Over the last few weeks I’ve been enjoying The Natural History of Selborne by Gilbert White. White was an Anglican priest, born in 1720 and educated at Oxford university, who worked in Hampshire’s Selborne parish for more than forty years. First published in 1788, his Natural History distilled four decades of natural observation into a singular and powerful artefact of early botanical writing. It is a book that was hugely influential in its time, anticipating the later discoveries of Charles Darwin by a century and becoming a touchstone for generations of naturalists around the world.
Part of its appeal still lies in the unusual respect it shows for plants and animals; by treating them as as living beings worthy of respect, rather than mere automata or data, The Natural History probably contains more truly revelatory observations of animals’ lives than all the nature writing which preceded it and much that followed. White’s gaze lingers in awe on everything from pond beetles to eagles and his fascination with living things shines through his every word. Selborne is White’s love letter to his local landscape and its inhabitants; a text that balances rigorous scientific observation with sparkling curiosity, humour and joy.
Another aspect of the book’s appeal is its effortless weaving-together of the natural and human spheres; few of White’s descriptions of creatures and views don’t also touch on the centuries of human history that have settled down about them. White’s writing crackles with wry historical anecdotes and a keen ear for the environmental rhythms of country life, describing the vanished rituals of the English harvest and hunt in ways that demonstrate how the boundaries and possibilities of human life have always intrinsically ecological. Selborne reminds us how the plants and animals of a place are always in conversation with its people, whether the people recognise it or not.
The Natural History is an inspirational survey of the unheralded lives and beauties that crowd at the edge of our notice. It is a book that shows us the richness and importance of ordinary places and reminds us how an exploration of the living world will always make us more aware of who we truly are. Selborne reminded me of the many charged instants when I have seen the plants around me in a new light, of the flashes in which I remembered names and recognised order in what had only been a green puzzle before.
