Being really universal it varies from valley to valley.
But if, let us say, we compare cheese with soap (that vastly
inferior substance), we shall see that soap tends more and more
to be merely Smith's Soap or Brown's Soap, sent automatically all
over the world. If the Red Indians have soap it is Smith's Soap.
If the Grand Lama has soap it is Brown's soap. There is nothing subtly
and strangely Buddhist, nothing tenderly Tibetan, about his soap.
I fancy the Grand Lama does not eat cheese (he is not worthy),
but if he does it is probably a local cheese, having some real
relation to his life and outlook. Safety matches, tinned foods,
patent medicines are sent all over the world; but they are not produced
all over the world. Therefore there is in them a mere dead identity,
never that soft play of slight variation which exists in things
produced everywhere out of the soil, in the milk of the kine,
or the fruits of the orchard. You can get a whisky and soda at
every outpost of the Empire: that is why so many Empire-builders
go mad. But you are not tasting or touching any environment,
as in the cider of Devonshire or the grapes of the Rhine.
You are not approaching Nature in one of her myriad tints of mood,
as in the holy act of eating cheese.
When I had done my pilgrimage in the four wayside public-houses I
reached one of the great northern cities, and there I proceeded,
with great rapidity and complete inconsistency, to a large and
elaborate restaurant, where I knew I could get many other things
besides bread and cheese.
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