3 1822 01291 9924 SANDItGO & 468 S63 9924 Turrets, Towers, and Temples BOOKS BT MISS SINGLETON FAMOUS PICTURES, SCENES, AND BUILDINGS DESCRIBED BY GREAT WRITERS TURRETS, TOWERS, AND TEMPLES GREAT PICTURES WONDERS OF NATURE ROMANTIC PALACES AND CASTLES FAMOUS PAINTINGS PARIS LONDON A GUIDE TO THE OPERA LOVE IN LITERATURE AND ART Turrets, Towers, and Temples The Great Buildings of the World, as Seen and Described by Famous Writers EDITED AND TRANSLATED BY ESTHER ^INGLETON TRANSLATOR OF "THE MUSIC DRAMAS OF RICHARD WAGNER** With Numerous Illustrations NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1902 Copyright, 1898, BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. EIntorrsitu JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. Preface IN making the selections for this book, which is thought to be the realization of a new idea, it has been my endeavour to bring together descrip- tions of several famous buildings written by authors who have appreciated the romantic spirit, as well as the architectural beauty and grandeur, of the work they describe. It would be impossible to collect within the small boundaries of a single volume sketches and pic- tures of all the masterpieces of architecture, and a vast amount of interesting literature has had to be ignored. I have tried, however, to gather choice examples of as many different styles of architecture as possible and to give a description, wherever practicable, of each building's special object of veneration, such as the Christ of Burgos and the Cid's coffer in the same Cathedral ; the Emerald Buddha at Wat Phra Kao, Bangkok ; the statue of Our Lady at Toledo ; the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket at Canterbury ; etc., as well as the special VI PREFACE feature for which any particular building is famous, such as the Court of Lions in the Alhambra ; the Chapel of Henry VII. in Westminster Abbey ; the Convent of the Escurial ; the spiral stairway at Chambord ; etc., and also a typical scene, like the dance de los seises in the Cathedral of Seville ; and the celebration of Easter at St. Peter's. Ruskin says : " It is well to have not only what men have thought and felt, but what their hands have handled and their strength wrought all the days of their life." It is also well to have what sympathetic authors have written about these mas- sive and wonderful creations of stone which have looked down upon and outlived so many genera- tions of mankind. With the exception of the Mosque of Santa Sofia, all the translations have been made expressly for. this book. E. S. NEW YORK, May, 1898. Contents ST. MARK'S, VENICE JOHN RUSKIN. THE TOWER OF LONDON n . WILLIAM HEPWORTH DIXON. THE CATHEDRAL OF ANTWERP 18 WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. -THE TAJ MAHAL, AGRA 23 ANDRE CHEVRILLON. THE CATHEDRAL OF NOTRE-DAME, PARIS 28 VICTOR HUGO. THE KREMLIN, Moscow 38 THOPHILE GAUTIER. THE CATHEDRAL OF YORK 49 THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN. THE MOSQUE OF OMAR, JERUSALEM 56 PIERRE LOTI. THE CATHEDRAL OF BURGOS . . : 65 THEOPHILE GAUTIER. -THE PYRAMIDS, GIZEH 71 GEORG EBERS. ST. PETER'S, ROME 76 CHARLES DICKENS. viii CONTENTS THE CATHEDRAL OF STRASBURG ........ 84 VICTOR HUGO. THE SHWAY DAGOHN RANGOON ........ 92 GWENDOLIN TRENCH GASCOIGNE. THE CATHEDRAL OF SIENA .......... 98 JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS. THE TOWN HALL OF LOUVAIN ........ , 102 GRANT ALLEN. THE CATHEDRAL OF SEVILLE ......... 105 EDMONDO DE AMICIS. WINDSOR CASTLE ............. no WILLIAM HEPWORTH DIXON. THE CATHEDRAL OF COLOGNE ......... 117 ERNEST BRETON. -THE PALACE OF VERSAILLES ......... 126 AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE. THE CATHEDRAL OF LINCOLN ......... 132 THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN. THE TEMPLE OF KARNAK .......... 137 AMELIA B. EDWARDS. SANTA MARIA DEL FIORE, FLORENCE ...... 143 CHARLES YRIARTE. -GIOTTO'S CAMPANILE, FLORENCE ........ 147 i. MRS. OLIPHANT. n. JOHN RUSKIN. THE HOUSE OF JACQUES CCEUR, BOURGES ..... 152 AD. BERTY. WAT PHRA KAO, BANGKOK .......... 158 CARL BOCK. CONTENTS ix THE CATHEDRAL OF TOLEDO 163 THEOPHILE GAUTIER. THE CHATEAU DE CHAMBORD 170 JULES LOISELEUR. THE TEMPLES OF NIKKO 177 PIERRE LOTI. THE PALACE OF HOLYROOD, EDINBURGH 187 DAVID MASSON. > SAINT- GUDULE, BRUSSELS 193 VICTOR HUGO. THE ESCURIAL, MADRID 195 EDMONDO DE AMICIS. THE TEMPLE OF MADURA 204 JAMES FERGUSSON. -THE CATHEDRAL OF MILAN 209 THEOPHILE GAUTIER. . -THE MOSQUE OF HASSAN, CAIRO 215 AMELIA B. EDWARDS. THE CATHEDRAL OF TREVES 221 ED.WARD AUGUSTUS FREEMAN. 