ABSTRACT
By the help of our modern knowledge we may imagine the approach
to the earth as it would appear to one of us if he were permitted to
fly like Raphael through inter-stellar space. It would first become
visible as a mere point of light, then as a remote planet appears to
us; after that it would shine and dazzle like Venus; then we should
begin to see its geography as we do that of the moon; and at last,
when we come within three terrestrial diameters, or about twenty
thousand miles, we should distinguish the white icy poles, the vast
blue oceans, the continents and larger islands glistening like gold in
the sunshine, and the silver-bright wandering fields of cloud. Nearer
still, we should see the fresh green of Britain and Ireland, the dark
greens of Norwegian and Siberian forests, the greyer and browner
hues of countries parched by the sun, the shining courses of the
great rivers. All this would be intensely, inconceivably interesting; it
would be an unparalleled experience in the study of physical
geography, but it would not yet be landscape. On a still nearer
approach we should see the earth as from a balloon, and the land
would seem to hollow itself beneath us like a great round dish, but
the hills would be scarcely perceptible. We should still say, ‘It is not
landscape yet.’ At length, after touching the solid earth, and looking
round us, and seeing trees near us, fields spread out before, and
blue hills far away, we should say, ‘This, at last, is landscape. It is
not the world as the angels may see it from the midst of space, but
as men see it who dwell in it, and cultivate it, and love it.
