e reached by exercising him in doing one thing, and
giving him nothing else to do. The degree in which the workman is
degraded may be thus known at a glance, by observing whether the several
parts of the building are similar or not; and if, as in Greek work, all
the capitals are alike, and all the mouldings unvaried, then the
degradation is complete; if, as in Egyptian or Ninevite work, though the
manner of executing certain figures is always the same, the order of
design is perpetually varied, the degradation is less total; if, as in
Gothic work, there is perpetual change both in design and execution, the
workman must have been altogether set free.

Sec. XXVII. How much the beholder gains from the liberty of the laborer
may perhaps be questioned in England, where one of the strongest instincts
in nearly every mind is that Love of Order which makes us desire that
our house windows should pair like our carriage horses, and allows us
to yield our faith unhesitatingly to architectural theories which fix a
form for everything and forbid variation from it. I would not impeach
love of order: it is one of the most useful elements of the English
mind; it helps us in our commerce and in all purely practical matters;
and it is in many cases one of the foundation stones of morality. Only
do not let us suppose that love of order is love of art. It is true that
order, in its highest sense, is one of the necessities of art, just as
time is a necessity of music; but love of order has no more to do with
our right enjoyment of architecture or painting, than love of
punctuality with the appreciation of an opera. Experience, I fear,
teaches us that accurate and methodical habits in daily life are seldom
characteristic of those who either quickly perceive, or richly possess,
the creative powers of art; there is, however, nothing inconsistent
between the two instincts, and nothing to hinder us from retaining our
business habits, and yet fully allowing and enjoying the noblest gifts
of Invention. We already do so, in every other branch of art except
architecture, and we only do _not_ so there because we have been taught
that it would be wrong. Our architects gravely inform us that, as there
are four rules of arithmetic, there are five orders of architecture; we,
in our simplicity, think that this sounds consistent, and believe them.
They inform us also that there is one proper form for Corinthian
capitals, another for Doric, and another for I