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| Willows replace meadows in the warming Arctic, Sand Hill Bay Camp, Aylmer Lake, NWT Canada |
In the first two volumes of Lives
of Game Animals, Seton repeatedly returns to the theme of wildlife
conservation, calling for preservation while at the same time doubting that his
efforts can be successful. In the third volume, his strikingly gloomy essay
“The Lament” predicts not only a bad end for our wild kindred, but for our
civilization as well: “The end is in sight. Desolation sweeps from sea to sea.”
Seton clearly referred to the end
of wild nature—which Bill McKibbin exactly named in 1989—but compared also to
John Muir, whose environmentalist critique was more direct, Seton’s remains
oblique. I searched for “nature” in the indexes to Seton’s autobiography, in
Julia Seton’s By A Thousand Fires, in
the biographies written by Keller and Anderson, and then even in my own book.
The word does not appear, not withstanding that whether Seton was writing about
wildlife, aboriginal American cultures, or outdoor education for youth, the
common element in each is—nature.
Is nature so close that we don’t
see it? And if that is the case, what is “nature?” This is an important
question, for how do we protect and preserve something unless we can first name
it? We can name the danger, most dramatically the spate of alarming reports in
July and August 2016 suggesting that the theoretical “tipping point” for the
climate may have reached, as global high temperature records seem on the brink
of spiraling out of control. (For Example see the NASA report, August 31, 2016.
“Nature” is endangered. But what
does that mean?
*
In The Invention of Nature, Alexander Von Humboldt’s New World—Andrea
Wulf’s biography of the German adventurer, philosopher, and scientist—we find a
way into this subject. In his great 1807 masterwork, Essay on the Geography of Plants, Humboldt defined nature as being “a
reflection of the whole.” (Wulf, pg. 128.) He further wrote, “In this great
chain of causes and effects, no single fact can be considered in isolation.” (Wulf,
pg. 5.) Henry David Thoreau and John Muir said much the same—a direct
reflection of Humboldt’s influence upon them both.
A reflection of the whole, a
connection of causes and effects includes all that we may define as
wild-nature, natural habitats along with their inhabitants, nature is all that
outside stuff, but also us with our destructive ways. According to Wulf, the
first person to make that connection was Humboldt. His study of nature, a
combination of Enlightenment empiricism (named “science” in the 19th
century) and the emotional (e.g. poetry, painting, creativity) became a new
means of interpreting the world—known as natural history. Wulf shows that
everyone from Darwin (to Seton whom of course she does not name) to today’s
environmentalists are beneficiaries of Humboldt’s brilliant insights, for all
that activists have remained unaware of their historical linage.
During Humboldt’s exploration of
the Americas (1799-1804), he observed, “What speaks to the soul escapes our
measurements.” (Wulf pg. 72.) But that soul recognition did not escape the
lyrical landscape appreciations of Muir or the wildlife observations of Seton.
If you don’t already know the emotions brought up by natural history, try
reading the last three paragraphs of “Lobo, The King of Currumpaw” to a live
audience without getting choked up. (Apparently, Seton himself had a difficult
time getting to the end when he related the Lobo story.) Thoreau observed, “the
most interesting and beautiful facts are so much the more poetry.” (Wulf, pg.
259) It is almost as if Thoreau was anticipating Seton’s work.
*
Seton was familiar with Thoreau’s
work, but did not leave a direct account of the authors who had the most direct
impact on his philosophy of nature. One clue I have is the late inventory of
books from his Seton Castle library. That list, although long, represents only
a fraction of the original collection. It does include Humboldt’s famous work Cosmos, A Sketch of the Physical Description
of the Universe (1845-1862) whose readers included, (besides Seton)
according to Wulf: Darwin, Thoreau, Muir, Ralph Waldo Emerson, early
environmentalist George Perkins Marsh, and artist/scientist Ernst Haeckel. Although
I did not find another Humboldt book in the collection, Seton used his Personal Narrative of Travels to the
Equinoctial Regions of America (1852 edition) as a source for his chapter
on the Jaguar in Lives of Game Animals.
I cannot (for the moment) establish whether or not Seton read Emerson, Marsh,
and Haeckel, but he certainly would have known of them.
*
Wulf selected only a handful of
artists, scientists, writers, and naturalists—out of countless thousands—who were
influenced by Humboldt. Seton as naturalist, as explorer/wilderness adventurer,
as observer and admirer of native cultures, as educator, writer and artist, as
reconciler of head and heart (science and emotion), as both pragmatist and lyrical
interpreter of nature, is surely beneficiary (along with many of us today) of
the intellectual path forced by Humboldt over two centuries ago.
I was struck by another important
similarity between Seton and Humboldt. I have written (as has Seton biographer
Brian Morris) that Seton has become largely invisible to our contemporary life
due to the pervasiveness of his ideas about conservation, ecology, education,
environmentalism, and perhaps most importantly, animal sentience. Wulf points
out that Humboldt became famous in his own time for his worldview: “His vision
of nature has passed into our consciousness as if by osmosis. It is almost as
though his ideas have become so manifest that the man behind them has
disappeared.” (Wulf pg. 335) She also writes, “Humboldt’s interdisciplinary
approach to science and nature is more relevant than ever…His concept of nature
as one of global patterns is more relevant than ever.”
Humboldt and the line of thinkers descended from
him have attempted to prove that we are not separate from nature. The lesson we
can take from them is that what goes on in the environment around us, from
evolution to pollution, from habitat preservation to species extinction is “a
reflection of the whole.” The question for wild-nature and
humanity-civilization is: will we recognize that wholeness—the very definition
of nature—while there is still time to save some of the goodness in the world
that remains, both the natural and the human-made?

Thank you, David, for your writing on Seton and on science and nature. I love the question: "Is nature so close we do not see it?"
ReplyDeleteThanks also for your call to unite head and heart. You are inspirational.