The Environmental Debate, Third Edition

(vip2019) #1

The Origins of Environmental Activism, 1840–1889 53


For several days in June I had been forcing
my way through woods that seemed to become
more and more dense, and among bogs more and
more difficult to cross, when, one warm after-
noon, after descending a hillside covered with
huge half-dead hemlocks, I crossed an ice cold
stream, and espied two specimens of Calypso.
There upon an open plat of yellow moss, near
an immense rotten log, were these little plants
so pure.
They were alone. Not a vine was near, nor
a blade of grass, nor a bush. Nor were there
any birds or insects, for great blocks of ice lay
screened from the summer’s sun by deep beds of
moss, and chilled the water. They were indeed
alone, for the dull ignoble hemlocks were not
companions, nor was the nearer arbor-vitae,
with its root-like pendulous branches decaying
confusedly on the wet, cold ground.
I never before saw a plant so full of life; so
perfectly spiritual, it seemed pure enough for


the throne of its Creator. I felt as if I were in
the presence of superior beings who loved me
and beckoned me to come. I sat down beside
them and wept for joy. Could angels in their
better land show us a more beautiful plant?
How good is our Heavenly Father in granting
us such friends as are these plant-creatures, fill-
ing us wherever we go with pleasure so deep, so
pure, so endless.
I cannot understand the nature of the curse,
“Thorns and thistles shall it bring forth to thee.”
Is our world worse for this “thistly curse”? Are
not all plants beautiful? or in some way use-
ful? Is our world better for this “thistly curse”?
Would not the world suffer by the banishment of
a single weed?

Source: John Muir, letter to Mrs. Jeanne Carr, quoted in J.
D. Butler, “The Calypso Borealis: Botanical Enthusiasm,”
Boston Recorder, December 21, 1866, p. 1, in Muir
Scrapbook I, p. 26 (John Muir Collection at the University
of the Pacific, Stockton, CA).

Document 47: John Muir on the Spirituality of Nature (1866)


John Muir, an amateur naturalist noted for his books and magazine articles on the mountains, valleys, and
parks of the West, was an ardent supporter of wilderness preservation in the western states [see Document
68]. He first achieved national attention as a result of a letter about the calypso borealis, a rare white orchid,
which was quoted in the Boston Recorder. The letter recounted the turning point in Muir’s life that moved him
to become what today would be termed an “advocate of the rights of nature” or biocentrist. His description
of the spirituality of the encounter with natural beauty echoes the experiences of Jonathan Edwards [see
Document 16] and the New England transcendentalists.
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