; it is gathered in itself, and would look very ugly indeed,
if pieces in a purer style of building were added. All this corresponds
with points of English character, with its humors, its independency, and
its horror of being put out of its own way.

157. Again, it is a thoroughly domestic building, homely and
cottage-like in its prevailing forms, awakening no elevated ideas,
assuming no nobility of form. It has none of the pride, or the grace of
beauty, none of the dignity of delight which we found in the villa of
Italy; but it is a habitation of everyday life, a protection from
momentary inconvenience, covered with stiff efforts at decoration, and
exactly typical of the mind of its inhabitant: not noble in its taste,
not haughty in its recreation, not pure in its perception of beauty; but
domestic in its pleasures, fond of matter-of-fact rather than of
imagination, yet sparkling occasionally with odd wit and grotesque
association. The Italian obtains his beauty, as his recreation, with
quietness, with few and noble lines, with great seriousness and depth of
thought, with very rare interruptions to the simple train of feeling.
But the Englishman's villa is full of effort: it is a business with him
to be playful, an infinite labor to be ornamental: he forces his
amusement with fits of contrasted thought, with mingling of minor
touches of humor, with a good deal of sulkiness, but with no melancholy;
and therefore, owing to this last adjunct,[30] the building, in its
original state, cannot be called beautiful, and we ought not to consider
the effect of its present antiquity, evidence of which is, as was before
proved, generally objectionable in a building devoted to pleasure,[31]
and is only agreeable here, because united with the memory of a departed
pride.

[Footnote 30: Namely the fact that there is no melancholy in the English
play-impulse; _v. ante_, Sec. 23.]

[Footnote 31: See Sec. 118 seq.]

158. Again, it is a lifelike building, sparkling in its casements, brisk
in its air, letting much light in at the walls and roof, low and
comfortable-looking in its door. The Italian's dwelling is much walled
in, letting out no secrets from the inside, dreary and drowsy in its
effect. Just such is the difference between the minds of the
inhabitants; the one passing away in deep and dark reverie, the other
quick and business-like, enjoying its everyday occupations, and active
in its ordinary engagements.

159. Again, it i