earth.
+
+And if Beauty should prove to be its most valuable characteristic, it
+follows that knowledge of it is the knowledge about the Earth which
+is most worth having. It will certainly be the case that knowledge of
+other characteristics may be of more value to particular men for a
+special purpose for the time being. If an engineer has to build a
+railway, knowledge of the exact height above sea-level of various
+points and of the general configuration of the ground is of more
+value than knowledge of its beauty. But for the engineer himself,
+when he is not thinking of his railway, and for mankind in general,
+knowledge of the beauty may be the more valuable kind of
+knowledge.
+
+For years I was employed in exploring the region where three
+Empires meet, where the Himalaya, the Hindu Kush, and mountains
+which form the Roof of the World converge. I had to report on the
+extent to which it afforded a barrier against the advance of Russia
+towards India, and wherein it would lie the most appropriate
+boundary between India and Russia, between India and China, and
+between Russia and China. What I learned of that region as a barrier
+against invasion was of more value to the Viceroy and Commander-in-Chief
+in India and the political and military authorities in England
+in the discharge of their official duties than what I learned of its
+beauties. But this utility of the region as a military barrier is not the
+characteristic which has most value to men in general. What to them
+has most value is its beauty--the awful beauty of its terrific gorges
+and stupendous heights. And it is knowledge of this beauty which is
+most worth having, and which has most geographical value.
+
+Besides exploring the far region beyond Kashmir I was also
+employed for years in exercising a general supervision over the
+entire administration of Kashmir itself. Reports from experts used to
+come to me containing every description of geographical knowledge.
+Surveyors would send in maps for general purposes, for the
+construction of roads and railways, for the delimitation of village
+boundaries, and for registering the ownership of individual fields.
+Geologists would report on the crustal relief (as the features of
+Mother-Earth are inelegantly termed). Forestry, agricultural, and
+botanical experts would report on the productivity of the soil, on the
+plants and trees which are or might be grown, and on their present
+and possible distribution. Mineralogists would report on the
+minerals, their distribution and the possibility of commercially
+exploiting them. Every aspect of geographical science was presented
+to me. And each particular kind of knowledge for its own particular
+purpose was highly valuable. But the point I would wish to make is
+that my geographical knowledge of Kashmir would have been
+incomplete--and I would have been wanting in knowledge of its
+most valuable characteristic--if I had had no knowledge of its beauty.
+I might have had the most precise knowledge about the form and
+structure of the crustal relief of this portion of the Earth, of the
+productivity of the soil, of the distribution of its population, and of
+animals and plants, and about the effect of the crustal forms on the
+animals and plants, and of the animals and plants upon the crustal
+forms and of all upon man, and of man upon them all; but if I had
+had no knowledge of the beauty of these crustal forms and of the
+influence which their beauty has upon man, I should not have
+known what was most worth knowing about Kashmir. My geographical
+knowledge of that country would have been wanting in its most
+important particular.
+
+These illustrations will, I hope, make clear what I mean when I urge
+that Beauty may be the most valuable characteristic of the Earth's
+features, and that the scope of Geography should certainly be
+extended to include a knowledge of it.
+
+And there should be less hesitation in accepting the latter half of this
+conclusion when we note that Natural Beauty affects the movements
+of man, and that man is having an increasing effect upon Natural
+Beauty--spoiling it in too many cases, improving it in many others,
+but certainly having an effect upon it. There is thus a quite definite
+relation between man and Natural Beauty, and it should therefore be
+within the scope of Geography to take note of this relationship. To
+an increasing degree man now moves about in search of new Natural
+Beauty or to enjoy it where it has been already found. From all over
+the world men flock to Switzerland, drawn there by its beauty. Here
+at home they go to the Thames Valley, or Dartmoor, or the coast of
+Cornwall, or North Wales, or the Highlands, simply to enjoy the
+Natural Beauty. And railway companies and the Governments of
+Canada, Australia, and New Zealand think it worth while to spend
+large sums of money in publishing pictures of the beauty of the
+countries in which they are interested in order to attract
+holiday-makers or home-seekers to them.
+
+And here, as in other cases, man now is not content to be an
+impassive spectator and to be entirely controlled by his surroundings.
+He does not allow the "crustal relief" to have the upper hand in the
+matter. He will not admit that all he has to do is to adapt himself to
+his surroundings. That servile view of our position in the Universe is
+fast departing. We are determined to have the ascendancy. And
+much as we admire the Beauty of the Earth we set about improving
+it. We fail disastrously at times, I allow. But sometimes
+unconsciously, and sometimes deliberately, we succeed. We have in
+places made the Earth more beautiful than it was before we came,
+and we have certainly shown the possibility of this being done.
+From what I have seen in uninhabited countries I can realise what
+the river-valleys of England must have been like before the arrival
+of man--beautiful, certainly; but not _so_ beautiful as now. They
+must have been an unrelieved mass of forest and marsh. Now the
+marshes are drained and turned into golden meadows. The woods
+are cleared in part and well-kept parks take their place, with trees
+specially selected, pruned, and trim, and made to stand out well by
+themselves so that their umbrageous forms may be properly seen.
+Gardens are laid out, the famous lawns of England are created, and
+flowering and variegated shrubs from many lands are planted round
+them. And homes are built--the simple homes of the poor and the
+stately homes of the rich--which in the setting of trees and lawns and
+gardens add unquestionably to the natural beauty of the land. St.
