THE NATURE OF NATURE
The Artist is now in a position to take stock of Nature as a whole, of
her nature, methods, and manner of working, of the motives which
actuate her--of what, in short, she really is at heart. And having thus
reviewed her, he will have to determine whether his wider and
deeper knowledge of Nature confirms or detracts from the
impression of her which he had gained from a contemplation of the
forest's innumerable life. Upon this decision will depend his final
attitude towards her. And upon his attitude towards her depends his
capacity for enjoying Natural Beauty. For if he has any doubt in his
mind as to the goodness of Nature or any hesitation about giving
himself out to her, there is little prospect of his seeing Beauty in her.
He will remain cold and unresponsive to her calls and enjoyment of
Natural Beauty will not be for him.
And each of us--each for himself--just as much as the Artist will
have to make up his mind on this fundamental question. If we are to
get the full enjoyment we should expect out of Natural Beauty we
must have a clear and firm conception in our minds of what Nature
really is, what is her essential character, whether at heart she is cold
and callous or warm and loving. So far as we were justified in
drawing conclusions regarding the character of Nature as a whole
from what we saw of her manifestations in the life of the forest, we
came to the conclusion that she was not so hard and repellent as she
assuredly would be to us if her guiding principle of action were the
survival of the fittest. We inferred, rather, from our observations of
her in the forest that she was actuated by an aspiration towards what
we ourselves hold to be of most worth and value. We were therefore
not disillusioned by closer familiarity with her, but more closely
drawn towards her, and therefore prepared to see more Beauty in her.
Now we have to review Nature as a whole--that is, in the Starry
World as well as on this Earth--and see if the same conclusions hold
good, and if we are therefore justified in loving Nature, or if we
should view her with suspicion and distrust, hold ourselves aloof
from her, and cultivate a stoic courage in face of a Power whose
character we must cordially dislike.
There are men who hold that the appearance of life and love on this
Earth is a mere flash in the pan and comes about by pure chance.
They believe that life will be extinguished in a twinkling as we
collide with some other star, or will simply flicker out again as the
Sun's heat dies down and the Earth becomes cold. If this view be
correct, then that impression of the reliability and kindliness of
Nature which we formed when contemplating the stars in the desert
would be a false impression; our feelings of friendship with Nature
would at once freeze up and our vision of Beauty vanish like a
wraith.
Fortunately Truth and Knowledge do not deal so cruel a blow at
Beauty. Far from it: they take her side. There are no grounds for
supposing that either chance or mechanism produces spirit, or that
from merely physical and chemical combinations spirit can emerge.
Spirit is no casual by-product of mechanical or chemical processes.
Spirit is the governing factor regulating and controlling the physical
movements--controlling them, indeed, with such orderliness that we
may be apt from this very orderliness to regard the whole as a
machine and fail to see that all is directed towards high spiritual
ends.
If we are to appeal to reason, it is much more reasonable to assume
that spirit always existed, and that the conditions for the emergence
of life were brought about on purpose, than to assume that spirit is a
mere excretion, like perspiration, of chemical processes. Certainly
the former assumptions more clearly fit the facts of the case. For
these facts are, firstly, that we spiritual selves exist, next that we
have ideas of goodness and a determination to achieve it, next that
plant as well as animal life on this Earth is purposive, then that the
stars, numbering anything from a hundred to a thousand million,
each of them a sun and many of them presumably with planets, are
made of the same materials as this Earth, the plants, animals, and
ourselves are composed of; that these materials have the same
properties; that the same fundamental laws of gravitation, heat,
motion, chemical and electrical action prevail there as here; and
lastly that they are all connected with the Earth by some medium or
continuum of energies, which enables vibrations, of which the most
obvious are the vibrations of light, to reach the Earth from them.
These facts point towards the conclusion that the whole Universe, as
well as ourselves and the animals and plants on this Earth, is
actuated by spirit. Goodness we have seen to be working itself out
on the Earth; and there is nothing we see in the world of stars that
prevents us from concluding that in the Universe as well as on the
Earth what _should_ be is the ground of what _is_.
