One summer, a couple of millennia ago, the 14-year-old high priest of a meteor-worshiping cult in Syria learned that his cousin, Emperor Caracalla of Rome, had died and that he was to be installed in his place. The teenage priest – later known as Emperor Elagabalus – brought his cult’s sacred stone with him to the capital, where he gave it a goddess for a bride, built it an enormous temple on the Palatine Hill, and ordered Romans to worship it above all other deities. His rule was brief. After four wild years, he was beheaded by his own soldiers and his body was dumped in a sewer. As for the stone, its final resting place is unknown.
Rocks, minerals, metals – these materials from the depths of the Earth and from distant space – have inspired reverence and horror, wonder and greed. They have power over us, and they give us power. It’s likely that the first murderer used a rock. So did the first artist. Our connection with the mineral world is bone deep.
