The Natural Side to Things: Parc des Buttes Chaumont

escaped
From the vast city, where I long had pined
A discontented sojourner: now free
Free as a bird to settle where I will 

-Wordsworth, The Prelude 

The Natural World and Order

Wordsworth, along with Thoreau and Muir discuss walking as this sort of escape from the city; an escape from something that almost seems to be infecting them. Wordsworth discusses in a later piece walking and being, “Happy in this, that I with nature walked. Not having a too early intercourse with the deformities of crowded life.” 

Rather than focusing on being apart of something; society, “Wordsworth shares none of the intoxication with the natural world that he himself was to experience. On the contrary, the walker in invariably portrayed as a figure of social alienation, divorced both from his society and his surroundings.” Using characters such as discharged soldiers and beggars, Wordsworth focuses on this concept of being socially alienated. 

It even seems as though walking enthusiasts, such as Wordsworth, Hazlitt and Thoreau find pleasure in the fact that they are isolated from society. Hazlitt states, “I like to go by myself. I can enjoy society in a room; but out of doors, nature is company for me. I am then never less alone than when alone.” 

With this emphasis put on finding solitude in the natural world: a world that is untouched by man, society, and the expectations that come with it, we see that these authors value just this. To them, walking is a form of escape-a way of getting back to their ‘primitive’ rhythm. 

Coverley discusses this in his essay, paying attention to how Dorothy Wordsworth’s journal primarily concerned with walking, eventually evolves into, “The day has been pared back to reveal its constituent parts-walking and sleeping-and the remainder is left unspoken.” Walking, to these writers, is seen as a way of getting back to their primitive core; a simpler life; a life devoid of the pressures and expectations of society. 

Thoreau even chooses walking as, “A protest against the encroachments of the city and the erosion of the natural world.” He uses walking as a means of, ‘escaping confines of the city.’ Being a transcendentalist, Thoreau (just like others previously mentioned) uses walking to get in touch with nature, wilderness, and eventually the spiritual realm. It’s a process for him of getting out of society, into himself, and eventually into something bigger than himself. 

With that being said, the natural world in an urban context can’t compete with the natural world in it’s most primitive sense. For the natural world in an urban context has been touched my man; has been touched by society. It’s organized, laid out, but more importantly, it’s there for a purpose. 

Thoreau states that, “Front yards are not made to walk in, but, at most, through.” Front yards are calculated; not something to lose yourself in, but rather to let society dictate what you use it for. Front yards, made by man, therefore have an agenda. They’re not there for a greater purpose, but rather cut to the same height at presumably the same time every week to demonstrate one’s stability-to fulfill some sort of societal expectation. 

In this sense, nature in the urban context lacks the genuine nature of, well nature. The whole fascination these writers have with nature lies in the fact that it’s not asking them for anything. These writers feel some sense of freedom in it-a sense of freedom in just being. But nature in a park setting, designed by man, is already asking something from one. It’s organizing nature. 
Every park is organized to a certain degree, asking one to park somewhere, enter through somewhere, or look at the scenery in a particular order. So off the bat, any type of nature in an ‘urban context’, presumably designed by man around the layout of the city, is contradicting what these writers romanticized about nature-that it’s untouched by us and further, by our dedication to order. 

Walking in the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, I was at first taken aback. It having just rained, the smell of spring coming replaced my initial concern for this class. The smell brought back all the springs I’ve seen: the track meets, riding my bike around the cul-de-sac, waiting for the ice cream truck. I was transported, and not through my own will, but rather through some exterior force-a force that knows (better than I) my life. Memory works like that-your subconscious coming out of the woodworks. 

But this ended abruptly as I heard my heels clank against the concrete. I was taken out of this moment. Maybe this is why Thoreau was bothered by the sound of his ‘own steps, the grit of gravel; and therefore never willingly walking in the road, but in the grass, on the mountains and in the woods.’ I looked to see if there was any grass to walk on, but fences stood in my way-man telling me which way to walk, giving me order. In front of the fences sat a variety of greens; greens that looked beautiful, but that left to their own devices would never grow next to each other. 

Some greens

The Pigeon

As I kept walking I observed the beauty around me. Trees, squirrels, everything seemed in its right place. Like by some deep intrinsic notion nature knew what it was doing and would continue to do it no matter what/where it was.

A pigeon walked in front of me, pecking at a pile of dirt. Poor pigeon. Attempting to eat a cigarette, the pigeon let me walk extremely close to it, knowing I was there but not caring in the slightest. I’m no threat. Little does it know what my race is doing to it. 

I felt superior to this bird, looking down at it, filming it to later show the class how silly it is. How stupid can a bird be? Trying to eat a cigarette! Ha. The pigeon doesn’t know! How could it? But then I remember that I’m guilty of actually inhaling one of those things. Man is more sophisticated than say, this bird. We’ve created an order, but it’s not what’s most natural. It can’t be. The order around us is killing us; giving us stress and expectation; poisoning us, while nature sits pretty waiting for its moment to expand again-to be free itself. 

I kept walking, running into the pond-perfectly shaped. Looking out over the pond, I see the buildings of Paris. Buildings filled with people working, studying, paying bills. Suddenly I remember that I still have to pay my tuition for this semester-my own duty to society. 

The Pond (with some city in the back)

How can walking be a means of escape; an opportunity for one to go back to his primitive, natural core, when there are reminders of society everywhere? Thoreau believed that, “If you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and are a free man, then you are ready for a walk.” But you can’t be a free man when the thing enslaving you is still towering over you.

Another City View

I kept walking, coming across a railing of wood, meeting a railing of some metal or another. They can touch, but they can’t be apart of the same thing-metal and wood (at least in this case). I can enjoy the natural world and I can, to a degree, enjoy society, but I enjoy them separately. One always bombards the other, replaces the other. 

Maybe it’s a sign that what we’ve created wasn’t what was intended. It doesn’t fit together; work together. Muir believed that, “It is the natural world which is man’s true home, an environment superior to anything which human civilization has to offer.” 

The Bridge (and some more graffiti!)

Graffiti close up 

Considering that parks, essentially order, are what civilization has to offer nature, Muir sees nature as best when left alone; best when left to its expanses. Nature in the urban context limits its expanse, turning nature into just another thing that we can look over; say we’ve conquered. This limits the awe of it; the beauty of it. But it also eliminates the unknown. The mystery of where we’ll end up; where we are; the realization of how small we are in comparison to this greater thing. Ultimately the order we put to nature to make it fit into an urban context rids it of most factors that connect one with his spirituality. Parks create nature that is understood, but spirituality stems from the unknown.