se of monotony in
certain places or degrees; that is to say, by his _various_ employment
of it; but it is always in the new arrangement or invention that his
intellect is shown, and not in the monotony which relieves it.

Lastly: if the pleasure of change be too often repeated, it ceases to
be delightful, for then change itself becomes monotonous, and we are
driven to seek delight in extreme and fantastic degrees of it. This is
the diseased love of change of which we have above spoken.

From these facts we may gather generally that monotony is, and ought to
be, in itself painful to us, just as darkness is; that an architecture
which is altogether monotonous is a dark or dead architecture; and of
those who love it, it may be truly said, "they love darkness rather
than light." But monotony in certain measure, used in order to give
value to change, and above all, that _transparent_ monotony, which,
like the shadows of a great painter, suffers all manner of dimly
suggested form to be seen through the body of it, is an essential in
architectural as in all other composition; and the endurance of
monotony has about the same place in a healthy mind that the endurance
of darkness has: that is to say, as a strong intellect will have
pleasure in the solemnities of storm and twilight, and in the broken
and mysterious lights that gleam among them, rather than in mere
brilliancy and glare, while a frivolous mind will dread the shadow and
the storm; and as a great man will be ready to endure much darkness of
fortune in order to reach greater eminence of power or felicity, while
an inferior man will not pay the price; exactly in like manner a great
mind will accept, or even delight in, monotony which would be wearisome
to an inferior intellect, because it has more patience and power of
expectation, and is ready to pay the full price for the great future
pleasure of change. But in all cases it is not that the noble nature
loves monotony, anymore than it loves darkness or pain. But it can bear
with it, and receives a high pleasure in the endurance or patience, a
pleasure necessary to the well-being of this world; while those who
will not submit to the temporary sameness, but rush from one change to
another, gradually dull the edge of change itself, and bring a shadow
and weariness over the whole world from which there is no more escape.

From these general uses of variety in the economy of the world, we may
at once understand its use a