And then the traditional and ostensible England falls from you
altogether. The third movement begins, the last great movement in the
London symphony, in which the trim scheme of the old order is altogether
dwarfed and swallowed up. Comes London Bridge, and the great warehouses
tower up about you, waving stupendous cranes, the gulls circle and
scream in your ears, large ships lie among their lighters, and one is
in the port of the world. Again and again in this book I have written
of England as a feudal scheme overtaken by fatty degeneration and
stupendous accidents of hypertrophy.
For the last time I must strike that note as the memory of the dear
neat little sunlit ancient Tower of London lying away in a gap among the
warehouses comes back to me, that little accumulation of buildings so
provincially pleasant and dignified, overshadowed by the vulgarest,
most typical exploit of modern England, the sham Gothic casings to the
ironwork of the Tower Bridge. That Tower Bridge is the very balance and
confirmation of Westminster's dull pinnacles and tower.
Pages:
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675