of slaves and captives which hewed the stones out of the heart of the
rock, dragged them long distances and placed them one upon another, so
that these buildings oppress while they inspire, for there is in them
no freedom, no spontaneity, no individuality, but everywhere the felt
presence of an iron conventionality, of a stern immutable law.

In Egyptian architecture is symbolized the condition of the human soul
awakened from its long sleep in nature, and become conscious at once
of its divine source and of the leaden burden of its fleshy envelope.
Egypt is humanity new-born, bound still with an umbilical cord to
nature, and strong not so much with its own strength as with the
strength of its mother. This idea is aptly symbolized in those
gigantic colossi flanking the entrance to some rock-cut temple, which
though entire are yet part of the living cliff out of which they were
fashioned.

In the architecture of Greece the note of dread and mystery yields to
one of pure joyousness and freedom. The terrors of childhood have been
outgrown, and man revels in the indulgence of his unjaded appetites
and in the exercise of his awakened reasoning faculties. In Greek art
is preserved that evanescent beauty of youth which, coming but once
and continuing but for a short interval in every human life, is yet
that for which all antecedent states seem a preparation, and of
which all subsequent ones are in some sort an effect. Greece typifies
adolescence, the love age, and so throughout the centuries humanity
has turned to the contemplation of her, just as a man all his life
long secretly cherishes the memory of his first love.

An impassioned sense of beauty and an enlightened reason characterize
the productions of Greek architecture during its best period. The