<h3><SPAN name="chap_27" id="chap_27"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3>
<h5>THE CORNICE AND CAPITAL.</h5>
<p><span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">There</span> are no features to which the attention of architects
has been more laboriously directed, in all ages, than these
crowning members of the wall and shaft; and it would be vain
to endeavor, within any moderate limits, to give the reader any
idea of the various kinds of admirable decoration which have
been invented for them. But, in proportion to the effort and
straining of the fancy, have been the extravagances into which
it has occasionally fallen; and while it is utterly impossible
severally to enumerate the instances either of its success or its
error, it is very possible to note the limits of the one and the
causes of the other. This is all that we shall attempt in the
present chapter, tracing first for ourselves, as in previous instances,
the natural channels by which invention is here to be
directed or confined, and afterwards remarking the places
where, in real practice, it has broken bounds.</p>
<p><span class="scs">II</span>. The reader remembers, I hope, the main points respecting
the cornice and capital, established above in the
Chapters on Construction. Of these I must, however, recapitulate
thus much:—</p>
<p>1. That both the cornice and capital are, with reference to
the <i>slope</i> of their profile or bell, to be divided into two great
orders; in one of which the ornament is convex, and in the
other concave. (Ch. VI., v.)</p>
<p>2. That the capital, with reference to the method of twisting
the cornice round to construct it, and to unite the circular
shaft with the square abacus, falls into five general forms, represented
in <SPAN href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</SPAN>, <SPAN href="#page119"></SPAN>.</p>
<p>3. That the most elaborate capitals were formed by true or
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page306"></SPAN>306</span>
simple capitals with a common cornice added above their abacus.
(Ch. IX., <span class="scs">XXIV</span>.)</p>
<p>We have then, in considering decoration, first to observe
the treatment of the two great orders of the cornice; then their
gathering into the five of the capital; then the addition of the
secondary cornice to the capital when formed.</p>
<p><span class="scs">III</span>. The two great orders or families of cornice were above
distinguished in <SPAN href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</SPAN>, <SPAN href="#page069"></SPAN>.; and it was mentioned in the
same place that a third family arose from their combination.
We must deal with the two great opposed groups first.</p>
<p>They were distinguished in <SPAN href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</SPAN> by circular curves
drawn on opposite sides of the same line. But we now know
that in these smaller features the circle is usually the least interesting
curve that we can use; and that it will be well, since
the capital and cornice are both active in their expression, to
use some of the more abstract natural lines. We will go back,
therefore, to our old friend the salvia leaf; and taking the
same piece of it we had before, <i>x y</i>, <SPAN href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</SPAN>, we will apply it
to the cornice line; first within it, giving the concave cornice,
then without, giving the convex cornice. In all the figures,
<i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>c</i>, <i>d</i>, <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN>, the dotted line is at the same slope, and
represents an average profile of the root of cornices (<i>a</i>, <SPAN href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</SPAN>,
<SPAN href="#page069"></SPAN>); the curve of the salvia leaf is applied to it in each case,
first with its roundest curvature up, then with its roundest
curvature down; and we have thus the two varieties, <i>a</i> and <i>b</i>,
of the concave family, and <i>c</i> and <i>d</i>, of the convex family.</p>
<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration">
<tr>
<td class="caption1">XV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="figcenter">
<SPAN name="plate_15"><ANTIMG src="images/img306.jpg" width-obs="384" height-obs="650" alt="CORNICE PROFILES." title="CORNICE PROFILES." /></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="caption">CORNICE PROFILES.</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p><span class="scs">IV</span>. These four profiles will represent all the simple cornices
in the world; represent them, I mean, as central types:
for in any of the profiles an infinite number of slopes may be
given to the dotted line of the root (which in these four figures
is always at the same angle); and on each of these innumerable
slopes an innumerable variety of curves may be fitted,
from every leaf in the forest, and every shell on the shore, and
every movement of the human fingers and fancy; therefore, if
