Lightships and Lighthouses

by Frederick Arthur Ambrose Talbot

For sixteen hundred years it guided the navigators among the waters from which it reared its smoking crest, and then it disappeared. How, no one knows, although it is surmised that it was razed by an earthquake; but, although it was swept from sight, its memory has been preserved, and the French, Italian, and Spanish nations use its name in connection with the lighthouse, which in France is called phare; in the other two countries mentioned, faro.

The Romans in their conquest of Gaul and Britain brought the lighthouse with them, and several remains of their efforts in this direction are to be found in England, notably the pharos at Dover.

In all probability, however, the lighthouse in its most primitive form is at least as old as the earliest books of the Bible. Undoubtedly it sprang from the practice of guiding the incoming boatman to his home by means of a blazing bonfire set up in a conspicuous position near by. Such a guide is a perfectly obvious device, which even to-day is practised by certain savage tribes.

When the Phœnicians traded in tin with the ancient Britons of Cornwall, their boats continually traversed the rough waters washing the western coasts of Spain, where, for the safer passage of their sailors, doubtless, they erected beacons upon prominent headlands. The oldest lighthouse in the world to-day, which in some quarters is held to be of Phœnician origin, is that at Corunna, a few miles north of Cape Finisterre. Other authorities maintain that it was built during the reign of the Roman Emperor Trajan. In 1634 it was reconstructed, and is still in existence.

At the mouth of the Gironde is another highly interesting link with past efforts and triumphs in lighthouse engineering. The Gironde River empties itself into the Bay of Biscay through a wide estuary, in the centre of which is a bunch of rocks offering a terrible menace to vessels. This situation achieved an unenviable reputation in the days when ships first ventured out to sea. Being exposed to the broad Atlantic, it receives the full force of the gales which rage in the Bay of Biscay, and which make of the Gironde River estuary a fearful trap. The trading town of Bordeaux suffered severely from the ill fame attached to the mouth of the waterway upon which it was dependent, for both the sea and the roads exacted a heavy toll among the ships which traded with the famous wine capital of Gascony. How many fine vessels struck the rocks of Cordouan and went to pieces within sight of land, history does not record, but the casualties became so numerous that at last the firms trading with Bordeaux refused to venture into the Gironde unless a light were placed on the reef to guide their captains. Alarmed at the prospect of losing their remunerative traffic, the citizens of Bordeaux built a tower upon the deadly reef, with a beacon which they kept stoked with wood, four men being reserved for its service. In return the authorities exacted a tax from each vessel arriving and leaving the port, in order to defray the expense thus incurred. Probably from this action originated the custom of lighthouse dues.

This bonfire served its purposes until the Black Prince brought Gascony under his power. He demolished the primitive beacon, and erected in its place another tower, 40 feet high, on which the chauffer was placed, a hermit being entrusted with the maintenance of the light at night. Near the lighthouse—if such it can be called—a chapel was built, around which a few fishermen erected their dwellings. When the hermit died, no one offered to take his place. The beacon went untended, the fishermen departed, and the reef once more was allowed to claim its victims from shipping venturing into the estuary.

In 1584 an eminent French architect, Louis de Foix, secured the requisite concession to build a new structure. He evolved the fantastic idea of a single building which should comprise a beacon, a church and a royal residence in one. For nearly twenty-seven years he laboured upon the rock, exposed to the elements, before he (or rather his successor) was able to throw the welcome warning rays from the summit of his creation. This was certainly the most remarkable lighthouse that has ever been set up. It was richly decorated and artistically embellished, and the tower was in reality a series of galleries rising tier upon tier. At the base was a circular stone platform, 134 feet in diameter, flanked by an elegant parapet surrounding the light-keepers’ abode. This lower structure was intended to form a kind of breakwater which should protect the main building from the force of the waves. On the first floor was a magnificent entrance hall, leading to the King’s apartment, a salon finely decorated with pillars and mural sculptures. Above was a beautiful chapel with a lofty roof supported by carved Corinthian columns. Finally came the beacon, which at that date was about 100 feet above the sea-level.

Access to the successive floors was provided by a beautiful spiral staircase, the newels of which were flanked by busts of the two French Kings, Henry III. and Henry IV., and of the designer de Foix. The architect died not long before his work was completed, but the directions he left behind him were so explicit that no difficulty was experienced in consummating his ideas, and the Tour de Cordouan shed its beneficial light for the first time over the waters of the Bay of Biscay in 1611. So strongly was the building founded that it has defied the attacks of Nature to this day, although it did not escape those of the vandals of the French Revolution, who penetrated the tower, where the busts of the two Henrys at once excited their passion. The symbols of monarchy were promptly hurled to the floor, and other damage was inflicted. When order was restored, the busts were replaced, and all the carvings which had suffered mutilation from mob law were restored. At the same time, in accordance with the spirit of progress, the tower was modified to bring it into line with modern lighting principles; it was extended to a height of 197 feet, and was crowned with an up-to-date light, visible twenty-seven miles out to sea. For more than three centuries it has fulfilled its designed purpose, and still ranks as the most magnificent lighthouse that ever has been built. Its cost is not recorded, but it must necessarily have been enormous.

In Great Britain the seafarer’s warning light followed the lines of those in vogue upon the older part of the Continent, consisting chiefly of wood and coal fires mounted on conspicuous lofty points around the coast. These braziers were maintained both by public and by private enterprise. Patents were granted to certain individuals for the upkeep of beacons in England and Scotland, and from time to time the holders of these rights came into conflict with the public authority which was created subsequently for the maintenance of various aids to navigation around the coasts. In England these monopolies were not extinguished until 1836, when the Brethren of Trinity House were empowered, by special Act of Parliament, to purchase the lights which had been provided both by the Crown and by private interests, so as to bring the control under one corporation.