Note 26 — Chapter VIII · 1880. ‘THE CORSICAN BROTHERS’ AND ‘THE CUP.’

One agreeable night which was spent behind the scenes enabled me to study the admirable arrangements by which this complicated operation was carried out with smoothness and success.

No sooner has the drop-scene fallen—and a person always “stands by” to see that the huge roller is kept clear of careless spectators—than a busy scene sets in. Instantly men emerge from every side; the hills and banks, the slopes leading down the hill, the steps and massive pedestal that flank the entrance to the Temple on the right, are lifted up and disappear gradually; the distant landscape mounts slowly into the air; the long rows of jets are unfastened and carried off—in three or four minutes the whole is clear. At this moment are seen slowly coming down from aloft what appear to be three long heavy frames or beams—two in the direction of the length, one across the whole breadth of the stage. These make a sort of enclosure open on one side, and form the pediment or upper portion of the Temple meant to rest on the pillars. Soon busy hands have joined these three great joists by bolts and fastenings; the signal is given, and it begins to ascend again. Meanwhile, others have been bringing out from the “scene dock” pillars with their bases, and arranging them; and as the great beams move slowly up to their place, they hoist with them the columns, attached by ropes which pass through. By this time all the columns are swinging in the air; another moment and they have dropped into their places in the pedestal. The place of each pedestal is marked on the floor. In a few moments everything is fitted and falls into its place, with an almost martial exactness. Then are seen slowly descending the other portions of the roof, sky-borders, etc., all falling into their places quietly and with a sort of mysterious growth. We have glimpses in the galleries aloft of men hauling at ropes and pulleys, or turning “drums.” Finally the whole is set and complete, and men bear in the altars and steps and the enormous idol at the back—over twenty feet high. It is worth while looking close even at the sound and effective modelling of the raised classic figures that encircle the lower portions of each column, all in good relief, such as we see in Mr. Alma Tadema’s pictures. The variety and richness of these are surprising, and they fairly bear a close inspection. They are coloured, too, with that ivory tone which the older marbles acquire. All this was wrought in the property-room, and worked in clay; the figures were then plastered over with paper, or papier-mâché, a material invaluable to the scenic artist as furnishing relief and detail so as to catch the lights and shadows, having the merit of being exceedingly light and portable, of bearing rough usage and knocking about, which carved wood would not. The idol, now looming solemnly at the back, is formed of the same material. It is curious to find that the pillars and their capitals are all constructed literally in the lines of perspective, as such would be drawn on a flat surface; they diminish in height as they are farther off, and their top and bottom surfaces are sloped in a converging line. Thus the “building” stood revealed and complete, and round the pillars ran an open space, enclosed as it were by the walls. What with the gloom and the general mystery, the whole would pass, even to those standing by, as a very imposing structure.