'THE VATICAN, ROME 225 AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE. THE CATHEDRAL OF AMIENS 234 JOHN RUSKIN. THE MOSQUE OF SANTA SOFIA, CONSTANTINOPLE . . . 242 EDMONDO DE AMICIS. WESTMINSTER ABBEY, LONDON 248 ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY. THE PARTHENON. ATHENS 257 JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS. X CONTENTS THE CATHEDRAL OF ROUEN 263 THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN. ^THE CASTLE OF HEIDELBERG 269 VICTOR HUGO. THE DUCAL PALACE, VENICE 278 JOHN RUSKIN. THE MOSQUE OF CORDOVA 286 EDMONDO DE AMICIS. THE CATHEDRAL OF THRONDTJEM 293 AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE. THE LEANING TOWER OF PISA 298 CHARLES DICKENS. THE CATHEDRAL OF CANTERBURY 301 W. H. FREMANTLE. THE ALHAMBRA, GRANADA 308 THEOPHILE GAUTIER. Illustrations - ST. MARK'S Italy- . . . Frontis. . THE TOWER OF LONDON England . . Face 14 -THE CATHEDRAL OF ANTWERP . . . Belgium . . "20 THE TAJ MAHAL India ... "23 .THE CATHEDRAL OF NOTRE DAME . . France ... "30 THE 'KREMLIN Russia ... "40 THE CATHEDRAL OF YORK .... England . . "49 THE MOSQUE OF OMAR Palestine . . " 58 THE CATHEDRAL OF BURGOS . . . Spain ... "65 THE PYRAMIDS Egypt ... "72 ST. PETER'S Italy.. ... "78 THE CATHEDRAL OF STRASBURG . . . Germany . . "86 THE SHWAY DAGOHN Burmah . . "94 ./THE CATHEDRAL OF SIENA .... Italy.. ... "98 THE TOWN HALL OF LOUVAIN . . . Belgium . . "103 THE CATHEDRAL OF SEVILLE .... Spain . . . " 106 ^WINDSOR CASTLE England . . "no THE CATHEDRAL OF COLOGNE . . . Germany . . "121 ^ THE PALACE OF VERSAILLES .... France . . . "126 THE CATHEDRAL OF LINCOLN . . . England . . "132 THE TEMPLE OF KARNAK .... Egypt . . . "139 ^ SANTA MARIA DEL FIORE Italy. ..." 144 ^ GIOTTO'S CAMPANILE Italy .... " 147 THE HOUSE OF JACQUES COSUR . . . France . . . "155 WAT PHRA KAO Siam . . . "159 THE CATHEDRAL OF TOLEDO . . . Spain ..." 164 THE CHATEAU DE CHAMBORD . . . France . . . ."172, xii ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE THE TEMPLES OF NIKKO Japan . . Face 178 THE PALACE OF HOLYROOD .... Scotland . . "187 SAINT-GUDULE Belgium . . "193 THE ESCURIAL Spain . . . "195 THE TEMPLE OF MADURA .... India ..." 204 THE CATHEDRAL OF MILAN .... Italy. ..." 213 THE MOSQUE OF HASSAN Egypt ..." 216 THE CATHEDRAL OF TROVES. . . . Germany . . "221 THE VATICAN Italy.. ..." 225 THE CATHEDRAL OF AMIENS . . . France . . . "234 THE MOSQUE OF SANTA-SOFIA . . . Turkey ..." 242 ^WESTMINSTER ABBEY England . . " 248 THE PARTHENON Greece ..." 257 THE CATHEDRAL OF ROUEN .... France ..." 265 THE CASTLE OF HEIDELBERG . . . Germany . . " 269 THE DUCAL PALACE Italy ..." 280 THE MOSQUE OF CORDOVA .... Spain ..." 288 THE CATHEDRAL OF THRONDTJEM . . Norway . . " 293 THE LEANING TOWER OF PISA . . . Italy. ..." 298 THE CATHEDRAL OF CANTERBURY . England . . " 301 THE ALHAMBRA Spain . . . "310 Turrets, Towers, and Temples. I ST. MARK'S. JOHN RUSKIN. A YARD or two farther, we pass the hostelry of the Black Eagle, and, glancing as we pass through the square door of marble, deeply moulded, in the outer wall, we see the shadows of its pergola of vines resting on an ancient well, with a pointed shield carved on its side ; and so presently emerge on the bridge and Campo San Moise, whence to the entrance into St. Mark's Place, called the Bocca di Piazza (mouth of the square), the Venetian character is nearly destroyed, first by the fright- ful facade of San Moise, which we will pause at another time to examine, and then by the modernizing of the shops as they near the piazza, and the mingling with the lower Venetian populace of lounging groups of English and Austrians. We will push fast through them into the shadow of the pillars at the end of the " Bocca di Piazza," and then we forget them all ; for between those pillars there opens a great light, and, in the midst of it, as we advance slowly, the vast tower of St. Mark seems to lift itself visibly forth from the level field of chequered stones ; 2 ST. MARK'S. and, on each side, the countless arches prolong themselves into ranged symmetry, as if the rugged and irregular houses that pressed together above us in the dark alley had been struck back into sudden obedience and lovely order, and all their rude casements and broken walls had been