these consecrated edifices, and to preserve their remains, for the
sake of St. Hugo, their canonized prior. I replied greatly to his
satisfaction, and then declaimed so much in favour of St. Bruno and the
holy prior of Witham, that the good fathers grew exceedingly delighted
with the conversation, and made me promise to remain some days with
them. I readily complied with their request, and, continuing in the
same strain, that had so agreeably affected their ears, was soon
presented with the works of St. Bruno, whom I so zealously admired.
After we had sat extolling them, and talking upon much the same sort
of subjects for about an hour, the Coadjutor proposed a walk amongst
the cloisters and galleries, as the weather would not admit of any
longer excursion. He leading the way, we ascended a flight of steps,
which brought us to a gallery, on each side of which a vast number of
pictures, representing the dependent convents were ranged; for I was
now in the capital of the order, where the general resides, and from
whence he issues forth his commands to his numerous subjects, who
depute the superiors of their respective convents whether situated
in the wilds of Calabria, the forests of Poland, or in the remotest
districts of Portugal and Spain, to assist at the grand chapter, held
annually under him, a week or two after Easter.
Having amused myself for some time with the pictures, and the
descriptions the Coadjutor gave me of them, we quitted the gallery and
entered a kind of chapel, in which were two altars with lamps burning
before them, on each side of a lofty portal. This opened into a grand
coved hall, adorned with historical paintings of St. Bruno’s life, and
the portraits of the generals of the order since the year of the great
founder’s death (1085) to the present time. Under these portraits are
the stalls for the superiors who assist at the grand convocation. In
front, appears the general’s throne; above, hangs a representation of
the canonized Bruno, crowned with stars.
The Coadjutor seemed charmed with the respect with which I looked
round on these holy objects; and if the hour of vespers had not been
drawing near, we should have spent more time in the contemplation
of Bruno’s miracles, portrayed on the lower panels of the hall. We
left that room to enter a winding passage (lighted by windows in the
roof) that brought us to a cloister six hundred feet in length, from
which branched off two others, joining a fourth of the same most
extraordinary dimensions. Vast ranges of slender pillars extend round
the different courts of the edifice, many of which are thrown into
gardens belonging to particular cells. We continued straying from
cloister to cloister, and wandering along the winding passages and
intricate galleries of this immense edifice, whilst the Coadjutor was
assisting at vespers.
In every part of the structure reigned the most death-like calm: no
sound reached my ears but the “minute drops from off the eaves.” I sat
down in a niche of the cloister, and fell into a profound reverie, from
which I was recalled by the return of our conductor, who, I believe,
was almost tempted to imagine from the cast of my countenance, that I
was deliberating whether I should not remain with them for ever.
But I soon roused myself, and testified some impatience to see the
great chapel, at which we at length arrived after traversing another
labyrinth of cloisters. The gallery immediately before its entrance
appeared quite gay, in comparison with the others I had passed, and
owes its cheerfulness to a large window (ornamented with slabs of
polished marble) that admits the view of a lovely wood, and allows a
full blaze of light to dart on the chapel door, which is also adorned
with marble, in a plain but noble style of architecture.
The father sacristan stood ready on the steps of the portal to grant
us admittance; and, throwing open the valves, we entered the chapel
and were struck by the justness of its proportions, the solemn majesty
of the arched roof and the mild solemn light equally diffused over
every part of the edifice. No tawdry ornaments, no glaring pictures
disgraced the sanctity of the place. The high altar, standing distinct
from the walls which were hung with a rich velvet, was the only object
on which many ornaments were lavished; and, it being a high festival,
was clustered with statues of gold, shrines, and candelabra of the
stateliest shape and most delicate execution. Four of the latter, of a
gigantic size, were placed on the steps; which, together with part of
the inlaid floor within the choir, were spread with beautiful carpets.
The illumination of so many tapers striking on the shrines, censers
and pillars of polished jasper, sustaining the canopy of the altar,
produced a wonderful effect; and, as the rest of the chapel was visible
only by the faint external light admitted from above, the splendour and
dignity of the altar was enhanced by contrast. I retired a moment from
it, and seating myself in one of the furthermost stalls of the choir,
looked towards it, and fancied the whole structure had risen by “subtle
magic,” like an exhalation.
