And If I Have A Purpose In This Book,
Which Is Without A Purpose, A Message To Deliver And A
Lesson
to teach, it is only this - the charm of the unknown, and the
infinitely greater pleasure in discovering the
Interesting
things for ourselves than in informing ourselves of them by
reading. It is like the difference in flavour in wild fruits
and all wild meats found and gathered by our own hands in wild
places and that of the same prepared and put on the table for
us. The ever-varying aspects of nature, of earth and sea and
cloud, are a perpetual joy to the artist, who waits and watches
for their appearance, who knows that sun and atmosphere have
for him revelations without end. They come and go and mock
his best efforts; he knows that his striving is in vain - that
his weak hands and earthy pigments cannot reproduce these
effects or express his feeling - that, as Leighton said, "every
picture is a subject thrown away." But he has his joy none
the less; it is in the pursuit and in the dream of capturing
something illusive, mysterious, and inexpressibly beautiful.
Chapter Two: On Going Back
In looking over the preceding chapter it occurred to me that I
had omitted something, or rather that it would have been well
to drop a word of warning to those who have the desire to
revisit a place where they have experienced a delightful
surprise. Alas! they cannot have that sensation a second
time, and on this account alone the mental image must always
be better than its reality. Let the image - the first sharp
impression - content us. Many a beautiful picture is spoilt by
the artist who cannot be satisfied that he has made the best
of his subject, and retouching his canvas to bring out some
subtle charm which made the work a success loses it
altogether. So in going back, the result of the inevitable
disillusionment is that the early mental picture loses
something of its original freshness. The very fact that the
delightful place or scene was discovered by us made it the
shining place it is in memory. And again, the charm we found
in it may have been in a measure due to the mood we were in,
or to the peculiar aspect in which it came before us at the
first, due to the season, to atmospheric and sunlight effects,
to some human interest, or to a conjunction of several
favourable circumstances; we know we can never see it again
in that aspect and with that precise feeling.
On this account I am shy of revisiting the places where I have
experienced the keenest delight. For example, I have no
desire to revisit that small ancient town among the hills,
described in the last chapter; to go on a Sunday evening
through that narrow gorge, filled with the musical roar of the
church bells; to leave that great sound behind and stand again
listening to the marvellous echo from the wooded hill on the
other side of the valley.
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