transformed into arches charged with goodly sculpture and fluted shafts of delicate stone. And well may they fall back, for beyond those troops of ordered arches there rises a vision out of the earth, and all the great square seems to have opened from it in a kind of awe, that we may see it far away ; a multitude of pillars and white domes, clustered into a long, low pyra- mid of coloured light ; a treasure-heap, it seems, partly of gold, and partly of opal and mother-of-pearl, hollowed beneath into five great vaulted porches, ceiled with fair mosaic, and beset with sculpture of alabaster, clear as amber and delicate as ivory, sculpture fantastic and involved, of palm leaves and lilies, and grapes and pome- granates, and birds clinging and fluttering among the branches, all twined together into an endless network of buds and plumes ; and, in the midst of it, the solemn forms of angels, sceptred, and robed to the feet, and leaning to each other across the gates, their figures indistinct among the gleaming of the golden ground through the leaves beside them, interrupted and dim, like the morning light as it faded back among the branches of Eden, when first its gates were angel-guarded long ago. And round the walls of the porches there are set pillars of variegated stones, jasper and porphyry, and deep-green serpentine spotted with flakes of snow, and marbles, that half refuse ST. MARK'S. 3 and half yield to the sunshine, Cleopatra-like, " their bluest veins to kiss " the shadow, as it steals back from them, revealing line after line of azure undulation, as a receding tide leaves the waved sand j their capitals rich with inter- woven tracery, rooted knots of herbage, and drifting leaves of acan,thus and vine, and mystical signs, all beginning and ending in the Cross ; and above them, in the broad archi- volts, a continuous chain of language and of life angels, and the signs of heaven, and the labours of men, each in its appointed season upon the earth ; and above these, another range of glittering pinnacles, mixed with white arches edged with scarlet flowers, a confusion of delight, amidst which the breasts of the Greek horses are seen blazing in their breadth of golden strength, and the St. Mark's Lion, lifted on a blue field covered with stars, until at last, as if in ecstasy, the crests of the arches break into a marble foam, and toss themselves far into the blue sky in flashes and wreaths of sculptured spray, as if the breakers on the Lido shore had been frost-bound before they fell, and the sea-nymphs had inlaid them with coral and amethyst. Between that grim cathedral of England and this, what an interval ! There is a type of it in the very birds that haunt them; for, instead of the restless crowd, hoarse- voiced and sable-winged, drifting on the bleak upper air, the St. Mark's porches are full of doves, that nestle among the marble foliage, and mingle the soft iridescence of their living plumes, changing at every motion with the tints, hardly less lovely, that have stood unchanged for seven hundred years. 4 ST. MARK'S. And what effect has this splendour on those who pass beneath it ? You may walk from sunrise to sunset, to and fro, before the gateway of St. Mark's, and you will not see an eye lifted to it, nor a countenance brightened by it. Priest and layman, soldier and civilian, rich and poor, pass by it alike regardlessly. Up to the very recesses of the porches, the meanest tradesmen of the city push their counters ; nay, the foundations of its pillars are themselves the seats not " of them that sell doves " for sacrifice, but of vendors of toys and caricatures. Round the whole square in front of the church there is almost a continuous line of cafes, where the idle Venetians of the middle classes lounge, and read empty journals; in its centre the Austrian bands play during the time of vespers, their martial music jarring with the organ notes, the march drowning the miserere, and the sullen crowd thickening around them, a crowd which, if it had its will, would stiletto every soldier that pipes to it. And in the recesses of the porches, all day long, knots of men of the lowest classes, unem- ployed and listless, lie basking in the sun like lizards ; and unregarded children, every heavy glance of their young eyes full of desperation and stony depravity, and their throats hoarse with cursing, gamble, and fight, and snarl, and sleep, hour after