+James's Park, with its lake, its well-tended trees, its
+daisy-covered lawns, its flowerbeds, its may and lilac, laburnum and
+horse-chestnut, and with the towers of Westminster Abbey and the Houses
+of Parliament rising behind it, is certainly more beautiful than the
+same piece of land was two thousand years ago in its natural
+condition.
+
+What has been done in this respect in England is only typical of
+what is done in every country and of what has been done for ages
+past. The Moghul emperors, by the planting of gardens on the
+borders of the Dal Lake in Kashmir, added greatly to its beauty. And
+the Japanese are famous for the choice of beautiful surroundings for
+their temples and for the addition which they themselves, by the
+erection of graceful temples and by properly cared-for trees and
+gardens, make to the natural beauty of the place.
+
+So man is both affected by the Beauty of the Earth's features and
+himself affects that Beauty. And this relationship between man and
+the Natural Beauty of the Earth is one of which Geography should
+take as much cognisance as it does of the relationship between man
+and the productivity of the Earth.
+
+But Natural Beauty is manifested in an innumerable variety of forms.
+The whole Beauty is never manifested in any one particular feature
+or region, but each has its unique aspect. Each feature has its own
+peculiar beauty different from the beauty of any other feature. And
+what men naturally do, and what I would suggest geographers
+should deliberately do, is to compare the beauty of one region with
+the beauty of another, so that we may realise the beauty of each with
+a greater intensity and clearness. We can compare the beauty of
+Kashmir with the beauty of Switzerland and California. And the
+comparison will enable us to see more clearly and to appreciate the
+distinctive elements which make up the peculiar beauty of each of
+those countries. It has been frequently noticed that people who have
+always lived in the same place are unable to see its full beauty. The
+inhabitants of the Gilgit frontier, when I first went among them, had
+never left their mountains, and were altogether ignorant of the
+special grandeur of their beauty. They thought all the world was just
+the same. But men who have seen many varieties of Natural Beauty
+and have taken pains to compare the varieties with one another
+become trained to see more Beauty in each feature. Fresh
+discoveries of Beauty are thus made, and our knowledge of the
+Beauty of the Earth is thereby increased.
+
+* * *
+
+What I hope, then, is that this Society should definitely recognise
+that learning to see the Beauty in natural features and comparing the
+peculiar beauties of the different features with one another is within
+the scope of Geography, and will indeed become its chief function. I
+should like to see the tradition established and well known and
+recognised that we encourage the search for Natural Beauty, and
+look upon the discovery of a new region which possesses special
+beauty, and the discovery of a new beauty in a region already well
+known, as among the most important geographical discoveries to be
+made. In this matter I trust our Society will take the lead.
+Englishmen are born lovers of Natural Beauty and born travellers.
+The search for Natural Beauty ought, therefore, to be a congenial
+task for this Society. As I have tried to make clear, we cannot really
+know and understand the Earth--which is the aim of Geography
+--until we have seen its beauties and compared the varying beauties of
+the different features with one another and seen how they affect man
+and man affects them. We are constituted as a Society for the
+purpose of diffusing geographical knowledge, and I trust that in
+future we shall regard knowledge of the Beauty of the Earth as the
+most important form of geographical knowledge that we can diffuse.
+
+When I was Writing out the lecture which I was invited to give
+before the Society on "The Geographical Results of the Tibet
+Mission" I could not resist devoting special attention to the natural
+beauty of Tibet. But as I read the manuscript through I feared that
+this attention to Beauty would be regarded by our Society as a lapse
+from the narrow path of pure Geography, and that I should be
+frowned upon in consequence and not regarded as a serious
+geographer. I ought, I feared, to have devoted more attention to
+survey matters, to the exact trend of the mountains, and the source
+and course of the rivers. But looking back now I see that my natural
+instinct was a right one--that a knowledge of the beauties of Tibet
+was not only one geographical result of the Mission, but the chief
+geographical result; and that, in fact, I ought to have paid not less
+but more attention, both in Tibet to noting its beauties in all their
+multitudinous variety, and in writing my lecture to expressing with
+point and precision what I had seen, so that you might share it with
+me, and learn what is the most valuable characteristic of Tibet.
+
+When the new tradition is established, and travellers become aware
+that we regard knowledge of Natural Beauty as within the scope of
+our activities, the error into which I fell will be avoided. We shall
+think travellers barbaric if they continue to concern themselves with
+all else about the face of the Earth except its Beauty. We shall no
+longer tolerate a geographer who will learn everything about the
+utility of a region for military, political, and commercial purposes,
+but who will take no trouble to see the beauty it contains. We shall
+expect a much higher standard of him. We shall expect him to
+cultivate the power of the eye till he has a true eye for country--a
+seeing eye; an eye that can see into the very heart and, through all
+the thronging details, single out the one essential quality; an eye
+which can not only observe but can make discoveries. We shall
+require him to have the capacity for discriminating the essential
+from the unessential, for bringing that essential into proper relief and
+placing upon it the due emphasis. When he thus has true vision and
+can really see a country, and when he has acquired the capacity for
+expressing either in words or in painting what lie has seen, so that he
+can communicate it to us, then he will have reached the standard
+which this Society should demand. And this is nothing less than
+saying that we expect of him that he should have in him something
+of the poet and the painter.
+
+Careless snap-shotting in the field and idle turning on of lantern
+slides at our meetings will no longer satisfy us. A traveller if he is
+going to photograph must spend the hours which a real artist would
+devote to discovering the essential beauty of a scene, and to
+composing his picture before he dreams of exposing his plate. But
+we want more than photographs: we want pictures to give that
+important element in Natural Beauty--the colour. And we want
+pictures painted in words as well as on canvas. Not shallow
+rhapsodising of the journalese and guide-book type, but true
+expression in which each noun exactly fits the object, each epithet is
+truly applicable, and each phrase is rightly turned, and in which the
+emphasis is placed on the precisely right point, and the whole
+composed so as distinctly to bring out that point.
