brothers, each of whom had a particular part of the work allotted to
him. One, for instance, relaid the marble pavement, and decorated the
Obosot with pictures of the sacred elephant; while a second renewed
the stone inscriptions inside the Obosot; a third laid down a brass
pavement in the Obosot; a fourth undertook to restore all the inlaid
pearl work; another undertook the work of repairing the ceiling,
paving, and wall-decoration, and made three stands for the seals of the
kingdom; another changed the decayed roof-beams; another covered the
great phrachedee with gold tiles--the effect of which in the brilliant
sunlight is marvellously beautiful--and repaired and gilded all the
small phrachedees; another renewed and repaired and redecorated all the
stone ornaments and flower-pots in the temple-grounds, and made the
copper-plated and gilt figures of demons, and purchased many marble
statues; two princes divided between them the repairs of the cloisters,
renewing the roof where required, painting, gilding, paving with stone,
and completing the capitals of columns, and so on. Thus, by division
of labour, under the stimulus of devotion to the religion of the
country, and of brotherly loyalty to the king, the great work was at
length completed, after having been exactly one hundred years in course
of construction. On the 21st of April, 1882, the ceremony of final
dedication was performed, with the greatest pomp, and amid general
rejoicings.
Under the name “Wat Phra Kao” are included various buildings covering
a large area of ground, which is surrounded by walls decorated with
elaborate frescoes. In the centre is a temple, called the Phra Marodop,
built in the form of a cross, where on festive occasions the king
goes to hear a sermon from the prince-high-priest. The walls of this
building are richly decorated with inlaid work, and the ceiling
painted with a chaste design in blue and gold. The most striking
feature, however, is the beautiful work in the ebony doors, which are
elaborately inlaid with mother-of-pearl figures representing Thewedas,
bordered by a rich scroll. Behind this chapel-royal is the great
phrachedee, called the Sri Ratana Phrachedee, entirely covered with
gilt tiles, which are specially made for the purpose in Germany to the
order of H. R. H. Krom Mun Aditson Udom Det.
There are several other large buildings in the temple-grounds, but the
structure in which the interest of the place centres is the Obosot,
which shelters the famous “Emerald Buddha,” a green jade figure of
matchless beauty, which was found at Kiang Hai in A. D. 1436, and,
after various vicissitudes of fortune, was at last placed in safety in
the royal temple at Bangkok. This image is, according to the season of
the year, differently attired in gold ornaments and robes. The Emerald
Buddha is raised so high up, at the very summit of a high altar, that
it is somewhat difficult to see it, especially as light is not over
plentiful, the windows being generally kept closely shuttered. For
the convenience of visitors, however, the attendants will for a small
fee open one or two of the heavy shutters, which are decorated on the
outside with gilt figures of Thewedas in contorted attitudes. When at
last the sun’s rays are admitted through the “dim religious light,”
and the beam of brightness shines on the resplendent figure--enthroned
above a gorgeous array of coloured vases, with real flowers and their
waxen imitations, of gold, silver, and bronze representations of
Buddha, of Bohemian glassware, lamps, and candlesticks, with here and
there a flickering taper still burning, and surrounded with a profusion
of many-storied umbrellas, emblems of the esteem in which the gem is
held--the scene is remarkably beautiful, and well calculated to have a
lasting effect on the minds of those who are brought up to see in the
calm, solemn, and dignified form of Buddha the representation of all
that is good here, and the symbol of all happiness hereafter. The floor
of the Obosot is of tessellated brass, and the walls are decorated with
the usual perspectiveless frescoes, representing scenes in Siamese or
Buddhist history.
It is in this Obosot that the semi-annual ceremony of _Tunam_, or
drinking the water of allegiance, takes place, when the subjects of
Siam, through their representatives, and the princes and high officers
of state, renew or confirm their oath of allegiance. The ceremony
consists of drinking water sanctified by the priests, and occurs twice
a year--on the third day of the waxing of the Siamese fifth month (i.
e., the 1st of April), and on the thirteenth day of the waning of the
Siamese tenth month (i. e., the 21st of September).
The foregoing description gives but a faint idea of this sacred and
historic edifice, which will henceforth be regarded as a symbol of the
rule of the present Siamese dynasty, and the completion of which will
mark an epoch in Siamese history.
_Temples and Elephants_ (London, 1884).
THE CATHEDRAL OF TOLEDO.
THÉOPHILE GAUTIER.