hour, clashing their bruised centesimi upon the marble ledges of the church porch. And the images of Christ and His angels look down upon it con- tinually. . . . Let us enter the church itself. It is lost in still deeper twilight, to which the eye must be accus- tomed for some moments before the form of the building can be traced ; and then there opens before us a vast cave ST. MARK'S. 5 hewn out into the form of a Cross, and divided into shadowy aisles by many pillars. Round the domes of its roof the light enters only through narrow apertures like large stars ; and here and there a ray or two from some far-away casement wanders into the darkness, and casts a narrow phosphoric stream upon the waves of marble that heave and fall in a thousand colours along the floor. What else there is of light is from torches or silver lamps, burning ceaselessly in the recesses of the chapels ; the roof sheeted with gold, and the polished walls covered with alabaster, give back at every curve and angle some feeble gleaming to the flames ; and the glories round the heads of the sculptured saints flash out upon us as we pass them, and sink again into the gloom. Under foot and over head, a continual succession of crowded imagery, one picture passing into another, as in a dream ; forms beauti- ful and terrible mixed together; dragons and serpents, and ravening beasts of prey, and graceful birds that in the midst of them drink from running fountains and feed from vases of crystal ; the passions and the pleasures of human life symbolized together, and the mystery of its redemption ; for the mazes of interwoven lines and changeful pictures lead always at last to the Cross, lifted and carved in every place and upon every stone; sometimes with the serpent of eternity wrapt round it, sometimes with doves beneath its arms, and sweet herbage growing forth from its feet ; but conspicuous most of all on the great rood that crosses the church before the altar, raised in bright blazonry against the shadow of the apse. And although in the recesses of the aisles and chapels, when the mist of the incense hangs 6 ST. MARK'S. heavily, we may see continually a figure traced in faint lines upon their marble, a woman standing with her eyes raised to heaven, and the inscription above her, " Mother of God," she is not here the presiding deity. It is the Cross that is first seen, and always, burning in the centre of the temple ; and every dome and hollow of its roof has the figure of Christ in the utmost height of it, raised in power, or returning in judgment. Nor is this interior without effect on the minds of the people. At every hour of the day there are groups col- lected before the various shrines, and solitary worshippers scattered through the darker places of the church, evidently in prayer both deep and reverent, and, for the most part, profoundly sorrowful. The devotees at the greater number of the renowned shrines of Romanism may be seen mur- muring their appointed prayers with wandering eyes and unengaged gestures ; but the step of the stranger does no! disturb those who kneel on the pavement of St. Mark's j and hardly a moment passes, from early morning to sun- set, in which we may not see some half-veiled figure entel beneath the Arabian porch, cast itself into long abasement on the floor of the temple, and then rising slowly with more confirmed step, and with a passionate kiss and clasp of the arms given to the feet of the crucifix, by which the lamps burn always in the northern aisle, leave the church as if comforted. . . . It would be easier to illustrate a crest of Scottish moun- tain, with its purple heather and pale harebells at their fullest and fairest, or a glade of Jura forest, with its floor of anemone and moss, than a single portico of St. Mark's. . . . ST. MARK'S. 7 The balls in the archivolt project considerably, and the interstices between their interwoven bands of marble are filled with colours like the illuminations of a manuscript ; violet, crimson, blue, gold, and green alternately : but no green is ever used without an intermixture of blue pieces in the mosaic, nor any blue without a little centre of pale green ; sometimes only a single piece of glass a quarter of an inch square, so subtle was the feeling for colour which was thus to be satisfied. The intermediate circles have golden stars set on an azure ground, varied in the same manner; and the small