And if we talk to the
mountaineer, he will usually characterize his own country to us as a
"pays affreux," or in some equivalent, perhaps even more violent,
German term: but the lowland peasant does not think his country
frightful; he either will have no ideas beyond it, or about it; or
will think it a very perfect country, and be apt to regard any
deviation from its general principle of flatness with extreme
disfavour; as the Lincolnshire farmer in _Alton Locke_: "I'll shaw 'ee
some'at like a field o' beans, I wool--none o' this here darned ups
and downs o' hills, to shake a body's victuals out of his inwards--all
so vlat as a barn's vloor, for vorty mile on end--there's the country
to live in!"[97]
I do not say whether this be altogether right (though certainly not
wholly wrong), but it seems to me that there must be in the simple
freshness and fruitfulness of level land, in its pale upright trees,
and gentle lapse of silent streams, enough for the satisfaction of the
human mind in general; and I so far agree with Homer, that, if I had
to educate an artist to the full perception of the meaning of the word
"gracefulness" in landscape, I should send him neither to Italy nor to
Greece, but simply to those poplar groves between Arras and Amiens.
But to return more definitely to our Homeric landscape.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150