late as the fourteenth,
fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, upon towers prepared for their
reception, usually, in much earlier times. This confidence of the old
builders in the final completion of their structures is remarkable. They
drew without stint on the piety of after ages,--a resource which has not
unfrequently proved too feeble to realize their generous expectations.
There are few cities in Europe which do not bear sad marks of this
misplaced confidence. This is especially witnessed in the unfinished
steeples. And, indeed, when we find that not only one, but two, three,
four, or even five spires were sometimes required to flame upward from
the same building, as in Caen Cathedral, we do not wonder that the
kindling spark is often wanting. It would seem as if another fire must
come down from heaven, as of old it did upon the first offering of Moses
and Aaron, to inflame these censers, rich in frankincense and naphtha.

Now let us see what were the distinguishing attributes of the
Continental spires. We know not why it was, but in the gray old towns
of Belgium and the Low Countries there existed such exuberance of
imagination, such an unbounded luxuriousness of conception, as created
more images of Gothic quaintness and intricacy than elsewhere can be
seen. If any architecture ever expressed the average of human thought,
that of these towns is especially eloquent in its indications that their
inhabitants were very happy and contented. Look at a print of any old
Belgian town or street, and you will at once see our meaning. What a
joyous upspringing of pinnacles and pointed roofs and spires! of no more
earthly use, indeed, than so much pleasant laughter. There is no tower
without its spire, no turret or gable without its pinnacle, no oriel
without its pointed roof, no dormer without some such playful leaping
up into the air. Every salient point attacks the sky with its long iron
spindle, wrought with strange device and bearing a hospitable cup where
the bird makes his nest; and every spindle sings and shrieks with a
shifting vane,--so that the wind never sweeps idly over a Belgian town.
This innocent and happy people did not frown through the ages from grim
battlements, and awe posterity with stern and massive walls. But they
loved old childlike associations and fireside tales. They loved to build
curious fountains in commemoration of pleasant legends. They loved, too,
the huge, delicious-toned bells of their minster