rting up into a monster, there
germinating into a blossom; anon knitting itself into a branch,
alternately thorny, bossy, and bristly, or writhed into every form of
nervous entanglement; but, even when most graceful, never for an instant
languid, always quickset; erring, if at all, ever on the side of
brusquerie.

Sec. LXXV. The feelings or habits in the workman which give rise to this
character in the work, are more complicated and various than those
indicated by any other sculptural expression hitherto named. There is,
first, the habit of hard and rapid working; the industry of the tribes
of the North, quickened by the coldness of the climate, and giving an
expression of sharp energy to all they do (as above noted, Vol. I. Chap.
XIII. Sec. VII.), as opposed to the languor of the Southern tribes,
however much of fire there may be in the heart of that languor, for lava
itself may flow languidly. There is also the habit of finding enjoyment in
the signs of cold, which is never found, I believe, in the inhabitants of
countries south of the Alps. Cold is to them an unredeemed evil, to be
suffered, and forgotten as soon as may be; but the long winter of the
North forces the Goth (I mean the Englishman, Frenchman, Dane, or
German), if he would lead a happy life at all, to find sources of
happiness in foul weather as well as fair, and to rejoice in the
leafless as well as in the shady forest. And this we do with all our
hearts; finding perhaps nearly as much contentment by the Christmas fire
as in the summer sunshine, and gaining health and strength on the
ice-fields of winter, as well as among the meadows of spring. So that
there is nothing adverse or painful to our feelings in the cramped and
stiffened structure of vegetation checked by cold; and instead of
seeking, like the Southern sculptor, to express only the softness of
leafage nourished in all tenderness, and tempted into all luxuriance by
warm winds and glowing rays, we find pleasure in dwelling upon the
crabbed, perverse, and morose animation of plants that have known little
kindness from earth or heaven, but, season after season, have had their
best efforts palsied by frost, their brightest buds buried under snow,
and their goodliest limbs lopped by tempest.

Sec. LXXVI. There are many subtle sympathies and affections which join to
confirm the Gothic mind in this peculiar choice of subject; and when we
add to the influence of these, the necessities consequent upon