The Formal Opening of Bryce Canyon, 1925

THE FORMAL OPENING OF BRYCE CANYON, 1925 By Grace Wharton Montaigne (In the preceding instalment is told how in May, 1925, Governor Dern found his way to Bryce Canyon barred by gates fastened, with chains of flowers and ropes of ferns; his meeting the Queen; how she permits a little girl to see Old Carver of the Purple Cloak carve the rocks, with his tiny chisel and bar.) II The Story Teller Recites the Views of Bryce Canyon Leaving the grandfather to his flood of emotions brought to mind by recalling the death of his bosom friend in the Civil War, the story teller and the little maid walked to the rim of the canyon. There were pointed out to the little girl the many striking erosional forms, which are invested with likeness by giving the imagination but the least suggestion. Hiawatha wooing Minnehaha was pointed out, two faces carved close together, he with eagle feather in his hair, and she lending attentive ear to the age-old refrain of the "Sweetest story ever told." "Over there," it was pointed out to the little girl, "is Queen Victoria, in white satin robe of state, flowing veil, and lengthy train to the imperial gown; see, she is bent forward ever so slightly, as if to ascend the throne." "Yonder is Cannonball Castlement, which withstood the assault," of horse, arrows and ram, an impregnable buttress to chivalry; but a monk mixed saltpeter, charcoal and sulphur — there lies the cannon ball in the very breach it rent, as the shot was fired that sounded round the world and spelled the doom of Knight and Lady, of Glove and Tourney." The Five Monks "Look," said the story teller, pointing as she spoke, "there are the five monks, fat, jolly, rotund, with thoughts more in the tankard than in the text; see, they are even now a merry drinking crew with pot of ale poised midway as the latest sally of merriment is chuckled over. "Yonder is the 'Mormon' Palisade, which at sun-up in November is lit with a blaze of glory; for it then looks exactly like 'being lighted from within, as if the 'Mormon' Pioneers had stopped the night before in that palisade, entrenched safely against the painted and naked foes of the plains, and were this morning lighting their fires for the morning meal, which spreads the gleam from within. Justly has it its name. "Away over yonder is 'The Temple of Justice,' with fluted

FORMAL OPENING OF BRYCE CANYON 751 pillar partly intact, but colonnade melted into the hill, razed by the unsparing hand of time. The Doughboy Guarding the Throne of Zeus "Down below us," and they took the tiny path which led them into the deptht, "is a scene you must not miss. At Arlington Cemetery, America paid homage with due rites to 'An Unknown Hero,' with impressive ceremony, solemnizing the sacrifice made that Democracy might live. Here at Bryce Canyon is an effigy of 'The Doughboy Guarding the Throne of Zeus,' wrought by The Hand that shapes the destiny of nations, and preserves the steady onward march of civilization. Yon large pile is the mausoleum; on it note well the form of the Doughboy, with metal cap, strap under chin, mustache, and soldierly bearing, guarding old ancient King Zeus, whose sem- blance is now almost worn out, even as his religion, which once swayed the minds of men, is now tenable only in poetic phrase,. At the monarch's side sits the Eagle, 'The Messenger of the gods;' and near at hand, within easy reach is a vase full of nectar, the drink of the celestial rulers. Nor does the sculpturing of Nature cease at that. Follow the eye along farther and you will find an Ethiopian, done with bronzed face looking upward to the cloud forms, a white turban surmounting his head, and atop the turban, a black bow. So dearly did the ancient gods love this race that the Olympic twelve often spent the week-end among this favored people — Homer tells us how in one instance when the battle raged before fated Ilium, Zeus himself and his companion gods were even then regaling themselves at a banquet with this placid people. Look yet once more: A perfect figure is carved, by the Wondrous Hand, of a naked Roman gladiator, he who fought with trident and net, naked, against his fully armed antagonist. The arena of the Coliseum was stained with blood of one or the other, according as with whom victory sat. This man has had a particularly fast tilt with his foe, and rests, panting, as he sits upon yonder rock. Against the horizon you see the minarets of the Mosque of Omar, Moslem fane become Christian church." The story teller pointed out each object to the marveling eyes of the little person by her side. "Back upon this path you may see a perfect representation of a cub bear's head, so \ery true that one almost expects to see the sign. 'Tickle me,' and to see it show its teeth merrily as its stomach is scratched. "In this place where we now stand is 'Sculptor's Studio,' where color and form hold the eye enthralled, as if one stood in an immense studio where sculptured forms ranged the sides, on each of which the Master Artisan tried his hand as he added a touch here, or cut a more pronounced feature there. All about in this wondrous spot of Bryca Canyon is work unfinished — form upon form upon which the hand

