nce, the background is no longer discernible as a
contrasting form. The Byzantine design is, of course, little more than a
pattern with sunk holes for a background, and it is in marble; but those
holes are arranged in a distinct and orderly fashion. The other is a
highly realistic treatment of foliage, the likeness to nature being so
fully developed that some of these groups have veins on the _backs_ of
the leaves. The question for the moment is this, which of the two
extremes gives the clearest account of itself at a distance? I think
there can be little doubt that the more formal arrangement bears this
test better than the other, and this, too, in face of the fact that it
has cost much less labor to produce. Remember we are only now
considering the question of _visibility_ in the design. You may like the
undefined and suggestive masses into which the leaves and shadows of the
Southwell one group themselves better than the unbending severity of the
lines in the other, but that is not the point at present. You can not
_see_ the actual work which produces that mystery, and I may point out
to you, that what is here romantic and pleasing on account of its
changeful and informal shadows, is on the verge of becoming mere
bewildering confusion; a tendency which always accompanies attempts to
imitate the accidental or informal grouping of leaves, so common to
their natural state. The further this is carried, the less is it
possible to govern the forms of the background pattern; they become less
discernible as contrasting _forms_, although they may be very
interesting as elements of mystery and suggestive of things not actually
seen. The consequence is a loss of power in producing that
instantaneous impression of harmony which is one of the secrets of
effectiveness in carving. This is greatly owing to the constant change
of plane demanded by an imitative treatment, as well as the want of
formality in its background. The lack of restful monotony in this
respect creates confusion in the lights, making a closer inspection
necessary in order to discern the beauty of the work. Now the human
imagination loves surprises, and never wholly forgives the artist who,
failing to administer a pleasant shock, invites it to come forward and
examine the details of his work in order to see how well they are
executed.

[Illustration: FIG. 21.]

These examples, you will say, are from architectural details which have
nothing to do with wood-carvi