The rounded world is fair to see,
Nine times folded in mystery:
Though baffled seers cannot impart
The secret of its laboring1 heart,
Throb3 thine with Nature’s throbbing4 breast,
And all is clear from east to west.
Spirit that lurks5 each form within
Beckons6 to spirit of its kin7;
Self-kindled every atom glows,
And hints the future which it owes.
Essay VI Nature
There are days which occur in this climate, at almost any season of the year, wherein the world reaches its perfection, when the air, the heavenly bodies, and the earth, make a harmony, as if nature would indulge her offspring; when, in these bleak8 upper sides of the planet, nothing is to desire that we have heard of the happiest latitudes9, and we bask10 in the shining hours of Florida and Cuba; when everything that has life gives sign of satisfaction, and the cattle that lie on the ground seem to have great and tranquil11 thoughts. These halcyons12 may be looked for with a little more assurance in that pure October weather, which we distinguish by the name of the Indian Summer. The day, immeasurably long, sleeps over the broad hills and warm wide fields. To have lived through all its sunny hours, seems longevity13 enough. The solitary14 places do not seem quite lonely. At the gates of the forest, the surprised man of the world is forced to leave his city estimates of great and small, wise and foolish. The knapsack of custom falls off his back with the first step he makes into these precincts. Here is sanctity which shames our religions, and reality which discredits15 our heroes. Here we find nature to be the circumstance which dwarfs17 every other circumstance, and judges like a god all men that come to her. We have crept out of our close and crowded houses into the night and morning, and we see what majestic18 beauties daily wrap us in their bosom19. How willingly we would escape the barriers which render them comparatively impotent, escape the sophistication and second thought, and suffer nature to intrance us. The tempered light of the woods is like a perpetual morning, and is stimulating20 and heroic. The anciently reported spells of these places creep on us. The stems of pines, hemlocks21, and oaks, almost gleam like iron on the excited eye. The incommunicable trees begin to persuade us to live with them, and quit our life of solemn trifles. Here no history, or church, or state, is interpolated on the divine sky and the immortal23 year. How easily we might walk onward24 into the opening landscape, absorbed by new pictures, and by thoughts fast succeeding each other, until by degrees the recollection of home was crowded out of the mind, all memory obliterated25 by the tyranny of the present, and we were led in triumph by nature.
These enchantments26 are medicinal, they sober and heal us. These are plain pleasures, kindly27 and native to us. We come to our own, and make friends with matter, which the ambitious chatter28 of the schools would persuade us to despise. We never can part with it; the mind loves its old home: as water to our thirst, so is the rock, the ground, to our eyes, and hands, and feet. It is firm water: it is cold flame: what health, what affinity29! Ever an old friend, ever like a dear friend and brother, when we chat affectedly30 with strangers, comes in this honest face, and takes a grave liberty with us, and shames us out of our nonsense. Cities give not the human senses room enough. We go out daily and nightly to feed the eyes on the horizon, and require so much scope, just as we need water for our bath. There are all degrees of natural influence, from these quarantine powers of nature, up to her dearest and gravest ministrations to the imagination and the soul. There is the bucket of cold water from the spring, the wood-fire to which the chilled traveller rushes for safety, — and there is the sublime31 moral of autumn and of noon. We nestle in nature, and draw our living as parasites32 from her roots and grains, and we receive glances from the heavenly bodies, which call us to solitude33, and foretell34 the remotest future. The blue zenith is the point in which romance and reality meet. I think, if we should be rapt away into all that we dream of heaven, and should converse35 with Gabriel and Uriel, the upper sky would be all that would remain of our furniture.
It seems as if the day was not wholly profane36, in which we have given heed37 to some natural object. The fall of snowflakes in a still air, preserving to each crystal its perfect form; the blowing of sleet38 over a wide sheet of water, and over plains, the waving rye-field, the mimic39 waving of acres of houstonia, whose innumerable florets whiten and ripple40 before the eye; the reflections of trees and flowers in glassy lakes; the musical steaming odorous south wind, which converts all trees to windharps; the crackling and spurting42 of hemlock22 in the flames; or of pine logs, which yield glory to the walls and faces in the sittingroom, — these are the music and pictures of the most ancient religion. My house stands in low land, with limited outlook, and on the skirt of the village. But I go with my friend to the shore of our little river, and with one stroke of the paddle, I leave the village politics and personalities44, yes, and the world of villages and personalities behind, and pass into a delicate realm of sunset and moonlight, too bright almost for spotted45 man to enter without noviciate and probation46. We penetrate47 bodily this incredible beauty; we dip our hands in this painted element: our eyes are bathed in these lights and forms. A holiday, a villeggiatura, a royal revel48, the proudest, most heart-rejoicing festival that valor49 and beauty, power and taste, ever decked and enjoyed, establishes itself on the instant. These sunset clouds, these delicately emerging stars, with their private and ineffable50 glances, signify it and proffer51 it. I am taught the poorness of our invention, the ugliness of towns and palaces. Art and luxury have early learned that they must work as enhancement and sequel to this original beauty. I am over-instructed for my return. Henceforth I shall be hard to please. I cannot go back to toys. I am grown expensive and sophisticated. I can no longer live without elegance52: but a countryman shall be my master of revels53. He who knows the most, he who knows what sweets and virtues55 are in the ground, the waters, the plants, the heavens, and how to come at these enchantments, is the rich and royal man. Only as far as the masters of the world have called in nature to their aid, can they reach the height of magnificence. This is the meaning of their hanging-gardens, villas56, garden-houses, islands, parks, and preserves, to back their faulty personality with these strong accessories. I do not wonder that the landed interest should be invincible57 in the state with these dangerous auxiliaries58. These bribe59 and invite; not kings, not palaces, not men, not women, but these tender and poetic60 stars, eloquent61 of secret promises. We heard what the rich man said, we knew of his villa43, his grove62, his wine, and his company, but the provocation63 and point of the invitation came out of these beguiling64 stars. In their soft glances, I see what men strove to realize in some Versailles, or Paphos, or Ctesiphon. Indeed, it is the magical lights of the horizon, and the blue sky for the background, which save all our works of art, which were otherwise bawbles. When the rich tax the poor with servility and obsequiousness65, they should consider the effect of men reputed to be the possessors of nature, on imaginative minds. Ah! if the rich were rich as the poor fancy riches! A boy hears a military band play on the field at night, and he has kings and queens, and famous chivalry66 palpably before him. He hears the echoes of a horn in a hill country, in the Notch67 Mountains, for example, which converts the mountains into an Aeolian harp41, and this supernatural tiralira restores to him the Dorian mythology68, Apollo, Diana, and all divine hunters and huntresses. Can a musical note be so lofty, so haughtily69 beautiful! To the poor young poet, thus fabulous70 is his picture of society; he is loyal; he respects the rich; they are rich for the sake of his imagination; how poor his fancy would be, if they were not rich! That they have some high-fenced grove, which they call a park; that they live in larger and better-garnished saloons than he has visited, and go in coaches, keeping only the society of the elegant, to watering-places, and to distant cities, are the groundwork from which he has delineated estates of romance, compared with which their actual possessions are shanties71 and paddocks. The muse72 herself betrays her son, and enhances the gifts of wealth and well-born beauty, by a radiation out of the air, and clouds, and forests that skirt the road, — a certain haughty73 favor, as if from patrician74 genii to patricians75, a kind of aristocracy in nature, a prince of the power of the air.
The moral sensibility which makes Edens and Tempes so easily, may not be always found, but the material landscape is never far off. We can find these enchantments without visiting the Como Lake, or the Madeira Islands. We exaggerate the praises of local scenery. In every landscape, the point of astonishment76 is the meeting of the sky and the earth, and that is seen from the first hillock as well as from the top of the Alleghanies. The stars at night stoop down over the brownest, homeliest common, with all the spiritual magnificence which they shed on the Campagna, or on the marble deserts of Egypt. The uprolled clouds and the colors of morning and evening, will transfigure maples77 and alders78. The difference between landscape and landscape is small, but there is great difference in the beholders. There is nothing so wonderful in any particular landscape, as the necessity of being beautiful under which every landscape lies. Nature cannot be surprised in undress. Beauty breaks in everywhere.
