Early on the chief day of the festival Otāré came and took us to see the
mystical rite of cutting the "Flower of the Soul."
The morning was fine, and the clear waters of the lake were bright with
boats filled with joyous parties bound like ourselves for the Holy
Island.
Landing at a noble quay of red granite, we climbed the steep and shaggy
sides of the mountain by a sacred and winding avenue, bordered with
blooming trees and statuary. Most of the figures were exquisitely carved
in a white wood or stone, having a pearly sheen, and represented the
former priestesses of the Temple, or illustrated the animating spirit of
the cult.
On gaining the summit we found ourselves at the brim of a spacious
hollow or basin, which in past ages must have been the crater of the
volcanic peak. The grassy slopes of the basin were laid out in flower
gardens and terraces of coloured marbles, shaded with sombre trees, and
ornamented with sculpture. In the bottom lay an oval sheet of water a
mile long or more, and from the midst of it, towards the near end, a
beautiful islet, crowned by a magnificent temple, rose like a mirage to
the view, and seemed to float on its glassy bosom.
Words of mine cannot give any idea of that sublime architecture, which
resembled no earthly order, though it seemed to partake of both the
Saracenic and the Indian. Fragrant timber, precious stones, and
burnished metals; in fine, the richest materials known to the builders, had been united with consummate art into one harmonious emblem of their faith. The first beams of the rising sun blazed on its golden roof and fretted pinnacles of diamond, and ruby, sapphire, topaz, and emerald; but the lower part was still in shadow. Nevertheless, we could distinguish a grand portal in the southern front, which faced the sun, and a broad flight of marble steps descending from it into the water; but the massive doors were shut, and not a soul was to be seen about the temple.
As the worshippers arrived they seated themselves on the turf amongst
the flowering shrubs, or on the benches along the terraces, and either
spoke in subdued tones, or preserved a religious silence. Otāré led us
to a kind of throne or stand facing the temple, and raised above the
other seats, where his father, as chief of the community, sat in state. Dinus received us with his usual gracious dignity, and gave us chairs on his right and left hand.
From this height we enjoyed a splendid panorama of the Craterland, at
least that portion which had already caught the sunshine. It lay beneath
us like a picture, the surface rising in a series of zones from the
central sea, which mirrored the serene azure and plume-like vapours of
the heavens, through the sweet meadows, and the smiling gardens, to the
luxuriant wilderness beyond; and we could plainly see the shadow of the
bounding rampart shrink towards the south as the sun mounted higher and
higher.
It was a lovely dawn. A rosy mist hung like a veil of gauze over the
southern sky, and from behind a bar of purple cloud, lined with gold, which rested on the summit of the cliffs, a coronet of auroral beams or crepuscular rays, blue on a pink ground, shot upwards, heralding the advent of the sun, and reminding me of the ancient simile of the earth as a bride awaiting the arrival of her lord.
At length the first glowing tip of the solar disc peeped over the rim
of the crater, and a deep low murmur, swelling to a shrill cry, ascended
from the passive multitude.
All the people rose to their feet, and every eye was turned on the south
front of the temple, which was now illuminated to the edge of the water. As the sunlight crept over the surface it sparkled on the dense foliage of what seemed a bed of water-lilies flourishing quite close to the marble stairs.
Presently a rich and stately barge, moved by crimson oars, and enlivened
with young girls draped in sky-blue, was seen to glide round a corner of
the temple, and come to rest beside the water-lilies.
A deep silence, as of breathless expectation, fell upon the vast
assembly, and then, without other warning, the great purple doors of the
temple swung open, and revealed a white-robed figure walking at the head
of a glittering procession of maidens decked in jewels and luminous
scarves, which vied with the colours of the rainbow. It was the young
priestess and her train of virgins.