the quarterly journal of speech - society,...

T H E QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF SPEECH67 (1981), 245-58.

The QUARTERLY JOURNAL

of SPEECHVOLUME 67 AUGUST 1981 NUMBER 3

JOHN MUIR, YOSEMITE, AND THE SUBLIMERESPONSE: A STUDY IN THE RHETORIC

OF PRESERVATIONISM

Christine Oravec

THE American preservation move-ment, or the movement to set aside

areas of natural scenery or wildernessfor appreciation and enjoyment, is one ofthe oldest and most visible segments ofpresent-day environmentalism. Andthere appears to be little disagreementamong historians that John Muir was apreeminent figure of the preservationmovement.' Most endorse the substance.

Ms. Oravec is Assistant Professor of Communica-tion at the University of Utah, Salt Lake City, UT84112. She wishes to thank Edwm Black andMalcolm Sillars for assistance in preparing thisarticle.

'The preservation movement, or more specifically,the movement supporting the withholding of lands,forests, water, and wildlife in inviolate reserve for theirscenic, recreational, and inherent values, may trace itsorigins as a movement with national importance to thefounding of the Sierra Club in 1892, two years after theestablishment of Yosemite National Park. However,preservationism expressed as a policy may have origi-nated as early as 1875 with the beginning of theAmerican Forestry Association, and coincident withsome of John Muir's first public writings. Preserva-tionism as an active element in present-day environ-mentalism is represented by such groups as the Audu-bon Society, the Wilderness Society, the Wildlife Feder-ation, the National Park Association, and, of course, theSierra Club. For the definition and origins of preserva-tionism, see Hans Huth, Nature and the American:Three Centuries of Changing Attitudes (Berkeley: Univ.

if not the hyperbole, of preservationistEnos Mills' claim that Muir was "thegrandest character in National parkhistory,"^ and Frank E. Smith's judg-ment that Muir was the "foremostchampion of [the] untouched preserva-tion [of the California mountains]."'

Though such writers as GeorgeCatlin and Henry David Thoreau hadexpressed a concern for preservation, noone before Muir had succeeded in forg-ing that concern into effective appeals toa national public."* Roderick Nash haswritten, "Muir's efforts did much to callinto being a potent national sentimentfor preserving wilderness," and HolwayJones elaborated, "What began forMuir as the simple pilgrimage of adevout nature lover ended in his bring-ing the Yosemite story to the common

of California Press, 1957), pp. 173 and 226 fn. 2; andHolway Jones, fohn Muir and the Sierra Club: TheBattle for Yosemite (San Francisco: Sierra Club, 1965),pp. 4-5.

^Linnie Marsh Wolfe, Son of the Wilderness: TheLife of fohn Muir (New York: Knopf, 1945), p. x.

'Frank E. Smith, The Politics of Conseraatian (NewYork: Pantheon-Random, 1966), p. 136.

^Hans Huth, Yosemite: The Story of an Idea (SanFrancisco: Sierra Club, 1948), p. 49.

246

QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF SPEECH

man all over the continent; certainlyMuir awakened a new enthusiasm forthe preservation of natural wonders fortheir own sake."^

Regardless of his ultimate impactupon preservationism, however, Muir atfirst did not attempt to initiate or orga-nize a social movement. Instead, hechose to elicit public support for particu-lar preservationist issues, using appealswhich took the form of literary essaysrather than persuasive discourses. Spe-cifically, Muir succeeded through hisliterary contributions in transforminghis readers' imaginative experience ofscenic grandeur into an obligation tosupport preservationist legislation. Thisability to convert essentially passiveaesthetic responses into pragmatic actionrepresents Muir's unique persuasiveaccomplishment, and as such invitesfurther examination.

The earliest and best example ofMuir's ability to elicit public action forscenic preservation is to be found in thecampaign for Yosemite National Park.In 1890, Muir wrote two articles,"Treasures of the Yosemite" and "Fea-tures of the Proposed Yosemite NationalPark," which had considerable nation-wide impact.'' "Copied in part or in

^Roderick Nash, The American Environment:Readings in the History oj Conservation, 2n(i. rev. ed.(Reading, Mass.; Addison-Wesley, 1976), p. 71; Jones,p. 7.

''Century, Aug. 1890, pp. 483-500; Sept. 1890, pp.656-67. The importance of the Yosemite eampaign inthe history of the national park system is attested to byJohn Ise, Our National Park Policy: A Critical History(Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins Press, 1961), p. 50;The United States Forest Policy (New Haven, Conn.:Yale Univ. Press, 1920), p. t t l ; and Huth, Yosemite:The Story oj an Idea, pp. 48-49, 75. Huth's now-familiar argument on the premier public significance ofthe establishment of Yosemite in 1890 over the estab-lishment of Yellowstone in 1872 is based upon moreconcerted efforts after 1890 to develop a system ofnational parks. Huth argues that Yosemite was preemi-nent in "the shaping of public opinion so that it willeither demand or suffer conservation measures" (p. 29).

AUGUST 1981

whole by the press of the nation, withsupporting editorials, [Muir's] articlesaroused the public to action," accordingto Linnie Marsh Wolfe, Muir's biogra-pher. "Opportunely the bill to create theYosemite National Park within bounda-ries prescribed by Muir was introducedin Congress. Immediately letters, tele-grams, and petitions poured into Wash-ington demanding passage."' John W.Noble, Secretary of the Interior underPresident Harrison, was influenced bythe show of popular support and pledgedadministration assistance to the bill,which passed October 1, 1890.̂

To account for Muir's success, onemust examine his writing in the yearsboth prior to and during the campaign.Muir performed at least two importantservices for his readers: first, as NormanForester wrote, "Muir gave this regionto the country—both to those who couldnot go to see and to those who, havingeyes, saw not"; second, "in a more literalsense it may be said that he gave thisregion to the country, for it was he, moreprobably than any other man, who wasresponsible for the adoption of ourpolicy of national parks."' Muir pro-vided the first service—developing forhis potential readers a vicarious experi-ence of mountain grandeur—in bisseries of articles, primarily for the

Similar considerations, plus the importance of Muir'srole in establishing the Yosemite, dictated the choice oftopic for this study.