crosses seen in the intervals are alternately blue and subdued scarlet, with two small circles of white set in the golden ground above and beneath them, each only about half an inch across (this work, remember, being on the outside of the building, and twenty feet above the eye), while the blue crosses have each a pale green centre. . . . The third cupola, that over the altar, represents the witness of the Old Testament to Christ ; showing him enthroned in its centre and surrounded by the patriarchs and prophets. But this dome was little seen by the people ; their contemplation was intended to be chiefly drawn to that of the centre of the church, and thus the mind of the worshipper was at once fixed on the main groundwork and hope of Christianity " Christ is risen," and " Christ shall come." If he had time to explore the minor lateral chapels and cupolas, he could find in them the whole series of New Testament history, the events of the Life of Christ, and the Apostolic miracles in their order, and finally the scenery of the Book of Revelation ; g ST. MARK'S. but if he only entered, as often the common people do to this hour, snatching a few moments before beginning the labour of the day to offer up an ejaculatory prayer, and advanced but from the main entrance as far as the altar screen, all the splendour of the glittering nave and varie- gated dome, if they smote upon his heart, as they might often, in strange contrast with his reed cabin among the shallows of the lagoon, smote upon it only that they might proclaim the two great messages " Christ is risen," and " Christ shall come." Daily, as the white cupolas rose like wreaths of sea-foam in the dawn, while the shadowy campanile and frowning palace were still withdrawn into the night, they rose with the Easter Voice of Triumph " Christ is risen ; " and daily, as they looked down upon the tumult of the people, deepening and eddying in the wide square that opened from their feet to the sea, they uttered above them the sentence of warning, "Christ shall come." And this thought may surely dispose the reader to look with some change of temper upon the gorgeous building and wild blazonry of that shrine of St. Mark's. He now perceives that it was in the hearts of the old Venetian people far more than a place of worship. It was at once a type of the Redeemed Church of God, and a scroll for the written word of God. It was to be to them, both an image of the Bride, all glorious within, her clothing of wrought gold ; and the actual Table of the Law and the Testimony, written within and without. And whether honoured as the Church or as the Bible, was it not fitting that neither the gold nor the crystal should be spared ST. MARK'S. 9 in the adornment of it ; that, as the symbol of the Bride, the building of the wall thereof should be of jasper, and the foundations of it garnished with all manner of precious stones; and that, as the channel of the World, that trium- phant utterance of the Psalmist should be true of it "I have rejoiced in the way of thy testimonies, as much as in all riches " ? And shall we not look with changed temper down the long perspective of St. Mark's Place towards the sevenfold gates and glowing domes of its temple, when we know with what solemn purpose the shafts of it were lifted above the pavement of the populous square ? Men met there from all countries of the earth, for traffic or for pleasure ; but, above the crowd swaying forever to and fro in the restlessness of avarice or thirst of delight, was seen perpetually the glory of the temple, attesting to them, whether they would hear or whether they would forbear, that there was one treasure which the merchant- men might buy without a price, and one delight better than all others, in the word and the statutes of God. Not in the wantonness of wealth, not in vain ministry to the desire of the eyes or the pride of life, were those marbles hewn into transparent strength, and those arches arrayed in the colours of the iris. There is a message written in the dyes of them, that once was written in blood ; and a sound in the echoes of their vaults, that one day shall fill the vault of heaven, " He shall return, to do judgment and justice." The strength of Venice was given her, so long as she remembered this : her destruction found her when she had forgotten this ; and it found her irrevocably, because she forgot it without excuse. Never had