The exterior of the Cathedral of Toledo is far less ornate than that
of the Cathedral of Burgos: it has no efflorescence of ornaments, no
arabesques, and no collarette of statues enlivening the porches; it
has solid buttresses, bold and sharp angles, a thick facing of stone,
a stolid tower, with no delicacies of the Gothic jewel-work, and it is
covered entirely with a reddish tint, like that of a piece of toast,
or the sunburnt skin of a pilgrim from Palestine; as if to make up
the loss, the interior is hollowed and sculptured like a grotto of
stalactites.
The door by which we entered is of bronze, and bears the following
inscription: _Antonio Zurreno del arte de oro y plata, faciebat esta
media puerta._ The first impression is most vivid and imposing; five
naves divide the church: the middle one is of an immeasurable height,
and the others beside it seem to bow their heads and kneel in token of
admiration and respect; eighty-eight pillars, each as large as a tower
and each composed of sixteen spindle-shaped columns bound together,
sustain the enormous mass of the building; a transept cuts the large
nave between the choir and the high altar, and forms the arms of the
cross. The architecture of the entire building is homogeneous and
perfect, a very rare virtue in Gothic cathedrals, which have generally
been built at different periods; the original plan has been adhered to
from one end to the other, with the exception of a few arrangements of
the chapels, which, however, do not interfere with the harmony of the
general effect. The windows, glittering with hues of emerald, sapphire,
and ruby set in the ribs of stone, worked like rings, sift in a soft
and mysterious light which inspires religious ecstasy; and, when the
sun is too strong, blinds of spartium are let down over the windows,
and through the building is then diffused that cool half-twilight which
makes the churches of Spain so favourable for meditation and prayer.
The high altar, or _retablo_, alone might pass for a church; it is
an enormous accumulation of small columns, niches, statues, foliage,
and arabesques, of which the most minute description would give but a
faint idea; all this sculpture, which extends up to the vaulted roof
and all around the sanctuary, is painted and gilded with unimaginable
wealth. The warm and tawny tones of the antique gold, illumined by the
rays and patches of light interrupted in their passage by the tracery
and projections of the ornaments, stand out superbly and produce the
most admirable effects of grandeur and richness. The paintings, with
their backgrounds of gold which adorn the panels of this altar, equal
in richness of colour the most brilliant Venetian canvases; this union
of colour with the severe and almost hieratic forms of mediæval art is
rarely found; some of these paintings might be taken for Giorgione’s
first manner.
[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL OF TOLEDO.]
Opposite to the high altar is placed the choir, or _silleria_,
according to the Spanish custom; it is composed of three rows of
stalls in sculptured wood, hollowed and carved in a marvellous manner
with historical, allegorical, and sacred bas-reliefs. Gothic Art, on
the borderland of the Renaissance, has never produced anything more
pure, more perfect, or better drawn. This work, the details of which
are appalling, has been attributed to the patient chisels of Philippe
de Bourgogne and Berruguete. The archbishop’s stall, which is higher
than the rest, is shaped like a throne and marks the centre of the
choir; this prodigious carpentry is crowned by gleaming columns of
brown jasper, and on the entablature stand alabaster figures, also by
Philippe de Bourgogne and Berruguete, but in a freer and more supple
style, elegant and admirable in effect. Enormous bronze reading-desks
supporting gigantic missals, large spartium mats, and two colossal
organs placed opposite to each other, one to the right and one to the
left, complete the decorations....
The Mozarabic Chapel, which is still in existence, is adorned with
Gothic frescoes of the highest interest: the subjects are the combats
between the Toledans and the Moors; they are in a state of perfect
preservation, their colours are as bright as if they had been laid
on yesterday, and by means of them an archæologist would gain a vast
amount of information regarding arms, costumes, accoutrements, and
architecture, for the principal fresco represents a view of old Toledo,
which is, doubtless, very accurate. In the lateral frescoes the ships
which brought the Arabs to Spain are painted in detail; a seaman might
gather much useful information from them regarding the obscure history
of the mediæval navy. The arms of Toledo--five stars, _sable_ on a
_field_, argent--are repeated in several places in this low-vaulted
chapel, which, according to the Spanish fashion, is enclosed by a
grille of beautiful workmanship.
The Chapel of the Virgin, which is entirely faced with beautifully
polished porphyry, jasper, and yellow and violet _breccia_, is of a
richness surpassing the splendours of the _Thousand and One Nights_;
many relics are preserved here, among them a reliquary presented by
Saint Louis, which contains a piece of the True Cross.
