The Galaxy, Volume 23, No. 2, February, 1877Various
History
The Galaxy, Volume 23, No. 2, February, 1877
Various
American literature -- Periodicals
In the centre of the park was a broad, clear space, made by the felling
and removing of every tree, until it spread there sharp and hard as a
burnt-out patch in a forest. Gravel and small shells made the pavement
of this space, and thus formed a new contrast with the turf, the
grasses, and the underwood of the park all around. In the midst of this
open space there rose a large circular building: a tower low in height
when the bulk enclosed by its circumference was considered, and standing
on a great square platform of solid masonry with steps on each of its
sides. The tower itself reminded one of the tomb of Cecilia Metella, or
some other of the tombs that still stand near Rome. It was in fact the
mausoleum which it had pleased the father of the present owner to have
erected for himself during his lifetime. He lavished money on it, cared
nothing for the cost of materials and labor, planned it out himself,
watched every detail, and stood by the workmen as they toiled. Within he
had prepared a lordly reception-room for his dead body when he should
come to die. A superb sarcophagus of porphyry, fit to have received the
remains of a Caesar, was there. When the work was done and all was ready,
the lonely owner visited it every day, unlocked its massive gate, and
went in, and sat sometimes for hours in his own mausoleum. He was
growing insane, people thought, in these later days, and they counted on
his soon becoming an actual madman. So far, however, he showed no
greater madness than in wasting his money on a huge tomb, and wasting so
much of his time in visiting it prematurely. The tomb proved a vanity in
a double sense. For the noble owner was seized with a sudden mania for
travel, and resolved to go round the world. Somewhere in mid ocean he
was attacked by fever, or what alarmed people called the plague, and he
died, and his body had to be committed without much delay or ceremonial
to the sea. He had built his monument to no purpose. He was never to
occupy it. It stood a vast and solid gibe at the vanity of its founder.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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