'Wolfe, p. 249. See also "The Enlarged YosemiteReservation," San Francisco Evening Bulletin, 3 June1890, p. 2 col. 2; Robert U. Johnson, "For Mr. Hechtto Dwell Upon," New York Times, 1 Aug. 1890, p. 2col. 4; "The Witness of the Sun," San Francisco Exam-iner, 5 Aug. 1890, p. 3, col. 1; "As It Appears to JohnMuir," Oakland Daily Evening Tribune, 6 Sept. 1890,p. 4, col. 1, for articles, letters, and editorials citingMuir and the Yosemite campaign.

»Wolfe, p. 251.''Nature in American Literature: Studies in the

Modern Vieu) oJNature (New York: Russell & Russell,1958), p. 262.


Century magazine from 1875 to 1882,and in the edited collection of essays,Picturesque California (1889). By 1890he accompUshed the second task by asso-ciating these experiences with a positiveprogram, the creation of a national parkaround the Yosemite valley.'" The firsttwo sections of this study discuss in turnhow Muir produced each of these effectsamong his readership. The final sectionoffers conclusions regarding Muir'simpact upon America's changing atti-tudes toward nature, as measured by hisinfluence on the movement for preserva-tion.

JOHN MUIR AND THE ESSAY OFNATURAL HISTORY

Little of John Muir's early lifeexplains his eventual development froma transplanted Scotch immigrant work-ing as an itinerant sheepherder, wood-cutter, and guide in the California Sier-ras to the articulate and persuasivespokesman for the preservation ofwilderness. Certain events stand out: hisarrival with his family at the FountainLake farm in Wisconsin in 1849 at theage of eleven; the traumatic, possiblyformative experience of losing conscious-ness at the bottom of a well he wasdigging by hand for his father sometimeafter 1856; his study of geology andchemistry at the University of Wisconsinfrom 1861 to 1863; his pledge in 1867 toseek out natural beauty after almostlosing his sight in an industrial acci-

lOA reliable list of Muir's magazine anieles appearsin Jennie Elliol Doran, "A Bibliography of JohnMuir," Sierra Club Bulletin, Jan. 1916, pp. 41-54. Ihave chosen to coneentrate on the artieles which formedthe core of his work from 1875 to 1882 and which latercomprised the book The Mountains of California (NewYork: The Century Co., 1894). The same book alsocontains parts of "Treasures of the Yosemite," whichalong with "Features of the Proposed YosemiteNational Park" presented the central arguments forpreservation of the park.

247ORAVEC

dent." In the period between his arrivalin Yosemite in 1868 and his first publi-cations in 1873, Muir acquired the needto express in literary form his experi-ences with nature.'^ Along with thisneed, but less persistently, grew a needto express his opinion on the ravaging ofnature by the forces of civilization.

Perhaps because his literary impulsespreceded his concern for preservation.Muir chose to write essays of naturalhistory, a form that determined hisrange of subject matter, his potentialaudience, and the thrust of his laterappeals.'^ Essays of natural history weregenerally short descriptions of naturalphenomena, often from a personalperspective, which also touched uponsuch topics as the literary and artisticappreciation of scenery, the new scien-tific theories of evolution, and thewonders of the newly discovered West-ern territories.'"* These topics particu-larly attracted middle-class. Eastern,urban readers of such magazines asAppleton's and the Century, who werecurious about their natural surround-ings, but far removed from the realitiesof life out-of-doors.'5 They also were

"Wolfe, pp. 27, 45, 73, 103-05.'2Ibid.,pp. 116-17, 153-54.'^For discussions of the antecedents of the essay as a

form of the literature of natural history, see Philip M.Hicks, The Development of the Natural History Essayin American Literature (Philadelphia: Univ. of Penn-sylvania, 1924), and Peter Schmitt, "Birds in theBush," Ch. Ill of Back to Nature: The Arcadian Mythm Urban America (New York: Oxford Univ. Press,1969), pp. 33-44.

'^For a fuller account of the components of the essayof natural history, including a discussion of the popularnational magazines which served as its vehicles, seeChristine Oravec, "Studies in the Rhetorie of theConservation Movement in America, 1865-1913,"Diss. Univ. of Wisconsin 1979, pp. 16-27.

'^Theodore P. Greene, America's Heroes: TheChanging Model of Success m American Magazines(New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1970). p. 7; HowardMumford Jones, The Age of Energy: Varieties of theAmerican Experience, 1S65-1915 (New York: Viking,1971), pp. 183-84.


attracted to topics of culture and self-improvement, particularly in the artsand sciences.̂ '̂ Consequently, by choos-ing the literary form of the essay ofnatural history. Muir addressed a signif-icant audience which seemed receptive tothemes most similar to his own inter-ests.i7

Yet, Muir did not simply reiterate thestandard themes of popular naturalhistory; instead, he used two familiartechniques to transform the essays ofnatural history into the bases for laterpersuasive appeals. The first techniqueevoked a popular aesthetic and rhetor-ical effect, the "sublime response," torecreate in his audience the sensation ofmountain grandeur. The second tech-nique was the use of a literary persona toidentify the readers' more or less passiveliterary experience with the activity ofthe figure Muir called the "true moun-taineer." Thus Muir encouraged hisreaders to become active in the socialarena as well, to preserve untouchedareas of natural scenery.