But it is very easy to outrun the sympathy of readers on this topic, which schoolmen called natura naturata, or nature passive. One can hardly speak directly of it without excess. It is as easy to broach79 in mixed companies what is called “the subject of religion.” A susceptible80 person does not like to indulge his tastes in this kind, without the apology of some trivial necessity: he goes to see a wood-lot, or to look at the crops, or to fetch a plant or a mineral from a remote locality, or he carries a fowling82 piece, or a fishing-rod. I suppose this shame must have a good reason. A dilettantism83 in nature is barren and unworthy. The fop of fields is no better than his brother of Broadway. Men are naturally hunters and inquisitive84 of wood-craft, and I suppose that such a gazetteer85 as wood-cutters and Indians should furnish facts for, would take place in the most sumptuous86 drawingrooms of all the “Wreaths” and “Flora88’s chaplets” of the bookshops; yet ordinarily, whether we are too clumsy for so subtle a topic, or from whatever cause, as soon as men begin to write on nature, they fall into euphuism. Frivolity89 is a most unfit tribute to Pan, who ought to be represented in the mythology as the most continent of gods. I would not be frivolous90 before the admirable reserve and prudence91 of time, yet I cannot renounce92 the right of returning often to this old topic. The multitude of false churches accredits93 the true religion. Literature, poetry, science, are the homage94 of man to this unfathomed secret, concerning which no sane95 man can affect an indifference96 or incuriosity. Nature is loved by what is best in us. It is loved as the city of God, although, or rather because there is no citizen. The sunset is unlike anything that is underneath97 it: it wants men. And the beauty of nature must always seem unreal and mocking, until the landscape has human figures, that are as good as itself. If there were good men, there would never be this rapture98 in nature. If the king is in the palace, nobody looks at the walls. It is when he is gone, and the house is filled with grooms87 and gazers, that we turn from the people, to find relief in the majestic men that are suggested by the pictures and the architecture. The critics who complain of the sickly separation of the beauty of nature from the thing to be done, must consider that our hunting of the picturesque99 is inseparable from our protest against false society. Man is fallen; nature is erect100, and serves as a differential thermometer, detecting the presence or absence of the divine sentiment in man. By fault of our dulness and selfishness, we are looking up to nature, but when we are convalescent, nature will look up to us. We see the foaming101 brook102 with compunction: if our own life flowed with the right energy, we should shame the brook. The stream of zeal103 sparkles with real fire, and not with reflex rays of sun and moon. Nature may be as selfishly studied as trade. Astronomy to the selfish becomes astrology; psychology104, mesmerism (with intent to show where our spoons are gone); and anatomy105 and physiology106, become phrenology and palmistry.
But taking timely warning, and leaving many things unsaid on this topic, let us not longer omit our homage to the Efficient Nature, natura naturans, the quick cause, before which all forms flee as the driven snows, itself secret, its works driven before it in flocks and multitudes, (as the ancient represented nature by Proteus, a shepherd,) and in undescribable variety. It publishes itself in creatures, reaching from particles and spicula, through transformation107 on transformation to the highest symmetries, arriving at consummate108 results without a shock or a leap. A little heat, that is, a little motion, is all that differences the bald, dazzling white, and deadly cold poles of the earth from the prolific109 tropical climates. All changes pass without violence, by reason of the two cardinal110 conditions of boundless111 space and boundless time. Geology has initiated112 us into the secularity113 of nature, and taught us to disuse our dame-school measures, and exchange our Mosaic114 and Ptolemaic schemes for her large style. We knew nothing rightly, for want of perspective. Now we learn what patient periods must round themselves before the rock is formed, then before the rock is broken, and the first lichen115 race has disintegrated116 the thinnest external plate into soil, and opened the door for the remote Flora, Fauna117, Ceres, and Pomona, to come in. How far off yet is the trilobite! how far the quadruped! how inconceivably remote is man! All duly arrive, and then race after race of men. It is a long way from granite118 to the oyster119; farther yet to Plato, and the preaching of the immortality120 of the soul. Yet all must come, as surely as the first atom has two sides.
Motion or change, and identity or rest, are the first and second secrets of nature: Motion and Rest. The whole code of her laws may be written on the thumbnail, or the signet of a ring. The whirling bubble on the surface of a brook, admits us to the secret of the mechanics of the sky. Every shell on the beach is a key to it. A little water made to rotate in a cup explains the formation of the simpler shells; the addition of matter from year to year, arrives at last at the most complex forms; and yet so poor is nature with all her craft, that, from the beginning to the end of the universe, she has but one stuff, — but one stuff with its two ends, to serve up all her dream-like variety. Compound it how she will, star, sand, fire, water, tree, man, it is still one stuff, and betrays the same properties.
