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354 XXX. THE VESTIBULE.
them, do not think they have any mysterious goodness nor
occult sublimity. Have done with the wretched affectation,
the futile barbarism, of pretending to enjoy : for, as surely as
you know that the meadow grass, meshed with fairy rings, is
better than the wood pavement, cut into hexagons; and as
surely as you know the fresh winds and sunshine of the upland
are better than the choke-damp of the vault, or the gas-light of
the ball-room, you may know, as I told you that you should,
that the good architecture, which has life, and truth, and joy
in it, is better than the bad architecture, which has death, dishonesty, and vexation of heart in it, from the beginning to the
end of time.
§ vn. And now come with me, for I have kept you.too
long from your gondola: come with me, on an autumnal
morning, through the dark gates of Padua, and let us take the
broad road leading towards the East.
It lies level, for a league or two, between its elms, and vine
festoons full laden, their thin leaves veined into scarlet hectic,
and their clusters deepened into gloomy blue ; then mounts an
embankment above the Brenta, and runs between the river
and the broad plain, which stretches to the north in endless
lines of mulberry and maize. The Brenta flows slowly, but
strongly; a muddy volume of yellowish-grey water, that
neither hastens nor slackens, but glides heavily between its
monotonous banks, with here and there a short, babbling eddy
twisted for an instant into its opaque surface, and vanishing,
as if something had been dragged into it and gone down.
Dusty and shadeless, the road fares along the dyke on its
northern side ; and the tall white tower of Dolo is seen trembling in the heat mist far away, and never seems nearer than
it did at first. Presently you pass one of the much vaunted
" villas on the Brenta :" a glaring, spectral shell of brick and
stucco, its windows with painted architraves like picture-
frames, and a court-yard paved with pebbles in front of it, all
burning in the thick glow of the feverish sunshine, but fenced
from the high road, for magnificence sake, with goodly posts
and chains; then another, of Kew Gothic, with Chinese varia-
| Title | The stones of Venice - 1 |
| Creator | Ruskin, John |
| Publisher | J. Wiley |
| Place of Publication | New York |
| Date | 1889 |
| Language | eng |
| Type | Books/Pamphlets |
| Title | 00000412 |
| Type | Books/Pamphlets |
| Transcript | 354 XXX. THE VESTIBULE. them, do not think they have any mysterious goodness nor occult sublimity. Have done with the wretched affectation, the futile barbarism, of pretending to enjoy : for, as surely as you know that the meadow grass, meshed with fairy rings, is better than the wood pavement, cut into hexagons; and as surely as you know the fresh winds and sunshine of the upland are better than the choke-damp of the vault, or the gas-light of the ball-room, you may know, as I told you that you should, that the good architecture, which has life, and truth, and joy in it, is better than the bad architecture, which has death, dishonesty, and vexation of heart in it, from the beginning to the end of time. § vn. And now come with me, for I have kept you.too long from your gondola: come with me, on an autumnal morning, through the dark gates of Padua, and let us take the broad road leading towards the East. It lies level, for a league or two, between its elms, and vine festoons full laden, their thin leaves veined into scarlet hectic, and their clusters deepened into gloomy blue ; then mounts an embankment above the Brenta, and runs between the river and the broad plain, which stretches to the north in endless lines of mulberry and maize. The Brenta flows slowly, but strongly; a muddy volume of yellowish-grey water, that neither hastens nor slackens, but glides heavily between its monotonous banks, with here and there a short, babbling eddy twisted for an instant into its opaque surface, and vanishing, as if something had been dragged into it and gone down. Dusty and shadeless, the road fares along the dyke on its northern side ; and the tall white tower of Dolo is seen trembling in the heat mist far away, and never seems nearer than it did at first. Presently you pass one of the much vaunted " villas on the Brenta :" a glaring, spectral shell of brick and stucco, its windows with painted architraves like picture- frames, and a court-yard paved with pebbles in front of it, all burning in the thick glow of the feverish sunshine, but fenced from the high road, for magnificence sake, with goodly posts and chains; then another, of Kew Gothic, with Chinese varia- |
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