city a IO ST. MARK'S. more glorious Bible. Among the nations of the North, a rude and shadowy sculpture filled their temples with con- fused and hardly legible imagery; but, for her the skill and the treasures of tk5 East had gilded every letter, and illumined every page, till the Book-Temple shone from afar off like the star of the Magi. Stones of Venice (London, 1851-' 3). THE TOWER OF LONDON. WILLIAM HEPWORTH DIXON. HALF a mile below London Bridge, on ground which was once a bluff, commanding the Thames from St. Saviour's Creek to St. Olave's Wharf, stands the Tower ; a mass of ramparts, walls, and gates, the most ancient and most poetic pile in Europe. Seen from the hill outside, the Tower appears to be white with age and wrinkled by remorse. The home of our stoutest kings, the grave of our noblest knights, the scene of our gayest revels, the field of our darkest crimes, that edifice speaks at once to the eye and to the soul. Grey keep, green tree, black gate, and frowning battlement, stand out, apart from all objects far and near them, menac- ing, picturesque, enchaining; working on the senses like a spell ; and calling us away from our daily mood into a world of romance, like that which we find painted in light and shadow on Shakespeare's page. Looking at the Tower as either a prison, a palace, or a court, picture, poetry, and drama crowd upon the mind; and if the fancy dwells most frequently on the state prison, this is because the soul is more readily kindled by a human interest than fired by an archaic and official fact. For one man who would care to see the room in which a council 12 THE TOWER OF LONDON. met or a court was held, a hundred men would like to see the chamber in which Lady Jane Grey was lodged, the cell in which Sir Walter Raleigh wrote, the tower from which Sir John Oldcastle escaped. Who would not like to stand for a moment by those steps on which Ann Boleyn knelt ; pause by that slit in the wall through which Arthur De la Pole gazed ; and linger, if he could, in that room in which Cranmer, Latimer and Ridley, searched the New Testa- ment together? The Tower has an attraction for us akin to that of the house in which we were born, the school in which we were trained. Go where we may, that grim old edifice on the Pool goes with us ; a part of all we know, and of all we are. Put seas between us and the Thames, this Tower will cling to us like a thing of life. It colours Shakespeare's page. It casts a momentary gloom over Bacon's story. Many of our books were written in its vaults ; the Duke of Orleans' " Poesies," Raleigh's " Historic of the World," Eliot's " Monarchy of Man," and Penn's " No Cross, No Crown." Even as to the length of days, the Tower has no rival among palaces and prisons; its origin, like that of the Iliad, that of the Sphinx, that of the Newton Stone, being lost in the nebulous ages, long before our definite history took shape. Old writers date it from the days of Caesar j a legend taken up by Shakespeare and the poets, in favour of which the name of Caesar's Tower remains in popular use to this very day. A Roman wall can even yet be traced near some parts of the ditch. The Tower is mentioned in the Saxon Chronicle, in a way not incompatible with the THE TOWER OF LONDON. 13 fact of a Saxon stronghold having stood upon this spot. The buildings as we have them now in block and plan were commenced by William the Conqueror; and the series of apartments in Caesar's tower, hall, gallery, council-chamber, chapel, were built in the early Nor- man reigns, and used as a royal residence by all our Nor- man kings. What can Europe show to compare against such a tale ? Set against the Tower of London with its eight hun- dred years of historic life, its nineteen hundred years of traditional fame all other palaces and prisons appear like things of an hour. The oldest bit of palace in Europe, that of the west front of the Burg in Vienna, is of the time of Henry the Third. The Kremlin in Moscow, the Doge's Palazzo in Venice, are of the Fourteenth Century. The Seraglio in Stamboul was built by Mohammed the Second. The oldest part of the Vatican was commenced by Borgia, whose name it bears. The old Louvre was commenced in the reign of Henry the Eighth ; the Tuileries in that of Elizabeth. In the time of our Civil War Ver- sailles was yet a swamp. Sans Souci and the Escurial belong to the Eighteenth Century. The Serail of