the reader wishes to obtain something like a numerical representation
of the number of possible and beautiful cornices
which may be based upon these four types or roots, and among
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page307"></SPAN>307</span>
which the architect has leave to choose according to the circumstances
of his building and the method of its composition,
let him set down a figure 1 to begin with, and write ciphers
after it as fast as he can, without stopping, for an hour.</p>
<p><span class="scs">V.</span> None of the types are, however, found in perfection
of curvature, except in the best work. Very often cornices
are worked with circular segments (with a noble, massive effect,
for instance, in St. Michele of Lucca), or with rude approximation
to finer curvature, especially <i>a</i>, <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN>, which occurs
often so small as to render it useless to take much pains
upon its curve. It occurs perfectly pure in the condition represented
by 1 of the series 1-6, in <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN>, on many of the
Byzantine and early Gothic buildings of Venice; in more
developed form it becomes the profile of the bell of the capital
in the later Venetian Gothic, and in much of the best Northern
Gothic. It also represents the Corinthian capital, in which
the curvature is taken from the bell to be added in some excess
to the nodding leaves. It is the most graceful of all simple
profiles of cornice and capital.</p>
<p><span class="scs">VI.</span> <i>b</i> is a much rarer and less manageable type: for this
evident reason, that while <i>a</i> is the natural condition of a line
rooted and strong beneath, but bent out by superincumbent
weight, or nodding over in freedom, <i>b</i> is yielding at the base
and rigid at the summit. It has, however, some exquisite uses,
especially in combination, as the reader may see by glancing
in advance at the inner line of the profile 14 in <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="scs">VII.</span> <i>c</i> is the leading convex or Doric type, as <i>a</i> is the
leading concave or Corinthian. Its relation to the best Greek
Doric is exactly what the relation of <i>a</i> is to the Corinthian;
that is to say, the curvature must be taken from the straighter
limb of the curve and added to the bolder bend, giving it a
sudden turn inwards (as in the Corinthian a nod outwards),
as the reader may see in the capital of the Parthenon in the
British Museum, where the lower limb of the curve is <i>all but</i>
a right line.<SPAN name="FnAnchor_84" href="#Footnote_84"><span class="sp">84</span></SPAN> But these Doric and Corinthian lines are mere
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page308"></SPAN>308</span>
varieties of the great families which are represented by the
central lines <i>a</i> and <i>c</i>, including not only the Doric capital, but
all the small cornices formed by a slight increase of the curve
of <i>c</i>, which are of so frequent occurrence in Greek ornaments.</p>
<p><span class="scs">VIII.</span> <i>d</i> is the Christian Doric, which I said (Chap. I., <span class="scs">XX</span>.)
was invented to replace the antique: it is the representative
of the great Byzantine and Norman families of convex cornice
and capital, and, next to the profile <i>a</i>, the most important of
the four, being the best profile for the convex capital, as <i>a</i> is
for the concave; <i>a</i> being the best expression of an elastic line
inserted vertically in the shaft, and <i>d</i> of an elastic line inserted
horizontally and rising to meet vertical pressure.</p>
<p>If the reader will glance at the arrangements of boughs of
trees, he will find them commonly dividing into these two
families, <i>a</i> and <i>d</i>: they rise out of the trunk and nod from it
as <i>a</i>, or they spring with sudden curvature out from it, and
rise into sympathy with it, as at <i>d</i>; but they only accidentally
display tendencies to the lines <i>b</i> or <i>c</i>. Boughs which fall as
they spring from the tree also describe the curve <i>d</i> in the
plurality of instances, but reversed in arrangement; their junction
with the stem being at the top of it, their sprays bending
out into rounder curvature.</p>
<p><span class="scs">IX.</span> These then being the two primal groups, we have
next to note the combined group, formed by the concave and
convex lines joined in various proportions of curvature, so as
to form together the reversed or ogee curve, represented in
one of its most beautiful states by the glacier line <i>a</i>, on <SPAN href="#plate_7">Plate
VII.</SPAN> I would rather have taken this line than any other to
have formed my third group of cornices by, but as it is too
large, and almost too delicate, we will take instead that of the
Matterhorn side, <i>e f</i>, <SPAN href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</SPAN> For uniformity’s sake I keep
the slope of the dotted line the same as in the primal forms;