Something higher than life, or life in some higher form than we
know, may indeed have been brought into being among the stars.
Life has appeared in an extraordinary variety of forms on this Earth,
and it would necessarily appear in other forms elsewhere. And it is
not difficult to imagine more perfect forms in which it might have
developed. We men are the most highly developed beings on this
planet. But our eyes and ears and other organs of sense take
cognisance of only a few of the vibrations raining in upon our
bodies from the outside world. There is a vast range of vibrations of
the medium in which we are immersed of which our bodily organs
take no cognisance whatever. If we had better developed organs we
would be in much more intimate touch with the world about us, and
be aware of influences and existences we are blind to now. Beings
with these superior faculties may very possibly have come into
existence among the stars.
Nor is there anything unreasonable in the assumption that from the
inhabitants of these stars in their _ensemble_ issue influences which
directly affect conditions on this Earth; that in the all in its
togetherness is Purpose; and that it was due to the working of this
Purpose that conditions were produced on the Earth which made the
emergence of life possible. To some it may seem that it was only by
chance that the atoms and molecules happened to come together in
such a particular way that from the combination the emergence of
life was possible. To men of such restricted vision it would seem
equally a matter of chance that a heavenly song resulted when a
dozen choirboys came together, opened their mouths and made a
noise. But men of wider vision would have seen that this song was
no matter of chance, but was the result of the working out of a
purpose; that the choirboys were brought together for a purpose; and
that that purpose was resident in each of a large number of people
scattered about a parish, but who, though scattered, were all
animated by the same purpose of maintaining a choir to sing hymns.
So it is not unreasonable to suppose that when the particles came
together under conditions that life resulted, they had been brought
together in those conditions to fulfil a purpose resident in each of a
number of beings and groups of beings scattered about the Universe,
but who, though scattered, were nevertheless animated by the same
purpose. Anyhow, this seems a more reasonable assumption than the
assumption that the particles came together by pure chance.
Beings with these superior faculties may very possibly have
emerged among the stars. It would seem not at all improbable,
therefore, that in some unrecognised way conditions on this Earth
may be influenced in their general outlines by what is taking place
in the Universe at large, in the same way as conditions in a village in
India are affected by public opinion in England as epitomised in the
decisions of the Cabinet. The remote Indian village is unaware that
men in England have decided to grant responsible government to
India in due course. And even if the villagers were told of this they
would not realise the significance of the decision and how it would
affect the fortunes of their village for good or ill during the next
century or two. Conditions on this Earth may be similarly being
affected by decisions made in other parts of the Universe--decisions
the significance of which we would be as totally unable to recognise
as the Indian villagers are to recognise the significance of the steps
towards self-government which have just been made.
The Universe is so interconnected, and there is so much interaction
between the parts and the whole, that the Earth may be more
affected than we think by what goes on in the Universe at large. If
there are higher levels of being among the stars, it may well be that
the successive rises to higher levels on this Earth--from inorganic to
organic, from organic to mental, and from the mental to the
spiritual--have come about through this interaction between the parts
and the whole. Conditions on this Earth may be more affected than
we are aware of by the Universe in its ensemble, and by the actions
of higher beings in other Earths.
In this very matter of Beauty, for example, it may quite possibly be
the case that our intimation of Beauty has been received through the
influence upon the most sensitive among us of beings in other parts
of the Universe. We may be as unaware of the existence of those
beings or of their having feelings towards us as the Indian villager is
of the existence of the Cabinet in London or of the Cabinet's feelings
towards him. But these stellar beings may be exerting their influence
all the same. And it may be because of this influence that we men
are able to see Beauty which escapes the eye of the eagle. Because
of our higher receptiveness and responsiveness we may be able to
receive and respond to spiritual calls from the Heart of Nature. And
thus it may have been that we men learned to see Beauty, and now
learn to see it more and more. There may be parts of the Universe
where people live their lives in a blaze of Beauty, and are as anxious
to impart to us their enjoyment of it as certain Freedom-loving
Englishmen are to instil ideas of Freedom into the villagers of India.
