264 FIELD AND HEDGEROW. 



cold light from the windows. Without there were only 

 houses, the city of Paris — a city above all other cities 

 farthest from woods and meads. Here, nevertheless, 

 there came back to me this old thought born in the 

 midst of flowers and wind-rustled leaves, and I saw that 

 with it the statue before me was in concord. The living 

 original of this work was the human impersonation of 

 the secret influence which had beckoned me on in the 

 forest and by running streams. She expressed in love- 

 liness of form the colour and light of sunny days ; she 

 expressed the deep aspiring desire of the soul for the 

 perfection of the frame in which it is encased, for the 

 perfection of its own existence. 



The sun rolls on in the far dome of heaven, and now 

 day and now night sweeps with alternate bands over the 

 surface of hill, and wood, and sea ; the sea beats in end- 

 less waves, which first began to undulate a thousand thou- 

 sand years ago, starting from the other rim of Time ; the 

 green leaves repeat the beauty that gladdened man in 

 ancient days. But for themselves they are, and not for 

 us. Their glory fills the mind with rapture but for a while, 

 and it learns that they are, like carven idols, wholly care- 

 less and indifferent to our fate. Then is the valley in- 

 complete, and the void sad ! Its hills speak of death as 

 well as of life, and we know that for man there is nothing 

 on earth really but man ; the human species owns and 

 possesses nothing but its species. When I saw this I 

 turned with threefold concentration of desire and love 

 towards that expression of hope which is called beauty, 

 such as is worked in marble here. For I think beauty is 

 truthfully an expression of hope, and that is why it is so 

 enthralling — because while the heart is absorbed in its 

 contemplation, unconscious but powerful hope is filling 

 the breast So powerful is it as to banish for the time 



