A Romantic Perspective on the Adirondacks

As humans, we have a primal desire to domesticate things and exert our control. That’s why Murray writes about his senseless conquest of the loon, shooting it if only to show that he can, and why Murray recounts his experience “running the rapids,” as a display of how he can manage and control even the most chaotic in nature. This brings up the irony pointed out by Schneider, as he interprets Cole's Course of Empire:

“The irony is obvious; it is a grand achievement to conquer wilderness and build a civilization, perhaps the greatest achievement human beings can muster. But those who remain closest to the land are always the stronger. The arc of civilization leads inevitably to corruption and defeat (Schneider 166).”

According to Schneider and other romantics, someone like Murray falls victim to the fallacy that to succeed means to conquer. In reality, success comes with understanding that you need not conquer the land, but rather be a servant of the land. Those close to the wilderness, like the traditional Adirondack tour guides, were stronger in mind for knowing that they were meant to be servants of the land, not owners. This brings up another great quote from Joel T. Headley, writing about his view from the top of Mount Marcy:

“God appears to have wrought in these old mountains with His highest power, and designed to leave a symbol of His omnipotence. Man is nothing here, his very shouts die on his lips (Schneider 163).”

Being in the Adirondacks and close to wilderness gives one an appreciation for how powerful nature really is. It can lead you to adopt the romantic worldview – that prosperity comes with understanding your subservience in nature, that the world does not revolve around the human species. Only then can you be in perpetual awe of the land before you and see meaning in the mountains.