The Hall (6-10)

The barbarians are not beauty-levers; they are moneylovers. On the contrary, the beauty of this hall has nothing to do with barbarian eyes, Persian flattery, or Sultanic vainglory. Instead of just a poor man, it wants a cultured man for a spectator, who, instead of judging with his eyes, applies thought to what he sees. It faces the fairest quarter of the day (for the fairest and loveliest is surely the beginning); it welcomes in the sun when he first peeps up; light fills it to overflowing through the wide-flung doors; the proportion of length to “breadth and of both to height is harmonious; the windows are generous and well-suited to every season of the year. Is not all this attractive and praiseworthy?

One might also admire the ceiling for its reserved modelling, its flawless decoration, and the refined - symmetry of its gilding, which is not unnecessarily

The ceiling of this hall—call it the face if you will—well-featured itself, is as much embellished by the gilding as heaven by the stars at night, with sprinkled lights and scattered flowers of fire. If all were fire, it would be terrible, not beautiful, to us. You will observe that the gilding yonder is not purposeless, and not intermingled with the rest of the decorations for its own charm alone. It shines witha

Such is the top, the summit of the hall: it needs a Homer to praise it by calling it “highceiled” like the chamber of Helen [*][*] or “dazzling” like Olympus. [*] The rest of the decoration, the frescoes on the walls, the beauty of their colours, and the vividness, exactitude, and truth of each detail might well be compared with the face of spring and with a flowery field, except that those things fade and wither and change and cast their beauty, while this is spring eternal, field unfading, bloom undying. Naught but the eye touches it and culls the sweetness of what it sees.

Who would not be charmed with the sight or all these beautiful things? Who would not want to outdo himself in speaking among them, aware that it is highly disgraceful not to be a match for that which one sees? The sight of beauty is seductive, and not to man alone. Even a horse, I think, would find more pleasure in running on a soft, sloping plain that receives his tread pleasantly, yields a little to his foot, and does not shock his hoof. Then he puts in play all his power of running, gives himself over to speed and nothing else, and vies with the beauty of the plain.