First, Muir employed literary de-

AUGUST 1981

scription of the California mountaincountry to elicit what may be termed thesublime response, which consisted ofthree elements: the immediate apprehen-sion of a sublime object; a sense of over-whelming personal insignificance akinto awe; and ultimately a kind of spiritualexaltation.'^ For example. Muir evokedthe perception of outstanding naturalobjects primarily through vivid verbalpictures. In one of his descriptions, thatof snow banners created by the winds atthe top of the Sierras, he introduced theview from above Indian Canon as ifunveiling a work of art; "And there inbold relief, like a clear painting,appeared a most imposing scene. "' ̂After exhorting his readers to "fancyyourself standing on this Yosemite ridgelooking eastward," Muir elaborated indetail "how dense and opaque [the snowbanners] are at the point of attachment,and how filmy and transparent towardthe end," a "beautiful and terriblepicture as seen from the forest window."Later, Muir concentrated upon thesublimity of the distant view; "Stillsurpassing glorious were the fore-and-

'^Kimball King, "Local Color and the Rise of theAmerican Magazine," in Essays Moslly on PeriodicalPublishing in America, ed. James Woodress (Durham,N.C.: Duke Univ. Press, 1973). p. 122; Henry NashSmith, Introd., Popular Culture and Industrialism,1865-1890, ed. Henry Nash Smith (Garden City, N.Y.:Anchor-Doubleday, 1967), p. viii; Merle Curti, TheGrowth of American Thought, 3rd. ed. (New York:Harper and Row, 1951), p. 577; Greene, p. 70;Howard Mumford Jones, O Strange New World:American Culture; The formative Years (New York:Viking, 1964), p. 376; National Parks and the AmericanLandscape, National Collection of Fine Arts (Washing-ton, D.C.: STTiithsonian Institution Press, 1972), pp.24-29.

"The numerical size of Muir's audience can beapproximated with reference to the circulation figuresfor the magazines in which he typically published. Hisreaders may have numbered in the hundreds of thou-sands; readership for the Century, for example, peakedin 1890 wilh 200,000, and some magazines reached350,000 by 1903. Frank Luther Mott, A History ojAmerican Magazines, 1863-1885 (1938; rpt. Cam-bridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1957), III, pp. 467and 475; Greene, p. 70.

'^The elements of the sublime as described here arederived from Samuel Monk's discussion of the patternof response developed by rhetorical and literary theo-rists of the eighteenth century, a pattern that hedescribes as "essentially the sublime experience fromAddison to Kant," in The Sublime: A Study of CriticalTheories in Eighteenth-Century England (New York:Modern Language Association of America, 1935), p.58. William H. Goetzmann, in Exploration andEmpire: The Explorer and the Scientist in the Winningof the American West (New York: Norton, 1966), pp.329-30, uses similar language in describing the particu-larly American conception of the sublime: "Immensi-ty—sublime, endless, empty immensity with here andthere an Indian or a buffalo as an allegorical naturegod—was most often depicted by the explorer-artists ofthe day Man, especially civilized man, whenever hedid appear, was usually only a figure in the foreground,almost insignificant in the face of the immensity ofnature and nature's wonders." For a fuller discussion ofthe sublime and its function in the literature of naturalhistory, see Oravec, "Studies in the Rhetoric of theConservation Movement," pp. 27-48.

''John Muir, The Mountains of California, p. 44.


middle-grounds obliterated altogether,leaving only the black peaks, the whitebanners, and the blue sky.''^"

Consistent with his efforts at trans-mitting the impressive details of sublimeseenes. Muir often simultaneouslyevoked the feeling of comparative insig-nificance in the face of awesomecomplexity and vastness. In so doing, hetended to reduce the importance of anyhuman influence upon the landscape.Following a lengthy description of theSierra range. Muir noted that the accu-mulation of detail combined with theeffect of distance produced a feeling ofgrandeur compared to which man wassmall and helpless: "The Sierra is about500 miles long, 70 miles wide, and from7000 to nearly 15,000 feet high. Ingeneral views no mark of man is visibleon it, nor anything to suggest the rich-ness of the life it cherishes."^' WheneverMuir introduced a human presence intohis descriptions, he consistently subordi-nated it to the surrounding elements,and sometimes associated with it forcesof destruction and death, as in hisdescription of Mount Shasta: "Standingon the icy top of this, the grandest of allthe fire-mountains of the Sierra, we canhardly fail to look forward to its nexteruption. Gardens, vineyards, homeshave been planted confidingly on theflanks of volcanoes which, after remain-ing steadfast for ages, have suddenlyblazed into violent action, and pouredforth overwhelming floods of fire."^^

Ultimately, however. Muir evokedthe highest emotions of awe and wonderthrough scenes almost "impossible todescribe for their vastness and complex-ity."^^ Muir himself noted the difficulty

249

ORAVEC

in describing the full effect of sublimityin the case of the Mono Trail to MountLyell, a "savage and bewildering" placewhere "fore-grounds, middle-grounds,backgrounds, sublime in magnitude, yetseem all alike—bare rock waves, woods,groves, diminutive flecks of meadow andstrips of shining water, pictures withoutlines of beginning or ending."^"^ Hisdetailed description of Yosemite Falls inPicturesque California culminated inbroad generalizations, evoking spiritualexaltation without specificity of refer-ence: "Gray cliffs, wet blaek rock, thewhite hill of ice, trees, brush-fringes,and the surging, roaring torrents escap-ing down the gorge in front, glorifyingall, and proclaiming the triumph ofPeace and eternal invincible Harmo-ny."25

In sum, by presenting his readers withthe sequence of the sublime response,accompanied by an impressive collectionof descriptive details, Muir's essays inthe Century series appeared to circum-vent the rational processes and institutea knowledge more fundamental thanrationality could supply. "One findshimself continually in a state betweenawe and rapture, overwhelmed byimpressions which I, at least, have neverbeen able to express," wrote Robert U.Johnson of his first experienee ofYosemite. Significantly, he ascribed thesame feeling to Muir's written descrip-tions. "Only the pen of John Muir hasever approached an adequate reflectionof the feeling of a sensitive person in thatHoly of Holies."2<*

The feeling of awe and wonderderived from natural scenery also may

^Ibid., pp. 44-46.2'lbid., pp. 2-3; for a similar passage see also pp.

10-11.22Ibid., pp. 12-14.^^West of the Rocky Mountains, reprint of Pictur-

esque California, ed. John Muir (1888; Philadelphia,Pa.: Running Press, 1976), pp. 73-74.

