Stone Walls

Blue Rock Station,
1190 Virginia Ridge Rd.
Philo Ohio 43771 USA
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I am, and will always be, amazed at how old things are in Europe. I’m not talking old like “but that was my favorite sweatshirt from college, how could you throw it away?” old – I’m talking old like “that building over there was 1,000 years old when Columbus sailed for the New World” kind of old.

In the town of Senlis, France there is an old stone church called St. Pierre (which, coincidently enough means Saint Peter or Saint Stone… depending on how bad your French is). This church was built around 1200 A.D. And it apparently was built rather well, because it’s still standing, having survived countless medieval skirmishes, a revolution or two and a couple of pretty spectacular (and destructive) world wars.

I personally think it has done so well because it has a new roof. People of the town even remark that there is a new roof on the church– not that original ratty old thing. Of course the new roof was built in the 1400’s, but it is still new to the people of Senlis. It seems that when you live in a house that was 200 years old when Napoleon was in knickers… it changes your perspective on things.

In Florida, where I have lived most of my adult life, most of the people who live there are substantially older than the buildings. A building from the 1920’s will almost certainly be declared an historic landmark. A person from the 1920’s will hardly be noticed unless she rear-ends your new Toyota as she returns from Bingo.

The old stone church sits next to an old stone wall. This particular wall was 800 years old before the church was built. It just strikes me as simply spectacular that you can touch part of a wall that was built by Roman soldiers (or most likely, Roman slaves) to protect the city’s citizens from the invading barbarians. It also clearly did not work, however – as I am here and standing inside the battlements. I guess even the best of military defenses crumble before the power of a tourist with a credit card.

I get the same sense of awe when I send a fax to Australia. Think about it. Both are absolutely amazing. I imagine that, at the very instant I watch the paper feed itself through the machine; it is magically appearing half way across the world (and likely waking someone from a sound sleep). Both the fax and this wall have, in their own way, conquered time and space.

As I touch the stone I can imagine it being placed there new over 16 centuries ago, a worker stepping back to admire a job well done. And over the years how many thousands have walked past, admiring or ignoring that long dead person’s handiwork.

There is a castle in the hills near the city of Moyen that is being restored. It was first built by the Bishop of Metz to protect his lands, and has been destroyed many times over the years. After the French Revolution it was given to the “people” so a few of the smarter (and faster) people immediately called the place home. It has suffered from decay and neglect and a couple of oak trees growing in the living room.

In the early 1980’s a group started to restore the place. There is a model of how it once looked and how it might someday look again. For now, however, only one small portion has been restored and the rest is a huge pile of rocks. During the summer groups of students come from around Europe and camp on the grounds in small tents. At six each morning they begin placing stones, recreating long dead walls. The task before them is so enormous it feels like they are trying to empty the ocean with a spoon. If all goes well, the job may be completed in 50 years.

A group of 20 volunteers may spend the next 10 years working on a section of the building that was destroyed in a day by a long dead duke, caring only of enlarging his personal fortune. Their work is a clear and constant reminder that it is always easier to destroy than to build.

We in our modern lives (and how many times has this phrase been uttered through the years?) carry with us some sense of superiority over those that have come before. We cannot help it. It is the way of things. We are the only ones left – so we must be the best.

But I can’t help but wonder as I stare at that ancient wall, how many of us will leave an impact on the world that is greater than that Roman slave who all those centuries ago, lifted a heavy rock into place, wiped the sweat from his brow, fitted the stone with a mixture of sand and water and lime, and leaned down to pick up the next stone?

And can we ever regain the optimism of that Polish student who is building a castle in the hot sun on a hillside in Alsace. This morning, and tomorrow morning, she will climb out of her tent, lift her spoon up in the bright sunshine, and stride forth toward her small portion of the ocean. She will never see the job completed and it does not matter.

written by Jay Warmke - July, 2003

Old Stone Walls