Nature is always consistent, though she feigns121 to contravene122 her own laws. She keeps her laws, and seems to transcend123 them. She arms and equips an animal to find its place and living in the earth, and, at the same time, she arms and equips another animal to destroy it. Space exists to divide creatures; but by clothing the sides of a bird with a few feathers, she gives him a petty omnipresence. The direction is forever onward, but the artist still goes back for materials, and begins again with the first elements on the most advanced stage: otherwise, all goes to ruin. If we look at her work, we seem to catch a glance of a system in transition. Plants are the young of the world, vessels124 of health and vigor125; but they grope ever upward towards consciousness; the trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan126 their imprisonment127, rooted in the ground. The animal is the novice128 and probationer of a more advanced order. The men, though young, having tasted the first drop from the cup of thought, are already dissipated: the maples and ferns are still uncorrupt; yet no doubt, when they come to consciousness, they too will curse and swear. Flowers so strictly129 belong to youth, that we adult men soon come to feel, that their beautiful generations concern not us: we have had our day; now let the children have theirs. The flowers jilt us, and we are old bachelors with our ridiculous tenderness.
Things are so strictly related, that according to the skill of the eye, from any one object the parts and properties of any other may be predicted. If we had eyes to see it, a bit of stone from the city wall would certify130 us of the necessity that man must exist, as readily as the city. That identity makes us all one, and reduces to nothing great intervals131 on our customary scale. We talk of deviations132 from natural life, as if artificial life were not also natural. The smoothest curled courtier in the boudoirs of a palace has an animal nature, rude and aboriginal133 as a white bear, omnipotent134 to its own ends, and is directly related, there amid essences and billetsdoux, to Himmaleh mountain-chains, and the axis135 of the globe. If we consider how much we are nature’s, we need not be superstitious136 about towns, as if that terrific or benefic force did not find us there also, and fashion cities. Nature who made the mason, made the house. We may easily hear too much of rural influences. The cool disengaged air of natural objects, makes them enviable to us, chafed137 and irritable138 creatures with red faces, and we think we shall be as grand as they, if we camp out and eat roots; but let us be men instead of woodchucks, and the oak and the elm shall gladly serve us, though we sit in chairs of ivory on carpets of silk.
This guiding identity runs through all the surprises and contrasts of the piece, and characterizes every law. Man carries the world in his head, the whole astronomy and chemistry suspended in a thought. Because the history of nature is charactered in his brain, therefore is he the prophet and discoverer of her secrets. Every known fact in natural science was divined by the presentiment139 of somebody, before it was actually verified. A man does not tie his shoe without recognising laws which bind140 the farthest regions of nature: moon, plant, gas, crystal, are concrete geometry and numbers. Common sense knows its own, and recognises the fact at first sight in chemical experiment. The common sense of Franklin, Dalton, Davy, and Black, is the same common sense which made the arrangements which now it discovers.
If the identity expresses organized rest, the counter action runs also into organization. The astronomers141 said, ‘Give us matter, and a little motion, and we will construct the universe. It is not enough that we should have matter, we must also have a single impulse, one shove to launch the mass, and generate the harmony of the centrifugal and centripetal142 forces. Once heave the ball from the hand, and we can show how all this mighty143 order grew.’ — ‘A very unreasonable144 postulate,’ said the metaphysicians, ‘and a plain begging of the question. Could you not prevail to know the genesis of projection145, as well as the continuation of it?’ Nature, meanwhile, had not waited for the discussion, but, right or wrong, bestowed146 the impulse, and the balls rolled. It was no great affair, a mere147 push, but the astronomers were right in making much of it, for there is no end to the consequences of the act. That famous aboriginal push propagates itself through all the balls of the system, and through every atom of every ball, through all the races of creatures, and through the history and performances of every individual. Exaggeration is in the course of things. Nature sends no creature, no man into the world, without adding a small excess of his proper quality. Given the planet, it is still necessary to add the impulse; so, to every creature nature added a little violence of direction in its proper path, a shove to put it on its way; in every instance, a slight generosity148, a drop too much. Without electricity the air would rot, and without this violence of direction, which men and women have, without a spice of bigot and fanatic149, no excitement, no efficiency. We aim above the mark, to hit the mark. Every act hath some falsehood of exaggeration in it. And when now and then comes along some sad, sharp-eyed man, who sees how paltry150 a game is played, and refuses to play, but blabs the secret; — how