CHAPTER I : NATURE

TO go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamberrnas from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, thoughrnnobody is with me. But if a man would be alone, let him look at thernstars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds, will separaternbetween him and what he touches. One might think the atmospherernwas made transparent with this design, to give man, in the heavenlyrnbodies, the perpetual presence of the sublime. Seen in the streets ofrncities, how great they are! If the stars should appear one night in arnthousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve forrnmany generations the remembrance of the city of God which hadrnbeen shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, andrnlight the universe with their admonishing smile.rnrnThe stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present,rnthey are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindredrnimpression, when the mind is open to their influence. Nature neverrnwears a mean appearance. Neither does the wisest man extort herrnsecret, and lose his curiosity by finding out all her perfection. Naturernnever became a toy to a wise spirit. The flowers, the animals, thernmountains, reflected the wisdom of his best hour, as much as theyrnhad delighted the simplicity of his childhood.rnrnWhen we speak of nature in this manner, we have a distinct but mostrnpoetical sense in the mind. We mean the integrity of impressionrnmade by manifold natural objects. It is this which distinguishes thernstick of timber of the wood-cutter, from the tree of the poet. Therncharming landscape which I saw this morning, is indubitably madernup of some twenty or thirty farms. Miller owns this field, Locke that,rnand Manning the woodland beyond. But none of them owns thernlandscape. There is a property in the horizon which no man has butrnhe whose eye can integrate all the parts, that is, the poet. This is thernbest part of these men's farms, yet to this their warranty-deeds givernno title.rnrnTo speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons dornnot see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sunrnilluminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and thernheart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward andrnoutward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who hasrnretained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. Hisrnintercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. Inrnthe presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spiternof real sorrows. Nature says,--he is my creature, and maugre all hisrnimpertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me. Not the sun or thernsummer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight;rnfor every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes a differentrnstate of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight.rnNature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece.rnIn good health, the air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing arnbare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky,rnwithout having in my thoughts any occurrence of special goodrnfortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brinkrnof fear. In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake hisrnslough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In thernwoods, is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, arndecorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and thernguest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In thernwoods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing canrnbefall me in life,--no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,)rnwhich nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground,--my headrnbathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space,--all meanrnegotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; Irnsee all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; Irnam part or particle of God. The name of the nearest friend soundsrnthen foreign and accidental: to be brothers, to be acquaintances,--master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance. I am the lover ofrnuncontained and immortal beauty. In the wilderness, I findrnsomething more dear and connate than in streets or villages. In therntranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of the horizon,rnman beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own nature.rnrnThe greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is thernsuggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. Irnam not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them.rnThe waving of the boughs in the storm, is new to me and old. Itrntakes me by surprise, and yet is not unknown. Its effect is like that ofrna higher thought or a better emotion coming over me, when Irndeemed I was thinking justly or doing right.rnrnYet it is certain that the power to produce this delight, does notrnreside in nature, but in man, or in a harmony of both. It is necessaryrnto use these pleasures with great temperance. For, nature is notrnalways tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterdayrnbreathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, isrnoverspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colorsrnof the spirit. To a man laboring under calamity, the heat of his ownrnfire hath sadness in it. Then, there is a kind of contempt of thernlandscape felt by him who has just lost by death a dear friend. Thernsky is less grand as it shuts down over less worth in the population.