Wordsworth, in a beautiful passage of
the 'Prelude,' has used this as a figure for the feeling struck in us
by the quiet by-streets of London after the uproar of the great
thoroughfares; and the comparison may be turned the other way with as
good effect:-
'Meanwhile the roar continues, till at length,
Escaped as from an enemy, we turn
Abruptly into some sequester'd nook,
Still as a shelter'd place when winds blow loud!'
I remember meeting a man once, in a train, who told me of what must
have been quite the most perfect instance of this pleasure of escape.
He had gone up, one sunny, windy morning, to the top of a great
cathedral somewhere abroad; I think it was Cologne Cathedral, the
great unfinished marvel by the Rhine; and after a long while in dark
stairways, he issued at last into the sunshine, on a platform high
above the town. At that elevation it was quite still and warm; the
gale was only in the lower strata of the air, and he had forgotten it
in the quiet interior of the church and during his long ascent; and
so you may judge of his surprise when, resting his arms on the sunlit
balustrade and looking over into the PLACE far below him, he saw the
good people holding on their hats and leaning hard against the wind
as they walked.
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