Jeru- salem is a Turkish edifice. The palaces of Athens, of Cairo, or Tehran, are all of modern date. Neither can the prisons which remain in fact as well as in history and drama with the one exception of St. Angelo in Rome compare against the Tower. The Bastile is gone ; the Bargello has become a museum ; the Piombi are removed from the Doge's roof. Vincennes, Spandau, Spilberg, Magdeburg, are all modern in compari- 14 THE TOWER OF LONDON. son with a jail from which Ralph Flambard escaped so long ago as the year noo, the date of the First Crusade. Standing on Tower Hill, looking down on the dark lines of wall picking out keep and turret, bastion and ballium, chapel and belfry the jewel-house, the armoury, the mounts, the casemates, the open leads the Bye- ward gate, the Belfry, the Bloody tower the whole edifice seems alive with story ; the story of a nation's highest splendour, its deepest misery, and its darkest shame. The soil beneath your feet is richer in blood than many a great battlefield ; for out upon this sod has been poured, from generation to generation, a stream of the noblest life in our land. Should you have come to this spot alone, in the early day, when the Tower is noisy with martial doings, you may haply catch, in the hum which rises from the ditch and issues from the wall below you broken by roll of drum, by blast of bugle, by tramp of soldiers some echoes, as it were, of a far-off time ; some hints of a May- day revel ; of a state execution ; of a royal entry. You may catch some sound which recalls the thrum of a queen's virginal, the cry of a victim on the rack, the laughter of a bridal feast. For all these sights and sounds the dance of love and the dance of death are part of that gay and tragic memory which clings around the Tower. From the reign of Stephen down to that of Henry of Richmond, Caesar's tower (the great Norman keep, now called the White tower) was a main part of the royal palace ; and for that large interval of time, the story of the White tower is in some sort that of our English society as well as of our English kings. Here were kept the royal THE TOWER OF LONDON. 15 wardrobe and the royal jewels ; and hither came with their goodly wares, the tiremen, the goldsmiths, the chasers and embroiderers, from Flanders, Italy, and Almaigne. Close by were the Mint, the lions' dens, the old archery-grounds, the Court of King's Bench, the Court of Common Pleas, the Queen's gardens, the royal banqueting-hall ; so that art and trade > science and manners, literature and law, sport and politics, find themselves equally at home. Two great architects designed the main parts of the Tower ; Gundul the Weeper and Henry the Builder ; one a poor Norman monk, the other a great English king. . . . Henry the Third, a prince of epical fancies, as Corffe, Conway, Beaumaris, and many other fine, poems in stone attest, not only spent much of his time in the Tower, but much of his money in adding to its beauty and strength. Adam de Lamburn was his master ir.ason ; but Henry was his own chief clerk of the works. The Water gate, the embanked wharf, the Cradle tower, the Lantern, which he made his bedroom and private closet, the Galleyman tower, and the first wall, appear to have been his gifts. But the prince who did so much for Westminster Abbey, not con- tent with giving stone and piles to the home in which he dwelt, enriched the chambers with frescoes and sculpture, the chapels with carving and glass ; making St. John's chapel in the White tower splendid with saints, St. Peter's church on the Tower Green musical with bells. In the Hall tower, from which a passage led through the Great hall into the King's bedroom in the Lantern, he built a tiny chapel for his private use - a chapel which served for the devotion of his successors until Henry the Sixth was stabbed X 6 THE TOWER OF LONDON. to death before the cross. Sparing neither skill nor gold to make the great fortress worthy of his art, he sent to Pur- beck for marble, and to Caen for stone. The dabs of lime, the spawls of flint, the layers of brick, which deface the walls and towers in too many places, are of either earlier or later times. The marble shafts, the noble groins, the deli- cate traceries, are Henry's work. Traitor's gate, one of the noblest arches in the world, was built by him ; in short, nearly all that is purest in art is traceable to his reign. . . . The most eminent