Here I remained several minutes breathing nothing but incense, and
should not have quitted my station soon, had I not been apprehensive
of disturbing the devotions of two aged fathers who had just entered,
and were prostrating themselves before the steps of the altar. These
venerable figures added greatly to the solemnity of the scene; which as
the day declined increased every moment in splendour; for the sparkling
of several lamps of chased silver that hung from the roofs, and the
gleaming of nine huge tapers which I had not before noticed, began to
be visible just as I left the chapel.
Passing through the sacristy, where lay several piles of rich
embroidered vestments, purposely displayed for our inspection, we
regained the cloister which led to our apartment, where the supper was
ready prepared. We had scarcely finished it, when the Coadjutor and the
fathers who had accompanied us before, returned, and ranging themselves
round the fire, resumed the conversation about St. Bruno.
It grew rather late before my kind hosts had finished their narrations
and I was not sorry, after all the exercise I had taken, to return to
my cell, where everything invited to repose. I was charmed with the
neatness and oddity of my little apartment; its cabin-like bed, oratory
and ebony crucifix; in short, everything it contained; not forgetting
the aromatic odour of the pine, with which it was roofed, floored and
wainscoted. The night was luckily dark. Had the moon appeared, I could
not have prevailed upon myself to have quitted her till very late; but,
as it happened, I crept into my cabin, and was by “whispering winds
soon lulled asleep.”
Eight o’clock struck next morning before I awoke; when, to my great
sorrow, I found the peaks, which rose above the convent, veiled in
vapours, and the rain descending with violence.
After we had breakfasted by the light of our fire (for the casements
admitted but a very feeble gleam), I sat down to the works of St.
Bruno; of all medleys one of the strangest. Allegories without end; a
theologico-natural history of birds, beast and fishes; several chapters
on paradise; the delights of solitude; the glory of Solomon’s temple;
the new Jerusalem; and numberless other wonderful subjects, full of the
loftiest enthusiasm.
I had scarcely finished taking extracts from the writings of this
holy and highly-gifted personage when the dinner appeared, consisting
of everything most delicate which a strict adherence to the rules of
meagre could allow. The good fathers returned as usual before our
repast was half over, and resumed as usual their mystic discourse,
looking all the time rather earnestly into my countenance to observe
the sort of effect their most marvellous narrations produced upon it.
Our conversation, which was beginning to take a gloomy and serious
turn, was interrupted, I thought very agreeably, by the sudden
intrusion of the sun, which, escaping from the clouds, shone in full
splendour above the highest peak of the mountains, and the vapours
fleeting by degrees discovered the woods in all the freshness of their
verdure. The pleasure I received from seeing this new creation rising
to view was very lively, and, as the fathers assured me the humidity of
their walks did not often continue longer than the showers, I left my
hall.
Crossing the court, I hastened out of the gates, and running swiftly
along a winding path on the side of the meadow, bordered by the
forests, enjoyed the charms of the prospect, inhaled the perfume of
the woodlands, and now turning towards the summits of the precipices
that encircle this sacred inclosure, admired the glowing colours they
borrowed from the sun, contrasted by the dark hues of the forest. Now,
casting my eyes below, I suffered them to roam from valley to valley,
and from one stream (beset with tall pines and tufted beech trees)
to another. The purity of the air in these exalted regions, and the
lightness of my own spirits, almost seized me with the idea of treading
in that element.
The tranquillity of the region, the verdure of the lawn, environed
by girdles of flourishing wood, and the lowing of the distant herds
filled me with the most pleasing sensations. But when I lifted my eyes
to the towering cliffs and beheld the northern sky streaming with
ruddy light, and the long succession of misty forms hovering over the
space beneath, they became sublime and awful. The dews which began to
descend, and the vapours which were rising from every dell, reminded me
of the lateness of the hour; and it was with great reluctance that I
turned from the scene which had so long engaged my contemplation, and
traversed slowly and silently the solitary meadows, over which I had
hurried with such eagerness an hour ago.