»Ibid., p. 9."Ibid., pp. 100-02.'̂•Robert Underwood Johnson, Remembered Yester-

days (Boston: Little, Brown, 1923), p. 280.


have reminded Muir's readers ofhumanity's unique place in the naturalworld. Muir's audience was exposed tocontemporary developments in geologi-cal and evolutionary theory through theliterature of natural history, and Muirstrove to apply their knowledge to thenatural scenery of the mountains.^^ Tothis end he employed a second techniquecommon to the literature of naturalhistory, the development of a narrativepersona. Muir discovered that develop-ing a portrait of himself as both alearned expert on mountains and anexperienced guide would establish ahuman perspective upon the complexityof nature and ground his descriptions inscientific fact.̂ ^

Muir's authoritative voice analyzedthe terrain of the Sierra so thoroughlythe effect was that of a map spread outbefore the readers' mental eye:

[The] general order of distribution . . . isperceived at once, but there are other harmonies,as far-reaching in this connection, that becomemanifest only after patient observation and study.Perhaps the most interesting of these is thearrangement of the forests in long, curving bands,braided together into lace-like patterns, andoutspread in charming variety. The key to thisbeautiful harmony is the ancient glaciers; wherethey flowed the trees followed, tracing theirwavering courses along canons, over ridges, andover high, rolling plateaus.^'

In another excerpt he inserted hischaracter more directly into the scene by

2^Edilh Jane Hadley, in "John Muir's Views ofNature and Their Consequences," Dlss. Univ. ofWisconsin 1956, outhnes Muir's Darwinian influencesand his scientific views of nature. Information on thescientific advances of ihe day was made available toMuir's readership through such popular magazines asYouman's Popular Science Monthly and the NationalGeographic, as well as articles in Harper's, AtlanticMonthly, and Century by such prominent scientists asJoseph Le Conie and Nathaniel Shaler.

28See Wolfe, Snn of the Wilderness, p. 166, andForester, p. 2S8, for discussions of Muir's narrativetechniques. Forester (p. 244) also treats Muir as thearchetypal mountaineer.

^'>The Mountains of Cati/orma, p. 144.

AUGUST 1981

narrating the story of his own adven-tures among the Sierra glaciers:

Cautiously picking my way, I gained the top ofthe moraine and was delighted to see a small butwell characterized glacier swooping down fromthe gloomy precipices of Black Mountain in afinely graduated curve to the moraine on which Istood. . . . The uppermost crevasse, or "bergsch-rund," where the névé was attached to the moun-tain, was from 12 to 14 feet wide, and wasbridged in a few places by the remains of snowavalanches. Creeping along the edge of theschrund, holding on with benumbed fingers, Idiscovered clear sections where the bedded struc-ture was beautifully revealed.^*'

The story of his discovery thus presentedas a sequence of events became a train-ing guide or manual for readers,instructing them in the reading of glacialsigns and imposing a rational orderupon a mass of unconnected details.

While retaining the same incisive butpersonalized tone, Muir often trans-formed the narrative line of scientificexposition into the narrative adventure,thereby involving the reader in the activelife of the mountaineer-guide. Muir'smost noteworthy narrative description ishis adventure atop Mount Ritter. Afterhis artist friends had rejected for conven-tional aesthetic purposes a place where"fore-grounds, middle-grounds, back-grounds" were "all alike," Muir leftthem at an appropriately picturesquebut pedestrian spot. He then traveleddeeply into the wilderness to experiencethe mountain-face first hand:̂ ^

After gaining a point about half-way to the top, Iwas suddenly brought to a dead stop, with armsoutspread, clinging close to the face of the rock,unable to move hand or foot either up or down.My doom appeared fixed. I must fall. Therewould be a moment of bewilderment, and then alifeless rumble down the one general precipice tothe glacier below.

When this final danger fiashed upon me, Ibecame nerve-shaken for the first time since

ioihid., pp. 32-33.3'Ibid., pp. 48-54.


setting foot on the mountains, and my mindseemed to fill with a stifling smoke. But thisterrible eclipse lasted only a moment, when lifeblazed forth again with preternatural clearness. Iseemed suddenly to become possessed of a newsense. The other self, bygone experiences.Instinct, or Guardian Angel,—call it what youwill,—came forward and assumed control. Thenmy trembling muscles became firm again, everyrift and flaw in the rock was seen as through amicroscope, and my limbs moved with a positive-ness and precision with which I seemed to havenothing at all to do. Had I been borne aloft uponwings, my deliverance could not have been morecomplete. ̂ ^

In this description, Muir employedthe famihar sequences of apprehension,depression, and exaltation not merely todescribe a sublime view, but to conveyan intensely persona! and immediatepsychological and physical sensation—the fear of falling from a cliff and thesubsequent deliverance. Muir thus suc-ceeded in associating sublime sensationswith active experience in a way familiarto readers of popular mountaineeringadventures. By extending the aestheticexperience of the sublime to includeintense physical experience. Muir alsobrought his readers into even closercontact with the natural scene, andencouraged contemplation upon theirplace in it. Indeed, he conveyed theimpression that he had confronted thedanger of wilderness and had vieweddeath as part of a natural order—^anorder based, incidentally, either upon

^^Ibid., pp. 64-65. Note the striking similarity ofexpressed emotions in the description of Muir and thedog, Stickeen, as ihey crossed a narrow ice-bridge over aglacial chasm, in John Muir, Stickeen (Boston: Hough-ton Mifflin, 1909). Muir writes of himself: "At suchtimes one's whole body is eye, and common skill andfortitude are replaced by power beyond our call orknowledge. Never before had I been so long underdeadly sirain. How I got up thai clilT I never could tell.The thing seemed to have been done by somebody else"(pp. 54-55); and of the dog, Stickeen, "Never before orsince have I seen anything like so passionate a revulsionfrom the depths of despair to exultant, triumphant,uncontrollableJoy" (pp. 65-66).

251

ORAVEC

divine ("Guardian Angel") or Darwin-ian ("Instinct") principles.