To recover our breath, let us make, if you please, the tour of the
cloisters, whose severe yet elegant arcades surround beautiful masses
of verdure, kept green, notwithstanding the devouring heat of this
season, by the shadow of the Cathedral; the walls of this cloister
are covered with frescoes in the style of Vanloo, by a painter named
Bayeu. These compositions are simple and pleasing in colour, but they
do not harmonize with the style of the building, and probably supplant
ancient works damaged by centuries, or found too Gothic for the people
of good taste in that time. It is very fitting to place a cloister near
a church; it affords a happy transition from the tranquillity of the
sanctuary to the turmoil of the city. You can go to it to walk about,
to dream, or to reflect, without being forced to join in the prayers
and ceremonies of a cult; Catholics go to the temple, Christians
remain more frequently in the cloisters. This attitude of mind has
been perfectly understood by that marvellous psychologist the Catholic
Church. In religious countries the Cathedral is always the most
ornamented, richest, most gilded, and most florid of all buildings in
the town; it is there that one finds the coolest shade and the deepest
peace; the music there is better than in the theatre; and it has no
rival in pomp of display. It is the central point, the magnetic spot,
like the Opéra in Paris. We Catholics of the North, with our Voltairean
temples, have no idea of the luxury, elegance, and comfort of the
Spanish cathedrals; these churches are furnished and animated, and have
nothing of that glacial, desert-like appearance of ours; the faithful
can live in them on familiar terms with their God.
The sacristies and rooms of the Chapter in the Cathedral of Toledo
have a more than royal magnificence; nothing could be more noble
and picturesque than these vast halls decorated with that solid and
severe luxury of which the Church alone has the secret. Here are rare
carpentry-work in carved walnut or black oak, _portières_ of tapestry
or Indian damask, curtains of _brocatelle_, with sumptuous folds,
figured brocades, Persian carpets, and paintings of fresco. We will
not try to describe them in detail; we will only speak of one room
ornamented with admirable frescoes depicting religious subjects in
the German style of which the Spaniards have made such successful
imitations, and which have been attributed to Berruguete’s nephew,
if not to Berruguete himself, for these prodigious geniuses followed
simultaneously three branches of art. We will also mention an enormous
ceiling by Luca Giordano, where is collected a whole world of angels
and allegorical figures in the most rapidly executed foreshortening
which produce a singular optical illusion. From the middle of the roof
springs a ray of light so wonderfully painted on the flat surface that
it seems to fall perpendicularly on your head, no matter from which
side you view it.
It is here that they keep the treasure, that is to say the beautiful
copes of brocade, cloth of gold and silver damask, the marvellous
laces, the silver-gilt reliquaries, the monstrances of diamonds,
the gigantic silver candlesticks, the embroidered banners,--all the
material and accessories for the representation of that sublime
Catholic drama which we called the Mass.
In the cupboards in one of the rooms is preserved the wardrobe of
the Holy Virgin, for cold, naked statues of marble or alabaster do
not suffice for the passionate piety of the Southern race; in their
devout transport they load the object of their worship with ornaments
of extravagant richness; nothing is good enough, brilliant enough, or
costly enough for them; under this shower of precious stones, the form
and material of the figure disappear: nobody cares about that. The main
thing is that it should be an impossibility to hang another pearl in
the ears of the marble idol, to insert another diamond in its golden
crown, or to trace another leaf of gems in the brocade of its dress.
Never did an ancient queen,--not even Cleopatra who drank
pearls,--never did an empress of the Lower Empire, never did a Venetian
courtesan in the time of Titian, possess more brilliant jewels nor
a richer wardrobe than Our Lady of Toledo. They showed us some of
her robes: one of them left you no idea as to the material of which
it was made, so entirely was it covered with flowers and arabesques
of seed-pearls, among which there were others of a size beyond all
price and several rows of black pearls, which are of almost unheard-of
rarity; suns and stars of jewels also constellate this precious gown,
which is so brilliant that the eye can scarcely bear its splendour, and
which is worth many millions of francs.
We ended our visit by ascending the bell-tower, the summit of which is
reached by a succession of ladders, sufficiently steep and not very
reassuring. About half way up, in a kind of store-room, through which
you pass, we saw a row of gigantic _marionettes_, coloured and dressed
in the fashion of the last century, and used in I don’t know what kind
of a procession similar to that of Tarascon.
