Читать книгу The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 352, January 17, 1829 - Various - Страница 2

By the courtesy of Mr. Hornor, the proprietor, we have been favoured with a private view of the interior of this stupendous building; and, as it is our intention to illustrate the ensuing Number of the MIRROR with a view of the exterior, we shall for the present confine ourselves to such descriptive details as we have been enabled to collect in our recent visit. The interior is, however, in an unfinished state; the works are in actual progress, and the operations of the several artists continue uninterrupted by the access of visiters.

On entering the edifice by the large door in front, a staircase on the right leads to a passage, which communicates with a circular saloon hung with coloured drapery. This room, which, when finished, will be the largest of the kind in London, occupies the whole internal space, or the basement of the building, with the exception of the staircase leading to the summit, which rises like a large column from the centre. This circular saloon is intended for the exhibition of paintings and other productions of the fine arts; and it redounds highly to the credit of Mr. Hornor, that this exhibition is to be entirely free of charge to the artists. Such an introduction of their works to public notice cannot fail to prove mutually advantageous.

It may be here necessary to state that the wall of the building represents a panoramic View of London, as seen from the several galleries of St. Paul's Cathedral—and that the view of the picture is obtained from three galleries—the first of which corresponds, in relation to the view, with the first gallery at the summit of the dome of St. Paul's; the second is like that of the upper gallery on the same edifice; and the third, from its great elevation, commands a view of the remote distance which describes the horizon in the painting. Above the last-mentioned gallery is placed the identical copper ball which for so many years occupied the summit of St. Paul's; and above it is a fac-simile of the cross by which it was surmounted. Over these is hung the small wooden cabin in which Mr. Hornor made his drawings for the picture, in the same perilous situation it occupied during the period of the repairs which some years ago were done to the cathedral. A small flight of stairs leads from this spot to the open gallery which surrounds the top of the Colosseum, commanding a view of the Regent's Park and the subjacent country.

The communication with the galleries is by staircases of curious construction, built on the outer side of the central column already mentioned. This column is hollow, and within it a small circular chamber is to be caused to ascend when freighted with company, by means of machinery, with an imperceptible motion to the first gallery. The doors of the chamber will then open, and by this novel means of being elevated, visiters may avoid the fatigue of ascending by the stairs, and then walk out into the gallery to enjoy the picture.

In extent and accuracy, the Panorama is one of the most surprising achievements of art in this or any other country. The picture covers upwards of 40,000 square feet, or nearly an acre of canvass; the dome of the building on which the sky is painted, is thirty feet more in diameter than the cupola of St. Paul's; and the circumference of the horizon from the point of view, is nearly 130 miles. The painting is almost completed; indeed, sufficiently so, for the general effect; although this will be considerably increased by the insertion of the remaining details, and the last or finishing touches. Much as the spectator will be struck by the fidelity of the representation, there is one claim it has to his admiration, which has only to be explained to be universally acknowledged. It is simply this. Only let such of our readers as have ascended the galleries of St. Paul's, think of the fatigue they experienced in the toil, and comparatively speaking, the little gratification they experienced on their arrival at the summit. In short, what had they for their pains but the distinct roofs of the houses in the immediate vicinity, while the rest of the city was half lost in fog and the smoke of "groves of chimneys." The only period at which London can be seen, is at sun-rise on a fine summer morning—such a morning, for instance, as that of the last Coronation. This too must be before the many thousand fires are lighted—exactly the period at which it is impossible to gain admittance to the cathedral. In the Panorama of the Colosseum, therefore, alone it is that we can see the "mighty heart," the town we inhabit; and for this grand scene we are indebted to the indefatigable genius of Mr. Hornor.2

The magnificent effect of the Panorama, however, baffles all description of our pen. Indeed, the scene gives rise to so many inspiring associations in an enthusiastic mind, that few Englishmen, and still fewer Londoners, are equal to the detail of its description. Every inch of the vast circumference abounds with subject for reflection. The streets filled with passengers and vehicles—the grandeur of the public buildings, churches, and palatial structures—the majestic river winding grandly along, with the shipping, vessels, and gay trim of civic barges gliding on its surface, its banks studded with splendid hospitals, docks, and antique towers—and its stream crossed with magnificent bridges—till it stretches away beyond the busy haunts of industry, to the rural beauties of Richmond, and the castellated splendour of Windsor. Of course, the river is the most attractive object in the painting; but overlooking the merits of the town itself, and the world of streets and buildings—the representation of the environs is delightfully picturesque, and the distances are admirably executed; while the whole forms an assemblage of grandeur, unparalleled in art, as the reality is in the history of mankind.

The grand and distinguishing merit of the Panorama at the Colosseum is, however, of a higher order than we have yet pointed out to the reader. It has the unusual interest of picturesque effect with the most scrupulous accuracy; and, in illustration of the latter excellence, so plain are the principal streets in the view, that thousands of visitors will be able to identify their own dwellings. We have termed this an unusual effect, because we are accustomed to view panoramas as fine productions of art, with fascinating and novel contrasts, and altogether as beautiful pictures; but pleasing as may be their effect on the spectator, it must fall very short of the intense interest created by the topographical or map-like accuracy of Mr. Hornor's picture, which is correct even to the most minute point of detail. Thousands of spectators will therefore become rivetted by some particular objects, for every Londoner can name a score of sites which are endeared to him by some grateful recollections and associations of his life; whilst our country friends will be lost in admiration at the immense knot of dwellings, till they contrive to pick their road back to their inn or temporary abode in this queen of cities. In order to court the rigorous inspection of the most critical visiters, engraved sections of the various parts of the picture, numbered and described, will be placed in the compartments to which the panorama corresponds; and for still further gratification, glasses will he placed in the gallery, by which houses at the distance of ten or twelve miles from the city may easily be discerned. All this amounts to microscopic painting, or the most elaborate mosaic-work of art.

