64: The Office of the Mountains


In his comment on our last post, Mark Frost mentioned that I haven’t put up anything of late which reminded us of Ruskin’s unparalleled ability to make nature come alive.  True enough. And, if the omission is, hopefully, not unforgivable (we having been immersed of late in underscoring the continuing importance of our great Victorian’s social thought for 2016–Posts 59-63;  click on any of these in the list to the right of this entry), the lack is at least lamentable.

So today I’ve taken a step toward remedying the omission by reproducing a passage from the fourth volume of Ruskin’s Modern Painters series, paragraphs telling us of the glories that are mountains, paragraphs that readers in his time judged to be among his very best (which praise, if you’ve been following these posts for very long, is considerable praise indeed). The paragraphs may serve another useful purpose as summer approaches. I know for a fact that at least some of you reading this are planning to trek for a while in some in the mountains Ruskin describes below. Surely such exercising will require the occasional break for breath. During which, it would not be remiss to pull this lovely passage from your backpack for an on-site re-read!

From his first sightings of the Alps in adolescence Ruskin loved mountains–for their consummate beauty, for their power, for their ability to inspire, because they were to his keen eyes among the greatest instances of the incandescence of nature, creation, and the creator who made them, and all else, possible. Gifts of glory!  

Later, he studied them and learned of their unparalleled (and much overlooked) ability to sustain us; learned of their necessity; learned that, without them, little else of delight and the good life would be possible; learned, in short, about the office which the mountains held on earth, learned of their intrinsic and eternal role in making that complex which is creation well, whole, and life-sustaining. Here is what he said (the first sentence alludes to advances recently made by geologists which had proven beyond a reasonable doubt that creation had not been a seven-day process but, rather, had taken, at the very least, seven-eons:

It is not always needful—in many respects it is not possible—to conjecture the manner, or the time, in which this work [of creation] was done. But it is deeply necessary for all [of us]  to consider the magnificence of the accomplished purpose and the depth of the wisdom and love which are manifested in the ordinances [given to] the hills… [F]or without mountains the air could not be purified, nor the flowing of the rivers sustained, and the earth must have become, for the most part, desert plain or stagnant marsh.

But, the feeding of the rivers and the purifying of the winds are the least of the services appointed to the hills. To fill the thirst of the human heart for the beauty of God’s working—to startle its lethargy with the deep and pure agitation of astonishment—are their higher missions. They are as a great and noble architecture—first giving shelter, comfort, and rest, and covered also with mighty sculpture and painted legend. It is impossible to examine in their connected system the feature of even the most ordinary mountain scenery without concluding that it has been prepared in order to unite, as far as possible, and in the closest compass, every means of delighting and sanctifying the [human] heart… [For] the whole heart of Nature seems thirsting to give, and still to give, shedding forth her everlasting beneficence with a profusion so patient, so passionate, that our utmost observance and thankfulness are but, at last, neglect of her nobleness, and apathy to her love…

[To prove the point, let] the reader imagine, first, the appearance of the most varied plain of some richly cultivated country. Let him imagine it dark with graceful woods, and soft with deepest pastures. Let him fill the space of it—to the utmost horizon—with innumerable and changeful incidents of scenery and life, leading pleasant streamlets through its meadows, strewing clusters of cottages beside their banks, tracing sweet footpaths through its avenues, and animating its fields with happy flocks, and slow wandering spots of cattle. And, when he has wearied himself with endless imagining and left no space without some loveliness of its own, let him conceive all this great plain, with its infinite treasures of natural beauty and happy human life, gathered up in God’s hands from one edge of the horizon to the other like a woven garment, and shaken into deep falling folds, as the robes droop from a king’s shoulders, all its bright rivers leaping into cataracts along the hollows of its fall, and all its forests rearing themselves aslant against its slopes, as a rider rears himself back when his horse plunges. And all its villages nestling themselves into the new windings of its glens. And all its pastures thrown into steep waves of greensward, dashed with dew along the edges of their folds, and sweeping down into endless slopes, with a cloud here and there lying quietly, half on the grass, half in the air; and he will have seen as yet, in all this lifted world, only the foundation of one of the great Alps…

And although this…beauty seems at first, in its wildness, inconsistent with the service of man, it is, in fact, more necessary to his happy existence than all the level and easily subdued land which he rejoices to possess… The valleys only feed. The mountains feed and guard and strengthen us… The sea wave with all its beneficence is yet devouring and terrible. But the silent mass of the blue mountain is lifted toward heaven with a stillness of perpetual mercy… [It is evident that perfect] permanence and absolute security were evidently in no wise intended… Mountains were [made] to be destructible and frail… And yet, under all these conditions of destruction to be maintained in magnificent eminence before [our] eyes…

Fairly easily demonstrable, the veracity of these sentences, with just a few pictures from a trip not long ago made with Jenn Morris and Suzanne Varady to the parts of the Alps Ruskin mentions–places which, all his life, he loved: No, in this instance that’s too weak: Worshiped!

Foothills of the Swiss Alps from above the Lake of Brienzee

Picture from Ruskin's Old Road IV a 226

The Valley and Lake of Brienzee, Switzerland

Picture from Ruskin's Old Road IV a 274

The Great Falls of Giessbach (above the Lake of Brienzee, Switzerland)

Picture from Ruskin's Old Road IV a 237.jpg

The Mont Blanc Range from the Village and Bridge of St. Martin’s (Valley of the Cluse, France)

Picture from Ruskin's Old Road IV a 295

Summit of Mont Blanc from the Summit of The Brevant, Chamouni, French Alps

Picture from Ruskin's Old Road IV a 289

And so, astep back to Nature! Thanks for the reminder, Mark. More reminders soon!

In the meantime: Be well out there!






This entry was posted in Life, Nature, Religion, Truths and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to 64: The Office of the Mountains

  1. satwood8 says:

    I enjoyed your post, Jim, and the photos as well. Our new neighborhood here in the Portland area is at the top of a big hill. On a clear day, we are able to see Mt. Hood towering in the distance, often looking deceptively weightless, as if floating on the air. It never fails to impress.

    • jimspates says:

      Thanks for your comment, Sara. I’ve seen Hood and Rainier and the whole northward advancing crew in the past and always, like you, have had the same astonished impression. Once, visiting Rainier, having driven in the foothills for an hour and being suitable impressed with these, we rounded a corner and saw THE MOUNTAIN!! It was astonishing! Though it was a half century ago, I still see it looming immensely in my mind’s eye. The first sight of Mont Blanc from Ruskin’s Rock on The Brevant is the same!

  2. cancersister says:

    Dear Jim, Thank you! I’m forwarding the post to my husband who is a great lover of mountains and their geologic history (but also of deserts). The image of God gathering up the plain into a king’s robes is unforgettable. Being a fundamentally visual person, I really was quite taken with the image and will never look at mountains the same way again!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s