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carved stone； its clashing of dark copper on the pavement； its soft kiss of
the copper vessel with the surface of the water below； and the cheerful
work of the cable。
Or the Romans knew how to cause the parted floods to measure their
plain with the strong； steady； and level flight of arches from the
watersheds in the hills to the and city； and having the waters captive； they
knew how to compel them to take part； by fountains； in this Roman
triumph。 They had the wit to boast thus of their brilliant prisoner。
None more splendid came bound to Rome； or graced captivity with a
more invincible liberty of the heart。 And the captivity and the leap of the
heart of the waters have outlived their captors。 They have remained in
Rome； and have remained alone。 Over them the victory was longer than
empire； and their thousands of loud voices have never ceased to confess
the conquest of the cold floods； separated long ago； drawn one by one；
alive； to the head and front of the world。
Of such a transit is made no secret。 It was the most manifest fact of
Rome。 You could not look to the city from the mountains or to the
distance from the city without seeing the approach of those perpetual
waterswaters bound upon daily tasks and minute services。 This； then；
was the style of a master； who does not lapse from 〃incidental greatness；〃
has no mean precision； out of sight； to prepare the finish of his phrases；
and does not think the means and the approaches are to be plotted and
concealed。 Without anxiety； without haste； and without misgiving are all
great things to be done； and neither interruption in the doing nor ruin after
they are done finds anything in them to betray。 There was never any
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disgrace of means； and when the world sees the work broken through there
is no disgrace of discovery。 The labour of Michelangelo's chisel； little
more than begun； a Roman structure long exposed in disarray upon these
the light of day looks full； and the Roman and the Florentine have their
unrefuted praise。
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THE FOOT
Time was when no good news made a journey； and no friend came
near； but a welcome was uttered； or at least thought； for the travelling feet
of the wayfarer or the herald。 The feet； the feet were beautiful on the
mountains； their toil was the price of all communication； and their reward
the first service and refreshment。 They were blessed and bathed； they
suffered； but they were friends with the earth； dews in grass at morning；
shallow rivers at noon； gave them coolness。 They must have grown hard
upon their mountain paths； yet never so hard but they needed and had the
first pity and the readiest succour。 It was never easy for the feet of man
to travel this earth； shod or unshod； and his feet are delicate； like his
colour。
If they suffered hardship once； they suffer privation now。 Yet the feet
should have more of the acquaintance of earth； and know more of flowers；
freshness； cool brooks； wild thyme； and salt sand than does anything else
about us。 It is their calling； and the hands might be glad to be stroked for
a day by grass and struck by buttercups； as the feet are of those who go
barefoot； and the nostrils might be flattered to be； like them； so long near
moss。 The face has only now and then； for a resting…while； their
privilege。
If our feet are now so severed from the natural ground； they have
inevitably lost life and strength by the separation。 It is only the entirely
unshod that have lively feet。 Watch a peasant who never wears shoes；
except for a few unkind hours once a week； and you may see the play of
his talk in his mobile feet； they become as dramatic as his hands。 Fresh
as the air； brown with the light； and healthy from the field； not used to
darkness； not grown in prison； the foot of the contadino is not abashed。 It
is the foot of high life that is prim； and never lifts a heel against its dull
conditions； for it has forgotten liberty。 It is more active now than it lately
was certainly the foot of woman is more active； but whether on the pedal
or in the stirrup； or clad for a walk； or armed for a game； or decked for the
waltz； it is in bonds。 It is； at any rate； inarticulate。
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It has no longer a distinct and divided life； or none that is visible and
sensible。 Whereas the whole living body has naturally such infinite
distinctness that the sense of touch differs； as it were； with every nerve；
and the fingers are so separate that it was believed of them of old that each
one had its angel； yet the modern foot is； as much as possible； deprived of
all that delicate distinction： undone； unspecialized； sent back to lower
forms of indiscriminate life。 It is as though a landscape with separate
sweetness in every tree should be rudely painted with the blank blank；
not simplegeneralities of a vulgar hand。 Or as though one should take
the pleasures of a day of happiness in a wholesale fashion； not 〃turning the
hours to moments；〃 which joy can do to the full as perfectly as pain。
The foot； with its articulations； is suppressed； and its language
confused。 When Lovelace likens the hand of Amarantha to a violin； and
her glove to the case； he has at any rate a glove to deal with； not a boot。
Yet Amarantha's foot is as lovely as her hand。 It； too； has a 〃tender
inward〃； no wayfaring would ever make it look anything but delicate； its
arch seems too slight to carry her through a night of dances； it does； in fact；
but balance her。 It is fit to cling to the ground； but rather for springing
than for rest。
And； doubtless； for man； woman； and child the tender； irregular；
sensitive； living foot； which does not even stand with all its little surface
on the ground； and which makes no base to satisfy an architectural eye； is；
as it were； the unexpected thing。 It is a part of vital design and has a
history； and man does not go erect but at a price of weariness and pain。
How weak it is may be seen from a footprint： for nothing makes a more
helpless and unsymmetrical sign than does a naked foot。
Tender； too； is the silence of human feet。 You have but to pass a
season amongst the barefooted to find that man； who； shod； makes so
much ado； is naturally as silent as snow。 Woman； who not only makes
her armed heel heard； but also goes rustling like a shower； is naturally
silent as snow。 The vintager is not heard among the vines； nor the
harvester on his threshing…floor of stone。 There is a kind of simple
stealth in their coming and going； and they show sudden smiles and dark
eyes in and out of the rows of harvest when you thought yourself alone。
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The lack of noise in their movement sets free the sound of their voices；
and their laughter floats。
But we shall not praise the 〃simple； sweet〃 and 〃earth…confiding feet〃
enough without thanks for the rule of verse and for the time of song。 If
Poetry was first divided by the march； and next varied by the dance； then
to the rule of the foot are to be ascribed the thought； the instruction； and
the dream that could not speak by prose。 Out of that little physical law；
then； grew a spiritual law which is one of the greatest things we know； and
from the test of the foot came the ultimate test of the thin