These, at any rate, are among the possibilities of existence. It would
be the veriest chance if on this little speck of an Earth the highest
beings of all had come to birth. It may be so, of course. But the
probabilities seem to be enormously great against it. It seems far
more probable that among the myriads of stars some higher beings
than ourselves have come into existence, and that conditions on this
Earth are affected by the influence which they exert. We are under
no compulsion whatever to believe that we men are completely at
the mercy of blind forces or that chance rules supreme in Nature.
We have firm ground for holding that it is spirit which is supreme,
and that every smallest part and the whole together are animated by
Purpose.
So when we view Nature in the tropical forests and in barren deserts,
in mountains and in plains, in meadows and in woodlands, in seas
and in stars, in animals and in men, we do not see Nature as a
confused jumble with all her innumerable parts come together in
haphazard fashion as the grains of sand shovelled into a heap--a
chance aggregate of unrelated particles in which it is a mere toss-up
which is next to which and how they are arranged. Nature is
evidently not a chance collection of unrelated particles. We came to
that conclusion when studying the forest, and a study of the stars
shows nothing to weaken that conclusion. Nature is animated by
Purpose.
Yet because Nature is animated by Purpose, we need not regard her
as a machine, a piece of mechanism which has been designed and
put together, wound up and set going by some outside mechanician,
and regard ourselves as cogs on the wheels, watching all the other
wheels go round and through the maze of machinery catching sight
of the mechanician standing by and watching his handiwork. A cog
on the wheel as it revolved would be rigidly confined in its
operations: it would have no choice as to what means it should
employ to carry out its end. Yet even plants have the power of
choice, as we have seen, and use different means to achieve the
same end. They also spend their entire lives in selecting and
rejecting--in selecting and assimilating what will nourish their
growth and enable them to propagate their kind, and in rejecting
what would be useless or harmful. These are something more than
mechanical operations; and if Nature were a machine, not even
plants, much less animals and men, could have been produced. The
operations of Nature, though orderly, are not mechanical only, and
we cannot regard Nature as a machine.
And if Nature is purposive, she is at work at something more than
the completion of a prearranged plan. We do not picture Nature as a
_structure,_ as a Cathedral, for example, designed by some
super-architect, in process of construction. In a Cathedral each stone is
perfectly and finally shaped and placed in a position in which it
must ever after remain, and the whole shows signs of gradual
completion as it is being built, and when it is built remains as it is.
The architect has made I and carried out his plan, and there is an end
of the matter. It is not thus that we view Nature, for everywhere we
see signs of perfectibility in the component parts and in the whole
together. Only if the Cathedral had in it the power to be continually
making its foundations deeper, to be ever towering higher, and to be
perpetually shaping itself into sublimer form, should we look on
Nature as a Cathedral. But in that case the mind of the architect
would have to dwell in each stone and in all together, and the
Cathedral would be something more than a structure in the ordinary
use of the word.
Nature is not a chance collection of particles, nor is she a mere
machine, nor some kind of structure like a Cathedral in course of
construction. But she is a Power of some kind, and what we have to
determine is the kind of Power she is. Now we have seen that
running through the life of the forest, controlling and directing the
whole, is an Organising Activity. And our observation of the stars
leads us to think that this same Organising Activity runs through
them also. There is quite evidently an Activity at work keeping the
whole together--the particles which go to form great suns, the
particles which go to form a flower, and the particles which go to
form a man; and all in their togetherness. Only we would not look
upon this Activity as working anywhere outside Nature: we would
look for it within her. We would not regard it as emanating from
some kind of spiritual central sun situated among the stars midway
between us and the farthest star we see--as irradiating from some
sort of centrally-situated spiritual power-house. As we look up into
the starry heavens we cannot imagine the Activity as residing in the
empty space between the stars or between the stars and the Earth on
which we stand. It seems absurd to picture its dwelling-place there.
