(_Somewhat Abridged_)
“In an hour’s time, we reached the crest of the isthmus, and in an
instant there flashed before us a scene never to be forgotten. In coming
time it will, I believe, take rank with a very small number of
spectacles each of which will, in its own way, be regarded as the most
exquisite of its kind which the world discloses.
[Illustration: _The Great White Throne, Zion National Park_]
“Across the canyon stands the central and commanding object of the
picture, the Western Temple, rising 4,000 feet above the river. Its
glorious summit was the object we had seen an hour before, and now the
matchless beauty and majesty of its vast mass is all before us. Yet it
is only the central object of a mighty throng of structures wrought up
to the same exalted style and filling up the entire panorama. Right
opposite us are the two principal forks of the Virgin, the Parunuweap
coming from the east, and the Mukuntuweap, or Little Zion Valley,
descending from the north. The Parunuweap is seen emerging through a
stupendous gateway and chasm nearly 3,000 feet in depth. The further
wall of this canyon swings northward and becomes the eastern wall of
Little Zion Valley. As it sweeps down the Parunuweap, it breaks into
great pediments covered all over with the richest carving. The effect is
much like that which the architect of the Milan Cathedral appears to
have designed, though here it is vividly suggested rather than fully
realized. The sumptuous, bewildering, mazy effect is all there, but when
we attempt to analyze it in detail it eludes us.
[Illustration: _Distant View of the West Temple of the Virgin, Zion
National Park_]
“The flank of the wall receding up the Mukuntuweap is for a mile or two
similarly decorated, but soon breaks into new forms much more impressive
and wonderful. A row of towers half a mile high is quarried out of the
palisade and stands well advanced from its face. There is an eloquence
to their forms which stirs the imagination with singular power and
kindles in the mind of the dullest observer a glowing response.
“Directly in front of us a complex group of white towers, springing from
a central pile, mounts upward to the clouds. Out of their midst, and
high over all, rises a dome-like mass which dominates the entire
landscape. It is almost pure white, with brilliant streaks of carmine
descending its vertical walls. At the summit it is truncated and a flat
tablet is laid upon the top, showing its edge of deep red. It is
impossible to liken this object to any familiar shape, for it resembles
none. Yet its shape is far from being indefinite; on the contrary it has
definiteness and individuality which extort an exclamation of surprise
when first beheld. Call it a dome; not because it has the ordinary shape
of such a structure but because it performs the functions of a dome.
“The towers which surround it are of inferior mass and altitude, but
each is a study of fine form and architectural effect. They are white
above and change to rich red below. Dome and towers are planted upon a
substructure no less admirable. A curtain wall 1,400 feet high descends
vertically from the eaves of the temples and is succeeded by a steep
slope of ever-widening base-courses leading down to the esplanade below.
The curtain wall is decorated with a lavish display of vertical
mouldings, and the ridges, eaves and mitred angles are fretted with
serrated cusps. This ornamentation is repetitive, not symmetrical. But
though exact symmetry is wanting, Nature has here brought home to us the
truth that symmetry is only one of an infinite range of devices by which
beauty can be realized.
_And finer forms are in the quarry_
_Than ever Angelo evoked!_
“Nothing can exceed the wondrous beauty of Little Zion Valley, which
separates the two temples and their respective groups of towers.”
[Illustration: _West Rim Trail, Zion National Park_]
But the traveler has not yet reached the gates of Zion, although distant
views continue to appear and disappear. The Virgin River is now near at
hand on the right, a swift, moody, meandering stream whose red waters
are the creators of the fertile farms along its banks and sometimes
their destroyers. The foreground landscape is red, although the broad,
sloping buttresses of the mesas, folded, fluted and flounced _ad
infinitum_, display buffs, yellows, grays, browns and purples.
[Illustration: _Sentinel Peak, Zion National Park_]
Near Virgin City there is a view northeastward of sensational Guardian
Angel Pass. Across Great West Canyon, apparently, stands an immense dam
of rock cleft by a rectangular aperture as regular as if cut by
engineers; surmounting the barrier are two towering white cones, the
ghostly guardians of the gap. Another fascinating feature of the
panorama is the complex convergence of the battlemented mesa
promontories from all directions except the south; these carved and
tinted headlands actually seem to advance upon the beholder. In the east
are the pinnacled spires of the Eagle Crags, shattered to dagger
sharpness.
Rockville, another village beside the Virgin, was founded by Mormon
pioneers in 1861, and was long an important telegraph station. There is
a petrified forest in the vicinity.
About five miles beyond, the two profound chasms, the Mukuntuweap (Zion)
and the Parunuweap, converge; and the two sublime domes, the East and
West Temples, with their incredible crests of crimson bleeding down
their pale precipices, soar above the rushing waters. Springdale, the
last Mormon hamlet, is passed; then the Ranger Station at the southern
boundary of Zion National Park.
[Illustration: _The Great Bend of the Mukuntuweap, Zion National Park_]