then? is the bird flown? O no, the wary151 Nature sends a new troop of fairer forms, of lordlier youths, with a little more excess of direction to hold them fast to their several aim; makes them a little wrongheaded in that direction in which they are rightest, and on goes the game again with new whirl, for a generation or two more. The child with his sweet pranks152, the fool of his senses, commanded by every sight and sound, without any power to compare and rank his sensations, abandoned to a whistle or a painted chip, to a lead dragoon, or a gingerbread-dog, individualizing everything, generalizing nothing, delighted with every new thing, lies down at night overpowered by the fatigue153, which this day of continual pretty madness has incurred154. But Nature has answered her purpose with the curly, dimpled lunatic. She has tasked every faculty155, and has secured the symmetrical growth of the bodily frame, by all these attitudes and exertions156, — an end of the first importance, which could not be trusted to any care less perfect than her own. This glitter, this opaline lustre157 plays round the top of every toy to his eye, to ensure his fidelity158, and he is deceived to his good. We are made alive and kept alive by the same arts. Let the stoics159 say what they please, we do not eat for the good of living, but because the meat is savory160 and the appetite is keen. The vegetable life does not content itself with casting from the flower or the tree a single seed, but it fills the air and earth with a prodigality161 of seeds, that, if thousands perish, thousands may plant themselves, that hundreds may come up, that tens may live to maturity162, that, at least, one may replace the parent. All things betray the same calculated profusion163. The excess of fear with which the animal frame is hedged round, shrinking from cold, starting at sight of a snake, or at a sudden noise, protects us, through a multitude of groundless alarms, from some one real danger at last. The lover seeks in marriage his private felicity and perfection, with no prospective164 end; and nature hides in his happiness her own end, namely, progeny165, or the perpetuity of the race.
But the craft with which the world is made, runs also into the mind and character of men. No man is quite sane; each has a vein166 of folly167 in his composition, a slight determination of blood to the head, to make sure of holding him hard to some one point which nature had taken to heart. Great causes are never tried on their merits; but the cause is reduced to particulars to suit the size of the partizans, and the contention168 is ever hottest on minor169 matters. Not less remarkable170 is the overfaith of each man in the importance of what he has to do or say. The poet, the prophet, has a higher value for what he utters than any hearer, and therefore it gets spoken. The strong, self-complacent Luther declares with an emphasis, not to be mistaken, that “God himself cannot do without wise men.” Jacob Behmen and George Fox betray their egotism in the pertinacity171 of their controversial tracts172, and James Naylor once suffered himself to be worshipped as the Christ. Each prophet comes presently to identify himself with his thought, and to esteem173 his hat and shoes sacred. However this may discredit16 such persons with the judicious174, it helps them with the people, as it gives heat, pungency175, and publicity176 to their words. A similar experience is not infrequent in private life. Each young and ardent177 person writes a diary, in which, when the hours of prayer and penitence178 arrive, he inscribes179 his soul. The pages thus written are, to him, burning and fragrant180: he reads them on his knees by midnight and by the morning star; he wets them with his tears: they are sacred; too good for the world, and hardly yet to be shown to the dearest friend. This is the man-child that is born to the soul, and her life still circulates in the babe. The umbilical cord has not yet been cut. After some time has elapsed, he begins to wish to admit his friend to this hallowed experience, and with hesitation181, yet with firmness, exposes the pages to his eye. Will they not burn his eyes? The friend coldly turns them over, and passes from the writing to conversation, with easy transition, which strikes the other party with astonishment and vexation. He cannot suspect the writing itself. Days and nights of fervid182 life, of communion with angels of darkness and of light, have engraved183 their shadowy characters on that tear-stained book. He suspects the intelligence or the heart of his friend. Is there then no friend? He cannot yet credit that one may have impressive experience, and yet may not know how to put his private fact into literature; and perhaps the discovery that wisdom has other tongues and ministers than we, that though we should hold our peace, the truth would not the less be spoken, might check injuriously the flames of our zeal. A man can only speak, so long as he does not feel his speech to be partial and inadequate184. It is partial, but he does not see it to be so, whilst he utters it. As soon as he is released from the instinctive185 and particular, and sees its partiality, he shuts his mouth in disgust. For, no man can write anything, who does not think that what he writes is for the time the history of the world; or do anything well, who does not esteem his work to be of importance. My work may be of none, but I must not think it of none, or I shall not do it with impunity186.
