Back before Wordsworth and other romantic poets were alive, the Catholic Faith was a major power in the European world. Everyone believed the word of God and few questioned it. Then the masses became more educated and learning was a skill that more people acquired. They began reading the bible and realizing that some of the things they heard in church were not real. "Actually we don't have to pay to protect ourselves and our loved ones!" and similar things. People started questioning the Church and the Catholic Faith. By the time the Romantic Poets came along, lots of people could read and lots of people believed many things.
Wordsworth commonly wrote about Nature. For him, Nature was his Faith. His religion. Many people read his poetry and followed his thoughts. In Thomas Henry Huxly's essay "Wordsworth in the Tropics" he says, "In the neighborhood of latitude fifty north, and for the last hundred years or thereabouts, it has been an axiom that Nature is divine and morally uplifting. For good Wordsworthians -- and most serious-minded people are now Wordsworthians, either by direct inspiration or at second hand -- a walk in the country is equivalent to going to church, a tour through Westmorland is as good as a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. To commune with the fields and waters, the woodlands and the hills, is to commune, according to our modern and northern ideas, with the visible manifestations of the 'Wisdom and Spirit of the Universe.' " Let me just say that the fact that us students decided to call ourselves Wordsworthians before even coming to terms with what that really meant (and that it was an actual term (which is awesome)). But I digress. Nature is a important part of a lot of peoples lives. It is not uncommon for people to say they went out into nature and felt at awe with the beauty they saw. Is that awe feeling because we are in the presence of something greater than ourselves? and if so, what is that greater being? Is it Mother Nature herself or even the Christan God himself?
For as long as I can remember, my father would commonly take me for a drive up the Columbia river Gorge. At first, I didn't enjoy these trips very much. However, as I grew older, I started appreciating these trips more and more. I began to feel that sense of awe when I was in the presence of Nature. A couple years ago, I was camping with my grandfather at Lake Timothy, at night I walked down to the lake and looked up. What I saw almost made me fall to my knees. There were so many stars in the sky. I felt such a sense of awe when I looked up into that sky. I felt so small and tiny. I was filled with joy, it was almost a feeling of high, and the sky was my drug. I have longed for that feeling.
What is it that gives us humans that sense of joy when we see the beauty of nature? Is it perfection that we will never see anywhere else? Or are we really in the presence of a being? Was it just that feeling that we are small and part of something so much bigger than ourselves? When Wordsworth talked about Nature being his faith and religion, was he truly believing in a Deity of nature or did he just not have the scientific knowledge to understand that perfection on Nature that we have today? Maybe he believed in a Deity because they are considered to be perfect, and Nature was perfect. Did he sense that awe in people and, being unable to describe it the way we can now, did he use the knowledge he did have and relate it to religion?
Maybe I am over speculating, but Wordsworth believed there was something special about Nature. I believe he was right. Nature is special and I have felt that sense of awe. I do not worship Nature and I don't believe Wordsworth wanted people to. Like the article quote above, sometimes just walking through Nature and experiencing it is all it takes to get that sense and that joy. Every time I can get out to the wilderness and look into the sky I get that feeling of high. In the city we are covered. Its only when you are out where nothing can get in your way do you see all the lights and stars. Or is it really something more?
Poetry of William Wordsworth
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