We had hardly supped before the gates of the convent were shut, a
circumstance which disconcerted me not a little, as the full moon
gleamed through the casements, and the stars, sparkling above the
forests of pines, invited me to leave my apartment again, and to give
myself up entirely to the spectacle they offered.
The Coadjutor perceiving that I was often looking earnestly through
the windows, guessed my wishes, and calling a lay-brother, ordered
him to open the gates, and wait at them till my return. It was not
long before I took advantage of this permission, and escaping from
the courts and cloisters of the monastery, all hushed in death-like
stillness, ascended a green knoll, which several ancient pines strongly
marked with their shadows: there, leaning against one of their trunks,
I lifted up my eyes to the awful barrier of the surrounding mountains,
discovered by the trembling silver light of the moon shooting directly
on the woods which fringed their acclivities.
The lawns, the vast woods, the steep descents, the precipices, the
torrents, lay all extended beneath, softened by a pale bluish haze,
that alleviated, in some measure, the stern prospect of the rocky
promontories above, wrapped in dark shadows. The sky was of the deepest
azure, innumerable stars were distinguished with unusual clearness from
this elevation, many of which twinkled behind the fir-trees edging the
promontories. White, grey, and darkish clouds came marching towards the
moon that shone full against a range of cliffs, which lift themselves
far above the others. The hoarse murmur of the torrent, throwing itself
from the distant wilderness into the gloomy vales, was mingled with the
blast that blew from the mountains.
It increased. The forests began to wave, black clouds rose from the
north, and, as they fleeted along, approached the moon whose light they
shortly extinguished. A moment of darkness succeeded; the gust was
chill and melancholy; it swept along the desert, and then subsiding,
the vapours began to pass away, and the moon returned; the grandeur of
the scene was renewed, and its imposing solemnity was increased by her
presence. Inspiration was in every wind.
I followed some impulse, which drove me to the summit of the mountains
before me; and there, casting a look on the whole extent of wild woods
and romantic precipices, thought of the days of St. Bruno. I eagerly
contemplated every rock that formerly might have met his eyes; drank
of the spring which tradition says he was wont to drink of; and ran
to every pine, whose withered appearance bespoke the most remote
antiquity, and beneath which, perhaps, the saint had reposed himself,
when worn with vigils, or possessed with the sacred spirit of his
institutions. It was midnight before I returned to the convent and
retired to my quiet chamber, but my imagination was too much disturbed,
and my spirits far too active, to allow me any rest for some time.
THE TEMPLES OF HATCHIMAN
ΑΙΜÉ HUMBERT
The Temples of Hatchiman are approached by long lines of those great
cedar-trees which form the avenues to all places of worship in Japan.
As we advance along the avenue on the Kanasawa side, chapels multiply
themselves along the road, and to the left, upon the sacred hills, we
also come in sight of the oratories and commemorative stones which
mark the stations of the processions; on the right the horizon is
closed by the mountain, with its grottos, its streams, and its pine
groves. After we have crossed the river by a fine wooden bridge, we
find ourselves suddenly at the entrance of another alley, which leads
from the seaside, and occupies a large street. This is the principal
avenue, intersected by three gigantic toris, and it opens on the grand
square in front of the chief staircase of the main building of the
Temple. The precinct of the sacred place extends into the street, and
is surrounded on three sides by a low wall of solid masonry, surmounted
by a barrier of wood painted red and black. Two steps lead to the
first level. There is nothing to be seen there but the houses of the
bonzes, arranged like the side-scenes of a theatre, amid trees planted
along the barrier-wall, with two great oval ponds occupying the centre
of the square. They are connected with each other by a large canal
crossed by two parallel bridges, each equally remarkable in its way.
That on the right is of white granite, and it describes an almost
perfect semicircle, so that when one sees it for the first time one
supposes that it is intended for some sort of geometrical exercise; but
I suppose that it is in reality a bridge of honour, reserved for the
gods and the good genii who come to visit the Temple. The bridge on
the left is quite flat, constructed of wood covered with red lacquer,
with balusters and other ornaments in old polished copper. The pond
crossed by the stone bridge is covered with magnificent white lotus
flowers,--the pond crossed by the wooden bridge with red lotus flowers.
