t subjects for different places, choosing the broadest forms for
the farthest distance, it is possible to give the impression, not only
of perfection, but of an exquisite delicacy, to the most distant
ornament. And this is the true sign of the right having been done, and
the utmost possible power attained:--The spectator should be satisfied
to stay in his place, feeling the decoration, wherever it may be,
equally rich, full, and lovely: not desiring to climb the steeples in
order to examine it, but sure that he has it all, where he is. Perhaps
the capitals of the cathedral of Genoa are the best instances of
absolute perfection in this kind: seen from below, they appear as rich
as the frosted silver of the Strada degli Orefici; and the nearer you
approach them, the less delicate they seem.

Sec. XXIII. This is, however, not the only mode, though the best, in which
ornament is adapted for distance. The other is emphasis,--the unnatural
insisting upon explanatory lines, where the subject would otherwise
become unintelligible. It is to be remembered that, by a deep and narrow
incision, an architect has the power, at least in sunshine, of drawing a
black line on stone, just as vigorously as it can be drawn with chalk on
grey paper; and that he may thus, wherever and in the degree that he
chooses, substitute _chalk sketching_ for sculpture. They are curiously
mingled by the Romans. The bas-reliefs of the Arc d'Orange are small,
and would be confused, though in bold relief, if they depended for
intelligibility on the relief only; but each figure is outlined by a
strong _incision_ at its edge into the background, and all the ornaments
on the armor are simply drawn with incised lines, and not cut out at
all. A similar use of lines is made by the Gothic nations in all their
early sculpture, and with delicious effect. Now, to draw a mere
pattern--as, for instance, the bearings of a shield--with these simple
incisions, would, I suppose, occupy an able sculptor twenty minutes or
half an hour; and the pattern is then clearly seen, under all
circumstances of light and shade; there can be no mistake about it, and
no missing it. To carve out the bearings in due and finished relief
would occupy a long summer's day, and the results would be feeble and
indecipherable in the best lights, and in some lights totally and
hopelessly invisible, ignored, non-existant. Now the Renaissance
architects, and our modern ones, despise the simple expedien