+
+Then in time we shall gather together the most valuable knowledge
+about the Earth. And when a stranger from a far land comes to us to
+know about any particular country, we shall be able to provide him
+with something worth having. When an Australian comes to
+England and wishes to know its essential characteristics, we shall do
+something more than hand him over maps and treatises on the
+orography and hydrography, the distribution of rainfall, of plants
+and animals, and the population. We shall regard ourselves as
+having omitted to point out to him the essential characteristic of the
+land from which Englishmen have sprung and in which they dwell if
+we have not shown him the beauty of its natural features. We shall
+give him the maps as aids to finding his way about, and we shall
+give him the treatises. But we shall tell him that these are only aids
+for special purposes, and that if he is really to understand England
+he must know its beauty in its many aspects. He will then have the
+geographical knowledge of chief value about England.
+
+* * *
+
+A project in which the Society is now interested affords an excellent
+opportunity of applying the principles I have been trying to persuade
+you to adopt. The most prominent feature of this Earth, and the
+feature of most geographical interest, is the great range of the
+Himalaya Mountains. In this range the supreme summit is Mount
+Everest, the highest point on the Earth, 29,002 feet above sea-level.
+Attempts have been made to ascend the second highest mountain,
+K2, 28,278 feet, notably by the Duke of the Abruzzi. Colonel Hon.
+Charles Bruce, Major Rawling, and others have had in mind the idea
+of ascending Mount Everest itself. And for more than a year past
+both the Alpine Club and this Society have been definitely
+entertaining the idea of helping forward the achievement of this
+object. We hope within the next few years to hear of a human being
+standing on the pinnacle of the Earth.
+
+If I am asked, What is the use of climbing this highest mountain? I
+reply, No use at all: no more use than kicking a football about, or
+dancing, or playing on the piano, or writing a poem, or painting a
+picture. The geologist predicts to a certainty that no gold will be
+found on the summit, and if gold did exist there no one would be
+able to work it. Climbing Mount Everest will not put a pound into
+anyone's pocket. It will take a good many pounds out of people's
+pockets. It will also entail the expenditure of much time and
+necessitate the most careful forethought and planning on the part of
+those who are organising the expedition. And it will mean that those
+who carry it out will have to keep themselves at the very highest
+pitch of physical fitness, mental alertness, and moral courage and
+endurance. They will have to be prepared to undergo the severest
+hardships and run considerable risks. And all this, I say, without the
+prospect of making a single penny. So there will be no _use_ in
+climbing Mount Everest. If the ascent is made at all it will be made
+for the sheer love of the thing, from pure enjoyment--the enjoyment
+a man gets from pitting himself against a big obstacle.
+
+But if there is no _use,_ there is unquestionably _good_ in climbing
+Mount Everest. The accomplishment of such a feat will elevate the
+human spirit. It will give men--and especially us geographers--a
+feeling that we really are getting the upper hand on the Earth, that
+we are acquiring a true mastery of our surroundings. As long as we
+impotently creep about at the foot of these mighty mountains and
+gaze on their summits without attempting to ascend them, we
+entertain towards them a too excessive feeling of awe. We are
+almost afraid of them. We have a secret fear that they, the material,
+are dominating us, the spiritual. But as soon as we have stood on
+their summit we feel that _we_ dominate _them_--that we, the
+spiritual, have ascendancy over them, the material. And if man
+stands on Earth's highest summit he will have an increased pride and
+confidence in himself in his struggle for ascendancy over matter.
+This is the incalculable good which the ascent of Mount Everest will
+confer.
+
+We who have lived among the peoples of the Himalaya are better
+able than most to appreciate how great this good is. We have seen
+how tame and meagre is their spirit in comparison with the spirit of,
+for example, the Swiss, or French, or Italian inhabitants of the Alps;
+and in comparison with what men's spirit ought to be. They have
+many admirable qualities, but they are fearful and unenterprising.
+Contact with them brings home to us what a spirit of daring and high
+adventure means to a people. And we are impressed with the
+necessity of taking every step possible to create, sustain, and
+strengthen this spirit in a people and in the human race generally.
+The ascent of Mount Everest, we believe, will be a big step in that
+direction.
+
+The actual climbing of this mountain this Society will leave in the
+hands of the Alpine Club, who have special experience in mountain
+climbing. But the reconnaissance and mapping of the mountain and
+its neighbourhood will fitly remain with us. And here we reach the
+point where the principles I have been offering for your
+consideration might be applied. Were it not that the size of the first
+party will have to be limited on account of transport and supply
+difficulties, I should greatly like to have a poet or a painter, or
+anyhow a climber like Mr. Freshfield with a poetic soul, a member
+of it. For I say quite deliberately and mean quite literally that the
+geography of Mount Everest and its vicinity will not be complete
+until it has been painted by some great painter and described by
+some great poet. Making the most accurate map of it will not be
+completing our knowledge of it. The map-maker only prepares the
+way--in some cases for the soldier or the politician or the engineer
+--in this case for the geologist, the naturalist, and above all for the
+painter and poet. Until we have a picture and a poem--in prose or
+verse--of Mount Everest we shall not really know it; our Geography
+will be incomplete, and, indeed, will lack its chief essential.
