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:--
Now to the sister hills that skirt her plain,
To lofty Harrow now, and now to where
Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow,
In lovely contrast to this glorious view,
Calmly magnificent.
Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around,
Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires,
---------------------------------till all
The stretching landscape into mist decays.
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.
[2] It may be a test of the length of the reader's acquaintance
with the MIRROR--but at page 450, vol. i. he will find a brief
account of the means by which Mr. Hornor completed his sketches
for the Panorama--his erection of an observatory--and a faint
idea of the extreme perils, all which did not daunt the fearless
mind of this aspiring artist. Mr. Britton says the sketches made
for the projected picture, occupied 2,000 sheets of paper!
[3] Mimic rocks and stones may be wrought into sublime effect;
and have often been introduced into landscape-gardening with
striking success.
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