It is more an external work
than the Gothic churches are, and is not so made out of the dim, awful,
mysterious, grotesque, intricate nature of man. But it is beautiful and
grand. I love its remote distances, and wide, clear spaces, its airy
massiveness; its noble arches, its sky-like dome, which, I think, should
be all over light, with ground-glass, instead of being dark, with only
diminutive windows.
We walked round, looking at the monuments, which are so arranged, at the
bases of columns and in niches, as to coincide with the regularity of the
cathedral, and be each an additional ornament to the whole, however
defective individually as works of art. We thought that many of these
monuments were striking and impressive, though there was a pervading
sameness of idea,--a great many Victorys and Valors and Britannias, and a
great expenditure of wreaths, which must have cost Victory a considerable
sum at any florist's whom she patronizes. A very great majority of the
memorials are to naval and military men, slain in Bonaparte's wars; men
in whom one feels little or no interest (except Picton, Abercrombie,
Moore, Nelson, of course, and a few others really historic), they having
done nothing remarkable, save having been shot, nor shown any more brains
than the cannonballs that killed them. All the statues have the dust of
years upon then, strewn thickly in the folds of their marble garments,
and on any limb stretched horizontally, and on their noses, so that the
expression is much obscured.
Pages:
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357