The magnificent view which is seen from the tall spire amply repays you
for all the fatigue of the ascent. The whole town is presented before
you with all the sharpness and precision of M. Pelet’s cork-models, so
much admired at the last _Exposition de l’industrie_. This comparison
is doubtless very prosaic and unpicturesque; but really I cannot find
a better, nor a more accurate one. The dwarfed and misshapen rocks
of blue granite, which encase the Tagus and encircle the horizon of
Toledo on one side, add still more to the singularity of the landscape,
inundated and dominated by crude, pitiless, blinding light, which
no reflections temper and which is increased by the cloudless and
vapourless sky quivering with white heat like iron in a furnace.
_Voyage en Espagne_ (Paris, new ed. 1865).
THE CHÂTEAU DE CHAMBORD.
JULES LOISELEUR.
Chambord is the Versailles of the feudal monarchy; it was to the
Château de Blois, that central residence of the Valois, what Versailles
was to the Tuileries; it was the country-seat of Royalty. Tapestries
from Arras, Venetian mirrors, curiously sculptured chests, crystal
chandeliers, massive silver furniture, and miracles of all the arts,
amassed in this palace during eight reigns and dispersed in a single
day by the breath of the Revolution, can never be collected again save
under one condition: that there should be a sovereign sufficiently
powerful and sufficiently artistic, sufficiently concerned about the
glory and the memories of the ancient monarchy to make of Chambord what
has been made out of the Louvre and Versailles--a museum consecrated
to all the intimate marvels, to all the curiosities of the Arts of
the Renaissance, at least to all those with which the sovereigns were
surrounded, something like the way the Hôtel de Cluny exhibits royal
life.
It has often been asked why François I., to whom the banks of the Loire
presented many marvellous sites, selected a wild and forsaken spot in
the midst of arid plains for the erection of the strange building which
he planned. This peculiar choice has been attributed to that prince’s
passion for the chase and in memory of his _amours_ with the beautiful
Comtesse de Thoury, _châtelaine_ in that neighbourhood, before he
ascended the throne.
Independently of these motives, which doubtless counted greatly in his
selection, perhaps the very wildness of this place, this distance from
the Loire, which reminded him too much of the cares of Royalty, was a
determining reason. Kings, like private individuals, and even more than
they, experience the need at times of burying themselves, and therefore
make a hidden and far-away nest where they may be their own masters
and live to please themselves. Moreover, Chambord, with its countless
rooms, its secret stairways, and its subterranean passages, seems to
have been built for a love which seeks shadow and mystery. At the same
time that he hid Chambord in the heart of the uncultivated plains of
the Sologne, François I. built in the midst of the Bois de Boulogne a
_château_, where, from time to time, he shut himself up with learned
men and artists, and to which the courtiers, who were positively
forbidden there, gave the name of Madrid, in memory of the prison in
which their master had suffered. Chambord, like Madrid, was not a
prison: it was a retreat.
That sentiment of peculiar charm which is attached to the situation
of Chambord will be felt by every artist who visits this strange
realization of an Oriental dream. At the end of a long avenue of
poplars breaking through thin underbrush which bears an illustrious
name, like all the roads to this residence, you see, little by little,
peeping and mounting upward from the earth, a fairy building, which,
rising in the midst of arid sand and heath, produces the most striking
and unexpected effect. A genie of the Orient, a poet has said, must
have stolen it from the country of sunshine to hide it in the country
of fog for the _amours_ of a handsome prince. At the summit of an
imposing mass of battlements, of which the first glance discerns
neither the style nor the order, above terraces with ornamental
balustrades, springs up, as if from a fertile and inexhaustible soil,
an incredible vegetation of sculptured stone, worked in a thousand
different ways. It is a forest of campaniles, chimneys, sky-lights,
domes, and towers, in lace-work and open-work, twisted according to a
caprice which excludes neither harmony nor unity, and which ornaments
with the Gothic F the salamanders and also the mosaics of slate
imitating marble,--a singular poverty in the midst of so much wealth.
The beautiful open-worked tower of the large staircase dominates the
entire mass of pinnacles and steeples, and bathes in the blue sky its
colossal fleur-de-lis, the last point of the highest pinnacle among
pinnacles, the highest crown among all crowns....