+
+The Duke of the Abruzzi, in his expedition to the second highest
+mountain in the world, took with him the finest mountain
+photographer there is--Signor Vittorio Sella--and he brought back
+superb photographs, for he is a true artist with a natural feeling for
+high mountains. But I have seen the very mountains that he
+photographed, and when I look at these photographs--the best that
+man can produce--I almost weep to think how little of the real
+character of great mountains they communicate to us. The sight of
+the photographs wrings me with disappointment that it was a
+photographer and not a painter who went there. Here in Europe are
+artists by the score painting year after year the same old European
+scenes. And there in the Himalaya is the grandest scenery in the
+world, and not a painter from Europe ever goes there--except just
+one, the great Russian Verestchagin, whose pictures, alas! are now
+buried somewhere in Russia. The Indian Services might do
+something, and they have indeed produced one great painter of
+Himalayan scenery, Colonel Tanner. But the Services are limited,
+and it is to Europe that we must mainly look.
+
+On the first expedition to Mount Everest it may be only possible to
+send a photographer. But this will be a pioneering expedition to
+open the way, at least, for the painter. And then we may have Mount
+Everest pictured in all her varied and ever-varying moods, as I have,
+from a distance, seen her for three most treasured months. Now
+serene and majestic; now in a tumult of fury. Now rooted solid on
+earth; now hung high in the azure. Now hard and material; now
+ethereal as spirit. Now stern and austere--cold, and white, and grey;
+now warm and radiant and of every most delicate hue. Now in one
+aspect, now in its precisely opposite, but always sublime and
+compelling; always pure and unspotted; and always pointing us
+starward.
+
+These are the pictures--either by painter or by poet--that we want.
+And they can only be painted by one who has himself gone in
+among the mountains, confronted them squarely, braced himself
+against them, faced and overcome them--realised their greatness,
+realised also that great as they are he is greater still.
+
+And this that we want of the greatest natural feature of the Earth is
+only typical of what this Society should require in regard to all
+Earth's other features in order to make our Geography complete. As
+men have pictured the loveliness of England, the fairness of France,
+the brilliance of Greece, so we want them to picture the
+spaciousness of Arabia, the luxuriance of Brazil, and the sublimity
+of the Himalaya. For not till that has been done will our Geography
+be complete. But when that has been accomplished and the quest for
+Beauty is being pushed to the remotest lands and Earth's farthest
+corners, even the British schoolboy will love his Geography, and our
+science will have won its final triumph. At nothing less, then, than
+the heart of the boy should our Society deign to aim.
+
+
+
+AN ADDRESS TO THE UNION SOCIETY OF THE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON,
+DELIVERED ON MARCH 17, 1921.
+
+You have been good enough to leave to me the choice of subject on
+which to address you this evening, and I have chosen the subject
+"Natural Beauty and Geography" because I have the honour to hold
+at present the position of President of the Royal Geographical
+Society, and am therefore supposed to know something about
+Geography, and because a love of Natural Beauty is one of the great
+passions of my life.
+
+I believe the two are inseparably connected with one another, and,
+briefly, the view I want to put before you is this--.that a description
+of the Natural Beauty of the Earth should be included in Geography.
+By Geography we mean a _description_ of the Earth. And we
+cannot adequately describe the Earth until we have observed it in all
+its aspects and really know and understand it. And we cannot really
+understand the Earth until we have entered into her spirit and feel
+ourselves in harmony with it. But _when_ our spirit is in harmony
+with the spirit of the Earth we, in that instant, see the Beauty of the
+Earth. When we are seeing Beauty in the Earth we are understanding
+the Earth. In describing the Beauty of the Earth we shall be
+describing something that we really know about it--something of the
+real nature of the Earth.
+
+For this reason I maintain that Geography should be taken to include
+a description of the Natural Beauty of the Earth's features. The
+description of the Earth is not full and complete, and is lacking in its
+most important particular, when it excludes a description of Natural
+Beauty, and only includes scientific details about the size and shape
+of the earth; its configuration; the composition of the crust; the depth,
+area, and volume of the ocean; the temperature, degree of moisture
+and pressure of the atmosphere; the height of the mountains; the
+length, breadth, volume, course, and catchment area of its rivers; the
+mineral and vegetable products of various regions; the political areas
+into which it is divided; the relation of the political and commercial
+activities of the population to the physical character of the features
+and to the climate. I, of course, acknowledge the importance of all
+this geographical knowledge. To the historian and the statesman it is
+essential that he should know the part which a certain mountain
+range or river or desert has played in human history. A soldier must
+know with extreme accuracy the configuration of the country over
+which his army is operating. An engineer must know the exact level
+and contour of a region over which he has to lay a railway or
+construct a canal. A merchant must know whether a country
+produces cotton, tea, and sugar; or wheat, wool, and meat. For all
+these and others, each for his own particular purpose, we want the
+kind of information I have described above--that is, what usually
+goes under the name of Geography. But the point I wish now to urge
+is that we shall not have plucked the very flower of geographical
+knowledge until in addition to all this we have a knowledge of the
+_Beauty_ of the Earth.
+
+Perhaps you will understand me better if I illustrate my point. When
+a dressmaker has to make a dress for a lady she has to measure her
+with the minutest accuracy. She must gain a knowledge, by careful
+measurement, of the exact shape and size of the lady's body, its true
+contour, and the length and breadth of the limbs--just as an engineer
+must have accurate knowledge of the Earth's surface. And to the
+dressmaker _as_ a dressmaker knowledge of the lady's beauty has
+no value whatever. The lady may have the beauty of form of a
+Venus, but if the dressmaker has only knowledge of that beauty and
+has not exact measurements she will never be able to make the dress.
