Why then should I talk of the plains as high? I do it for a
rather singular reason, which I will illustrate by a parallel.
When I was at school learning all the Greek I have ever forgotten,
I was puzzled by the phrase OINON MELAN that is "black wine,"
which continually occurred. I asked what it meant, and many most
interesting and convincing answers were given. It was pointed
out that we know little of the actual liquid drunk by the Greeks;
that the analogy of modern Greek wines may suggest that it was
dark and sticky, perhaps a sort of syrup always taken with water;
that archaic language about colour is always a little dubious,
as where Homer speaks of the "wine-dark sea" and so on. I was very
properly satisfied, and never thought of the matter again; until one day,
having a decanter of claret in front of me, I happened to look at it.
I then perceived that they called wine black because it is black.
Very thin, diluted, or held-up abruptly against a flame, red wine is red;
but seen in body in most normal shades and semi-lights red wine
is black, and therefore was called so.
On the same principles I call the plains high because the
plains always are high; they are always as high as we are.
We talk of climbing a mountain crest and looking down at the plain;
but the phrase is an illusion of our arrogance. It is impossible even
to look down at the plain.
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