exciting kind, at any rate to the collector of autographs, for it is signed" Athanasius." Can this be the great doctor of the Church himself? It is impossible to prove it. The letter is mutilated, and there is nothing in it which can be related to the known history of the saint; and the name is not uncommon. But there is this to be said in favour of the identification. The style and the writing are those of an educated man, not of a professional scribe ; and the tone of the letter, while manifesting great respect for Paphnutius, is that of an equal : To the most valued and beloved father Paphnutius, Athanasius greeting in the Lord God . . . I entreat you repeatedly, remember us; for the prayers which you offer are received on high owing to your holy love, and according as you ask in your holy prayers, so will our state prosper. I shall do you justice by believing that you on every occasion make mention of us; for indeed I know that you love us. . . . It is an attractive possibility, and in our judgment is something more than a possibility; but unless other letters belonging to this group should come to light (as may well happen) it must remain doubtful. Meanwhile we have to congratulate Mr. Bell on the admirable skill, learning, and judgment which he has shown in the decipherment and editing of this volume, and on the good fortune which has given to him and to the British Museum a group of documents of such historical value and of such varied human interest. FREDERIC G. KENYON I. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. THE LIBERTIES OF THE TOWER The Tower of London. By ARTHUR POYSER. A. & C. Black. The Tower from Within. By Major-General SIR GEORGE Liber Albus. The White Book of the City of London. 1419. By JOHN Printed for By JOHN All we have of freedom-all we use or know, THERE are biblical characters whose example is a warning, and their life-history a danger signal. There are monuments in our land most useful, whatever their beauty and historic interest, as evidence of "the hole of the rock from whence we were digged." For, without accepting Schlegel's view of the philosophy of history, we may admit a sense of deep gratitude to the martyr spirits and suffering souls, who have only too literally “blazed the path" for us, their inheritors, to more sensitive conscientiousness and more human sympathy. Of such historic monuments in Europe, the Tower of London is incomparably the most significant. As fortress, palace, prison, museum, it has survived 800 years in its present form, and had almost certainly been a strong point" for 900 years earlier still. In hoary antiquity of foundation, the Tower leaves the fortresses of other European countries centuries behind. The Vatican, the Doge's Palace at Venice, the Kremlin, the Escurial, the Louvre, are mushroom growths by comparison. The Burg at Vienna did indeed get founded when our Henry III was extending his Norman keep; but Hadrian's mausoleum, Castel St. Angelo, is the one building which has any pretension to equality of importance and to a similar story. The tale of the Tower's persistence is compact of unspeakable crime and commanding strength, of gradually decaying superstitions and ever-growing wisdom. And this is much the same as to say that it is a compendium of national development, a stone-wall commentary upon western civilization. So regarded, its towers and chapels, crypts and graffiti, moat and portcullis, are milestones on the path of evolution from darkness to comparative light. "Il ne faut pas oublier que la Réformation est moins un événement qui peut se dater qu'un principe dont l'action se perpétue et se soutient : c'est une force vive déposée dans le cœur du système, et dont le ressort, agissant dans le temps convenable, restaure l'institution à mesure qu'elle s'altère." Vinet's saying applies very fully to the birth and protection of that orderly liberty whereby alone we inherit our birthright, or promulgate its blessings. Such birth-pangs cannot be dated chronologically with definite exactness. They are a progressive fact, a Protean struggle. There may even be quite special and undiscovered appropriateness in the perplexing contradiction— Liberties of the Tower. It is as though, by some blind instinct, our fathers had agreed that without the strong arm there can be no liberty worthy of the name; and, on the other hand, no hope that power will abide with any who fail to "proclaim liberty to the captives and the opening of the prison to them that are bound." However this may be, these are confessedly the terms upon which our race holds its supremacy. It is good that the Tower in the capital should stand day and night to remind London why it is, what it is, and on what terms alone it can remain seated on its throne. The Abbey of Bec in Normandy led the culture of Christendom under Lanfranc and Anselm, whom William called to the See of Canterbury. Anselm's "Cur Deus homo " with. its ennobling of applied reason is immortal, and has done much to shape the sanity of English thought. But it was to yet another monk of Bec, Gundulph, prince of architects, in days when architecture was seriously recognised as a humanizing art, that the Conqueror entrusted the building of his keep. And the artist may