+But for humanity at large--and, as far as that goes, for the
+dressmaker herself when she is free of her dressmaking--knowledge
+of the lady's beauty is the knowledge that really matters. Whether
+she is twenty-six inches round the waist or only twenty-five matters
+comparatively little.
+
+Now the Earth I regard as a lady--as dear Mother-Earth. A real
+living being--live enough, at any rate, to give birth to mankind, to
+microscopic animalculae first and through them to man. And no one
+can look at the features of Mother-Earth without recognising her
+Beauty. It is there staring us in the face. So I cannot conceive why
+we geographers should confine ourselves to the dressmaker attitude
+of mind and describe every other characteristic of the Earth except
+her Beauty. I should have thought that it was the very first thing
+with which we should have concerned ourselves--that the first duty
+of those who profess and call themselves geographers should have
+been to describe the beauty of their Mother-Earth.
+
+Say a visitor from Mars arrived upon the Earth, he would no doubt
+report on his return that the mountains here were so many thousands
+of feet high and the seas so many thousands of feet deep, and the
+area of the land and sea so many thousand square miles; that the
+productivity of the land in one quarter had had the effect of
+attracting a large part of the population to that quarter, and the
+aridity or cold of another portion had had the effect of preventing
+human settlement there; and that mountains, seas, or deserts
+confining certain groups of human beings tightly within given areas
+had had the effect of compacting them into highly organised
+political bodies. All this and much more geographical knowledge
+the Martian would bring back to Mars. But his fellow-Martians
+would tell him that this was all very interesting, but that what they
+really wanted to know was what the Earth was _like._ They would
+ask him if he had not some lantern slides of the Earth, some
+photographs, something which would convey to them an impression
+of the real character of the Earth. And then at last he would be
+driven to describe her Beauty.
+
+In the best words he could find he would express the impression
+which the Earth had made upon him. If he were a painter and if the
+Martians possess paint, he would paint pictures to express the
+feelings which a contemplation of the Earth had aroused in him.
+That is, he would show them the Beauty of the Earth in her various
+aspects. Perhaps he might not be able to see as much Beauty in her
+as we her children see. We may be too partial and see beauties that a
+stranger may not perceive. On the other hand, he might see
+beauties that we through being so accustomed to them have never
+recognised--as men living always within sight of some superb
+mountain scarcely appreciate its grandeur. Anyhow, he would
+describe to the Martians whatever he had seen of the Beauty of the
+Earth, and then at last they would feel that they were really able to
+know and understand her.
+
+To descend from these celestial spheres and to examine what
+actually happens among ourselves when we venture into an
+unknown portion of this globe and seek to know what is there, a
+chief ingredient in the lure which draws men on to fill up the blank
+spaces in the map is undoubtedly a love of Natural Beauty; and its
+Natural Beauty is certainly what above everything else regarding
+that region remains in their memories after it has been explored. It is
+not _only_ love of Natural Beauty that draws men on. Love of
+adventure has much to do with it also. Men feel a fearful joy in
+pitting themselves against stern natural obstacles and being
+compelled to exert all their physical energy and endurance, and all
+their wit and nerve and courage, in order to overcome them. The
+stiffer the obstacle, the more insistent do they feel the call
+to measure themselves against it. They thrill to the expectation of
+having their full capacities and faculties drawn out. By some curious
+natural instinct they seem driven to put themselves into positions
+where they are forced to exert themselves to the full stretch of their
+capabilities. This same instinct tells them that they will be never so
+happy as when they are making the very utmost of themselves and
+exercising their whole being at its highest pitch. Anticipation of their
+joy in adventure is therefore no small part of the lure which draws
+men into the unknown. And with it also is ambition to make a name
+and achieve fame. Some, too, are drawn on by the hope of wealth
+through finding gold, diamonds, and so on. But from what I have
+seen of gold and diamond prospectors on the spot in the act of
+prospecting, I should say it was quite as much love of adventure as
+covetousness of wealth that drew them into unknown parts. For
+experience shows them only too often that it is not the prospector
+but the company promoter and financier who make the money even
+when the prospector finds the gold or diamonds. Yet prospectors go
+forward as cheerfully as ever. They are fascinated by the life of
+adventure.
+
+All this is true. Men delight in sheer adventure and in testing and
+sharpening themselves against formidable natural obstacles. Yet we
+shall find that love of Natural Beauty has an even greater share than
+love of adventure in enticing them to the unknown. Men picture to
+themselves beauties of the most wonderful kind which they expect
+to see--enchanting islands, mysterious forests, majestic rivers,
+heavenly mountains, delightful lakes. Instinct tells them that they
+will have the joy which comes from exerting their capacities to the
+full. But somewhere in the back of their being is, also this
+expectation of seeing wonders of Natural Beauty, and of seeing
+_more_ of this Beauty from the very fact that they will be seeing it
+as a prize truly _won_ and when their faculties are all tuned up to a
+fine pitch of appreciation.
+
+And when they return from the unknown, when the adventure is
+over, when they are again relaxed, it will be the Natural Beauty
+which they have seen that will remain in their memories long after
+they have forgotten their exertion, long after they have expended
+any wealth they may have found, long after they have recorded the
+exact measurements of the various features of the region.