and applying this Matterhorn curve in its four relative positions
to that line, I have the types of the four cornices or capitals
of the third family, <i>e</i>, <i>f</i>, <i>g</i>, <i>h</i>, on <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN></p>
<p>These are, however, general types only thus far, that their
line is composed of one short and one long curve, and that
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page309"></SPAN>309</span>
they represent the four conditions of treatment of every such
line; namely, the longest curve concave in <i>e</i> and <i>f</i>, and convex
in <i>g</i> and <i>h</i>; and the point of contrary flexure set high in <i>e</i>
and <i>g</i>, and low in <i>f</i> and <i>h</i>. The relative depth of the arcs, or
nature of their curvature, cannot be taken into consideration
without a complexity of system which my space does not
admit.</p>
<p>Of the four types thus constituted, <i>e</i> and <i>f</i> are of great importance;
the other two are rarely used, having an appearance
of weakness in consequence of the shortest curve being concave:
the profiles <i>e</i> and <i>f</i>, when used for cornices, have usually
a fuller sweep and somewhat greater equality between the
branches of the curve; but those here given are better representatives
of the structure applicable to capitals and cornices
indifferently.</p>
<p><span class="scs">X.</span> Very often, in the farther treatment of the profiles <i>e</i>
or <i>f</i>, another limb is added to their curve in order to join it to
the upper or lower members of the cornice or capital. I do
not consider this addition as forming another family of cornices,
because the leading and effective part of the curve is in
these, as in the others, the single ogee; and the added bend is
merely a less abrupt termination of it above or below: still this
group is of so great importance in the richer kinds of ornamentation
that we must have it sufficiently represented. We
shall obtain a type of it by merely continuing the line of the
Matterhorn side, of which before we took only a fragment.
The entire line <i>e</i> to <i>g</i> on <SPAN href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</SPAN>, is evidently composed of
three curves of unequal lengths, which if we call the shortest
1, the intermediate one 2, and the longest 3, are there arranged
in the order 1, 3, 2, counting upwards. But evidently we might
also have had the arrangements 1, 2, 3, and 2, 1, 3, giving us
three distinct lines, altogether independent of position, which
being applied to one general dotted slope will each give four
cornices, or twelve altogether. Of these the six most important
are those which have the shortest curve convex: they are
given in light relief from <i>k</i> to <i>p</i>, <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN>, and, by turning
the page upside down, the other six will be seen in dark relief,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page310"></SPAN>310</span>
only the little upright bits of shadow at the bottom are
not to be considered as parts of them, being only admitted in
order to give the complete profile of the more important cornices
in light.</p>
<p class="mb"><span class="scs">XI</span>. In these types, as in <i>e</i> and <i>f</i>, the only general condition
is, that their line shall be composed of three curves of different
lengths and different arrangements (the depth of arcs
and radius of curvatures being unconsidered). They are arranged
in three couples, each couple being two positions of the
same entire line; so that numbering the component curves
in order of magnitude and counting upwards, they will read—</p>
<table class="nobctr" summary="data">
<tr><td>
<p><i>k</i></p>
<p><i>l</i></p>
<p><i>m</i></p>
<p><i>n</i></p>
<p><i>o</i></p>
<p><i>p</i></p>
</td>
<td>
<p>1, 2, 3,</p>
<p>3, 2, 1,</p>
<p>1, 3, 2,</p>
<p>2, 3, 1,</p>
<p>2, 1, 3,</p>
<p>3, 1, 2.</p>
</td></tr></table>
<p class="mt"><i>m</i> and <i>n</i>, which are the <i>Matterhorn line</i>, are the most beautiful
and important of all the twelve; <i>k</i> and <i>l</i> the next; <i>o</i> and
<i>p</i> are used only for certain conditions of flower carving on
the surface. The reverses (dark) of <i>k</i> and <i>l</i> are also of
considerable service; the other four hardly ever used in good
work.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XII</span>. If we were to add a fourth curve to the component
series, we should have forty-eight more cornices: but
there is no use in pursuing the system further, as such arrangements
are very rare and easily resolved into the simpler
types with certain arbitrary additions fitted to their special
place; and, in most cases, distinctly separate from the main
curve, as in the inner line of No. 14, which is a form of the
type <i>e</i>, the longest curve, <i>i.e.</i>, the lowest, having deepest curvature,
and each limb opposed by a short contrary curve at its
extremities, the convex limb by a concave, the concave by a
convex.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XIII</span>. Such, then, are the great families of profile lines
