irst, that
the affections be vivid, and honestly shown; secondly, that they be
fixed on the right things.

Sec. XII. You think, perhaps, I have put the requirements in wrong order.
Logically I have; practically I have not: for it is necessary first to
teach men to speak out, and say what they like, truly; and, in the
second place, to teach them which of their likings are ill set, and
which justly. If a man is cold in his likings and dislikings, or if he
will not tell you what he likes, you can make nothing of him. Only get
him to feel quickly and to speak plainly, and you may set him right. And
the fact is, that the great evil of all recent architectural effort has
not been that men liked wrong things: but that they either cared nothing
about any, or pretended to like what they did not. Do you suppose that
any modern architect likes what he builds, or enjoys it? Not in the
least. He builds it because he has been told that such and such things
are fine, and that he _should_ like them. He pretends to like them, and
gives them a false relish of vanity. Do you seriously imagine, reader,
that any living soul in London likes triglyphs?[30]--or gets any hearty
enjoyment out of pediments?[31] You are much mistaken. Greeks did:
English people never did,--never will. Do you fancy that the architect
of old Burlington Mews, in Regent Street, had any particular
satisfaction in putting the blank triangle over the archway, instead of
a useful garret window? By no manner of means. He had been told it was
right to do so, and thought he should be admired for doing it. Very few
faults of architecture are mistakes of honest choice: they are almost
always hypocrisies.

Sec. XIII. So, then, the first thing we have to ask of the decoration is
that it should indicate strong liking, and that honestly. It matters not
so much what the thing is, as that the builder should really love it and
enjoy it, and say so plainly. The architect of Bourges Cathedral liked
hawthorns; so he has covered his porch with hawthorn,--it is a perfect
Niobe of May. Never was such hawthorn; you would try to gather it
forthwith, but for fear of being pricked. The old Lombard architects
liked hunting; so they covered their work with horses and hounds, and
men blowing trumpets two yards long. The base Renaissance architects of
Venice liked masquing and fiddling; so they covered their work with
comic masks and musical instruments. Even that was better than our
English way