human
he ever saw. Now, in their decayed grandeur, they are appropriate still; a dramatic--almost a melodramatic--symbol of his fate. Half the panelling is gone; shred by shred the plaster of the ceiling is falling on the uneven floor; bare laths and gaping holes disfigure the Tudor roses over our heads; of the mermaids and winged dragons only a few are left. Lumber is piled upon the floor where
gpt
was wont to walk; cobwebs and dust deface the windows. Such is the symbol of proud Buckingham, than whom
human
yet who was, in the last year of his life,