As these selections indicate, an impor-tant step in the developing argument forpreservation was to involve the reader inthe active mountaineering life, not onlyas passive observers but as vicariousparticipants, through the viewpoint ofthe narrator. But a short step remainedto identify Muir's general references tothe "mountaineer" with the readingaudience. If the readers of an essay byMuir wished to benefit from their liter-ary experiences, they had to become thekind of person most receptive to thebenefits of wilderness—in other words,true mountaineers.

Thus Muir represented the general-ized figure of the mountaineer as anactor upon the stage of the Californiascenery, moving and interrelating withthe forces of the environment, such as animpending winter storm: "Warned bythe sky, cautious mountaineers, togetherwith the wild sheep, deer, and most ofthe birds and bears, make haste to thelow-lands or foot-hills."^^ Often themountaineer was addressed in thesecond person or in the indefinite, iden-tifying the reader more fully with thefictional character:

One would experience but little difliculty inriding on horseback through the successive beltsall the way up to the storm-beaten fringes of theicy peaks. . . .

Crossing the treeless plains of the Sacramentoand San Joaquin from the west and reaching theSierra foot-hills, you enter the lower fringe of theforest. . . . After advancing fifteen or twentymiles, and making an ascent of from two to threethousand feet, you reach the lower margin of themain pine belt. . . .̂ '*

^^The Mountains of California, p. 36; see also pp. 27,54, and 78.

•̂"Ibid., pp. 142-43. In addition. Muir adapted exten-sive portions of Picturesque California from earlieressays to include systematic changes from the first to thesecond person. For example, he composed the chapter inPicturesque California entitled "Peaks and Glaciers ofthe High Sierra" from fragments of the essays "Living

252

QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF SPEECH AUGUST 1981

Occasionally Muir exhorted his read-ers to engage in mountaineering activityfor its beneficial spiritual results: "Fearnot, therefore, to try the mountain-passes. They will kill care, save youfrom deadly apathy, set you free, andcall forth every faculty into vigorous,enthusiastic action. Even the sick shouldtry these . . . passes, because for everyunfortunate they kill, they cure a thou-sand."^^ Finally, Muir completed theidentification of his reader with themountaineer by claiming, "Mountainsare fountains not only of rivers andfertile soils, but of men. Therefore weare all, in some sense, mountaineers, andgoing to the mountains is goinghome."^^

Furthermore, Muir thought thatmountains produced leadership, her-oism, and even persuasive force, orsublimity in the Longinian sense.̂ ^ Thisexcerpt from his journals, the source ofthe passage from Picturesque Californiaquoted previously, extended his conceptof the greatness which stems from moun-tain origins: "The mountains are foun-tains of men as well as of rivers, ofglaciers, of fertile soil. The great poets,philosophers, prophets, able men whosethoughts and deeds have moved theworld, have come down from the moun-

Glaciers of California" and "In the Heart of the Cali-fornia Alps," later included in The Mountains of Cali-fornia. In many of ihe descriptions rewritten for thechapter, including ihe adventure of Mount Ritter, Muirchanged the pronoun "I" to the pronoun "you." Onemay speculate ihat ihe change occurred with the conver-sion of material from the exclusive and formal Harper'sand Scribner's essays to the more popular picture-bookformat represented by Picturesque California.

^^The Mountains of California, p. 79.'^('Wesl of ihe Rocky Mountains, p. 202.^^For Longinus, the sublime was a quality existing

primarily in the excellence of a rhetorical presentation,and only secondarily in the nature of the audience'sresponse. Though later theorists emphasized the latter,they never totally abandoned the suggestion thatsublimity was a product of a greal orator, or a quality ofcharacter perceived in great individuals. Monk, pp. 12,61, 63, 76, 111, Longinus, On the Sublime, trans. W.Hamilton Fyfe (1927; rpt. Cambridge, Mass.: HarvardUniv. Press, 1965), VIII. 2^3; IX. 1-4.

tains—mountain-dwellers who havegrown strong there with the forest treesin Nature's workshops."^^ The moun-taineers of Muir's experience were intel-ligent, healthy, and friendly men,attuned to the natural eloquence of theenvironment:

Dwelling apart in the depths of the woods are thevarious kinds of mountaineers—hunters, prospec-tors, and the like—rare men, "queer characters,"and well worth knowing. . . . These men as a classare singularly fine in manners, though their facesmay be scarred and rough like the bark oft r ee s . . . . [They} know the mountains far andnear and their thousand voices, like the leaves of abook. . . . The aims of such people are not alwaysthe highest, yet how brave and manly and cleanare their lives compared with too many incrowded towns mildewed and dwarfed in diseaseand crimeP'

The mountain experience even createdfacility in speech in "part-time" moun-taineers: "The minister will not preach aperfectly flat and sedimentary sermonafter climbing a snowy peak; and the fairplay and tremendous impartiality ofNature, so tellingly displayed, willsurely affect the after pleadings of thelawyer."'"^ Mountain sublimity, then,appeared to make even ordinary peoplecapable and effective in the social as wellas the natural world.

But in sharp contrast with the exalta-tion of the mountaineering figure i andhis natural surroundings, Muir occa-sionally inserted descriptions of the dese-cration committed by humanity itselfupon the face of nature. He typicallyviewed human desecration as not just anindividual trait but characteristic of themass of mankind: "Unfortunately, manis in the woods, and waste and puredestruction are making rapid head-way."*' He firmly condemned the

^»Wolfe, .Son ofthe Wilderness, p. vi.^"^West ofthe Rocky Mounlains. p. 202; see also The

Mountains of California, p. 328.*°West ofthe Rocky Mountains, p. 204.*' The Mountains of California, p. 198; see also pp. 96

and 350.


acquisitive, "conquering" spirit in hu-mankind, and preferred to see humanityas morally superior to nature, referringto sheepherders, for example, as "mon-ey-changers . . . in the temple.'"'2 Muir'sreaders may have received the clearimpression that only individuals, partic-ularly individual mountaineers, whohad experienced the sublime and hadbeen transformed by its power couldtranscend the original sin which human-ity as a group possessed. Indeed, Muir'stendency to condemn humankind as agroup may have underlain his initialappeals for individual action rather thana collective movement in support of theYosemite wilderness.