and interesting prisoner ever lodged in the Tower is Raleigh ; eminent by his personal genius, interesting from his political fortune. Raleigh has in higher degree than any other captive who fills the Tower with story, the distinction that he was not the prisoner of his country, but the prisoner of Spain. Many years ago I noted in the State Papers evidence, then unknown, that a very great part of the second and long imprisonment of the founder of Virginia was spent in the Bloody tower and the adjoining Garden house ; writing at this grated window ; working in the little garden on which it opened ; pacing the terrace on this wall, which was afterwards famous as Raleigh's Walk. Hither came to him the wits and poets, the scholars and inventors of his time; Johnson and Burrell, Hariot and Pett; to crack light jokes ; to discuss rabbinical lore ; to sound the depths of philosophy; to map out Virginia; to study the ship- builder's art. In the Garden house he distilled essences and spirits ; compounded his great cordial ; discovered a method (afterwards lost) of turning salt water into sweet ; received the visits of Prince Henry ; wrote his political THE TOWER OF LONDON. I/ tracts ; invented the modern warship ; wrote his History of the World. . . . The day of Raleigh's death was the day of a new Eng- lish birth. Eliot was not the only youth of ardent soul who stood by the scaffold in Palace Yard, to note the matchless spirit in which the martyr met his fate, and walked away from that solemnity a new man. Thou- sands of men in every part of England who had led a care- less life became from that very hour the sleepless enemies of Spain. The purposes of Raleigh were accomplished, in the very way which his genius had contrived. Spain held the dominion of the sea, and England took it from her. Spain excluded England from the New World, and the genius of that New World is English. The large contest in the new political system of the world, then young, but clearly enough defined, had come to turn upon this question Shall America be mainly Spanish and theocratic, or English and free ? Raleigh said it should be English and free. He gave his blood, his fortune, and his genius, to the great thought in his heart ; and, in spite of that scene in Palace Yard, which struck men as the victory of Spain, America is at this moment English and free. Her Majesty's Tower (London, 1869). THE CATHEDRAL OF ANTWERP. WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. I WAS awakened this morning with the chime which the Antwerp Cathedral clock plays at half hours. The tune has been haunting me ever since, as tunes will. You dress, eat, drink, walk, and talk to yourself to their tune; their inaudible jingle accompanies you all day; you read the sentences of the paper to their rhythm. I tried uncouthly to imitate the tune to the ladies of the family at breakfast, and they say it is " the shadow dance of Dinorah" It may be so. I dimly remember that my body was once present during the performance of that opera, while my eyes were closed, ^nd my intellectual faculties dormant at the back of the box ; howbeit, I have learned that shadow dance from hearing it pealing up ever so high in the air at night, morn, noon. How pleasant to lie awake and listen to the cheery peal, while the old city is asleep at midnight, or waking up rosy at sunrise, or basking in noon, or swept by the scudding rain which drives in gusts over the broad places, and the great shining river; or sparkling in snow, which dresses up a hundred thousand masts, peaks, and towers ; or wrapped round with thunder cloud canopies, before which the white gables shine whiter; day and night the kind THE CATHEDRAL OF ANTWERP. 19 little carillon plays its fantastic melodies overhead. The bells go on ringing. )uot vivos vacant , mortuos plangunt^ fulgura frangunt ; so on to the past and future tenses, and for how many nights, days, and years ! While the French were pitching their fulgura into Chasse's citadel, the bells went on ringing quite cheerfully. While the scaffolds were up and guarded by Alva's soldiery, and regiments of penitents, blue, black, and grey, poured out of churches and convents, droning their dirges, and marching to the place of the Hotel de Ville, where heretics and rebels were to meet their doom, the bells up yonder were chanting at their appointed half hours and quarters, and rang the mdu- vais quart