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page311"></SPAN>311</span>
into which all cornices and capitals may be divided; but their
best examples unite two such profiles in a mode which we
cannot understand till we consider the further ornament
with which the profiles are charged. And in doing this we
must, for the sake of clearness, consider, first the nature
of the designs themselves, and next the mode of cutting
them.</p>
<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration">
<tr>
<td class="caption1">XVI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="figcenter">
<SPAN name="plate_16" id="plate_16"><ANTIMG src="images/img311.jpg" width-obs="407" height-obs="650" alt="CORNICE DECORATION." title="CORNICE DECORATION." /></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="caption">CORNICE DECORATION.</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p><span class="scs">XIV.</span> In <SPAN href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</SPAN>, opposite, I have thrown together a
few of the most characteristic medi�val examples of the treatment
of the simplest cornice profiles: the uppermost, <i>a</i>, is the
pure root of cornices from St. Mark’s. The second, <i>d</i>, is the
Christian Doric cornice, here lettered <i>d</i> in order to avoid confusion,
its profile being <i>d</i> of <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN> in bold development,
and here seen on the left-hand side, truly drawn, though filled
up with the ornament to show the mode in which the angle
is turned. This is also from St. Mark’s. The third, <i>b</i>, is <i>b</i>
of <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN>, the pattern being inlaid in black because its office
was in the interior of St. Mark’s, where it was too dark to see
sculptured ornament at the required distance. (The other two
simple profiles, <i>a</i> and <i>c</i> of <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN>, would be decorated in
the same manner, but require no example here, for the profile
<i>a</i> is of so frequent occurrence that it will have a page to itself
alone in the next volume; and c may be seen over nearly every
shop in London, being that of the common Greek egg cornice.)
The fourth, <i>e</i> in <SPAN href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</SPAN>, is a transitional cornice, passing
from Byzantine into Venetian Gothic: <i>f</i> is a fully developed
Venetian Gothic cornice founded on Byzantine traditions; and
<i>g</i> the perfect Lombardic-Gothic cornice, founded on the Pisan
Romanesque traditions, and strongly marked with the noblest
Northern element, the Lombardic vitality restrained by classical
models. I consider it a perfect cornice, and of the highest
order.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XV.</span> Now in the design of this series of ornaments there
are two main points to be noted; the first, that they all, except
<i>b</i>, are distinctly rooted in the lower part of the cornice, and
spring to the top. This arrangement is constant in all the best
cornices and capitals; and it is essential to the expression of
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page312"></SPAN>312</span>
the supporting power of both. It is exactly opposed to the
system of <i>running</i> cornices and <i>banded</i><SPAN name="FnAnchor_85" href="#Footnote_85"><span class="sp">85</span></SPAN> capitals, in which
the ornament flows along them horizontally, or is twined round
them, as the mouldings are in the early English capital, and the
foliage in many decorated ones. Such cornices have arisen
from a mistaken appliance of the running ornaments, which
are proper to archivolts, jambs, &c., to the features which have
definite functions of support. A tendril may nobly follow the
outline of an arch, but must not creep along a cornice, nor
swathe or bandage a capital; it is essential to the expression of
these features that their ornament should have an elastic and
upward spring; and as the proper profile for the curve is that
of a tree bough, as we saw above, so the proper arrangement
of its farther ornament is that which best expresses rooted and
ascendant strength like that of foliage.</p>
<p>There are certain very interesting exceptions to the rule (we
shall see a curious one presently); and in the carrying out of
the rule itself, we may see constant licenses taken by the great
designers, and momentary violations of it, like those above
spoken of, respecting other ornamental laws—violations which
are for our refreshment, and for increase of delight in the
general observance; and this is one of the peculiar beauties
of the cornice <i>g</i>, which, rooting itself in strong central clusters,
suffers some of its leaves to fall languidly aside, as the drooping
outer leaves of a natural cluster do so often; but at the
very instant that it does this, in order that it may not lose any
of its expression of strength, a fruit-stalk is thrown up above
