The third great element, besides the sea and the
atmosphere of Athens, was the mountains. One after another the bold hills
reared themselves, cutting short all the plainlands and making the
farmsteads often a matter of slopes and terraces. Against the radiant
heavens these mountains stood out boldly, clearly; revealing all the little
gashes and seams left from that long-forgotten day when they were flung
forth from the bowels of the earth. None of these mountains was very high:
Hymettus, the greatest, was only about 3500 feet; but rising as they often
did from a close proximity to the sea, and not from a dwarfing table-land,
even the lower hills uplifted themselves with proud majesty.
These hills were of innumerable tints according to
their rocks, the hue of the neighboring sea, and the hour of the day. In
spring they would be clothed in verdant green, which would vanish before the
summer heats, leaving them rosy brown or gray. But whatever the fundamental
tone, it was always brilliant; for the Athenians lived in a land where blue
sky, blue sea, and the massive rock blent together into such a galaxy of
shifting color, that, in comparison, the lighting of almost any northern or
western landscape would seem feeble and tame. The Athenians absorbed natural
beauty with their native air.