In like manner, there is throughout nature something mocking, something that leads us on and on, but arrives nowhere, keeps no faith with us. All promise outruns the performance. We live in a system of approximations. Every end is prospective of some other end, which is also temporary; a round and final success nowhere. We are encamped in nature, not domesticated187. Hunger and thirst lead us on to eat and to drink; but bread and wine, mix and cook them how you will, leave us hungry and thirsty, after the stomach is full. It is the same with all our arts and performances. Our music, our poetry, our language itself are not satisfactions, but suggestions. The hunger for wealth, which reduces the planet to a garden, fools the eager pursuer. What is the end sought? Plainly to secure the ends of good sense and beauty, from the intrusion of deformity or vulgarity of any kind. But what an operose method! What a train of means to secure a little conversation! This palace of brick and stone, these servants, this kitchen, these stables, horses and equipage, this bank-stock, and file of mortgages; trade to all the world, country-house and cottage by the waterside, all for a little conversation, high, clear, and spiritual! Could it not be had as well by beggars on the highway? No, all these things came from successive efforts of these beggars to remove friction188 from the wheels of life, and give opportunity. Conversation, character, were the avowed189 ends; wealth was good as it appeased190 the animal cravings, cured the smoky chimney, silenced the creaking door, brought friends together in a warm and quiet room, and kept the children and the dinner-table in a different apartment. Thought, virtue54, beauty, were the ends; but it was known that men of thought and virtue sometimes had the headache, or wet feet, or could lose good time whilst the room was getting warm in winter days. Unluckily, in the exertions necessary to remove these inconveniences, the main attention has been diverted to this object; the old aims have been lost sight of, and to remove friction has come to be the end. That is the ridicule191 of rich men, and Boston, London, Vienna, and now the governments generally of the world, are cities and governments of the rich, and the masses are not men, but poor men, that is, men who would be rich; this is the ridicule of the class, that they arrive with pains and sweat and fury nowhere; when all is done, it is for nothing. They are like one who has interrupted the conversation of a company to make his speech, and now has forgotten what he went to say. The appearance strikes the eye everywhere of an aimless society, of aimless nations. Were the ends of nature so great and cogent192, as to exact this immense sacrifice of men?
Quite analogous193 to the deceits in life, there is, as might be expected, a similar effect on the eye from the face of external nature. There is in woods and waters a certain enticement194 and flattery, together with a failure to yield a present satisfaction. This disappointment is felt in every landscape. I have seen the softness and beauty of the summer-clouds floating feathery overhead, enjoying, as it seemed, their height and privilege of motion, whilst yet they appeared not so much the drapery of this place and hour, as forelooking to some pavilions and gardens of festivity beyond. It is an odd jealousy195: but the poet finds himself not near enough to his object. The pine-tree, the river, the bank of flowers before him, does not seem to be nature. Nature is still elsewhere. This or this is but outskirt and far-off reflection and echo of the triumph that has passed by, and is now at its glancing splendor196 and heyday197, perchance in the neighboring fields, or, if you stand in the field, then in the adjacent woods. The present object shall give you this sense of stillness that follows a pageant198 which has just gone by. What splendid distance, what recesses199 of ineffable pomp and loveliness in the sunset! But who can go where they are, or lay his hand or plant his foot thereon? Off they fall from the round world forever and ever. It is the same among the men and women, as among the silent trees; always a referred existence, an absence, never a presence and satisfaction. Is it, that beauty can never be grasped? in persons and in landscape is equally inaccessible200? The accepted and betrothed201 lover has lost the wildest charm of his maiden202 in her acceptance of him. She was heaven whilst he pursued her as a star: she cannot be heaven, if she stoops to such a one as he.
What shall we say of this omnipresent appearance of that first projectile203 impulse, of this flattery and baulking of so many well-meaning creatures? Must we not suppose somewhere in the universe a slight treachery and derision? Are we not engaged to a serious resentment204 of this use that is made of us? Are we tickled205 trout206, and fools of nature? One look at the face of heaven and earth lays all petulance207 at rest, and soothes208 us to wiser convictions. To the intelligent, nature converts itself into a vast promise, and will not be rashly explained. Her secret is untold209. Many and many an Oedipus arrives: he has the whole mystery teeming210 in his brain. Alas211! the same sorcery has spoiled his skill; no syllable212 can he shape on his lips. Her mighty orbit vaults213 like the fresh rainbow into the deep, but no archangel’s wing was yet strong enough to follow it, and report of the return of the curve. But it also appears, that our actions are seconded and disposed to greater conclusions than we designed. We are escorted on every hand through life by spiritual agents, and a beneficent purpose lies in wait for us. We cannot bandy words with nature, or deal with her as we deal with persons. If we measure our individual forces against hers, we may easily feel as if we were the sport of an insuperable destiny. But if, instead of identifying ourselves with the work, we feel that the soul of the workman streams through us, we shall find the peace of the morning dwelling214 first in our hearts, and the fathomless215 powers of gravity and chemistry, and, over them, of life, preexisting within us in their highest form.
