The scene changed even as I gazed. The crowd had disappeared. The vast
multitude was gone from sight, and mine eye, which had strained after
the last of their retreating shadows, now dropped its lids on vacancy.
Soon, however, instead of the great waste of space and sky, which left
me without place of rest for sight, I beheld the interior of a vast and
magnificent hall, most like the interior of some lofty cathedral. The
style of the building was arabesque, at once richly and elaborately
wrought, and sombre. The pointed arches, reached by half-moon
involutions, with the complex carvings and decorations of cornice,
column and ceiling, at once carried me back to those wondrous specimens
which the art of the Saracen has left rather for our admiration than
rivalry. The apartment was surrounded by a double row of columns;
slender shafts, which seemed rather the antennæ of graceful plants than
bulks and bodies of stone and marble, rising for near thirty feet in
height, then gradually spreading in numerous caryatides, resembling
twisted and unfolding serpents, to the support of the vast roof. All
appearance of bulk, of cumbrousness, even of strength, seemed lost in
the elaborate delicacy with which these antennæ stretched themselves
from side to side, uniting the several arches in spans of the most airy
lightness and beauty. The great dome for which they furnished the
adequate support, rose too high in the but partial light which filled
the hall, to enable me to gather more than an imperfect idea of its
character and workmanship. But of its great height the very incapacity
to define its character afforded me a sufficient notion. Where the light
yielded the desired opportunity, I found the flowery beauty of the
architecture, on every hand, to be alike inimitable. To describe it
would be impossible. A thousand exquisite points of light, the
slenderest beams, seemed to depend, like so many icicles, from arch and
elevation—to fringe the several entrances and windows—to hang from
every beam and rafter; and over all, to cast an appearance so perfectly
aerial, as to make me doubtful, at moments, whether the immense interior
which I saw them span, with the massive but dusky ceiling which they
were intended to sustain, were not, in fact, a little world of wood,
with the blue sky dimly overhead, a realm of vines and flowers, with
polished woodland shafts, lavishly and artfully accumulated in the open
air, so as to produce, in an imperfect light, a delusive appearance of
architectural weight, magnificence and majesty. An immense avenue,
formed of columns thus embraced and bound together by the most elaborate
and fantastic carvings, linked vines, boughs, flowers and serpents,
opened before me, conducting the eye through far vistas of the same
description, thus confirming the impression of cathedral avenues of
forest. The eye, beguiled along these passages, wandered into others
quite as interminable, with frequent glimpses into lateral ranges quite
as wonderful and ample, until the dim perspective was shut, not because
of the termination of the passage, but because of the painful inability
in the sight any further to pursue it. Each of these avenues had its
decorations, similarly elaborate and ornate with the rest of the
interior. Vines and flowers, stars and wreaths, crosses and
circles—with such variety of form and color as the kaleidoscope only
might produce in emulation of the fancy—were all present, but
symmetrically duplicated, so as to produce an equal correspondence on
each side, figure answering to figure. But these decorations were made
tributary to other objects. Numerous niches opened to the sight, as you
penetrated the mighty avenue, in which stood noble and commanding
forms;—statues of knights in armor; of princes; great men who had
swayed nations; heroes, who had encountered dragons for the safety of
the race; and saintly persons, who had called down blessings from heaven
upon the nation in the hour of its danger and its fear. The greater
number of these stood erect as when in life; but some sat, some
reclined, and others knelt; but all, save for the hue of the marble in
which they were wrought—so exquisite was the art which they had
employed—would have seemed to be living even then. Around the apartment
which I have been describing, were double aisles, or rather avenues,
formed by sister columns, corresponding in workmanship and style, if not
in size, with those which sustained the dome. These were deep and
sepulchral in shadow, but withal very attractive and lovely places;
retreats of shade, and silence, and solemn beauty; autumnal walks, where
the heart which had been wounded by the shafts and sorrows of the world,
might fly, and be secure; and where the form, wandering lonely among the
long shadows of grove and pillar, and in the presence of noble and holy
images of past worth and virtue, might still maintain the erect stature
which belongs to elevated fancies, to purest purposes, and great designs
forever working in the soul.
