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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: 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]</p> + +<p> </p> + +<center> +<p>THE HEART OF NATURE</p> + +<p>OR</p> + +<p>THE QUEST FOR NATURAL BEAUTY</p> + +<p> </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 "THE HEART OF A CONTINENT"</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>LONDON<br> +JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET<br> +1921</p> + +<p> </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. 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. 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. 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. +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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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> 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 "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.</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 +"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.</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 "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.</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 "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.</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 "tripe de roche" 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 "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 <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 "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 <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 "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.</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 "east"; 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 +"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.</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 +"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.</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 "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.</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 "In the Guiana Forest." 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 "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.</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 "the +Spirit of Nature," 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 "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 <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: "Not now, not +now; it is all too splendid." 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>"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 <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> "Be thou, spirit +bright,<br> + My spirit! Be thou me, most glorious one!<br> + Be through my lips to unawakened earth<br> + The trumpet of a prophecy."</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 "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 <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 "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.</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 "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.</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 "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.</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 "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 <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 "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.</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 "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.</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 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 "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.</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—"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.</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 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 "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.</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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF NATURE *** + +***** This file should be named 27213-h.htm or 27213-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/2/1/27213/ + +Produced by Ruth Hart + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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