The uneasiness which the thought of our helplessness in the chain of causes occasions us, results from looking too much at one condition of nature, namely, Motion. But the drag is never taken from the wheel. Wherever the impulse exceeds, the Rest or Identity insinuates216 its compensation. All over the wide fields of earth grows the prunella or self-heal. After every foolish day we sleep off the fumes217 and furies of its hours; and though we are always engaged with particulars, and often enslaved to them, we bring with us to every experiment the innate218 universal laws. These, while they exist in the mind as ideas, stand around us in nature forever embodied219, a present sanity220 to expose and cure the insanity221 of men. Our servitude to particulars betrays into a hundred foolish expectations. We anticipate a new era from the invention of a locomotive, or a balloon; the new engine brings with it the old checks. They say that by electro-magnetism, your sallad shall be grown from the seed, whilst your fowl81 is roasting for dinner: it is a symbol of our modern aims and endeavors,—-of our condensation222 and acceleration223 of objects: but nothing is gained: nature cannot be cheated: man’s life is but seventy sallads long, grow they swift or grow they slow. In these checks and impossibilities, however, we find our advantage, not less than in the impulses. Let the victory fall where it will, we are on that side. And the knowledge that we traverse the whole scale of being, from the centre to the poles of nature, and have some stake in every possibility, lends that sublime lustre to death, which philosophy and religion have too outwardly and literally224 striven to express in the popular doctrine225 of the immortality of the soul. The reality is more excellent than the report. Here is no ruin, no discontinuity, no spent ball. The divine circulations never rest nor linger. Nature is the incarnation of a thought, and turns to a thought again, as ice becomes water and gas. The world is mind precipitated226, and the volatile227 essence is forever escaping again into the state of free thought. Hence the virtue and pungency of the influence on the mind, of natural objects, whether inorganic228 or organized. Man imprisoned229, man crystallized, man vegetative, speaks to man impersonated. That power which does not respect quantity, which makes the whole and the particle its equal channel, delegates its smile to the morning, and distils230 its essence into every drop of rain. Every moment instructs, and every object: for wisdom is infused into every form. It has been poured into us as blood; it convulsed us as pain; it slid into us as pleasure; it enveloped231 us in dull, melancholy232 days, or in days of cheerful labor2; we did not guess its essence, until after a long time.
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1
laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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lurks
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| n.潜在，潜伏；（lurk的复数形式）vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的第三人称单数形式） | |
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beckons
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的第三人称单数 ) | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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latitudes
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| 纬度 | |
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bask
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| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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halcyons
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| n.翡翠鸟（halcyon的复数形式） | |
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longevity
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| n.长命；长寿 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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discredits
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| 使不相信( discredit的第三人称单数 )； 使怀疑； 败坏…的名声； 拒绝相信 | |
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discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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dwarfs
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| n.侏儒，矮子（dwarf的复数形式）vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的第三人称单数形式） | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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hemlocks
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| 由毒芹提取的毒药( hemlock的名词复数 ) | |
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hemlock
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| n.毒胡萝卜，铁杉 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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enchantments
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| n.魅力( enchantment的名词复数 )；迷人之处；施魔法；着魔 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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affinity
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| n.亲和力，密切关系 | |
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affectedly
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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parasites
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| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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foretell
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| v.预言，预告，预示 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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spurting
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的现在分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺； 溅射 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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probation
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| n.缓刑(期)，(以观后效的)察看；试用(期) | |
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47
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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48
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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49
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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50
ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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51
proffer
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| v.献出，赠送；n.提议，建议 | |
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52
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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revels
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| n.作乐( revel的名词复数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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54
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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58
auxiliaries
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| n.助动词 ( auxiliary的名词复数 )；辅助工，辅助人员 | |
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bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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beguiling
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| adj.欺骗的，诱人的v.欺骗( beguile的现在分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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65
obsequiousness
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| 媚骨 | |
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66
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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67
notch
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| n.(V字形)槽口，缺口，等级 | |
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mythology
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| n.神话，神话学，神话集 | |
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haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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shanties
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| n.简陋的小木屋( shanty的名词复数 )；铁皮棚屋；船工号子；船歌 | |
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72
muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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patrician
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| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
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patricians
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| n.（古罗马的）统治阶层成员( patrician的名词复数 )；贵族，显贵 | |
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76
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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alders
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| n.桤木( alder的名词复数 ) | |
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broach
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| v.开瓶，提出(题目) | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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fowling
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| 捕鸟，打鸟 | |
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dilettantism
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| n.业余的艺术爱好，浅涉文艺，浅薄涉猎 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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gazetteer
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| n.地名索引 | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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frivolity
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| n.轻松的乐事，兴高采烈；轻浮的举止 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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accredits
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| v.相信( accredit的第三人称单数 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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102
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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103
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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104
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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105
anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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106
physiology
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| n.生理学，生理机能 | |
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107
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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108
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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109
prolific
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| adj.丰富的，大量的；多产的，富有创造力的 | |
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110
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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111
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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112
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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113
secularity
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| n.世俗主义，凡俗之心，烦恼 | |
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114
mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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115
lichen
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| n.地衣, 青苔 | |
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116
disintegrated
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| v.（使）破裂[分裂，粉碎]，（使）崩溃( disintegrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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117
fauna
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| n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物，动物区系 | |
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118
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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119
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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120
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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121
feigns
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| 假装，伪装( feign的第三人称单数 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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122
contravene
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| v.违反，违背，反驳，反对 | |
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123
transcend
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| vt.超出，超越(理性等)的范围 | |
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124
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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125
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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126
bemoan
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| v.悲叹，哀泣，痛哭；惋惜，不满于 | |
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127
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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128
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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129
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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130
certify