Equally absurd does it seem to regard the Activity as emanating
from some spiritual sun situated far beyond the confines of the stars,
and from there emitting spiritual rays upon Nature, including us men.
As we look out upon Nature we see that the Activity which animates
her does not issue from any outside source, but is actually in her.
We do not need to look for the seat of that animating Activity in the
empty spaces of the starry heavens or anywhere beyond them. We
look for it in the stars themselves, in our own star, in the Earth, in
every particle of which the stars and Sun and Earth are composed, in
every plant and animal, and in every human heart, and in the whole
together. There it is--and especially in the human heart--that the soul
of Nature resides. There is its dwelling-place. To each of us it is
nearer than father is to son. It is as near as "I" am to each one of the
myriad particles which in their togetherness go to make up the body
and soul which is "me." The spirit of Nature is resident in no
remoteness of cold and empty space. It is deep within us and all
around us. It permeates everything and everybody, everywhere and
always. And if we wish to be unmistakably aware of its presence,
we have only to look within ourselves, and whenever we are
conscious of a higher perfection which something within,
responding to the influences impinging insistently on us, is urging us
to achieve; whenever we have a vision of something more perfect,
more lovely, more lovable, and feel ourselves urged on to reach after
that greater perfection--we are in those moments directly and
unmistakably experiencing the Divine Spirit of Nature. Whenever
we feel the Spirit within us showing us greater perfectibility and
prompting us to make ourselves and others more perfect than we
have been we are, in that moment, being directly influenced by the
Spirit of Nature itself. We are receiving inspiration direct from the
genius of Nature, the _driving_ Spirit which is continually urging
her on, and the _directing_ Spirit which guides her to an end. We are
in touch with the true Heart of Nature.
So as we take a comprehensive view of Nature both in her outward
bodily form and her inner spiritual reality, and find her to be an
interconnected whole in which all the parts are interrelated with one
another, one body and one mind, self-contained and self-conscious,
and driven by a self-organising, self-governing, self-directing
Activity--we should regard her as nothing _less_ than a _Personal
Being._ In ordinary language we speak of Nature as a Person, and
when we so speak we should not regard ourselves as speaking
figuratively: we should mean quite literally and as a fact that she is a
Person. And we should look upon that Personal Being, in which we
are ourselves included, as in process of realising an ideal hidden
within her--an ideal which in its turn is ever perfecting itself.
* * *
What is meant by Nature being a Person, and a Person actuated by a
hidden ideal, and being in process of realising that ideal, and what is
meant by an ideal perfecting itself, may be best explained with the
help of an illustration.
First it will be necessary to explain how we can regard Nature as a
_Person,_ or at least as nothing less than a Person--though possibly
_more._ It is contended by many authorities that we cannot regard
any collective being, such as a college or a regiment--and Nature is a
collective being--as a true person. But their arguments are
unconvincing. They allow that "I" am a person because "I" possess
rationality and self-consciousness. But "I" am a system or
organisation of innumerable beings--electrons, groupings of
electrons, groups of groupings in rising complexity. "I"--the body
and soul which makes up "me"--am nothing but a collective being
myself. And if we take the case of "England" as an example of a
collective being, we shall see that England has as much right to be
considered a personal being as any single Englishman, composed as
he is of innumerable separate beings.
Perhaps to one who is representing England among strange peoples
the personality of England is more apparent than to those who are
constantly living in England itself. To the foreign people among
whom this representative is living England is a very real person.
What she thinks about them, what she does, what her intentions are,
what is her character and disposition, are matters of high interest; for
upon England's good or ill will towards them may perhaps depend to
a large extent their own future. Viewed from a distance like that,
England quite obviously does possess a _character_ of her own. She
appears to some people large-hearted and generous; to others
aggressive and domineering; to most solid, sensible, reasonable,
steadfast, and steady. And to all she has a character quite distinctive
and her own--quite different from the character of France or of
Russia. And England with equal obviousness _thinks._ She forms
her own opinions of other nations, of their character, intentions,
activities, and feelings. She thinks over her own line of action in
regard to them. She takes decisions. And she _acts._ She is for a
long time suspicious of Russia, and takes measures to defend herself
against any possible hostile Russian action. She later comes to the
conclusion that there is no fundamental difference between her and
Russia, so she takes steps to compose the superficial differences.
