deal with a simple pictorial reproduction of plants as symbols (laurel
branches, boughs of olive and fir, and branches of ivy), _i. e._, with a
mere characteristic decoration of a technical structure, stress is laid
upon the most faithful reproduction of the object possible--the artist is
again and again referred to the study of Nature in order to imitate her.
Hence, as a general rule, there is less difficulty in the explanation of
these forms, because even the minute details of the natural object now and
then offer points that one can fasten upon. It is quite another thing when
we have to deal with actual decoration which does not aim at anything
further than at employing the structural laws of organisms in order to
organize the unwieldy substance, to endow the stone with a higher vitality.
These latter forms depart, even at the time when they originate, very
considerably from the natural objects. The successors of the originators
soon still further modify them by adapting them to particular purposes,
combining and fusing them with other forms so as to produce particular
individual forms which have each their own history (_e.g._, the acanthus
ornament, which, in its developed form, differs very greatly from the
acanthus plant itself); and in a wider sense we may here enumerate all such
forms as have been raised by art to the dignity of perfectly viable beings,
_e.g._, griffins, sphinxes, dragons, and angels.

[Illustration: Fig. 5.]

The deciphering and derivation of such forms as these is naturally
enough more difficult; in the case of most of them we are not even in
possession of the most necessary preliminaries to the investigation, and
in the case of others there are very important links missing (_e.g._,
for the well-known Greek palmettas). In proportion as the representation
of the plant was a secondary object, the travesty has been more and more
complete. As in the case of language, where the root is hardly