ries cast
into one great bronze-foreheaded century, will ever overpass one inch of.
All art which is worth its room in this world, all art which is not a
piece of blundering refuse, occupying the foot or two of earth which, if
unencumbered by it, would have grown corn or violets, or some better
thing, is _art which proceeds from an individual mind, working through
instruments which assist, but do not supersede, the muscular action of
the human hand, upon the materials which most tenderly receive, and most
securely retain, the impressions of such human labor_.

And the value of every work of art is exactly in the ratio of the
quantity of humanity which has been put into it, and legibly expressed
upon it for ever:--

First, of thought and moral purpose;

Secondly, of technical skill;

Thirdly, of bodily industry.

The quantity of bodily industry which that Crystal Palace expresses is
very great. So far it is good.

The quantity of thought it expresses is, I suppose, a single and very
admirable thought of Mr. Paxton's, probably not a bit brighter than
thousands of thoughts which pass through his active and intelligent
brain every hour,--that it might be possible to build a greenhouse
larger than ever greenhouse was built before. This thought, and some
very ordinary algebra, are as much as all that glass can represent of
human intellect. "But one poor half-pennyworth of bread to all this
intolerable deal of sack." Alas!

"The earth hath bubbles as the water hath:
And this is of them."

18. EARLY ENGLISH CAPITALS.

The depth of the cutting in some of the early English capitals is,
indeed, part of a general system of attempts at exaggerated force of
effect, like the "_black_ touches" of second-rate draughtsmen, which I
have noticed as characteristic of nearly all northern work, associated
with the love of the grotesque: but the main section of the capital is
indeed a dripstone rolled round, as above described; and dripstone
sections are continually found in northern work, where not only they
cannot increase force of effect, but are entirely invisible except on
close examination; as, for instance, under the uppermost range of stones
of the foundation of Whitehall, or under the slope of the restored base
of All Souls College, Oxford, under the level of the eye. I much doubt
if any of the Fellows be aware of its existence.

Many readers will be surprised and displeased by the disparagement of
the early Eng