Later still, when both she and Russia are being attacked by a
common enemy, she deliberately places herself on terms of closest
friendship with Russia, and both gives her help and receives help
from her. At the same time, having come to the conclusion that
Germany is threatening her very life, she makes war on Germany,
and prosecutes that war with courage, endurance, steadfastness and
intelligence, and with a determination to win at any cost. England
has deep _feeling,_ too. She had a feeling of high exaltation on the
day she determined to fight for her life and freedom. She had a
feeling of sadness and anxiety as things went against her at Mons,
Ypres, Gallipoli, Kut. She was wild with joy when the war was
victoriously concluded. And she was proud of herself as she thought
how among the sister nations of the Empire of which she was the
centre, and among the allied nations, she had played a great and
noble part.
Now when a body, like England, can thus think for itself, form its
own decisions, take action, establish friendships, fight enemies, and
feel deeply, surely that body must possess personality. In ordinary
language England is always spoken of as a person. And ordinary
language speaks with perfect accuracy in this respect.
In her relations with individual Englishmen England also shows her
personality. The representative abroad feels very vividly how she
_expects_ him to act in certain ways--ways in accordance with her
character and her settled line of action. And she conveys these
expectations to him not only in formal official instructions from her
Government: the most important of those expectations are conveyed
in a far more subtle and intimate but most unmistakable way. The
English Government did not write officially to Nelson at Trafalgar
that England expected every man to do his duty. But Nelson,
standing there for England, knew very well that this was what
England was expecting of him and of those serving under him. A
representative would find it very hard to locate the exact
dwelling-place of the heart and soul and mind of England, whether in
Parliament, or in the Press, or in the Universities, or in factories, or
in the villages. But that there is an England expecting him to behave
himself in accordance with her traditions and character, and to act on
certain general but quite definite lines, and who will admire and
reward him if he acts faithfully to her expectations, and condemn
and in extreme cases punish him if he is unfaithful, he has not the
shadow of a doubt. Nor does he doubt that this England, besides
expecting a certain general line of conduct, will and can _constrain_
him to act in accordance with her settled determination--that she has
authority and has power to give effect to her will.
And the official governmental representatives are not the only
representatives of England. _Every_ Englishman is a representative
of England. How representative he is he will experience as he finds
himself among strange peoples outside his own country. He will find
then that he has certain traits and traditions and characteristics which
clearly distinguish him from the people among whom he is
travelling. And unofficial though he may be, he will yet feel
England expecting him to behave as an Englishman. And though he
may not be so vividly aware of it when he is at home, he is still a
representative of England when he is in England itself. In everyday
life he is being expected and constrained by England to act in certain
ways.
Nor is it all a one-sided affair--England expecting so much of him
and he having no say or control over what England does. On the
contrary, the relationship is mutual. He goes to the making and
shaping of England just as much as she goes to the making and
shaping of him. He expects certain behaviour of her as she expects
such of him. And if he has gained the confidence of his
fellow-countrymen and has energy and determination, he may do much to
affect her destiny.
England is therefore, so it seems, a _person_ just as much as a single
Englishman is a person. Englishmen, in fact, only attain their full
personality in an England which _has_ personality.
* * *
Now Nature, I suggest, in spite of what has been said against the
view, is a Person in exactly the same way as England is a person.
Nature is a collective being made up of component beings--self-active
electrons, self-active atoms, self-active suns and planets, self-active
cells, plants, animals, men, and groups and nations of men--as
England is made up of the land of England and all that springs
therefrom, including the Englishmen themselves. Nature thinks and
feels and strives as England thinks and feels and strives. And Nature
cares for her children as England looks after her sons. It is often said,
indeed, that Nature is hard and cruel. But it is only through the
unfailing regularity and reliability of her fundamental laws--of her
"constitution"--that freedom and progress are possible. If we could
not depend upon perfect law we could make no advance whatever.