+
+Curiosity to see the Natural Beauty of an unknown region is a
+principal ingredient in the lure that draws men to it. And Natural
+Beauty is what, above everything else in regard to the unknown
+region, stands out in men's memories on their return.
+
+This at any rate is my own experience, and we are perhaps on safer
+ground when we speak of what we have ourselves experienced than
+when we speak of what we imagine must be the experiences of
+others. Though in this case I have good reason to believe that my
+own experiences are very similar to the experiences of others, and
+may therefore be taken as typical.
+
+Almost my earliest recollections are of a Somersetshire village set in
+a lovely valley, fringed with woods and surrounded by hills. Up the
+hills on the side of the valley on which I lived I used constantly to
+go. But over the hills on the far side of the river I was never taken.
+So I used to picture to myself wonderful woods and rivers, and
+castles and great cities, and I longed to go there. The lure of Natural
+Beauty was beginning to make itself felt. As I grew to boyhood I
+was fortunate enough to be taken to North Wales, Devonshire and
+Cornwall, and later on to Switzerland and the South of France, and
+everywhere I saw much Natural Beauty. But, still, that only made
+me want to see more.
+
+In all these cases, however, I only went where I was taken. I did not
+go where I chose or with an object of my own. It was not till I was
+in India and had the first leave from my regiment that I could go
+where I liked. Now, where I liked was to the Himalaya. And if I
+look back now and enquire of myself what made me choose the
+Himalaya, I can say most clearly that it was because I had in my
+mind a vision of long snowy ranges, and dazzling peaks, and
+frowning precipices, and rushing torrents, and endless forests. I
+thought how glorious it would be to be able to wander about at will
+and see all the magnificent scenery, to feast on the  Natural Beauty,
+and when I came back to be able to tell others of the wonders I had
+seen.
+
+So I made my first short trip in the Himalaya. But this only served to
+arouse my curiosity still more. I had seen some great mountains. But
+they were none of them more than 20,000 feet in height. I wanted to
+see still higher mountains. I heard, too, that up the valley of the
+Sutlej were some fearful gorges through which the river forced its
+way. I wanted to see them too, and see a great river in the very act of
+forcing its way through the mighty Himalaya. Above all, I wanted to
+see what lay on the other side of the Himalaya. I wanted to get into
+Tibet.
+
+That for the time being proved impossible, and my thoughts
+wandered off to the far eastern part of Asia. I had read a book called
+"On the Amur," by Atkinson. Not altogether a very veracious book,
+but a fascinating book for all that. In it were alluring pictures of the
+broad, placid river. Rich forests came down to the water's edge. And
+on its surface were depicted delightful rafts and canoes. To glide
+down such a river, to camp on its banks and plunge into the forests
+which clothed them, seemed a joy second only to the joy of
+scrambling about the Himalaya. So with Mr. H. E. M. James--now
+Sir Evan James--I went to Manchuria, not, indeed, to reach the
+Amur itself, but to discover the source of its great tributary the
+Sungari, and to follow it down through the forests and over the
+plains for several hundred miles.
+
+Now, what I want to impress upon you is that in all these cases it
+was the Natural Beauty which was the attraction--it was the picture I
+made to myself of what these countries would be like that drew me
+on. And I am sure it is with others as it was with me. Natural Beauty
+is at bottom what incites the traveller.
+
+And, whether I had to go where I was taken or could go where I
+chose, it was the Natural Beauty that stuck in my memory. And
+when I returned it was of the Natural Beauty that I wished to tell my
+friends. And this, again, is the experience of others also. To this day,
+though I have never since seen them, I remember the beauties of
+Cader Idris and Dolgelly, Snowdon and Carnarvon, in North Wales,
+and of the rugged cliffs and long Atlantic waves on the Cornish
+coast. The Dart, here rippling over boulders and between rocky
+banks, here in deep, clear salmon pools, here merging into a long
+inlet of the sea and everywhere framed in wooded hill-sides, I have
+often again seen. But even if I had not, its beauty would never have
+departed from my memory. And it is the same with the first view of
+the Alps from the Jura, the view of Lake Geneva, of the Jungfrau, of
+the Pyrenees from Pau, and of the valley of the Loire. I have never
+seen those parts of Switzerland and of France since then, but their
+beauty remains with me to this day. And it is of their beauty that I
+have ever afterwards been naturally inclined to speak. When I talk
+about the Loire I do not tell my friends that it rises in a certain place,
+is so many miles long, at certain parts has a certain width, depth, and
+volume, and eventually flows into a certain sea. What I naturally
+speak about is its beauty, the rich valley through which it flows, the
+graceful bridges by which it is spanned, the picturesque old towns
+and romantic castles on the banks. And this is the common habit of
+mankind. Our friends may bore us--and we may bore our friends
+--with interminable accounts of the discomfort and inconveniences
+and the petty little incidents of travel. But when they and we have
+got through that and settle down to describe the country itself, it is
+of its beauty that we speak.
+
+Natural Beauty is what attracts us to a country. Its Natural Beauty is
+the fact about it which remains most persistently in our memory.
+And it is about its Natural Beauty that we are most inclined to speak.
+Lastly, when we are in distant countries it is of the Natural Beauty
+that we chiefly think. When our thoughts go back to the home
+country it is not on its exact measurements and configuration that
+they dwell, but on its beauty.
+
+From all of which considerations I conclude that any description of
+the Earth which excludes a description of its Natural Beauty is
+incomplete. Geography must include a description of Natural Beauty.
+And personally I would go so far as to say that the description of
+Natural Beauty is the most important part of Geography.