We must take Chambord for what it is, an ancient Gothic _château_
dressed out in great measure according to the fashion of the
Renaissance.
[Illustration: THE CHÂTEAU DE CHAMBORD.]
In no other place is the transition from one style to another revealed
in a way so impressive and naïve; nowhere else does the brilliant
butterfly of the Renaissance show itself more deeply imprisoned in the
heavy Gothic chrysalis. If Chambord, by its plan which is essentially
French and feudal, by its enclosure flanked with towers, and by the
breadth of its heavy mass, slavishly recalls the mediæval _manoirs_,
by its lavish profusion of ornamentation it suggests the creations
of the Sixteenth Century as far as the beginning of the roofs; it
is Gothic as far as the platform; and it belongs to the Renaissance
when it comes to the roof itself. It may be compared to a rude French
knight of the Fourteenth Century, who is wearing on his cuirass some
fine Italian embroideries, and on his head the plumed felt of François
I.,--assuredly an incongruous costume, but not without character....
The _château_ should be entered by one of the four doors which open
in the centre of the donjon. Nothing is more fantastic, and, at the
same time, magnificent than the spectacle which greets the eye. It
seems more like one of those fairy palaces which we see at the Opera,
than a real building. Neglect and nakedness give it an additional
value and double its immensity. On entering this vast solitude of
stone, we are seized with that respectful silence which involuntarily
strikes us under high and solitary vaults. In the centre of the vast
Salle des Gardes, which occupies the entire ground-floor, and to
which the four towers of the donjon give the form of the Greek cross,
rises a monumental stairway which divides this hall into four equal
parts, each being fifty feet long and thirty feet broad. This bold
conception justifies its celebrity: the stairway at Chambord is in
itself a monument. The staircase, completely isolated and open-worked,
is composed of posts which follow the winding. Two flights of stairs,
one above the other, unfold in helices and pass alternately one
over the other without meeting. This will explain how two persons
could ascend at the same time without meeting, yet perceiving each
other at intervals. Even while looking at this, it is difficult to
conceive this arrangement. These two helices, which are placed above
each other and which turn over and over each other without ever
uniting, have exactly the curve of a double corkscrew. I believe that
no other comparison can give a more exact idea of this celebrated
work which has exhausted the admiration and the eulogy of all the
_connaisseurs_. “What merits the greatest praise,” writes Blondel in
his _Leçons d’architecture_, “is the ingenious disposition of that
staircase of double flights, crossing each other and both common to
the same newel. One cannot admire too greatly the lightness of its
arrangement, the boldness of its execution, and the delicacy of its
ornaments,--perfection which astonishes and makes it difficult to
conceive how any one could imagine a design so picturesque and how it
could be put into execution.” The author of _Cinq Mars_ taking up this
same idea says: “It is difficult to conceive how the plan was drawn and
how the orders were given to the workmen: it seems a fugitive thought,
a brilliant idea which must have taken material form suddenly--a
realized dream.”...
In going through the high halls and long corridors which lead from
one chapel to the other, one likes to restore in imagination the
rich furniture, the tapestries, the glazed tiles of faïence, and the
ceilings incrusted with tin fleur-de-lis, which formed its decoration.
Each gallery was filled with frescoes by Jean Cousin and the principal
works of Leonardo da Vinci.... The breath of the Revolution has
scattered and destroyed all these rarities. For fifteen days the
frippers ran from all points of the province to divide the paintings,
the precious enamels, the chests of oak and ebony, the sculptured
pulpits, and the high-posted beds covered with armorial hangings. They
sold at auction all the souvenirs of the glory of the monarchy. What
they could not sell, they burned....
When we descend the noble staircase which François I. ordered, which
an unknown artist executed, and which deserves to be credited to
Primaticcio, it is impossible not to look back upon the Past. What
illustrious feet have trod, what eyes have beheld these marvels! What
hands, now cold, charming hands of queens, or courtesans more powerful
than those queens, and rude hands of warriors, or statesmen, have
traced on these white stones names celebrated in that day, but now
effaced from the walls, as they are each day more and more effaced from
the memory of men! The wheel of Time, which broke in its revolution,
has only left enough in this _château_ for us to observe and
reconstruct in imagination personages great enough to harmonize with
such grandeur, and to excite in us that pious respect which must always
be attached to everything about to end. Another turn of the wheel and
ruin will begin. “_Ce château,_” a poet has said, “_est frappé de
malédiction._”[12]...