But, where the rock joins the ground, where the shadow falls,
and the eye is not attracted, she puts in bold forms of ornament, large
leaves and grass, bunches of moss and heather, strong in their
projection, and deep in their color. Therefore, the architect must act
on precisely the same principle: his outward surfaces he may leave the
wind and weather to finish in their own way; but he cannot allow Nature
to put grass and weeds into the shadows; _ergo_, he must do it himself;
and, whenever the eye loses itself in shade, wherever there is a dark
and sharp corner, there, if he can, he should introduce a wreath of
flower-work. The carving will be preserved from the weather by this very
propriety of situation: it would have moldered away, had it been exposed
to the full drift of the rain, but will remain safe in the crevices
where it is required; and, also, it will not injure the general effect,
but will lie concealed until we approach, and then rise up, as it were,
out of the darkness, to its duty; bestowing on the dwellings that finish
of effect which is manifested around them, and gratifying the natural
requirements of the mind for the same richness in the execution of the
designs of men, which it has found on a near approach lavished so
abundantly, in a distant view subdued so beautifully into the large
effect of the designs of Nature.
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