+
+Here I must answer an objection which may be raised--namely, that
+Natural Beauty is the concern of Aesthetics, not of Geography. An
+objector may freely acknowledge the value and importance of
+recognising and describing the Natural Beauty of a country, but may
+contend that this is beyond the province of Geography. It should be
+left to poets and painters, he might say, and geographers should
+confine themselves to the more prosaic business of exact
+measurement, of accurate delineation, of reasoning regarding the
+relation of the facts to one another, and of explaining the facts.
+
+To such an objector I would reply that Geography is an art as well as
+a science. And in parenthesis I may say that I doubt whether any
+science can be complete which has not art behind it. We shall never
+be able fully to know and understand the Earth or to describe what
+we see if we use our intellectual and reasoning powers alone. If we
+are to attain to a complete knowledge of the Earth, and if we are to
+describe what we learn about it in an adequate manner so that others
+may participate in our knowledge, then we must use our hearts as
+well as our heads. We must be artists as well as meticulous
+classifiers, cataloguers, and reasoners. The Earth is a living being, a
+throbbing, palpitating, living being--"live" enough to have given
+birth to the remote ancestors of mankind, and live enough, so some
+biologists consider, to be continually to this day generating the
+lowliest forms of organisms. To know and understand a living being,
+particularly when that living being happens to be his own Mother,
+man must use his heart as well as his head.
+
+With his head alone the geographer may do a vast amount of most
+useful and necessary work which will help us to understand the
+Earth. He may collect and classify facts about her and record
+measurements, and reason about these facts and measurements, but
+if he is to get the deepest vision of the Earth and learn the
+profoundest truth about her he must exercise his finest spiritual
+senses as well. And when he brings those faculties of the soul into
+play, it will be the Beauty on the face of Mother-Earth that he will
+see and that will disclose to him her real nature.
+
+And therefore I hold that if it be the function of Geography to know
+the Earth and to describe the Earth, then the objection that the
+description of its Natural Beauty is outside the scope of Geography
+is not a valid objection. The picture and the poem are as legitimate a
+part of Geography as the map.
+
+Some years ago in lecturing to the Royal Geographical Society I
+said that the Society ought to have given Wordsworth the Gold
+Medal. I meant that the poet by his vision had taught us more about
+the Lake District than any ordinary geographer had been able to see.
+With his finer sensibility he had been able to see deeper. He had
+been able to reveal to us truths about the district which no mere
+ordnance surveyor was able to disclose. He was a true discoverer--a
+geographical discoverer--a geographer of the highest type. He had
+helped us really to know and understand the district.
+
+Be it noted, too, that he did not, as some would think, put into the
+lakes and hills and valleys something from within himself which
+was not really in those natural features. The particular beauty that he
+saw there was there waiting to be revealed. The natural features
+aroused emotions in his sensitive soul, and his soul being aroused
+saw the beauty in them. If the district had been of billiard-table
+flatness, with no lakes, no hills, no valleys, then even he, with all his
+poetic feeling and imagination, could not have put into the district
+what it did not possess. The beauty that he saw was really there,
+only it required a poetic soul to discover and reveal it. The spirit of
+the poet put itself in touch with the spirit of the district and elicited
+from the district what was already in it. The spirit of Wordsworth
+and the spirit of the district acted and reacted upon one another and
+came into harmony with one another. And as he had the capacity for
+communicating to others what he himself had seen, we are now able
+to see in the Lakeland beauties which our forefathers had scarcely
+known.
+
+This is why I suggest to you that Natural Beauty should be
+considered as a legitimate part of Geography. And if you will look
+about you, you will note that Natural Beauty is having an increasing
+effect upon the movements of men. There is a very definite
+relationship between the Beauty of the Earth and her human
+inhabitants. The Poet Laureate builds his house on the top of Boar's
+Hill not because the soil is specially productive up there so that he
+may be able to grow food, for the soil is rather poor; not because
+water is easily available, for it is very difficult to get, as he found
+when his house took fire; not because of the climate, for the climate
+is just as good a hundred feet lower down; not because it is easily
+accessible to Oxford, for a big climb up the hill is entailed every
+time he returns from that city--not for any of these reasons did he
+build his house there, but because of the view which he obtains from
+that spot. It was Natural Beauty which drew, the Poet Laureate to
+Boar's Hill, as it was Natural Beauty which drew Tennyson to
+Blackdown to build Aldworth with a view all over the Surrey hills
+and the Sussex Downs.
+
+It is this same spell of Natural Beauty, too, which is drawing people
+all over England to build their houses on the most beautiful spots.
+Our great country-seats--the pride of England--are usually placed
+where the natural scenery is finest. Humbler dwellings whenever the
+owner has the opportunity of making a choice are for a similar
+reason built wherever a beautiful view, however limited, may be
+obtained. Whole towns even are built on spots where the
+surroundings are most beautiful, or, at any rate, if for some other
+reason they were located where they are they tend to spread in the
+direction of most beauty. Dartmouth was originally built where it is
+because that site made an excellent port. But the new town has
+spread all over the cliffs at the entrance of the harbour wherever a
+beautiful view may be found. It is the same with Torquay. People
+originally went there on account of the warm, soft air. But though
+they can get much the same air in any part of the Torquay area,
+where they like to build their houses is where they can get the finest
+views.
+
+On the Continent a similar tendency may be observed. Nice, Cannes,
+Monte Carlo, Biarritz, Montreux, Vevey, were no doubt originally
+located where they are for other reasons than only the facilities they
+afford for observing Natural Beauty, but that they have grown to
+what they are is undoubtedly due to Natural Beauty, and Natural
+Beauty has given the direction in which they have expanded. It is
+not by chance that villas and terraces and hotels have been built just
+on those particular points from which the most beautiful views may
+be seen.