Among the leaves of the flowers we saw numbers of fish, some red and
others like mother of pearl, with glittering fins, swimming about in
waters of crystal clearness. The black tortoise glides among the great
water-plants and clings to their stems.
[Illustration: THE DAÏBOUDHS OF KAMAKOURA, JAPAN.]
After having thoroughly enjoyed this most attractive spectacle, we go
on towards the second enclosure. It is raised a few steps higher than
the first, and, as it is protected by an additional sanctity, it is
only to be approached through the gate of the divine guardians of the
sanctuary. This building, which stands opposite the bridges, contains
two monstrous idols, placed side by side in the centre of the edifice.
They are sculptured in wood, and are covered from head to foot with a
thick coating of vermilion. Their grinning faces and their enormous
busts are spotted all over with innumerable pieces of chewed paper,
which the native visitors throw at them when passing, without any
more formality than would be used by a number of schoolboys out for a
holiday. Nevertheless, it is considered a very serious act on the part
of the pilgrims. It is the means by which they make the prayer written
on the sheet of chewed paper reach its address, and when they wish to
recommend anything to the gods very strongly indeed, they bring as an
offering a pair of straw slippers plaited with regard to the size of
the feet of the Colossus, and hang them on the iron railings within
which the statues are enclosed. Articles of this kind, suspended by
thousands to the bars, remain there until they fall away in time, and
it may be supposed that this curious ornamentation is anything but
beautiful.
Here a lay brother of the bonzes approached us, and his interested
views were easily enough detected by his bearing. We hastened to
assure him that we required nothing from his good offices, except
access to an enclosed building. With a shake of his head, so as to
make us understand that we were asking for an impossibility, he simply
set himself to follow us about with the mechanical precision of a
subaltern. He was quite superfluous, but we did not allow his presence
to interfere with our admiration. A high terrace, reached by a long
stone staircase, surmounted the second enclosure. It is sustained by a
Cyclopean wall, and in its turn supports the principal Temple as well
as the habitations of the bonzes. The grey roofs of all these different
buildings stand out against the sombre forest of cedars and pines. On
our left are the buildings of the Treasury; one of them has a pyramidal
roof surmounted by a turret of bronze most elegantly worked. At the
foot of the great terrace is the Chapel of the Ablutions. On our right
stands a tall pagoda, constructed on the principle of the Chinese
pagodas, but in a more sober and severe style. The first stage, of a
quadrangular form, is supported by pillars; the second stage consists
of a vast circular gallery which, though extremely massive, seems to
rest simply upon a pivot. A painted roof, terminated by a tall spire of
cast bronze, embellished with pendants of the same metal, completes the
effect of this strange but exquisitely proportioned building.
All the doors of the buildings which I have enumerated are in good
taste. The fine proportions, the rich brown colouring of the wood,
which is almost the only material employed in their construction, is
enhanced by a few touches of red and dragon green, and the effect of
the whole is perfect;--add to the picture a frame of ancient trees and
the extreme brilliancy of the sky, for the atmosphere of Japan is the
most transparent in the world.
We went beyond the pagoda to visit a bell-tower, where we were shown a
large bell beautifully engraved, and an oratory on each side containing
three golden images, a large one in the centre, and two small ones on
either side. Each was surrounded by a nimbus. This beautiful Temple of
Hatchiman is consecrated to a Kami; but it is quite evident that the
religious customs of India have supplanted the ancient worship;--we
had several proofs of this fact. When we were about to turn back we
were solicited by the lay brother to go with him a little further. We
complied, and he stopped us under a tree laden with _ex-votos_,
at the foot of which stands a block of stone, surrounded by a barrier.
This stone, which is probably indebted to the chisels of the bonzes for
its peculiar form, is venerated by the multitude, and largely endowed
with _ex-voto_ offerings. Like all peoples of the extreme East
the Japanese are very superstitious; a fact of which we had abundant
evidence on this and other occasions.
