The
sacristy, like the church, is moreover an offering to heaven; and the
lavabo, since it has to exist, can exist with fitness only if it also
be offered, and made worthy of offering, to heaven. Besides,
therefore, those general proportions which have had to be made
harmonious for the satisfaction not merely of the builder, but of the
people whose eye rests on them daily and hourly; besides the
shapeliness and dignity which we insist upon in all things needful; we
further require of this object that it should have a certain
superabundance of grace, that it should have colour, elaborate
pattern, what we call _ornament_; details which will show that it is a
gift, and make it a fit companion for the magnificent embroideries and
damasks, the costly and exquisite embossed and enamelled vessels which
inhabit that place; and a worthy spectator of the sacred pageantry
which issues from this sacristy. The little tiled recess, the trough
and the little piece of architecture which frames it all, shall not
only be practically useful, they shall also be spiritually useful as
the expression of men's reverence and devotion. To whom? Why, to the
dear mother of Christ and her gracious angels, whom we place, in
effigy, on the gable, white figures on a blue ground. And since this
humble thing is also an offering, what can be more appropriate than to
hang it round with votive garlands, such as we bind to mark the course
of processions, and which we garnish (filling the gaps of glossy bay
and spruce pine branches) with the finest fruits of the earth, lemons,
and pears, and pomegranates, a grateful tithe to the Powers who make
the orchards fruitful. But, since such garlands wither and such fruits
decay, and there must be no withering or decaying in the sanctuary,
the bay leaves and the pine branches, and the lemons and pears and
pomegranates, shall be of imperishable material, majolica coloured
like reality, and majolica, moreover, which leads us back, pleasantly,
to the humble necessity of the trough, the spurting and slopping of
water, which we have secured against by that tiled floor and wainscot.

But here another suggestion arises. Water is necessary and infinitely
pleasant in a hot country and a hot place like this domed sacristy.
But we have very, oh, so very, little of it in Florence! We cannot
even, however great our love and reverence, offer Our Lady and the
Angels the thinnest perennial spurt; we must let out the water only
for