We should all be abroad and uncertain. Yet in spite of her unbending
rigidity over fundamentals, she does also show mercy and pity. A
child toddling along downhill unregardful of the force of gravitation
falls on its face and screams with pain. But Nature, represented by
the mother, rushes up, seizes the little thing in her arms, presses it
lovingly to her bosom, rock it and coaxes it and covers it with kisses.
So if Nature can think and feel and strive and show mercy and
loving-kindness, she is entitled to the dignity of personality. And
when we stand back and regard Nature as a whole, we shall look
upon her as a Person and nothing less.
* * *
We have now to understand what is meant by saying that Nature is a
Person actuated by a hidden ideal and being in process of realising
that ideal. When travelling across the Gobi Desert I found a yellow
rose--a dwarf, simple, single rose. It is known to botanists as _Rosa
persica,_ and is believed to be the original of all roses. I found it on
the extreme outlying spurs of the Altai Mountains. Now, a seed of
the rose, partly under the influence of its surroundings (soil,
moisture, air, sunshine) but chiefly _by virtue of something which it
contains within itself,_ something inherent in its very nature, will
grow up into a rose-bush and give forth roses. The seed develops
into a rose, not because some outside super-gardener takes hold of
each one of the million million ultra-microscopic particles of which
it is made up and puts it carefully into its appointed place, as a
builder might put the stones of a building into their exact places
according to the plans of an architect; but because each of those
minutest ultimate particles has that within it which prompts it to act
of its own accord in response to the call of the whole. Each of these
electrons is in incessant and terrific motion, moving at the rate of
something like 180,000 miles a second, so placing it in position
would be a difficult matter. Besides which, each electron is not a
tiny bit of matter as we ordinarily conceive matter--something which
we can touch and handle. It is a mere centre or nucleus of energy.
Any placing of it in position by a super-gardener is therefore out of
the question. Each of those little particles moves and acts of itself in
accordance with its own inner promptings, and in response to the
influence of those other myriads of particles and groups of particles
about it. And that system of these groups of particles which is
enclosed within the rondure of the seed must have within it the ideal
of the rose to be. Each particle will act on its own initiative, but all
will act under the mutual influence of one another, and in their
togetherness will make up the rose-spirit, being informed by the
ideal of the rose which in its turn will suffuse the whole. And this
rose-spirit--this rose-disposition--as it gives itself play, so controls
and directs their movements that eventually the full-blown rose
comes into being.
What happens is, we may imagine, much the same as what happened
in the case of Australia. A handful of settlers from the
mother-country formed the germ-seed from which the Australia of to-day
has grown up. There was no external despot ordering each
individual Australian to do this, that, and the other--to come this
way and go that, and to stop in one place this year and in another
place the next. Each Australian acting on his own initiative, and all
in their togetherness, created the Australian spirit, which again
reacting upon each Australian induced him to act in accordance with
that spirit. And so in time Australia, assimilating individuals from
outside and absorbing them into its texture, and imbuing them with
the Australian spirit, grew up into manhood in the Great War and
astonished the world by its strong individuality, its character,
intelligence, determination, and good comradeship.
In the same way these particles of the rose-seed, each acting of itself,
in their collectivity formed the rose-spirit. And each was in turn
imbued by the rose-spirit. They had in them unconsciously the ideal
of the rose-bush with its roots, stem, branches, leaves, flowers, fruit,
seed. In all their activities they were actuated by this ideal. It was
always constraining them in the given direction. By reason of the
working of it in the particles they could by no possibility arrange
themselves into a may tree or a lilac bush. There was an inner core
of activity which persisted through all the countless changes of the
process, which permeated the whole and which kept it directed to
the particular end it had all the time in view. That activity had, in
fact, a well-defined disposition, and that disposition was defined by
the ideal of the rose, and was to form a rose-bush bearing roses.
