Architects -- Fiction; Castles -- Conservation and restoration -- Fiction; Love stories; Wessex (England) -- Fiction
There are few in whom the sight of a sunset does not beget as much
meditative melancholy as contemplative pleasure, the human decline and
death that it illustrates being too obvious to escape the notice of
the simplest observer. The sketcher, as if he had been brought to this
reflection many hundreds of times before by the same spectacle, showed
that he did not wish to pursue it just now, by turning away his face
after a few moments, to resume his architectural studies.
He took his measurements carefully, and as if he reverenced the old
workers whose trick he was endeavouring to acquire six hundred years
after the original performance had ceased and the performers passed into
the unseen. By means of a strip of lead called a leaden tape, which
he pressed around and into the fillets and hollows with his finger and
thumb, he transferred the exact contour of each moulding to his drawing,
that lay on a sketching-stool a few feet distant; where were also a
sketching-block, a small T-square, a bow-pencil, and other mathematical
instruments. When he had marked down the line thus fixed, he returned to
the doorway to copy another as before.
It being the month of August, when the pale face of the townsman and the
stranger is to be seen among the brown skins of remotest uplanders,
not only in England, but throughout the temperate zone, few of the
homeward-bound labourers paused to notice him further than by a
momentary turn of the head. They had beheld such gentlemen before, not
exactly measuring the church so accurately as this one seemed to be
doing, but painting it from a distance, or at least walking round the
mouldy pile. At the same time the present visitor, even exteriorly, was
not altogether commonplace. His features were good, his eyes of the dark
deep sort called eloquent by the sex that ought to know, and with that
ray of light in them which announces a heart susceptible to beauty of
all kinds,--in woman, in art, and in inanimate nature. Though he
would have been broadly characterized as a young man, his face bore
contradictory testimonies to his precise age. This was conceivably
owing to a too dominant speculative activity in him, which, while it
had preserved the emotional side of his constitution, and with it the
significant flexuousness of mouth and chin, had played upon his forehead
and temples till, at weary moments, they exhibited some traces of being
over-exercised. A youthfulness about the mobile features, a mature
forehead--though not exactly what the world has been familiar with
in past ages--is now growing common; and with the advance of juvenile
introspection it probably must grow commoner still. Briefly, he had more
of the beauty--if beauty it ought to be called--of the future human type
than of the past; but not so much as to make him other than a nice young
man.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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