John Muir: The Original Tree Hugger Reignites Class Divide

 With John Muir's My First Summer in the Sierras, the class finally turns towards the type of nature that American culture has relied upon up until just the past decade when the urban-naturalism movement began to pick up steam (ironic use of steam engine metaphor for urban-naturalism intentional). I am referring to Nature as the largely uninhabited areas where the wild things are, an unspoiled space where humanity can be reminded that we are "truly an inseparable part" of the natural beauty that resides there that was passed down through the Romantics to Transcendentalists to Muir(15). Or at least that was my first impression; upon further consideration I began to suspect that Muir was somehow undermining at least one aspect of the Romantic tradition of Nature: the lack of class distinctions.

Muir appears to call for an end to the elevation of the common man, the ordinary rural worker that Wordsworth praised as a man more in tune with Nature than his urban contemporaries. This can be seen in his inversion of the shepherd motif. While shepherds are usually a frequent component of the pastoral settings favored by Romantics, Muir's Shepherd Billy debunks the concept of the shepherd being closer to nature.

 Shepherd Billy is not the humble, hard working individualist dedicated to protecting his flock and grateful for a lifestyle that affords him so much time in nature.  Billy is an immigrant worker who is hired to tend to the flock of Delaney, and Muir is hired primarily to watch Billy - in other words, Muir is management. Billy is not dedicated to the care of his sheep, insisting that Muir and the dog go after the sheep who stray from the flock. In an interesting contrast to Muir's worshipful praise of nature, Billy regards nature as a place for bad things. His flock of sheep have "more of the evil one than any other flock" - a reference to Satan (41). Yosemite, to Billy, is a "d----d good place to stay away from." Billy certainly won't be paying to see the place - which seems to point to a possible reason for Muir's harsh depiction of the Shepherd. Muir is suggesting that nature tourism is something that can be appreciated only be those who had an educated palate - it is wasted on rustics such as Billy.

I was surprised that Muir and Billy both bemoaned the lack of variety in their diet when their beans and flour run out. More to the point, I wasn't surprised that Billy was complaining, he seems the type to be especially fond of the First Amendment, at least as it relates to the conditions of his employment, but Muir's joining in was unexpected yet hilarious. Their larder is limited to tea, sugar, and mutton (of which they have a conveniently fresh supply). Both men are entirely over mutton and seem to be close to losing their sanity due to a lack of variety in their diet. True, this matches the popular post-Thanksgiving turkey overdose where people quickly tire of turkey but it separates  Muir from the pioneers, whom he notes were surely a sturdier folk, capable of living solely on various types of game for months on time.

The portion of his diet that Muir really misses is bread. He later speaks of returning to Yosemite with enough bread to explore the canyon at his leisure. Bread was probably the first processed food, and as such, it signifies civilization. Muir's nature is not apart from man, it is a place where he visits. The day of the pioneers has gone and Muir writes from the point of view of a man who wants some to bring at least some level of civilization with him into the wilderness, a man who wants to find a piece of Eden for a weekend camping trip - preferably without the riff-raff like Billy and absolutely with a good quantity of bread.