The effect of the near houses, or those in the immediate vicinity of St. Paul's, is very striking; and the perspective and effect of light and shade of the campanile towers in front of the cathedral are admirably managed. In short, nothing can exceed the fine contrast of the bold and broad buildings in the fore-ground with the work of the middle, and the minuteness of the back-ground:—

It seems scarcely possible for painting to achieve anything nearer to reality than has been effected in the union of the projecting portions and the flat surface of the picture—an effect which will be hailed with enthusiasm by the spectator. This part is the work of Mr. Paris, "of whose talents and valuable assistance in the execution of the painting," says a writer in the Times, "the proprietor speaks in terms of generous enthusiasm, which are well deserved, and equally honourable to both parties." Another critical writer, in the Weekly Review, likewise, pays a deserved tribute to the genius of Mr. Paris, in his share of the painting. He says, "The spectator who shall view this magnificent Panorama, without being previously informed of the difficulties with which the able and indefatigable artist, Mr. E.T. Paris, had to contend, however he may be struck with the tout ensemble, will hardly be able to appreciate the merit of the work. In the first place, as no one individual could accomplish such an undertaking in a sufficiently short period, many artists were necessarily employed; each of these had his own peculiar style, and taste, and notions, which of course he would not depart from; when each of the assistant artists, therefore, had finished his part, it was necessary for Mr. Paris to go himself over the whole, retouch everything, and reduce the various parts into harmony with each other. This he has effected in the most admirable manner, so that, at present the productions of numerous dissimilar pencils appear like the creation of one man. Another, and perhaps still greater difficulty, was to preserve the true perspective from so elevated and novel a point of view, and on curved canvass; for, by the closing of the dome, that part of the picture upon which the greatest distance was to be represented, is in reality placed nearest to the spectator. We must observe, however, that these difficulties have all been surmounted, and that the illusion is most complete."

Our limits advise us to quit the principal building, or that appropriated to the panoramic view, especially as we cannot convey to the reader an indistinct notion of the curious stair-work, machinery, and carpentry of the ascents, &c. We were induced to ascend to the exterior, but the mid-day smoke of the town, and the heavy fog of the day, spoiled our view. Had it not been so, the numerous buildings below, with the gardens, &c. would have reminded us that much yet remained to be seen. We hastened down the staircase, as quickly as the loop-hole light would allow, (for this part is to be lit with gas,) and returned to the front court by the large door at which we entered. In the entrance-hall are two aloes in tubs, one of them of noble size, and we could not help contrasting this single triumph of Nature with the little world of art we had just been exploring; and our train of reflection was unbroken on our entering by the left-hand lodge-door, a range of arched conservatories, in the centre of one of which is a Camellia Japonica, which produces thirty varieties of flower, and is, perhaps, the most magnificent specimen in England. Already here are several rare and beautiful plants—a large proportion of exotics, and some of the most curious plants of this country's growth. In the centre of one of the chambers is a circular tank of water, surrounded by small jets, which are to raise their streams so as to form a round case of water, within which are to be aquatic plants, &c. At the end of this room aviaries are in preparation.

Hence we ascended into a beautiful reading-room, with French windows and rusticated Gothic verandas. The artistes were here busy in hanging the walls, &c. with green damask moreen. The next room in the suite will be a library of beautiful proportions; and beyond this will be another room equally splendid, besides numerous other smaller apartments, in all numbering thirty. The object of this part of the building is to afford to subscribers all the advantages of a club and a reading-room, combined with the novel and luxurious conveniences of the establishment. We now come to what appears to us the bijou of the whole. A passage leads from the saloon to a suite of small chambers, representing a Swiss cottage. One of these rooms is finished. It is wainscotted with coloured (knotted) wood, and carved in imitation of the fanciful interior of the dwellings of the Swiss mountaineers. The immense projecting chimney, its capacious corners, and the stupendous fire-dogs, are truly characteristic charms of cottage life; and the illusion is not a little enhanced by the prospect from the windows, consisting of terrific rocks and caverns,3 among which a cascade is to fall from an immense height into a lake, which is to spread immediately beneath the windows. The water is not yet admitted here; but from some successful specimens of this branch of art, which we have seen, we are induced to think the Swiss cottage and its scenery will be very attractive. The exterior of the dwelling, with its broad eaves, &c. is beautifully picturesque; and the interior, supplied with a suite of rustic furniture, is even sufficiently unique for the recherché taste of Mr. Hope.

This is but an imperfect outline of the ingenious works which are now just finishing at the Colosseum. The undertaking, as the name imports, is one of the most gigantic enterprises for public gratification which it has ever been our lot to witness; but great as may be the capital already expended here, and indefatigable as have been the exertions of the proprietor during the last seven years, it is almost impossible that such genius should not be amply remunerated. As a concentration of every refined amusement and luxurious comfort which the taste of the times can dictate, the Colosseum will doubtless be without a rival in Europe. The charms of useful and elegant literature will here alternate with the exquisite masterpieces of modern art—and to aid these attractions, the pure pleasures of the garden and green-house, and studies from the wild and wonderful of sublime nature—will be superadded. The extent occupied by the requisite buildings, &c. is, as we were informed, little short of five acres.

To conclude, the Colosseum will very shortly be opened to the public. In the meantime, such persons as wish, may be gratified with a private view of the works in their present state, on terms which have already been announced by the proprietor.