The Temple towards which we directed our steps on leaving the avenue
of the Temple of Hatchiman, immediately diverted our thoughts from the
grandeur of this picture. It is admirably situated on the summit of a
promontory, whence we overlook the whole Bay of Kamakoura; but it is
always sad to come, in the midst of beautiful nature, upon a so-called
holy place which inspires nothing but disgust. The principal sanctuary,
at first sight, did not strike us as remarkable. Insignificant golden
idols stand upon the high altar; and in a side chapel there is an image
of the God of Wealth, armed with a miner’s hammer. But when the bonzes
who received us conducted us behind the high altar, and thence into a
sort of cage as dark as a prison and as high as a tower, they lighted
two lanterns, and stuck them at the end of a long pole. Then, by this
glimmering light, which entirely failed to disperse the shades of the
roof, we perceived that we were standing in front of an enormous idol
of gilt wood, about twelve yards high, holding in its right hand a
sceptre, in its left a lotus, and wearing a tiara composed of three
rows of heads representing the inferior divinities. This gigantic
idol belongs to the religion of the auxiliary gods of the Buddhist
mythology: the Amidas and the Quannons, intercessors who collect
the prayers of men and transmit them to heaven. By means of similar
religious conceptions, the bonzes strike a superstitious terror into
the imaginations of their followers and succeed in keeping them in a
state of perpetual fear and folly.
We then went to see the Daïboudhs, which is the wonder of Kamakoura.
This building is dedicated to the Daïboudhs, that is to say, to the
great Buddha, and may be regarded as the most finished work of Japanese
genius, from the double points of view of art and religious sentiment.
The Temple of Hatchiman had already given us a remarkable example of
the use which native art makes of nature in producing that impression
of religious majesty which in our northern climates is effected by
Gothic architecture. The Temple of Daïboudhs differs considerably from
the first which we had seen. Instead of the great dimensions, instead
of the illimitable space which seemed to stretch from portal to portal
down to the sea, a solitary and mysterious retreat prepares the mind
for some supernatural revelation. The road leads far away from every
habitation; in the direction of the mountain it winds about between
hedges of tall shrubs. Finally, we see nothing before us but the high
road, going up and up in the midst of foliage and flowers; then it
turns in a totally different direction, and all of a sudden, at the
end of the alley, we perceive a gigantic brazen Divinity, squatting
with joined hands, and the head slightly bent forward in an attitude
of contemplative ecstasy. The involuntary amazement produced by the
aspect of this great image soon gives place to admiration. There is
an irresistible charm in the attitude of the Daïboudhs, as well as in
the harmony of its proportions. The noble simplicity of its garments
and the calm purity of its features are in perfect accord with the
sentiment of serenity inspired by its presence. A grove, consisting
of some beautiful groups of trees, forms the enclosure of the sacred
place, whose silence and solitude are never disturbed. The small cell
of the attendant priest can hardly be discerned among the foliage.
The altar, on which a little incense is burning at the feet of the
Divinity, is composed of a small brass table ornamented by two lotus
vases of the same metal, and beautifully wrought. The steps of the
altar are composed of large slabs forming regular lines. The blue of
the sky, the deep shadow of the statue, the sombre colour of the brass,
the brilliancy of the flowers, the varied verdure of the hedges and
the groves, fill this solemn retreat with the richest effect of light
and colour. The idol of the Daïboudhs, with the platform that supports
it, is twenty yards high; it is far from equal in elevation to the
statue of St. Charles Borromeo, which may be seen from Arona on the
borders of Lake Maggiore, but which effects the spectator no more than
a trigonometrical signal-post. The interiors of these two colossal
statues have been utilized. The European tourists seat themselves
in the nose of the holy cardinal. The Japanese descend by a secret
staircase into the foundations of their Daïboudhs, and there they
find a peaceful oratory, whose altar is lighted by a ray of sunshine
admitted through an opening in the folds of the mantle at the back of
the idol’s neck. It would be idle to discuss to what extent the Buddha
of Kamakoura resembles the Buddha of history, but it is important to
remark that he is conformable to the Buddha of tradition.
CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF WELLS
EDWARD AUGUSTUS FREEMAN