the languid leaves, absolutely vertical, as much stiffer and
stronger than the rest of the plant as the falling leaves are
weaker. Cover this with your finger, and the cornice falls to
pieces, like a bouquet which has been untied.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XVI</span>. There are some instances in which, though the real
arrangement is that of a running stem, throwing off leaves up
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page313"></SPAN>313</span>
and down, the positions of the leaves give nearly as much
elasticity and organisation to the cornice, as if they had been
rightly rooted; and others, like <i>b</i>, where the reversed portion
of the ornament is lost in the shade, and the general expression
of strength is got by the lower member. This cornice will,
nevertheless, be felt at once to be inferior to the rest; and
though we may often be called upon to admire designs of
these kinds, which would have been exquisite if not thus misplaced,
the reader will find that they are both of rare occurrence,
and significative of declining style; while the greater
mass of the banded capitals are heavy and valueless, mere
aggregations of confused sculpture, swathed round the extremity
of the shaft, as if she had dipped it into a mass of melted
ornament, as the glass-blower does his blow-pipe into the
metal, and brought up a quantity adhering glutinously to its
extremity. We have many capitals of this kind in England:
some of the worst and heaviest in the choir of York. The
later capitals of the Italian Gothic have the same kind of effect,
but owing to another cause: for their structure is quite pure,
and based on the Corinthian type: and it is the branching
form of the heads of the leaves which destroys the effect of
their organisation. On the other hand, some of the Italian
cornices which are actually composed by running tendrils,
throwing off leaves into oval interstices, are so massive in their
treatment, and so marked and firm in their vertical and arched
lines, that they are nearly as suggestive of support as if they
had been arranged on the rooted system. A cornice of this
kind is used in St. Michele of Lucca (<SPAN href="#plate_6">Plate VI.</SPAN> in the “Seven
Lamps,” and XXI. here), and with exquisite propriety; for
that cornice is at once a crown to the story beneath it and a
foundation to that which is above it, and therefore unites the
strength and elasticity of the lines proper to the cornice with
the submission and prostration of those proper to the foundation.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XVII.</span> This, then, is the first point needing general notice
in the designs in <SPAN href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</SPAN> The second is the difference
between the freedom of the Northern and the sophistication
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page314"></SPAN>314</span>
of the classical cornices, in connection with what has been
advanced in <SPAN href="#app_8">Appendix 8</SPAN>. The cornices, <i>a</i>, <i>d</i>, and <i>b</i>, are of
the same date, but they show a singular difference in the
workman’s temper: that at <i>b</i> is a single copy of a classical
mosaic; and many carved cornices occur, associated with it,
which are, in like manner, mere copies of the Greek and Roman
egg and arrow mouldings. But the cornices <i>a</i> and <i>d</i> are
copies of nothing of the kind: the idea of them has indeed
been taken from the Greek honeysuckle ornament, but the
chiselling of them is in no wise either Greek, or Byzantine, in
temper. The Byzantines were languid copyists: this work is
as energetic as its original; energetic, not in the quantity of
work, but in the spirit of it: an indolent man, forced into toil,
may cover large spaces with evidence of his feeble action, or
accumulate his dulness into rich aggregation of trouble, but it
is gathered weariness still. The man who cut those two
uppermost cornices had no time to spare: did as much cornice
as he could in half an hour; but would not endure the slightest
trace of error in a curve, or of bluntness in an edge. His
work is absolutely unreproveable; keen, and true, as Nature’s
own; his entire force is in it, and fixed on seeing that every
line of it shall be sharp and right: the faithful energy is in
him: we shall see something come of that cornice: The fellow
who inlaid the other (<i>b</i>), will stay where he is for ever; and
when he has inlaid one leaf up, will inlay another down,—and
so undulate up and down to all eternity: but the man of <i>a</i>
and <i>d</i> will cut his way forward, or there is no truth in handicrafts,
nor stubbornness in stone.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XVIII.</span> But there is something else noticeable in those two
cornices, besides the energy of them: as opposed either to <i>b</i>,
or the Greek honeysuckle or egg patterns, they are <i>natural</i>
designs. The Greek egg and arrow cornice is a nonsense
cornice, very noble in its lines, but utterly absurd in meaning.