That the rose-seed developed into the rose was due, therefore, not to
the operation of any outside agent, but was due to the operation of
the rose-spirit that it had within it, and which was persistently
driving it to bring into actual being that ideal of the rose which was
the essence of its spirit. The ideal of the rose was the motive-power
of the whole process.
Where the rose-spirit derived from we shall later on enquire. Here
we must note a point of the utmost importance. The seed of this
_Rosa persica_ is imbued with the spirit of _Rosa persica._ It has
this ideal working within it. But it is not confined within the rigid
limits of that ideal. It has that ideal, but _something beyond also_
--something in the _direction_ of that ideal, but stretching on ahead to
an illimitable distance. The rose-seed developed riot only into the
rose-flower, but through the flowers into numerous rose-seeds. And
from the original _Rosa persica_ seeds have sprung roses of scores
of varieties. Roses of every variety of form, colour, habit, texture are
constantly appearing. By purposeful mating, and supplying
favourable conditions of soil, temperature, etc., almost any kind of
variety can be produced. So we have not only yellow roses of every
shade from gold and cream to lemon, but also white and red and
pink roses of every hue. We have single roses and roses as full as
small cabbages. And we have dwarf roses and roses climbing 50 or
60 feet in height.
From all this it is evident that within the original seed of _Rosa
persica_ was a rose-spirit which refused to be confined within the
limits of _Rosa persica_ only, but stretched out far beyond as well.
The rose-spirit had latent in it, and was unconsciously stretching out
to, all the beauties which roses have since attained to, and beyond
that again to all the beauties that are yet to come. The horizon of the
rose-spirit was never confined by a single plan--the plan of the
_Rosa persica_--as the builder is confined by the plan of the
architect, beyond which he cannot go. The rose-spirit could reach
out along the line of roses to an unlimited extent. It could produce
nothing but roses; it could not produce laburnums. But it could
produce roses of unlimited variety, provided favourable conditions
were available.
But the _Rosa persica_ was itself the outcome of a long line of
development from a far-away primordial plant-germ. From that
original plant-germ have sprung all the ferns and grasses, the shrubs
and trees and flowers, of the present day. So in that plant-germ must
have resided the plant-spirit with an ideal of all this variety of
plant-life actuating it--unconsciously, of course, but most effectively for
all that. The particles of that original germ in their individual
activities and in their mutual influence upon one another were in
their togetherness actuated by a plant-spirit which had in mind--so to
speak--not only the reproduction of a plant precisely similar to the
original plant, but one with the possibilities of development and of
reproducing others with possibilities of still further development. All
that plant life has so far attained and all that it will attain to in
future--perhaps also all that it _might_ have attained to--must have
been present in the plant-spirit of that original plant-germ. And it is
through the working out--the realising--of this ideal which actuated
that plant-spirit, and through the response which this spirit made to
the stimulus of its surroundings that all the wonderful development
of plant life has taken place. The plant-spirit had to keep within the
lines of plant life; it could not stray beyond it to develop lions and
tigers. But within the lines of plant life it could stretch out to
illimitable distances. All that was wanted was the stimulus of
favourable conditions, and from its surroundings it could select,
reject, assimilate, all that would further its end.
* * *
In the Gobi Desert I also saw the wild horse--_Equus Prjevalskyi_
--supposed to be the original horse. And as the rose springs from the
seed, so the horse develops from the ovum. And by virtue of the
horse-spirit, the horse-ideal, by which all the innumerable particles
of that ovum is actuated, it develops into a horse, and not into a
donkey or a cow. But the ovum of the original _Equus Prjevalskyi_
must have had in it the ideal of something more than the _Equus
Prjevalskyi,_ for from the original stock has sprung the great variety
of horses we see to-day--race-horses, cart-horses, hunters, polo
ponies, Shetland ponies, etc. And these are still varying. And the
_Equus Prjevalskyi_ was itself the outcome of a long line of
development. Like all other animals, including man, it must have
sprung from an original animal-germ. And the particles of that
original animal-germ must have had in them the animal-spirit
actuated by the ideal of all the animals of the present day, including
man, and ready to develop as soon as favourable conditions
provided the necessary stimulus to which the germ was ready to
respond.
