g which bound his prickly
leaves, as they waved or drifted round the ridges of his capital, into
those broad masses of unbroken flow, was indeed one with that which made
Michael Angelo encompass the principal figure in his Creation of Adam
with the broad curve of its cloudy drapery. It may seem strange to
assert any connexion between so great a conception and these rudely hewn
fragments of ruined marble; but all the highest principles of art are as
universal as they are majestic, and there is nothing too small to
receive their influence. They rule at once the waves of the mountain
outline, and the sinuosities of the minutest lichen that stains its
shattered stones.
Sec. XXII. We have not yet spoken of the three braided and chequered
capitals, numbered 10, 11, and 12. They are representations of a group,
with which many most interesting associations are connected. It was
noticed in the last chapter, that the method of covering the exterior of
buildings with thin pieces of marble was likely to lead to a system of
lighting the interior by minute perforation. In order to obtain both
light and air, without admitting any unbroken body of sunshine, in warm
countries, it became a constant habit of the Arabian architects to
pierce minute and starlike openings in slabs of stone; and to employ the
stones so pierced where the Gothic architects employ traceries.
Internally, the form of stars assumed by the light as it entered[49]
was, in itself, an exquisite decoration; but, externally, it was felt
necessary to add some slight ornament upon the surface of the perforated
stone; and it was soon found that, as the small perforations had a
tendency to look scattered and spotty, the most effective treatment of
the intermediate surfaces would be one which bound them together, and
gave unity and repose to the pierced and disturbed stone: universally,
therefore, those intermediate spaces were carved into the semblance of
interwoven fillets, which alternately sank beneath and rose above each
other as they met. This system of braided or woven ornament was not
confined to the Arabs; it is universally pleasing to the instinct of
mankind. I believe that nearly all early ornamentation is full of
it,--more especially, perhaps, Scandinavian and Anglo-Saxon; and
illuminated manuscripts depend upon it for their loveliest effects of
intricate color, up to the close of the thirteenth century. There are
several very interesting metaphysical reasons for
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