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The Story of My Heart
by Richard Jefferies
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY
CHAPTER I
THE story of my heart commences seventeen years ago。 In the glow
of youth there were times every now and then when I felt the
necessity of a strong inspiration of soulthought。 My heart was
dusty； parched for want of the rain of deep feeling； my mind arid and dry；
for there is a dust which settles on the heart as well as that which falls
on a ledge。 It is injurious to the mind as well as to the body to be always
in one place and always surrounded by the same circumstances。 A species of
thick clothing slowly grows about the mind； the pores are choked； little
habits become a part of existence； and by degrees the mind is inclosed in a
husk。
When this began to form I felt eager to escape from it； to throw off the
heavy clothing； to drink deeply once more at the fresh fountations of life。
An inspirationa long deep breath of the pure air of thoughtcould alone
give health to the heart。
There is a hill to which I used to resort at such periods。 The labour of
walking three miles to it； all the while gradually ascending； seemed to
clear my blood of the heaviness accumulated at home。 On a warm summer day
the slow continued rise required continual effort； which caried away the
sense of oppression。 The familiar everyday scene was soon out of sight； I
came to other trees； meadows； and fields； I began to breathe a new air and
to have a fresher aspirationn。 I restrained my soul till reached the sward
of the hill； psyche； the soul that longed to be loose。 I would write psyche
always instead of soul to avoid meanings
which have become attached to the word soul； but it is awkward to do so。
Clumsy inddeed are all words the moment the wooden stage of commonplace life
is left。 I restrained psyche； my soul； till I reached and put my foot on
the grass at the beginning of the green hill itself。 Moving up the sweet
short turf； at every step my heart seemed to obtain a wider horizon of
feeling； with every inhalation of rich pure air； a deeper desire。 The very
light of the sun was whiter and more brilliant here。 By the time I had
reached the summit I had entirely forgotten the petty circumstances and the
annoyances of existence。 I felt myself； myself。 There was an intrenchment
on the summit； and going down into the fosse I walked round it slowly to
recover breath。 On the south…western side there was
a spot where the outer bank had partially slipped； leaving a
gap。 There the view was over a broad plain； beautiful with
wheat； and inclosed by a perfect amphitheatre of green hills。
Through these hills there was one narrow groove； or pass；
southwards； where the white clouds seemed to close in the
horizon。 Woods hid the scattered hamlets and farmhouses； so
that I was quite alone。I was utterly alone with the sun and the earth。
Lying down on the grass； I spoke in my soul to the earth； the sun； the air；
and the distant sea far beyond sight。 I thought of the earth's firmnessI
felt it bear me up： through the grassy couch there came an influence as if I
could feel the great earth speaking to me。 I thought of the wandering
airits pureness； which is its beauty； the air touched me and gave me
something of itself。 I spoke to the sea： though so far； in my mind I saw
it； green at the rim of the earth and blue in deeper ocean；I desired to have
its strength； its mystery and glory。 Then I addressed the sun； desiring the
soul equivalent of
his light and brilliance； his endurance and unwearied race。 I turned to the
blue heaven over； gazing into its depth； inhaling its exquisite colour and
sweetness。 The rich blue of the unattainable flower of the sky drew my soul
towards it； and there it rested； I for pure colour is rest of heart。 By all
these I prayed； I felt an emotion of the soul beyond all definition； prayer
is a puny thing to it； and the word is a rude sign to the feeling； but I
know no other。By the blue heaven； by the rolling sun bursting through
untrodden space； a new ocean of ether every day unveiled。 By the fresh and
wandering air encompassing the world； by the sea sounding on the shorethe
green sea white…flecked at the margin and the deep ocean； by the strong
earth under me。 Then； returning； I prayed by the
sweet thyme； whose little flowers I touched with my hand ； by the slender
grass； by the crumble of dry chalky earth I took up and let fall through my
fingers。 Touching the crumble of earth； the blade of grass； the thyme
flower； breathing the earth…encircling air； thinking of the sea and the sky；
holding
out my hand for the sunbeams to touch it； prone on the sward in token of
deep reverence； thus I prayed that I might touch to the unutterable
existence infinitely higher than deity。
With all the intensity of feeling which exalted me； all the intense
communion I held with the earth； the sun and sky； the stars hidden by the
light； with the oceanin no manner can the thrilling depth of these
feelings be writtenwith these I prayed； as if they were the keys of an
instrument； of an organ； with which I swelled forth the note of my soul；
redoubling my own voice by their power。 The great sun burning with light；
the strong earth； dear earth； the warm sky； the pure air； the thought of
ocean； the inexpressible beauty of all filled
me with a rapture； an ecstasy； and inflatus。 With this inflatus； too； I
prayed。 Next to myself I came and recalled myself； my bodily existence。 I
held out my hand； the sunlight
gleamed on the skin and the iridescent nails； I recalled the mystery and
beauty of the flesh。 I thought of the mind with which I could see the ocean
sixty miles distant； and gather to myself its glory。 I thought of my inner
existence； that consciousness which is called the soul。 These； that is；
myself I threw into the balance to weight the prayer the heavier。 My
strength of body； mind and soul； I flung into it； I but forth my strength； I
wrestled and laboured； and toiled in might of prayer。 The prayer； this
soul…emotion was in itself…not for an object…it was a passion。 I hid my
face in the grass； I was wholly prostrated； I lost myself in the wrestle； I
was rapt and carried away。
Becoming calmer； I returned to myself and thought； reclining in rapt
thought； full of aspiration； steeped to the lips of my soul in desire。 I
did not then define； or analyses； or understand this。 I see now that what I
laboured for was soul…life； more soul…nature； to be exalted； to be full of
soul…learning。 Finally I rose； walked half a mile or so along the summit of
the hill eastwards； to soothe myself and come to the common ways of life
again。 Had any shepherd accidentally seen me lying on the turf； he would
only have thought that I was resting a few minutes； I made no outward show。
Who could have imagined the whirlwind of passion that was going on within me
as I reclined there！ I was greatly exhausted when I reached home。
Occasionally I went upon the hill deliberately； deeming it good to do so；
then； again； this craving carried me away up there of
itself。 Though the principal feeling was the same； there were
variations in the mode in which it affected me。
Sometimes on lying down o