bsurd, if we make ourselves fantastic, instead of
comfortable. Therefore, all that we ought to do in the hill villa is, to
adapt it for the habitation of a man of the highest faculties of
perception and feeling; but only for the habitation of his hours of
common sense, not of enthusiasm; it must be his dwelling as a man, not
as a spirit; as a thing liable to decay, not as an eternal energy; as a
perishable, not as an immortal.

249. Keeping, then, in view these distinctions of form between the two
villas, the remaining considerations relate equally to both. We have
several times alluded to the extreme richness and variety of hill
foreground, as an internal energy to which there must be no contrast.
Rawness of color is to be especially avoided, but so, also, is poverty
of effect. It will, therefore, add much to the beauty of the building,
if in any conspicuous and harsh angle, or shadowy molding, we introduce
a wreath of carved leafwork,--in stone, of course. This sounds startling
and expensive; but we are not thinking of expense: what ought to be, not
what can be afforded, is the question. Besides, when all expense in
shamming castles, building pinnacles, and all other fantasticisms has
been shown to be injurious, that which otherwise would have been wasted
in plaster battlements, to do harm, may surely be devoted to stone
leafage, to do good. Now, if there be too much, or too conspicuous,
ornament, it will destroy simplicity and humility, and everything which
we have been endeavoring to get; therefore, the architect must be
careful, and had better have immediate recourse to that natural beauty
with which he is now endeavoring to assimilate.

250. When Nature determines on decorating a piece of projecting rock,
she begins with the bold projecting surface, to which the eye is
naturally drawn by its form, and (observe how closely she works by the
principles which were before investigated) she finishes this with
lichens and mingled colors, to a degree of delicacy, which makes us feel
that we never can look close enough; but she puts in not a single mass
of form to attract the eye, more than the grand outline renders
necessary. 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: