Chapter 74 of 94 · 3955 words · ~20 min read

Part 74

The Shoemadoo is a pyramidal building composed of brick and mortar, without excavation or aperture of any sort; octagonal at the base, and spiral at the top: each side of the base measures one hundred and sixty-two feet; this immense breadth diminishes abruptly, and a similar building has not unaptly been compared in shape to a large speaking-trumpet. Six feet from the ground there is a wide projection that surrounds the base, on the plane of which are fifty-seven small spires of equal size, and equidistant; one of them measured twenty-seven feet in hight, and forty in circumference at the bottom. On a higher ledge there is another row consisting of fifty-three spires of similar shape and measurement. A great variety of moldings encircle the building; and ornaments somewhat resembling the _fleur de lis_ surround the lower part of the spire: circular moldings likewise girt it to a considerable hight, above which there are ornaments in stucco not unlike the leaves of a Corinthian capital; and the whole is crowned by a _tee_, or umbrella, of open iron-work, from which rises a rod with a gilded pennant.

The tee or umbrella is to be seen on every sacred building that is of a spiral form. The raising and consecration of this last and indispensable appendage, is an act of high religious solemnity, and a season of festivity and relaxation. The king himself bestowed the tee that covers the Shoemadoo. It was made at the capital; and many of the principal nobility came down from Ummerapoora to be present at the ceremony of its elevation. The circumference of the tee is fifty-six feet; it rests on an iron axis fixed in the building, and is further secured by large chains strongly riveted to the spire. Round the lower rim of the tee are appended a number of bells, which, agitated by the wind, make a continual jingling. The tee is gilt, and it was said to be the intention of the king to gild the whole of the spire. All the lesser pagodas are ornamented with proportionable umbrellas of similar workmanship, which are likewise encircled by small bells. The extreme hight of the edifice, from the level of the country, is three hundred and sixty-one feet, and above the interior terrace, three hundred and thirty one feet.

On the south-east angle of the upper terrace there are two handsome saloons, or _kioums_, the roofs of which are composed of different stages, supported by pillars. Mr. S. judged each to be about sixty feet in length, and in breadth thirty. The ceiling of one is embellished with gold leaf, and the pillars are lacquered; the decoration of the other is not yet completed. They are made entirely of wood; and the carving on the outside is laborious and minute. Mr. Symes saw several unfinished figures of animals and men in grotesque attitudes, designed as ornaments for different parts of the building. Some images of Gaudama, the supreme object of Birman adoration, lay scattered around. At each angle of the interior and higher terrace, there is a temple sixty-seven feet high, resembling, in miniature, the great temple: in front of that, in the south-west corner, are four gigantic representations, in masonry, of Palloo, or the evil genius, half beast, half human, seated on their hams, each with a large club on the right shoulder. The pundit who accompanied Mr. Symes, said that they resembled the Rakuss of the Hindoos. These are guardians of the temple. Nearly in the center of the east face of the area are two human figures in stucco, beneath a gilded umbrella. One, standing, represents a man with a book before him and a pen in his hand: he is called Thasiamee, the recorder of mortal merits and mortal misdeeds. The other, a female figure kneeling, is Mahasumdera, the protectress of the universe, so long as the universe is doomed to last; but when the time of general dissolution arrives, by her hand the world is to be overwhelmed and everlastingly destroyed. A small brick building near the north-east angle contains an upright marble slab, four feet high, and three feet wide: there was a long legible inscription on it. This, Mr. Symes was told, was an account of the donations of pilgrims of only a recent date.

Along the whole extent of the north face of the upper terrace, there is a wooden shed for the convenience of devotees who come from distant parts of the country. On the north side of the temple are three large bells of good workmanship, suspended near the ground, between pillars; several deers’ horns lie strewed around: those who come to pay their devotions first take up one of the horns, and strike the bell three times, giving an alternate stroke to the ground: this act is to announce to the spirit of Gaudama the approach of a suppliant. There are several low benches near the foot of the temple, on which the person who comes to pray, places his offering, commonly consisting of boiled rice, a plate of sweetmeats, or cocoa-nut fried in oil: when it is given, the devotee cares not what becomes of it; the crows and wild dogs often devour it in presence of the donor, who never attempts to disturb the animals. Mr. Symes saw several plates of victuals disposed of in this manner, and understood it to be the case with all that was brought.

There are many small temples on the areas of both terraces, which are neglected, and suffered to fall into decay. Numberless images of Gaudama lie indiscriminately scattered around. A pious Birman who purchases an idol, first procures the ceremony of consecration to be performed by the Rhahaans; he then takes his purchase to whatever sacred building is most convenient, and there places it in the shelter of a _kioum_, or on the open ground before the temple; nor does he ever again seem to have any anxiety about its preservation, but leaves the divinity to shift for itself. Some of those idols are made of marble that is found in the neighborhood of the capital of the Birman dominions, which admits of a very fine polish; many are formed of wood, and gilded, and a few are of silver; the latter, however, are not usually exposed and neglected like the others. Silver and gold are rarely used, except in the composition of household gods. On both the terraces are a number of white cylindrical flags, raised on bamboo poles; these flags are peculiar to the Rhahaans, and are considered as emblematical of purity, and of their sacred function. On the top of the staff there is a _henza_ or goose, the symbol both of the Birman and Pegu nations.

COLOSSAL FIGURE OF JUPITER PLUVIUS, OR THE APENNINE JUPITER.

Statues above the ordinary size, were named by the ancients, _colossi_, from a Greek word which signifies “members.” That at Rhodes was the most famous, executed by Carelus, a pupil of Lysippus. There were several at Rome; the most considerable was that of Vespasian, in the amphitheater, that bore the name of Colisæa. Claudius caused a colossal statue of himself to be raised on a rock exposed to the sea waves, in front of the port of Ostium. Nero had his person and figure painted on a linen cloth, one hundred and twenty feet in hight. In the court of the Capitol, and in the palace Farnesi, &c., are colossi, either entire or mutilated.

[Illustration: JUPITER PLUVIUS, OR THE APENNINE JUPITER.]

The colossal figure of Jupiter Pluvius is found at Pratolino, in Italy. The space in which it stands is planted round, on all sides, with lofty fir and beech trees, the trunks of which are hid by a wood of laurel, wherein niches have been cut for statues. The middle part is a green lawn, and at a little distance, is a semicircular basin of water, behind which rises the colossal statue of the Apennine Jupiter. Enchased, as it were, in the groves, it can only be surveyed in front, and from a point of view marked by the artist, in the adjoining engraving. Elevated on a base to appearance irregular, and of itself lofty, at which the astonished spectator arrives through two balustrades that run round the basin, this colossus, a view of which is given in the cut above, looks, at first, like a pyramidal rock, on which the hand of man might have executed some project analogous to what the statuary Stasicrates had conceived respecting Mount Athos,[10] and which Alexander nobly rejected. But soon he recognizes the genius of a pupil and worthy rival of Michael Angelo.

Footnote 10:

Stasicrates proposed to Alexander to transform Mount Athos into a durable statue of himself, and one that would be most prominent to a world of beholders. His left hand to contain a city peopled with ten thousand inhabitants, and from the right a great river to flow, its waters descending to the sea. The proposition of this gigantesque monument was rejected by Alexander, who, in reply to his proposal, said, “The passage of Mount Caucasus, the Tanais, and the Caspian, which I have forced, shall be my monuments.”

It was, in fact, John of Bologna, who, by an inspiration derived from the ancients, executed their _beau ideal_ of Jupiter Pluvius. This name seems more suitable to the figure than that of Father Apennine, which has been assigned to it. The style, in point of magnitude, is of the largest, and the character of the head is in perfect conformity to the subject. His brows and front brave the tempest, and seem the region of the hoar-frost; his locks descend in icicles on his broad shoulders, and the flakes of his immense beard resemble stalactites; his limbs seem covered with hoar-frost, but with no alteration in their contour, or in the form of the muscles. To add to the extraordinary effect, about the head is a kind of crown, formed of little jetteaux, that drop on the shoulders and trickle down the figure, shedding a sort of supernatural luster, when irradiated by the sun.

It would be difficult to imagine a composition more picturesque and perfect in all its proportions. The figure harmonizes with the surrounding objects, but its real magnitude is best shown by comparison with the groups promenading about the water, and which in comparison, at a certain distance, resemble pigmies. A nearer approach exhibits a truly striking proportion of the limbs. A number of apartments have been fabricated in the interior, and within the head is a beautiful belvedere, wherein the eyeballs serve for windows. The extremities are of stone; the trunk is of bricks overlaid with a mortar or cement that has contracted the hardness of marble, and which, when fresh, it was easy to model in due forms.

It is related in the life of John of Bologna, that several of his pupils, unaccustomed to work with the hand, while engaged in this work, forgot the correct standard of dimensions, both as to the eye and hand, and that Father Apennine and his enormous muscles made them spoil a number of statues. The greatest difficulty in the workmanship was to impress on the mass, the character of monumental durability. The artist has succeeded in uniting the rules of the statuary with those of construction, in combining the beauty of the one with the solidity of the other. All the parts refer to a common center of gravity, and the members are arranged so as to serve for a scaffolding to the body, without impairing its dignity or magnitude. The colossal statues of the ancients may have suggested the idea of this configuration, or as before hinted, the artist may have aimed to represent the Jupiter Pluvius. However, it seems probable that Poussin, in his painting of the plains of Sicily, has, from this, formed his Polyphemus, seated on the summit of a lofty rock. From the beauty of its proportions, and skill in the execution, all artists who have to work on colossal figures, ought to cherish the preservation of this, as an imposing object, that can not be too profoundly studied.

THE LEANING, OR HANGING TOWER OF PISA, IN TUSCANY.

This celebrated tower, a view of which is given in the cut below, likewise called the Campanile, on account of its having been erected for the purpose of containing bells, stands in a square close to the cathedral of Pisa. It is built entirely of white marble, and is a beautiful cylinder of eight stories, each adorned with a round of columns, rising one above another. It inclines so far on one side from the perpendicular, that dropping a plummet from the top, which is one hundred and eighty-eight feet in hight, it falls sixteen feet from the base. Much pains have been taken by connoisseurs to prove that this was done purposely by the architect; but it is evident that the inclination has proceeded from another cause, namely, from an accidental subsidence of the foundation on that side. The pillars are there considerably sunk; and this is also the case with the very threshold, which shows that the position of the building is accidental, caused by the settling of the ground on one side, and not, as some think, by the ambition of the architect, endeavoring to show how far he could with safety deviate from the perpendicular, and thus display a novel specimen of his art; for had this been his design, he would have shortened the pilasters on that side, so as to exhibit them entire, without the appearance of sinking.

[Illustration: THE LEANING TOWER AT PISA]

This tower, from its singular appearance and position, has attracted the notice of all travelers passing near Pisa, who, of course, fail not to visit it. We give the impressions of two of these: Professor Silliman, who saw it in 1851; and Mr. Hillard, who was there at a still later date. The former says, “This structure has excited so much surprise, and been seen with such deep interest by thousands of travelers for more than six hundred years, that it is almost universally known, and it is not difficult for one who has not seen it to form a clear and distinct conception of it. Still, on approaching the tower, you are strongly impressed by its grandeur and beauty; and when you ascend it, you obtain an almost overwhelming conception of its majesty; although it is perfectly safe; and if you do not feel apprehension that it will fall, you may not be able to keep that idea quite out of your mind. The hight of the leaning tower is one hundred and seventy-eight feet, the thickness of the wall ten feet, and the diameter is fifty feet at the base. It is composed of eight stories, all adorned by columns and arches. Its form is slightly conical. It is ascended by three hundred and thirty very easy steps, very well lighted, and it is a pleasant journey to the top. There are seven bells in this grand belfry; they were rung while we were near, and the sound is very soft and musical, especially of the great bell, which weighs twelve thousand pounds, and is placed upon the side of the tower, opposite to that which overhangs. It was this bell which was formerly used to give notice of public executions. The leaning of the tower of Pisa was evidently caused by unequal subsidence of the ground; and it is obvious that the architect, as the work rose, before the tower was half up, perceived it, and he endeavored to counteract it as far as possible by balancing his materials. After a particular hight, the columns are higher on the leaning side, and, of course, shorter on the other. The builder appeared to be aiming to bring the upper part of the tower into a vertical position, although he did not succeed. It is about thirteen or fourteen feet beyond the vertical; but the center of gravity still falls within the base; and as the blocks of stone, being now firmly united by cement, can not slide upon each other, they, in fact, form one mass. The walls are, moreover, fortified by iron bars, and it is not probable that anything short of an earthquake can produce its downfall. I can not think with some, that it requires strong nerves to ascend the leaning tower of Pisa. We ascended with a perfect consciousness of security, and it is certain that were it filled in every story by an armed host, it would not quiver or vibrate. The view from the summit of the tower is most splendid. The beautiful city is at your feet, and you are in the midst of it. The Mediterranean is in the horizon, Leghorn is visible in the distance, the Arno shows its windings, here and there, and a rich plain in full cultivation reaches far inland to the lofty Apennines, in the vicinity of Lucca. It is said, that, in clear weather, Corsica may be discerned. This tower is one of the most beautiful objects in Italy, and one would never be tired with looking at it or from it; so beautiful is it, that its leaning becomes a mere incident, interesting indeed, but the tower possesses commanding attractions independently of this circumstance. We can not descend from it without remembering that here Galileo made his decisive experiments upon the law of the descent of falling bodies, and upon the vibration of the pendulum. His great name is associated with the permanent glory of his country, and will be honored to the end of time, while his persecutors are remembered only to be despised and detested.”