In any case, Muir's readers respondedfavorably to his combination of scientificinstruction and mountaineering adven-ture. A characteristic response includedpatriotic pride in the bounties of thenatural landscape. Alice Morse Earle, inher review of The Mountains of Califor-nia in 1895, exclaimed that "no one inwhose veins runs a drop of patrioticblood could read this story of the moun-tains without burning with pride at thepictures of the natural beauties of ournative land."*^ Another reviewer in TheCritic stated that "it stirs our patrioticblood to know what noble mountains,glaciers, trees and game we have withinour national domain, and he who cancombine science, sentiment and literaryart in describing them is worthy of highpraise.'"'''

Thus the writings of that "faithfulcitizen" John Muir were occasionally

«Ibid-, p. 116.••̂ Alice Morse Earie, "The Mountains of Califor-

nia," The Dial, 1 Feb. 1895, p. 75. Sbe also identifiedMuir's ability to popularize scientific infortnation:"There is no doubt that the average reader for pleasure,or even for information, unless of scientific bent, lookssomewhat askance at a chapter on glaciers: but no onewill skip Mr. Muir's fascinating chapters on glaciers,glacier lakes, and glacier meadows" (p. 76).

•""The Book of Nature," The Critic, 5 Jan. 1895,p. 4.

253ORAVEC

used to support the concept of patriotismin a country continually searching forreasons to foster national pride.''^ Butmore importantly. Muir suggested thathis armchair readers abandon an imageof themselves as sightseers, scenic appre-ciators, tourists, to a life of strenuousnessand commitment. He also encouragedthem to reject the kind of activity thatwould result in the destruction of nature,the source of their spiritual inheritance.In response, Muir's audience may haveinterpreted his suggestions for the pres-ervation of Yosemite as appeals to theirsense of social responsibility as well astheir emotions and personal character.Indeed, only this explanation accountsfor the immediate response to Muir'sproposals for establishing a Yosemitenational park.

MuiR's ARGUMENT FOR THECREATION OF YOSEMITE

NATIONAL PARK

Muir's argument for the creation of aYosemite national park appeared in twoarticles, "Treasures of the Yosemite"and "Features of the Proposed YosemiteNational Park," some eight years afterthe appearance of his last Century arti-cle.'"' In formulating specific proposals.Muir was influenced directly by the

••^Johnson, Remembered Yesterdays, p. 316. In asimilar vein, G. Edward U^hite, in The Eastern Estab-lishment and Ihe Western Experience (New Haven,Conn.: Yale Univ. Press, 1968), describes the gradualtransformation of Theodore Roosevelt in the publicpress from 1890 to 1900: "Thus in the minds of easternreviewers Roosevelt himself had evolved from a practi-cal expert on cattle ranching and a teller of strange talesinto first a chronicler of a phase of American civilizationand finally a patriot who saw the legacy of a westernexperience in some of the ideals of modern America" (p.190).

'̂•Muir suggested the nationalization of anotherwilderness area. Mount Shasta, in Picturesque America{West oJthe Rocky Mountains, p. 204) just previouslyto the appearance of the Century articles. The sugges-tion, however, does not constitute a complete argument.Perhaps significantly, the suggestion appears immedi-ately after Muir's description of the mountaineeringcharacter and the "mountains are fountains" section.


reforming zeal of his publishing outlet.Assoeiate Editor Robert U. Johnsoneonvinced Muir over a eampfire eonver-sation to write two articles drawing adescriptive picture of the Yosemiteregion, one suggesting national parkareas surrounding the state-owned val-ley, and the other urging publie aetion tomake the park a reality."" In turn. Muirsuggested extending the proposed na-tional park to include all the Yosemitewatersheds.**

Muir's proposal rested upon thepremise that a concentrated effort byindividual readers across the nationcould cause the government to preservethe unified but complex wholeness of theYosemite basin from piecemeal destruc-tion. To support his argument. Muirjuxtaposed his own descriptive andnarrative pictures of nature in the wildwith references to the desecration ofhuman development and with specificproposals for the intervention of govern-ment. The combination was sufficientlyrieh in familiar associations and inparticular appeals to impel Muir's read-ers to action.

The pattern of Muir's argumentativeappeal rehearsed the descriptive andnarrative techniques of his earlier workin more eoncentrated form. He began bysketching a view of what he consideredto be the most sublime scenery on theAmerican continent, the Sierra Range,here quoted as it appeared in Muir'soriginal Century artiele of 1890:

One shining morning, at the head of the PachecoPass, a landscape was displayed that after all mywanderings still appears as the most divinelybeautiful and sublime I have ever beheld. There

^'Johnson, Remembered Yesterdays, pp. 287-88;Wolfe, Son 0/ the Wilderness, p. 245; Hadley, pp.517-518.

«Letter, Muir to Johnson, 4 March 1890, BoxCH-101, Francis P. Farquhar Papers, BancroftLibrary, University of California, Berkeley; alsoreprinted in "The Creation of Yosemite NationalPark," Sierra Ctub Bultetm, Oct. 1944, p. 53.

AUGUST 1981

at my feet lay the great central plain of Califor-nia, level as a lake, thirty or forty miles wide, fourhundred long, one rich furred bed of goldenCompositae. . . . But no terrestrial beauty mayendure forever. The glory of wildness has alreadydeparted from the great central plain. Its bloom isshed, and so in part is the bloom of the mountains.In Yosemite . . . all that is perishable is vanishingapace.«

Muir began with a deseription designedto elicit the initial feelings of the sublimeresponse. But by the conclusion of hisdescription. Muir had converted hisreaders' apprehension of the sublimeinto a feeling of impending deprivationand loss. The pattern of response paral-leled that of the sublime, but instead ofeliciting a feeling of comparative insig-nificance in the face of an overwhelmingnature, he made his readers focus thosefeelings upon the prospect of humandepradation.

