many hours of his existence,
when the walls, the ceiling, and the hangings will inevitably obtain a
subtle, but real influence on his nerves; which, in the case of buff,
will be that of a yellow fog, while pale primrose will have the effect
of early sunrise, and pure gold that of sunset.

A rule to be respected is that decoration should be reposing instead
of exciting. The unexpected, which is an element in the enjoyment of
what is new, should be such as to become the more agreeable the longer
we are accustomed to it. Mr. Morris's golden rule is this: "Have
nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to
be beautiful."[471] In decorative art, and therefore in embroidery,
the first object to consider is beauty--beauty in conception,
proportion, drawing, and colour. I would not have it thought that I am
placing our secondary art too high, and giving it too much importance,
when I apply to it the first essential rules of art; but one of these
furnishes my excuse. It is that "the simplest and smallest creation
should be as faultless as the greatest and grandest." Now beauty
cannot be obtained, even in little works, without proportion in size,
harmony and balance in colour, and correctness in form, and these
require the careful study of first principles.

Proportion in size is most important, both as regards ourselves and
our surroundings--objectively and subjectively. When our masters, the
Greeks, wished to express force and majesty, they sculptured their
gods of unearthly size, larger than their heroes, who yet exceeded in
stature their human models. The statue of the god placed in the temple
was the largest object seen, and the delicacy and refinement of the
details in dress, throne, and base only enhanced the effect of
majestic proportion.

In the temple men were to be reminded of their own nothingness. In the
gymnasium, and on the racecourse, and at the public games, the
surrounding pictures and statues were all intended to excite ambition
by showing men the heroic size to be attained by the awards of fame.
But at home, in the house, man is already supreme, and needs no
incentive to assert himself, and no tall standard by which he may be
measured. The Lares and Penates themselves were very small objects to
look at, whatever may have been the thoughts they suggested. Nothing
is so alarming or unpleasant as gigantic figures worked in tapestry or
embroidery.

And if even the guardian gods of the