deness or imperfection which at first rendered the
term "Gothic" one of reproach is indeed, when rightly understood, one of
the most noble characters of Christian architecture, and not only a
noble but an _essential_ one. It seems a fantastic paradox, but it is
nevertheless a most important truth, that no architecture can be truly
noble which is _not_ imperfect. And this is easily demonstrable. For
since the architect, whom we will suppose capable of doing all in
perfection, cannot execute the whole with his own hands, he must either
make slaves of his workmen in the old Greek, and present English
fashion, and level his work to a slave's capacities, which is to degrade
it; or else he must take his workmen as he finds them, and let them show
their weaknesses together with their strength, which will involve the
Gothic imperfection, but render the whole work as noble as the intellect
of the age can make it.

Sec. XXIII. But the principle may be stated more broadly still. I have
confined the illustration of it to architecture, but I must not leave it
as if true of architecture only. Hitherto I have used the words
imperfect and perfect merely to distinguish between work grossly
unskilful, and work executed with average precision and science; and I
have been pleading that any degree of unskilfulness should be admitted,
so only that the laborer's mind had room for expression. But, accurately
speaking, no good work whatever can be perfect, and _the demand for
perfection is always a sign of a misunderstanding of the ends of art_.

Sec. XXIV. This for two reasons, both based on everlasting laws. The
first, that no great man ever stops working till he has reached his point
of failure; that is to say, his mind is always far in advance of his
powers of execution, and the latter will now and then give way in trying
to follow it; besides that he will always give to the inferior portions
of his work only such inferior attention as they require; and according
to his greatness he becomes so accustomed to the feeling of
dissatisfaction with the best he can do, that in moments of lassitude or
anger with himself he will not care though the beholder be dissatisfied
also. I believe there has only been one man who would not acknowledge
this necessity, and strove always to reach perfection, Leonardo; the end
of his vain effort being merely that he would take ten years to a
picture, and leave it unfinished. And therefore, if we are to have great