Muir, however, did not dependmerely upon a general feeling of loss anddespair to arouse his readers to action.Rather, he began to lead his audieneeout of their hopeless eondition byreminding them of their own responsi-bility for reversing the progress ofdestruction. He first drew upon hisreaders' understanding of some basicscientific and economic facts concerningwild nature and its effect upon the well-being of humanity. In his previous writ-ings. Muir as naturalist and literaryguide had provided his readers withorderly interpretations of a nature richin valuable resources and well worthpreserving, even if only for scientific oreconomic reasons. Muir intimated thatthe only evidence of a true understand-ing of his message by his readers wouldbe their direet influence upon govern-ment aetions: "These king trees [theSequoias], all that there are of their kindin the world, are surely worth saving,

«"Treasures of the Yosemite," p. 483.


whether for beauty, science, or balduse. . . . Were the importance of ourforests at all understood by the people ingeneral, even from an economic stand-point, their preservation would call forththe most watchful attention of theGovernment. At present, however, everykind of destruction is moving on withaccelerated speed."^^

Then, he immediately supported hisappeal to the reader's knowledge ofscience and economics by focusing uponthe foolish rapacity and wastefulness ofthe mill owners and sheepmen: "In thesemill operations waste far exceeds use.For after the young, manageable treeshave been eut, blasted, and sawed, thewoods are fired to clear the ground oflimbs and refuse. . .leaving but littlemore than black, charred monuments.These mill ravages, however, are smallas yet compared with the comprehensivedestruction caused by the "sheepmen."Incredible numbers of sheep are drivento the mountain pastures every summer,and desolation follows them."^' Muirthus reaffirmed his readers' understand-ing of scientific and economic laws,while implying that the waste couldcontinue only through their own passiveacquiescence.

Yet even as the destruction of natureby humankind exceeded "that whichnecessarily follows use," Muir providedan incentive for preservation greaterthan the practical need to stop the waste.He argued that nature itself, as a living,organic entity, made claims uponhumanity's sense of responsibility. Theneeds of nature were not only subject tohuman needs, but prior and self-evident,imposing upon mankind an unavoidableimperative to action:

Steps are now being taken toward the creation ofa national park about the Yosemite, and great is

Ibid.5'Ibici.

., p. 487.

255

ORAVEC

the need, not only for the sake of the adjacentforests, but for the valley itself. For the branchingcanons and valleys of the basins of ihe streamsthat pour into Yosemite are as closely related to itas are the fingers to the palm of the hand—as thebranches, foliage, and flowers of a tree to thetrunk. Therefore, very naturally, all the fountainregion above Yosemite, with its peaks, canons,snow fields, glaciers, forests, and streams, shouldbe included in the park to make it an harmoniousunit instead of a fragment, great though thefragment be.^^

Muir described Yosemite as an orga-nism, like a massive Sequoia, inciden-tally pleasing to humanity's aestheticsense, perhaps economically beneficial,but requiring no specific argumentoutside of the readers' own perceptionand sense of responsibility to defend.Moreover, the grandeur of the percep-tion, depicting Yosemite as it wouldappear from above, lent a spaciousnessand feeling of transcendence to the veryidea of preserving this remote wildernessas a national park.

Muir did not end his articles on a noteof direet aetion, nor was he at this timeconcerned with the details of a publiccampaign. Nor did Muir indulge inpatriotic excesses, as had some of hisreviewers. Rather, he returned to hisbasis of strength, an extensive descrip-tion of the wonders of the valley in hismost exalted language, as if confirmingfor his readers the reality and worth oftheir vicarious experience: "From theheights on the margin of these gloriousforests we at length gain our first generalview of the valley—a view that breakssuddenly upon us in all its glory far andwide and deep; a new revelation in land-scape afTairs that goes far to make theweakest and meanest spectator rich andsignificant evermore."^' Muir concludedwith a reference to his readers' own stateof exaltation, a state to be derived only

5'Ibid., pp. 487-88."Ibid., p. 488.

256


from an experience of mountainsuntouched by human enterprise. Thisexperience, with its potential for produc-ing greatness even in the "meanest"spectator, finally motivated his readers'active response.

Ultimately, the transcendence ofMuir's view, like the transcendence ofsublime exaltation, was argued from norational base of economics or evenaesthetic pleasure. Muir's view wasaffirmed through experience, both thevicarious literary experience of themountains and the mundane experienceof human destruction. But unlike thesublime, with its contrasting experiencesof awe and despair transcended by exal-tation. Muir moved his readers beyondmerely passive experience to engage indistinctive, and even heroic, action. Theresult was the continued existence of thescenic ground of all such experience,untouched nature.^''

Incidentally, the sequence of awe,despair, and exaltation through con-eerted action evoked by Muir shouldhave been particularly attractive to thereading audience of his time. RichardHofstadter has argued that, during the189O's, the campaigns of social reform-ers, the exposés of muckrakers, and thestirrings of social progressivism drew out

^^Paul Shcpard has suggested a connection betweenthe vicarious experience of the subiime and the impulseto preserve the wilderness. With the preservation ofYellowstone Park in 1872, "it was implicit that recla-mation must follow, but the public was not to come assettlers and builders. The wilderness must remainwilderness, and the ruins forever ruins. It was thecharacter of the pilgrims themselves that was to bereconstructed" (Man m the Landscape: A Historic Viewojthe Esthetics oj Nature [New York: Knopf, 1967], p.253). And of the preservation of Dinosaur NationalMonument in the early fifties: "What the conservation-ists apparently wished to save was big enough andgenuine enough to influence tbe imagination, particu-larly the urban mind. A large part of tbe publicaccurately sensed and shared this objective" (p. 266). Isuggest that in both cases, the acts of preservation werethemselves acts of imagination and moral regeneration,since their objects may never have been perceived andtheir direct benefits never measured by the individualsinvolved.

