SECTION VI.

ILLUSTRATIVE: STONES.

38. There are no natural objects out of which more can be learned than

out of stones. They seem to have been created especially to reward a

patient observer. Nearly all other objects in nature can be seen to

some extent without patience, and are pleasant even in being half

seen. Trees, clouds, and rivers are enjoyable even by the careless;

but the stone under his foot has, for carelessness, nothing in it but

stumbling; no pleasure is languidly to be had out of it, nor food, nor

good of any kind; nothing but symbolism of the hard heart, and the

unfatherly gift. And yet, do but give it some reverence and

watchfulness, and there is bread of thought in it, more than in any

other lowly feature of all the landscape. For a stone, when it is

examined, will be found a mountain in miniature. The fineness of

Nature's work is so great, that into a single block, a foot or two in

diameter, she can compress as many changes of form and structure, on a

small scale, as she needs for her mountains on a large one; and taking

moss for forests, and grains of crystal for crags, the surface of a

stone in by far the plurality of instances is more interesting than

the surface of an ordinary hill; more fantastic in form, and

incomparably richer in colour.

39. On a Highland hillside are multitudinous clusters of fern and

heather; on an Alpine one, multitudinous groves of chestnut and pine.

The number of the things may be the same, but the sense of infinity is

in the latter case far greater, because the number is of nobler

things. Indeed, so far as mere magnitude of space occupied on the

field of the horizon is the measure of objects, a bank of earth ten

feet high may, if we stoop to the foot of it, be made to occupy just

as much of the sky as that bank of mountain at Villeneuve; nay, in

many respects, its little ravines and escarpments, watched with some

help of imagination, may become very sufficiently representative to us

of those of the great mountain; and in classing all water-worn

mountain ground under the general and humble term of Banks, I mean to

imply this relationship of structure between the smallest eminences

and the highest. But in this matter of superimposed _quantity_, the

distinctions of rank are at once fixed. The heap of earth bears its

few tufts of moss, or knots of grass; the Highland or Cumberland

mountain, its honeyed heathers or scented ferns; but the mass of the

bank at Martigny or Villeneuve has a vineyard in every cranny of its

rocks, and a chestnut grove on every crest of them.... The minute

mounds and furrows scattered up the side of that great promontory,

when they are actually approached after three or four hours' climbing,

turn into independent hills, with true _parks_ of lovely pasture-land

enclosed among them, and avenue after avenue of chestnuts, walnuts,

and pines bending round their bases; while in the deeper dingles,

populous villages, literally bound down to the rock by enormous trunks

of vine, which, first trained lightly over the loose stone roofs, have

in process of years cast their fruitful net over the whole village,

and fastened it to the ground under their purple weight and wayward

coils as securely as ever human heart was fastened to earth by the net

of the Flatterer.

40. When a rock of any kind has lain for some time exposed to the

weather, Nature finishes it in her own way. First she takes wonderful

pains about its forms, sculpturing it into exquisite variety of dent

and dimple, and rounding or hollowing it into contours which for

fineness no human hand can follow; then she colours it; and every one

of her touches of colour, instead of being a powder mixed with oil, is

a minute forest of living trees, glorious in strength and beauty, and

concealing wonders of structure.

41. On the broken rocks in the foreground in the crystalline groups,

the mosses seem to set themselves consentfully and deliberately to the

task of producing the most exquisite harmonies of colour in their

power. They will not conceal the form of the rock, but will gather

over it in little brown bosses, like small cushions of velvet, made of

mixed threads of dark ruby silk and gold, rounded over more subdued

films of white and grey, with lightly crisped and curled edges like

hoar frost on fallen leaves, and minute clusters of upright orange

stalks with pointed caps, and fibres of deep green, and gold, and

faint purple passing into black, all woven together, and following

with unimaginable fineness of gentle growth the undulation of the

stone they cherish, until it is charged with colour so that it can

receive no more; and instead of looking rugged, or cold, or stern, or

anything that a rock is held to be at heart, it seems to be clothed

with a soft dark leopard's skin, embroidered with arabesque of purple

and silver.

42. The colour of the white varieties of marble is of exquisite

delicacy, owing to the partial translucency of the pure rock; and it

has always appeared to me a most wonderful ordinance--one of the most

_marked_ pieces of purpose in the creation--that all the variegated

kinds should be comparatively opaque, so as to set off the colour on

the surface, while the white, which, if it had been opaque, would have

looked somewhat coarse, (as for instance common chalk does,) is

rendered just translucent enough to give an impression of extreme

purity, but not so translucent as to interfere in the least with the

distinctness of any forms into which it is wrought. The colours of

variegated marbles are also for the most part very beautiful,

especially those composed of purple, amber, and green, with white; and

there seems something notably attractive to the human mind in the

_vague_ and veined labyrinths of their arrangements.

43. I have often had occasion to allude to the apparent connection of

brilliancy of colour with vigour of life or purity of substance. This

is pre-eminently the case in the mineral kingdom. The perfection with

which the particles of any substance unite in crystallization,

corresponds in that kingdom to the vital power in organic nature; and

it is a universal law, that according to the purity of any substance,

and according to the energy of its crystallization, is its beauty or

brightness. Pure earths are white when in powder; and the same earths,

which are the constituents of clay and sand, form, when crystallized,

the emerald, ruby, sapphire, amethyst, and opal.

44. As we pass between the hills which have been shaken by earthquake

and torn by convulsion, we find that periods of perfect repose succeed

those of destruction. The pools of calm water lie clear beneath their

fallen rocks, the water-lilies gleam, and the reeds whisper among

their shadows; the village rises again over the forgotten graves, and

its church tower, white through the storm-light, proclaims a renewed

appeal to His protection in whose hand "are all the corners of the

earth, and the strength of the hills is His also." There is no

loveliness of Alpine valley that does not teach the same lesson. It is

just where "the mountain falling cometh to nought, and the rock is

removed out of his place," that in process of years the fairest

meadows bloom between the fragments, the clearest rivulets murmur from

between their crevices among the flowers, and the clustered cottages,

each sheltered beneath some strength of mossy stone, now to be removed

no more, and with their pastured flocks around them, safe from the

eagle's stoop and the wolf's ravin, have written upon their fronts, in

simple words, the mountaineer's faith in the ancient

promise,--"Neither shalt thou be afraid of destruction, when it

cometh; for thou shalt be in league with the stones of the field, and

the beasts of the field shall be at peace with thee."

Frondes Agrestes: Readings in 'Modern Painters' · 第 6 / 9 章