gnificantly than in the buildings he has erected. When we stand
before them--whether it be a mud hut, the house of a cliff-dweller
stuck like the nest of a swallow on the side of a canon, a Pyramid, a
Parthenon, or a Pantheon--we seem to read into his soul. The builder
may have gone, perhaps ages before, but here he has left something of
himself, his hopes, his fears, his ideas, his dreams. Even in the
remote recesses of the Andes, amidst the riot of nature, and where man
is now a mere savage, we come upon the remains of vast, vanished
civilizations, where art and science and religion reached unknown
heights. Wherever humanity has lived and wrought, we find the
crumbling ruins of towers, temples, and tombs, monuments of its
industry and its aspiration. Also, whatever else man may have
been--cruel, tyrannous, vindictive--his buildings always have
reference to religion. They bespeak a vivid sense of the Unseen and
his awareness of his relation to it. Of a truth, the story of the
Tower of Babel is more than a myth. Man has ever been trying to build
to heaven, embodying his prayer and his dream in brick and stone.

For there are two sets of realities--material and spiritual--but they
are so interwoven that all practical laws are exponents of moral laws.
Such is the thesis which Ruskin expounds with so much insight and
eloquence in his _Seven Lamps of Architecture_, in which he argues
that the laws of architecture are moral laws, as applicable to the
building of character as to the construction of cathedrals. He finds
those laws to be Sacrifice, Truth, Power, Beauty, Life, Memory, and,
as the crowning grace of all, that principle to which Polity owes its
stability, Life its happiness, Faith its acceptance, and Creation its
continuance--_Obedience_. He holds that there is no such thing as
liberty, and never can be. The stars have it not; the earth has it
not; the sea has it not. Man fancies that he has freedom, but if he
would use the word Loyalty instead of Liberty, he would be nearer the
truth, since it is by obedience to the laws of life and truth and
beauty that he attains to what he calls liberty.

Throughout that brilliant essay, Ruskin shows how the violation of
moral laws spoils the beauty of architecture, mars its usefulness, and
makes it unstable. He points out, with all the variations of emphasis,
illustration, and appeal, that beauty is what is imitated from natural
forms, consciously or unconsciously, and that w