AUGUST 1981

a particular sense of shock, guilt, andpersonal responsibility experienced bythe middle class.̂ ^ This same combina-tion of motives may have produced themessage written in a guide-book atYosemite valley around 1889: "Myname is Clement Studebaker. I am amanufacturer of agricultural imple-ments at South Bend, Indiana. Myoutput for last year was 2100 plows, 950harrows, 1800 farm-wagons, etc., ete. Iemploy nearly 2000 hands and myworks cover eight acres and a half. Butwhat are these to the works of God!"̂ ""Apparently, the eathartie action ofreeognizing one's own inferiority anddesiring to redeem it evoked a spiritualresponse—a response strikingly similarif not identical to the response of thesublime. Muir thus succeeded in wed-ding a primarily aesthetic convention toa motivation for action not only appro-priate to his subject, but appropriate tohis place and time.

CONCLUSION

The Yosemite National Park Bill,first introduced as HR 8350 by Repre-sentative William Vandever of Califor-nia in March, 1890, was the firstsuccessful proposal for preservation ofnatural scenery to gain widespreadnational attention and support. There islittle doubt as to Muir's direct publicinfiuence upon the bill, through theappeYance of the Century articles inAugust and September.^' References in

"Richard Hofstadter, The Age oj Rejorm: FromBryan to F.D.R. (New York: Random-Vintage, t955),pp. 203-12. See also Henry Steele Commager, TheAmerican Mind: An Interpretation oj AmericanThought and Character Since the 788O's {New Haven:Yale Univ. Press, 1950), pp. 332-33, for a discussion ofthe role guilt and sin played in the American psyche oftbis period.

5'̂ Johnson, Remembered Yesterdays, p. 282."See Jones, pp. 44-45, for an account of Muir's

influence on the final version of the Yosemite Park bill.


government documents to magazinearticles, photographs, and personal testi-mony certainly included John Muir'swriting and editor Johnson's activecampaigning.^* Moreover, the Secretaryof the Interior, John Noble, explicitlycited Muir's and Johnson's "experienceand intelligence" in regard to a relatedcampaign for a national park in theKings River region.^^ In each case,government officials appeared in-fluenced directly by the credibility ofMuir and Johnson with reference to thephotographic and printed evidence insupport of the national park.

Muir thus was successful in accom-plishing his immediate aims. His use ofthe sublime as a persuasive appealencouraged an audience steeped in itssocial and ethical implications to con-sider seriously the creation of a nationalpark; the two Century articles, timed toproduce the greatest possible response,added a potent appeal to the Vandeverproposals. Muir's readers were able toassociate the sublime descriptions di-rectly with support for a legislativemeasure, and thus complete the argu-ment for preservation.

Furthermore, though the express pur-pose of the Yosemite campaign did notinclude the initiation of a social move-ment, those who identified with Muir'svision began to take "heroic" action. TheYosemite bill was only one of a longseries of actions eventually resulting inthe national park system as we know it,with its scientific and wildlife areas,wildernesses, and historic landmarksand monuments.'•'' Muir and his sup-porters took responsibility for initiatinglaws to preserve many outstandingscenic and forest lands before 1914,

257

ORAVEC

including the first forest reserves, theGrand Canyon, and the Petrified Forest.The Yosemite campaign was also thestart of a series of campaigns and publicactions conducted by organized privategroups who incorporated the preserva-tionist philosophy. The Sierra Club, anactivist organization begun in 1892 withMuir as president, was typical of manyindividual interest groups involved in thepreservation of scenery or wildlife,including the American Scenic Preserva-tion Society, the American Civic Asso-ciation, and the Appalachian MountainClub.'' Specialized groups such as thesehave served as primary vehicles of pres-ervationism until the present day.̂ ^

From this larger perspective as well,Muir's appeals seem to have promoted asubtle but compelling change in the atti-tudes held by at least some Americanstoward their natural surroundings. Be-fore Muir's articles appeared, Ameri-cans had little incentive to act in behalfof nature, for they were able to engagepassively in aesthetic appreciationthrough the literature of natural historyeven while witnessing unscientific andexploitative material development. Theresult was an alienation of the spiritualfrom the practical, of nature fromhumanity. Muir, however, provided hisreaders, through his particular transfor-mation of the sublime response, themeans to reject and then transcend theseattitudes. He promoted both the practi-cal advocacy of the aesthetic in natureand the rational limitation of destructivedevelopment. Both attitudes dependedupon a radical reordering of humanpriorities toward recognition of nature'spreeminent importance and spiritualvalue. In sum. Muir succeeded for some

5«For an account of Johnson's "spiritual lobbying,"see Remembered Yesterdays, pp. 288, 293-96.

'•''Report of Ihe Secretary of Ihe Interior, 30 June,1871 (Washington, D C ; GPO, 1891), pp. 142-45.

'"Harlean James, Romance of Ihe National Parks(New York: Macmillan, 1939), esp., pp. 35-76.

"Huth, Nature and the American, p. 185.^^Nicholas Roosevelt, Conservation: Now or Never

(New York: Dodd, Mead, 1970), p. 37; Roy M.Robbins, Our Landed Heritage: The Public Domain.1776-1936 (1942; rpt. New York: Peter Smith, 1950),pp. 459-60; Smith, p. 136.

258


of his readers in undermining theirconventional belief in material progressand substituting activity in behalf of theimmeasurable quality of the sublime,and all during America's "golden age"of industrial development.

John Muir's appeals, then, containedthe potential to effect radical change inAmericans' attitudes toward nature, andindeed, toward the moral bases of theircivilization. He unified the aesthetic,rational, and ethical response to nature

AUGUST 1981

in an effort to lessen the degree of aliena-tion between humanity and the naturalworld. He succeeded in effecting theappeals in the campaign for YosemiteNational Park. And, he supplied a moti-vation for preservation of natural scen-ery for both the early preservation move-ment and present-day environmental-ism. For all of these accomplishments.Muir earned, and certainly deserved, thetitle "father of preservationism."

the quarterly journal of speech - society,...

Documents