perchance have done as much as the theologian to mould the character of Englishmen and their destiny. William was doubtless anxious to protect his fleet and commerce on the Thames. He was equally determined to raise a fort which, at need, could overawe and dominate an already imperious London. VOL. 242. NO. 493. D It was studied insolence (says Mr. Bell) on the Conqueror's part, to throw down a length of the defensive wall that had been London's protection, that he might build his Tower. . . . Because of this challenging act, flung out as it were, in defiance of any who should contest his will, a portion of the Tower of less than eight acres stands outside the City, as anciently limited by its wall, the remainder of its eighteen acres, if the outer scarp be included, being within the wall. But long, long before Gundulph (now made Bishop of Rochester) brought over a single barge-load of his Caen stone, the place had been fortified by Roman and Saxon and Dane. Not otherwise could incoming commerce from Flanders and France be protected and taxed. Flotillas of Jutlanders and Norsemen must have a speedy and convenient point d'appui, when they had ravaged Greenwich or sacked Bermondsey, and awaited reinforcements for a further onfall. Above this point, the river wasted its strength in width of overflowed marsh and meadow, where now stands Lambeth on the Surrey side. Below, the river forming the Pool of London wound sinuous and untractable. Here were the age-long ford and ferry; here the Roman bridge and natural sitethe "dun" of the triple crown, Cornhill, Ludgate Hill, Tower Hill. Here therefore, when Alfred rebuilt the walls of the Cityenclosing an area much the same size and shape as Hyde Park— he restored also the fort which stood on the spot where at a later day the Tower was begun by William and Gundulph. It is this almost aboriginal kernel and germ which must be remembered as the key to understanding of the completed pile. The process of growth, spread over centuries, takes three distinct stages: (1) The central Norman Keep—or White Tower. (2) Its curtain, or encircling wall about the Inner Ward, including the Bell, Bloody, Wakefield, and Beauchamp Towers, with eight others which still survive. (3) The outer line of fortification, from Baynard Castle to the Keep, with moat and river islanding all. "After carrying the outer fortification an attacking host would be brought up by the inner wall, some 40 feet high. If that were successfully assailed the survivors among the garrison could retire into the Keep, and then hold out. The Tower of London was in fact immensely strong." Within the Keep a deep well was sunk, and may still be seen, so that properly provisioned, a defending force could hold out indefinitely. A successful sortie to the river could always give fresh supplies of men and material. The Royal Palace was a comparatively late addition, and never had the amenities of either Greenwich or Windsor. Other prospects in London may appeal more strongly to some sides of an Englishman's sentiment. There is a view from the wooden bridge in St. James' Park to the Horseguards and Admiralty, which suggests peace, by its dotted passementerie of crocus and daffodil on springtime grass, and national honour in the home of the services. Others may linger where the Abbey and Westminster Hall conjure up visions of world-wide government by discussion, inspired by the Pantheon of our race. The true Londoner, seeking inspiration, betakes himself to Byward and Great Tower Streets; then stands, with All Hallows, Barking, guarding his right flank, his left shoulder raised, to shut out the Babylonic enormity of the Port of London Authority fabrication. For some there be, and they neither untravelled nor untutored, who hold this to be the most moving pageant in Europe. To the left, seen across the paved space in Trinity Gardens, which marks the site of the old scaffold and gallows, rises in chaste lines with Corinthian columns that classic building wherein, since the days of Henry VIII, the Elder Brethren of Trinity House keep watch over the lighthouses of our seas. A little more to the left, are the poor remains of what was the Admiralty, where Samuel Pepys arranged in Charles II's reign our maritime affairs; and fitted out, to beat the Dutch at Lowestoft, that Admiral Lawson who guaranteed the loyalty of the navy at the Restoration. The guns of the enemy were heard during that battle from Cheapside as perhaps they were not heard again till the Great War. To the right of Trinity House, across trees naked of frondage in winter, you may catch peeps of the Royal Mint, built, when it was moved from the Tower, upon the site of St. Olave's Abbey of the Minories. While full in front, over the cobbled slope, where for " years whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary," our populace has loved to air its complaints against Government and other evils, looms the majestic solid mass of the White Norman Tower, sentinel of the City. There is no evidence or probability that ever, as stories aver, it was painted or whitewashed. The pure Caen stone, of its own virtue sloughs off the clinging London murk and grime, and it sits four-square, resplendent in sun's gleam, bosomed on ballium and moat, |