Arrows have had nothing to do with eggs (at least since
Leda’s time), neither are the so-called arrows like arrows, nor
the eggs like eggs, nor the honeysuckles like honeysuckles;
they are all conventionalised into a monotonous successiveness
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page315"></SPAN>315</span>
of nothing,—pleasant to the eye, useless to the thought. But
those Christian cornices are, as far as may be, suggestive;
there is not the tenth of the work in them that there is in the
Greek arrows, but, as far as that work will go, it has consistent
intention; with the fewest possible incisions, and those of the
easiest shape, they suggest the true image, of clusters of
leaves, each leaf with its central depression from root to point,
and that distinctly visible at almost any distance from the eye,
and in almost any light.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XIX</span>. Here, then, are two great new elements visible;
energy and naturalism:—Life, with submission to the laws of
God, and love of his works; this is Christianity, dealing with
her classical models. Now look back to what I said in <SPAN href="#chap_1">Chap.
1.</SPAN> <span class="scs">XX</span>. of this dealing of hers, and invention of the new Doric
line; then to what is above stated (<span class="scs">VIII</span>.) respecting that new
Doric, and the boughs of trees; and now to the evidence in
the cutting of the leaves on the same Doric section, and see
how the whole is beginning to come together.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XX</span>. We said that something would come of these two
cornices, <i>a</i> and <i>d</i>. In <i>e</i> and <i>f</i> we see that something <i>has</i> come
of them: <i>e</i> is also from St. Mark’s, and one of the earliest
examples in Venice of the transition from the Byzantine to
the Gothic cornice. It is already singularly developed; flowers
have been added between the clusters of leaves, and the
leaves themselves curled over: and observe the well-directed
thought of the sculptor in this curling;—the old incisions are
retained below, and their excessive rigidity is one of the proofs
of the earliness of the cornice; but those incisions now stand
for the <i>under</i> surface of the leaf; and behold, when it turns
over, on the top of it you see true <i>ribs</i>. Look at the upper
and under surface of a cabbage-leaf, and see what quick steps
we are making.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XXI</span>. The fifth example (<i>f</i>) was cut in 1347; it is from
the tomb of Marco Giustiniani, in the church of St. John and
Paul, and it exhibits the character of the central Venetian
Gothic fully developed. The lines are all now soft and undulatory,
though elastic; the sharp incisions have become deeply-gathered
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page316"></SPAN>316</span>
folds; the hollow of the leaf is expressed completely
beneath, and its edges are touched with light, and incised into
several lobes, and their ribs delicately drawn above. (The
flower between is only accidentally absent; it occurs in most
cornices of the time.)</p>
<p>But in both these cornices the reader will notice that while
the naturalism of the sculpture is steadily on the increase, the
classical formalism is still retained. The leaves are accurately
numbered, and sternly set in their places; they are leaves in
office, and dare not stir nor wave. They have the shapes of
leaves, but not the functions, “having the form of knowledge,
but denying the power thereof.” What is the meaning of this?</p>
<p><span class="scs">XXII</span>. Look back to the <span class="scs">XXXIII</span>rd paragraph of the first
chapter, and you will see the meaning of it. These cornices
are the Venetian Ecclesiastical Gothic; the Christian element
struggling with the Formalism of the Papacy,—the Papacy
being entirely heathen in all its principles. That officialism
of the leaves and their ribs means Apostolic succession, and I
don’t know how much more, and is already preparing for the
transition to old Heathenism again, and the Renaissance.<SPAN name="FnAnchor_86" href="#Footnote_86"><span class="sp">86</span></SPAN></p>
<p><span class="scs">XXIII.</span> Now look to the last cornice (<i>g</i>). That is Protestantism,—a
slight touch of Dissent, hardly amounting to schism,
in those falling leaves, but true life in the whole of it. The
forms all broken through, and sent heaven knows where, but
the root held fast; and the strong sap in the branches; and,
best of all, good fruit ripening and opening straight towards
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page317"></SPAN>317</span>
heaven, and in the face of it, even though some of the leaves
lie in the dust.</p>
<p>Now, observe. The cornice <i>f</i> represents Heathenism and
Papistry, animated by the mingling of Christianity and nature.