+
+And how great is the influence of Natural Beauty upon the
+movements of men may be gathered from the amount of money
+railway  companies and hotels spend in advertising the charms of the
+particular localities which they serve. Railway-carriages are full of
+photographs and tourist agencies of pictures of different points in
+the neighbourhood of the railway or hotel. And we may be certain
+that business companies would not go to the expense of setting up
+these photographs and pictures if they did not think that people were
+influenced by them and would be tempted to travel to the scenes
+they depict.
+
+The development of char-a-banc tours is another indication of the
+attraction--and the increasing attraction--of Natural Beauty. Since
+the War, especially, there has been a remarkable tendency of people
+of every rank in life to rush off whenever they can get a holiday to
+the most beautiful parts of these islands--to the moors of Yorkshire
+and Devonshire, to the Wye, the Dart, and the Severn, to the
+mountains of Wales, Westmoreland, and Scotland--to wherever
+Natural Beauty may be found. It is a noteworthy and most refreshing
+feature in our national life.
+
+Every summer, too, both here and on the Continent, people make
+their way to the most beautiful parts of Europe--to Switzerland or
+the Pyrenees, the Vosges or the Rhine. And in the Dominions and
+America whenever they get their holidays they likewise trek away to
+mountain, lake, or river, wherever Nature may be enjoyed at her best.
+Men may, to carry on the ordinary business of life, be compelled to
+live in cities and places which are chosen for other reasons than their
+facilities for observing Natural Beauty. But whenever they can get
+away from their ordinary duties the tendency of men--and a
+tendency increasing in strength--is to fly away to the moors and
+sea-coast and river-sides and wherever else they can see the beauties of
+the Earth.
+
+Then, again, men are increasingly sensitive about preserving Natural
+Beauty wherever it is best. It is quite true that men by the building of
+industrial towns and the erection of hideous factories, mining plant,
+gasometers, and so on terribly destroy Natural Beauty. But they are
+at least becoming conscious of their sins in this respect and of what
+they have lost thereby. They are therefore the more anxious to
+preserve what remains. And whenever there is an attempt to build on
+Box Hill, or erect an electric power-station on Dartmoor, a howl of
+execration is raised. And this howl means that men do value Natural
+Beauty and mean to preserve it.
+
+Young countries also realise its value. In California the Yosemite
+Valley is preserved for ever for human enjoyment. And in Canada,
+Australia, and South Africa national parks are protected against the
+encroachments of industrial enterprises.
+
+Men not only preserve spots of Natural Beauty; they also seek to
+improve them. The nobleman of ancient lineage and the new
+millionaire alike strive to add to the beauty of their estates. The
+hours they love best are the hours they can devote to opening up
+vistas, planting beautiful trees or flowering shrubs from distant lands,
+building up rockeries, forming artificial lakes, laying out lawns, and
+stocking their gardens with the choicest flowers.
+
+The effect of Natural Beauty upon man and of man upon Natural
+Beauty is immense. Geographers take note of the effect which the
+Alps by reason of their height and ruggedness, or the Rhine by
+reason of its length, breadth, and depth, have upon the activities of
+men--upon their history, politics, and economic life. My contention
+is that equally should geographers note the effect which these same
+natural features of the Earth by reason of their _beauty_ have upon
+men's activities and movements.
+
+And when Natural Beauty is fully recognised as within the province
+of Geography, we shall be taught to pay to it the attention it
+deserves--taught to look for it, taught how to observe it, taught how
+to describe it, taught where are the regions of special beauty and
+wherein their beauty lies, and lastly taught where in an ordinary
+district Beauty may be found, for even in the flattest, dreariest
+region _some_ beauty at some time of day or at some season may be
+discovered. We shall, in short, be taught to cultivate the sense for
+Natural Beauty, and how to put in fitting words a description of the
+beauty we see. Our geography textbooks, besides all the
+mathematical, physical, political, and commercial geography they
+contain, will tell us something of the Natural Beauty of the countries
+they set themselves to describe. And geographers when they set
+themselves to describe a new region will not think it necessary to
+confine themselves within the old limits, but will do what the
+ordinary man instinctively does--describe its beauties.
+
+Our methods of describing countries will thus radically change. A
+few years ago Colonel Tanner of the Survey of India read to the
+Royal Geographical Society a paper entitled "Our Present
+Knowledge of the Himalaya." In that paper he gave an account of
+the height of the peaks, the trend of the mountain ranges, the course
+of the rivers, and a deal of other very valuable geographical
+information. But in only one single line did he make any remark
+about the natural beauty of that wonderful region. Yet this omission
+was not due to any lack of appreciation by Colonel Tanner of
+Himalayan beauty, for he himself had painted the finest pictures of
+the Himalaya which have yet been produced. He made no mention
+of it because he thought that to describe the natural beauty of the
+Himalaya was to stray beyond the bounds of Geography.
+
+Such a grievous misconception of the true scope of Geography will,
+I trust, be removed in future. And when it no longer exists
+Geography will require for its pursuit the exercise of the finest
+faculties of the soul as well as the strictest qualities of the intellect.
+It will call forth capacity for the closest and most accurate
+observation and the highest powers of description. To us
+adventure-loving and Nature-loving Englishmen it should of all
+subjects be the most popular.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Heart of Nature, by Francis Younghusband
+
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