We found the sea at Dover very blue, as usual, and very smooth, so that
it was a very short passage to Calais, and we found considerable
pleasure in re-reading Ruskin's reference to the fine old church tower.
He says:--
"I cannot find words to express the intense pleasure I have always in
first finding myself, after some prolonged stay in England, at the foot
of the old tower of Calais church. The large neglect, the noble
unsightliness of it; the record of its years written so visibly, yet
without sign of weakness or decay; its stern wasteness and gloom, eaten
away by the Channel winds, and overgrown with the bitter sea grasses;
its slates and tiles all shaken and rent, and yet not falling; its
desert of brickwork, full of bolts, and holes, and ugly fissures, and
yet strong, like a bare brown rock; its carelessness of what any one
thinks or feels about it, putting forth no claim, having no beauty, nor
desirableness, pride, nor grace; yet neither asking for pity; not, as
ruins are, useless and piteous, feebly or fondly garrulous of better
days; but, useful still, going through its own daily work--as some old
fisherman, beaten grey by storm, yet drawing his daily nets, so it
stands, with no complaint about its past youth, in blanched and meagre
massiveness and serviceableness, gathering human souls together
underneath it; the sound of its bells for prayer still roiling through
its rents; and the grey peak of it seen far across the sea, principal of
the three that rise above the waste of surfy sand and hillocked
shore--the lighthouse for life, and the belfry for labour, and this--for
patience and praise.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55