But it would be idle to attempt to convey, unless by generalities, any
definite idea of the vast and magnificent theatre, or of that singular
and sombre beauty with which I now found myself surrounded. Enough,
that, while I was absorbed, with my whole imagination deeply excited by
the architectural grandeur which I surveyed, I had grown heedless of the
progress of events among certain human actors—if I may be thus
permitted to designate the creatures of a vision—which had meanwhile
taken their places in little groups in a portion of the ample area.
While mine eyes had been uplifted in the contemplation of things
inanimate, it appears that a human action was in progress on a portion
of the scene below. I was suddenly aroused by a stir and bustle,
followed by a faint murmur, as of applauding voices, which at length
reached my ears, and diverted my gaze from the remote and lofty, to the
rich tesselated pavement of the apartment. If the mere splendor of the
structure had so fastened upon my imagination, what can I say of the
scene which now commanded my attention! There was the pomp of courts,
the pride of majesty, the glory of armor, the grace and charm of
aristocratic beauty, in all her plumage, to make me forgetful of all
other display. I now beheld groups of noble persons, clad in courtly
dresses, in knightly armor, sable and purple, with a profusion of gold
and jewels, rich scarfs, and plumes of surpassing splendor. Other groups
presented me with a most imposing vision of that gorgeous church, whose
mitred prelates could place their feet upon the necks of mightiest
princes, and sway, for good or evil, the destinies of conflicting
nations. There were priests clad in flowing garments, courtiers in
silks, and noblest dames, who had swayed in courts from immemorial time.
Their long and rustling trains were upborne by damsels and pages, lovely
enough, and richly enough arrayed, to be apt ministers in the very
courts of Love himself. A chair of state, massive, and richly draped in
purple and gold, with golden insignia, over which hung the jeweled tiara
of sovereignty, was raised upon a _dais_ some five feet above the level
of the crowd. This was filled by a tall and slender person, to whom all
made obeisance as to an imperial master. He was habited in sable, a
single jewel upon his brow, bearing up a massive shock of feathers as
black and glossy as if wrought out of sparkling coal. The air of majesty
in his action, the habitual command upon his brow, left me in no doubt
of his sovereign state, even had the obeisance of the multitude been
wanting. But he looked not as if long destined to hold sway in mortal
provinces. His person was meagre, as if wasted by disease. His cheeks
were pale and hollow; while a peculiar brightness of the eyes shone in
painful contrast with the pale and ghastly color of his face. Behind his
chair stood one who evidently held the position of a favorite and
trusted counselor. He was magnificently habited, with a profusion of
jewels, which nevertheless added but little to the noble air and
exquisite symmetry of his person. At intervals he could be seen to bend
over to the ear of the prince, as if whispering him in secret. This show
of intimacy, if pleasing to his superior, was yet evidently of different
effect upon many others in the assembly. The costume of the place was
that of the Norman sway in England, before the Saxons had quite
succeeded,—through the jealousy entertained by the kings, of their
nobles,—in obtaining a share of those indulgences which finally paved
the way to their recognition by the conquerors. Yet, even in this
respect of costume, I was conscious of some discrepancies. Some of the
habits worn were decidedly Spanish; but as these were mingled with
others which bore conclusive proof of the presence of the wearers in the
wars of the Crusades, it was not improbable that they had been adopted
as things of fancy, from a free communion of the parties with knights of
Spain whom they had encountered in the Holy Land.
But I was not long permitted to bestow my regards on a subject so
subordinate as dress. The scene was evidently no mere spectacle.
Important and adverse interests were depending—wild passions were at
work, and the action of a very vivid drama was about to open upon me. A
sudden blast of a trumpet penetrated the hall. I say _blast_, though the
sounds were faint as if subdued by distance. But the note itself, and
the instrument could not have been mistaken. A stir ensued among the
spectators. The crowd divided before an outer door, and those more
distant bent forward, looking in this direction with an eager anxiety
which none seemed disposed to conceal. They were not long kept in
suspense. A sudden unfolding of the great valves of the entrance
followed, when a rush was made from without. The tread of heavy
footsteps, the waving of tall plumes, and a murmur from the multitude,
announced the presence of other parties for whom the action of the drama
was kept in abeyance. The crowd opened from right to left, and one of
the company stood alone, with every eye of the vast assemblage fixed
curiously upon his person.