And both the original plant-germ and the original animal-germ
sprang from an original plant-animal germ. And this, again, from the
Earth itself. So that the Earth must always have had hidden in it the
ideal of all plant and animal and human life--and not only the ideal
of what it has reached at present, but of all it _will_ become, and, it
is important to note, of all it _might_ become in future. It is the
working of this ideal in the Earth, from the time five hundred
million years or so ago when it budded off from the Sun as a fiery
mist, that it has, under the influence of the light and heat of the Sun,
and possibly also under the influences from the Stellar Universe as
well, produced what we see to-day. The Earth-Spirit was inspired by
this ideal, and in the ideal was this capacity for improving itself.
And through the working of this ideal, and under the influence of the
rest of the world, the Earth has developed from a flaming sphere into
a molten ball, into a globe of barren land and sea, and so on into the
verdure-covered and animal- and man-inhabited Earth of the present
age. The Earth, like the rose-seed, contained within it a core of
Activity which permeated every particle and constrained it with its
fellow-particles to direct itself towards the ideal--a core of Activity
which was animated by the ideal, while the ideal on its part had an
innate faculty of perfecting itself.
But the Earth is itself only a minute mite even of the Solar System.
And the Sun is only one of perhaps a thousand million other stars,
some so distant that light travelling at the rate of 186,000 miles a
second must have started from them before the birth of Christ to
reach us to-day. Nevertheless the Earth is composed of the same
ultimate particles of matter that even the most distant stars are made
of. The Earth, the Sun and stars, are composed of electrons which
are all alike. Doubtless there are individual differences between
electrons as there are between men, but in a general way they are as
much alike as all men appear alike to an eagle. And of these
electrons the whole Universe is made as well as the Earth. The same
laws of motion, of gravitation, and of electro-magnetic and chemical
attraction, obtain there as here. The scale of the Stellar World is
immensely larger than the scale we are accustomed to on this Earth.
But the same fundamental laws everywhere prevail, and the Earth
and stars are composed of the same material.
So it must have been from the Heart of Nature as a whole that the
Earth-Spirit must have derived the ideal which actuated it. Deep in
the Heart of Nature must have resided the ideal of the state of the
Earth as it is to-day. In the great world as a whole, as in the
rose-seed, must have been operating an ideal at least of what is on the
Earth to-day, and of what this Earth will become and of what it
might become; and possibly _also_ of greater things which have
already been realised, or _will_ be realised and _might_ be realised
in the planets of other suns than our Sun. There must ever have been
working throughout the Universe an Activity constraining the
ultimate particles in a given direction. There must have been an
Organising Activity, collecting the diffused particles together,
grouping them into concentrated organisms and achieving loftier
and loftier modes of being. Each of those inconceivably numerous
and incredibly minute particles which make up the stars and the
Earth and all on it--each one acted of itself. But each acted of itself
under the influence of its fellows--that is, of every other particle;
that is, of the _whole._ Each acted in response to its surroundings,
but its surroundings were nothing short of the whole of Nature
outside itself. Together they formed the Spirit of Nature with the
ideal as its essence. And Nature in her turn acted on the particles--as
Englishmen form the spirit of England and the spirit of England acts
back upon individual Englishmen.
It was the working of this Spirit, with its self-improving ideal, that
has produced Nature as we see her to-day. The distant ideal
furnished the motive-power by which the whole is driven forward.
And this ideal was itself built up by the unceasing interaction of the
whole upon the parts and the parts upon the whole. What was in the
parts responded to the stimulus of what was in the whole, and the
whole was affected by the activity of the parts. What was immanent
responded to what was transcendent. And the transcendence was
affected by the immanence.