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| vt.证明，证实；发证书(或执照)给 | |
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131
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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132
deviations
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| 背离，偏离( deviation的名词复数 )； 离经叛道的行为 | |
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133
aboriginal
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| adj.（指动植物）土生的，原产地的，土著的 | |
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134
omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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135
axis
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| n.轴，轴线，中心线；坐标轴，基准线 | |
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136
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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137
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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138
irritable
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|
| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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139
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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140
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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141
astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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142
centripetal
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| adj.向心的 | |
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143
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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144
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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145
projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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146
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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147
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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148
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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149
fanatic
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| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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150
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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151
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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152
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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153
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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154
incurred
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| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
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155
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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156
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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157
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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158
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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159
stoics
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| 禁欲主义者，恬淡寡欲的人，不以苦乐为意的人( stoic的名词复数 ) | |
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160
savory
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|
| adj.风味极佳的，可口的，味香的 | |
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161
prodigality
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| n.浪费，挥霍 | |
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162
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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163
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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164
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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165
progeny
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| n.后代，子孙；结果 | |
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166
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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167
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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168
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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169
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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170
remarkable
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|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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171
pertinacity
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| n.执拗，顽固 | |
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172
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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173
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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174
judicious
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|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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175
pungency
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|
| n.（气味等的）刺激性；辣；（言语等的）辛辣；尖刻 | |
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176
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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177
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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178
penitence
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|
| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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179
inscribes
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的第三人称单数 ) | |
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180
fragrant
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|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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181
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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182
fervid
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| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
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183
engraved
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|
| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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184
inadequate
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|
| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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185
instinctive
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|
| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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186
impunity
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|
| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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187
domesticated
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|
| adj.喜欢家庭生活的；（指动物）被驯养了的v.驯化( domesticate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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188
friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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189
avowed
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|
| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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190
appeased
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|
| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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191
ridicule
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|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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192
cogent
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| adj.强有力的，有说服力的 | |
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193
analogous
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|
| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
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194
enticement
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| n.诱骗，诱人 | |
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195
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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196
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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197
heyday
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| n.全盛时期，青春期 | |
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198
pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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199
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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200
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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201
betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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202
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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203
projectile
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| n.投射物，发射体；adj.向前开进的；推进的；抛掷的 | |
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204
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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205
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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206
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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207
petulance
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| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
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208
soothes
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| v.安慰( soothe的第三人称单数 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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209
untold
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| adj.数不清的，无数的 | |
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210
teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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211
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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212
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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213
vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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214
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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215
fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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216
insinuates
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| n.暗示( insinuate的名词复数 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入v.暗示( insinuate的第三人称单数 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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217
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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218
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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219
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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220
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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221
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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222
condensation
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| n.压缩，浓缩；凝结的水珠 | |
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223
acceleration
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| n.加速，加速度 | |
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224
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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225
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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226
precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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227
volatile
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| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
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228
inorganic
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| adj.无生物的；无机的 | |
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229
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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230
distils
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| v.蒸馏( distil的第三人称单数 )；从…提取精华 | |
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231
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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232
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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