Mr. Hillard, the other tourist to whom we have alluded, says, “On a bright, sunny morning, I first saw the leaning tower of Pisa. This piece of architectural eccentricity was, and I suppose is, one of the common-places of geography, and is put into the same educational state-room with the wall of China, the great tun of Heidelberg, and the natural bridge of Virginia. I can not recall the time when its name was not familiar to me; and now, here it was, bodily before me; no vision, no delusion, but a very decided fact, with a most undeniable inclination on one side; so much so, that a nervous person would not sleep soundly in the house that stands under its lee, on a windy night. This singular structure is simply a campanile, or bell-tower, appurtenant to the cathedral, as is the general custom in Italy. It is not merely quaint, but beautiful; that is, take away the quaintness, and the beauty will remain. It is built of white marble, wonderfully fresh and pure, when we remember that nearly seven centuries have swept over it. I will not describe it, nor give its dimensions, for these may be found in every guide-book, and nearly every book of travels; nor will I condense the arguments which have been called forth by the question, whether the inclination be accidental or designed. To one who has been on the spot, and observed the spongy nature of the soil, as evidenced by the slight subsidence of the cathedral, there is really no room for argument or doubt. The ascent is very easy and gradual. The summit is secured by double rails, and the inclination is less perceptible when on the top than when it is observed from the ground. There is no peculiar sense of danger to interfere with the full enjoyment of the beauty of the view, which embraces mountain and plain, land and sea; a combination at once varied, extensive and picturesque. This was my first sight of the Mediterranean, whose blue waters blended in the distant horizon with the blue of the sky. To the eye, it was but common water reflecting the universal sky; but a man must be very insensible, not to recognize peculiar elements in his first view of that many-nationed sea, upon whose shores so much of the poetry and history of the world has grown.”

THE COLISEUM AT ROME.

On approaching the majestic ruins of this vast amphitheater, the most stupendous work of the kind antiquity can boast, a sweet and gently moving astonishment is the first sensation which seizes the beholder; and soon afterward the grand spectacle swims before him like a cloud. To give an adequate idea of this sublime building, is a task to which the pen is unequal: it must be seen to be duly appreciated. It is upward of sixteen hundred feet in circumference, and of such an elevation that it has been justly observed by a writer, (Ammiamus,) “the human eye scarcely measures its hight.” Nearly the one-half of the external circuit still remains, consisting of four tiers of arcades, adorned with columns of four orders, the Doric, Ionian, Corinthian, and composite. Its extent, as well as its elevation, may be estimated by the number of spectators it contained, amounting, according to some accounts, to eighty thousand, and agreeably to others, to one hundred thousand.

Thirty thousand captive Jews are said to have been engaged by Vespasian, whose name it occasionally bears, in the construction of this vast edifice; and they have not discredited their forefathers, the builders of Solomon’s temple, by the performance. It was not finished, however, until the reign of his son Titus, who, on the first day of its being opened, introduced into the arena not less than five thousand, or, according to Dio Cassius, nine thousand wild beasts, between whom, and the primitive Christians held captive by the Romans, combats were fought. At the conclusion of this cruel spectacle the whole place was put under water, and two fleets, named the Corcyrian and the Corinthian, represented a naval engagement. To render the vapor from such a multitude of persons less noxious, sweet-scented water, and frequently wine mixed with saffron, was showered down from a grated work above, on the heads of the spectators.

The Roman emperors who succeeded Titus were careful of the preservation of this superb edifice: even the voluptuous Heliogabalus caused it to be repaired after a great fire. The rude Goths, who sacked the city of Rome, were contented with despoiling it of its internal ornaments, but respected the structure itself. The Christians, however, through an excess of zeal, have not been satisfied with allowing it gradually to decay. Pope Paul II. had as much of it leveled as was necessary to furnish materials for building the palace of St. Mark, and his pernicious example was imitated by Cardinal Riario, in the construction of what is now called the Chancery. Lastly, a portion of it was employed by Pope Paul III. in the erection of the palace Farnese. Notwithstanding all these dilapidations, there still exists enough of it to inspire the spectator with awe. Immense masses appear fastened to and upon one another without any mortar or cement; and these alone, from their structure, are calculated for a duration of many thousands of years. Occasionally, where the destroyers have not effectually attained their object, the half-loosened masses appear to be holden in the air, as if by some invisible power; for the wide interstices among them leave no other support than their joints, which seem every moment as if about to yield unavoidably to the superior force of gravitation. “They will fall;” “they must fall;” “they are falling;” is, and has been the language of all beholders during the vast periods through which this stupendous edifice has thus hung together in the air.

[Illustration: THE COLISEUM AT ROME.]