The good in it, the life of it, the veracity and liberty of it,
such as it has, are Protestantism in its heart; the rigidity and
saplessness are the Romanism of it. It is the mind of Fra
Angelico in the monk’s dress,—Christianity before the Reformation.
The cornice <i>g</i> has the Lombardic life element in its
fulness, with only some color and shape of Classicalism mingled
with it—the good of classicalism; as much method and
Formalism as are consistent with life, and fitting for it: The
continence within certain border lines, the unity at the root,
the simplicity of the great profile,—all these are the healthy
classical elements retained: the rest is reformation, new
strength, and recovered liberty.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XXIV</span>. There is one more point about it especially noticeable.
The leaves are thoroughly natural in their general character,
but they are of no particular species: and after being
something like cabbage-leaves in the beginning, one of them
suddenly becomes an ivy-leaf in the end. Now I don’t know
what to say of this. I know it, indeed, to be a classical character;—it
is eminently characteristic of Southern work; and
markedly distinctive of it from the Northern ornament, which
would have been oak, or ivy, or apple, but not anything, nor
two things in one. It is, I repeat, a clearly classical element;
but whether a good or bad element, I am not sure;—whether
it is the last trace of Centaurism and other monstrosity dying
away; or whether it has a figurative purpose, legitimate in
architecture (though never in painting), and has been rightly
retained by the Christian sculptor, to express the working of
that spirit which grafts one nature upon another, and discerns
a law in its members warring against the law of its mind.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XXV</span>. These, then, being the points most noticeable in the
spirit both of the designs and the chiselling, we have now to
return to the question proposed in <span class="scs">XIII</span>., and observe the
modifications of form of profile which resulted from the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page318"></SPAN>318</span>
changing contours of the leafage; for up to <span class="scs">XIII</span>., we had, as
usual, considered the possible conditions of form in the abstract;—the
modes in which they have been derived from
each other in actual practice require to be followed in their
turn. How the Greek Doric or Greek ogee cornices were
invented is not easy to determine, and, fortunately, is little to
our present purpose; for the medi�val ogee cornices have an
independent development of their own, from the first type of
the concave cornice <i>a</i> in <SPAN href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</SPAN></p>
<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration">
<tr>
<td class="caption1">Fig. LXIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="figleft2">
<SPAN name="fig_63"><ANTIMG src="images/img318.jpg" width-obs="300" height-obs="174" alt="Fig. LXIII." title="Fig. LXIII." /></SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table>
<p><span class="scs">XXVI.</span> That cornice occurs, in the simplest work, perfectly
pure, but in finished work it was quickly felt that there was a
meagreness in its junction
with the wall beneath it, where
it was set as here at <i>a</i>, <SPAN href="#fig_63">Fig.
LXIII.</SPAN>, which could only be
conquered by concealing such
junction in a bar of shadow.
There were two ways of getting
this bar: one by a projecting
roll at the foot of the cornice (<i>b</i>, <SPAN href="#fig_63">Fig. LXIII.</SPAN>), the other by
slipping the whole cornice a little forward (<i>c</i>. <SPAN href="#fig_63">Fig. LXIII.</SPAN>).
From these two methods arise two groups of cornices and
capitals, which we shall pursue in succession.</p>
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