752 IMPROVEMENT ERA of God will yet again be laid as rain, as snow, as frost, as cutting wind, as the work .further progresses. "For, child, both you and your elders should look upon^ Bryce Canyon with imagination in full play, which should be allowed to run ahead, and you keep pace with it if you can — the run in the wild will do you good, and open up your powers." Lore of Mythology Not to unduly tire the little person at her side, the story teller retraced her steps, and soon they were on the rim, joined by daddy and the grandfather, for the speeches were over, and the crowd dis- persed, each intent to see what his neighbor could not. With the grandfather on one side and the little girl on the other, the story teller proceeded, "There, where you see the brown spot, the only place or that color in the canyon, that stain on the walls is from the soot and grime of Vulcan's Forge where he set up his blacksmith shop when he was busy fashioning the girders of the earth; there he piled his immense array of refulgent brass and shiny tin, the one, as you see, ruddy red, the other gleaming white. This ancient god was lame, but Jove gave him permission to endow with life two girls he'd made of gold, that they might support his weight as he walked, and help him in his work at the forge. There they are, those two pillars, Grace and Beauty — then rosy-fingered girls, with the tint of dawn on cheek and the luster of living light in eye. "Those days he had a big quenching tub, such as all blacksmiths use to cool the hissing iron as it came from his anvil sizzling hot, which of course became full of red iron rust; — attend closely, for this huge tub of color plays a most important part. "One day the lame god looked up from his work and saw two men on the rim, one pointing a one-eyed thing from under a black cloth at the girls, as one said, Tm going to take a picture of those two lovely girls.' " 'Girls nothing!' said the other; 'why man you're daffy. Those are merely two old, misshapen clods of dirt.' "This so incensed Vulcan to hear his living, golden girls thus spoken of, that in his rage he kicked over the huge tub, full of flaming color, in high dudgeon; the immense flood of red water thus dashed against the cliffs, stained them the ruddy reds you see, and thus was Bryce Canyon in scenic Southern JJtah given its charm of color. The great mass of water, thus suddenly thrown out, cut and wore, tumbled and churned, and chiselled its way to the sea, cutting that great gorge behind Bryce Canyon, which crass men unknowingly dub 'The Grand Canyon of the Colorado,' retaining in that appellation nothing of the true origin of the gorge except the Spanish word Colorado, which means red, ruddy.

FORMAL OPENING OF BRYCE CANYON 753 "Thus was the -exquisite little gem of Bryce Canyon colored, its myriad form splashed with pigment; and also did that act cause the making of the most sublime spectacle earth shows to man — the most colossal ditch of creation." Torquelstone Castle "Are there any really, truly castles here?" asked the little girl. "Well," the story teller replied cautiously, "some very, very old ones, much worn, are here, in which I truly believe. "There is Torquelstone Castle, with the moat now almost worn away, in which burly Groent de Beoff and false Debois Guillbert imprisoned the Jewess, Rebecca, and the wounded knight, Ivanhoe. I can dimly make out the ruins of the old postern gate at which Sir Knight Sluggard battered with the mace that none but the mighty arm of Richard himself could wield. "Far back behind Torqelstone Castle you see the ruins of the old Parthenon or Temple of Athena, the pride of ancient Greece and the wonder of later ages. There is the corner post at the right, and the other at the left, with the facade between them, still strikingly .intact. Some call that King Solomon's Temple, and say that sound of neither axe nor hammer was heard in its making, which I can readily believe. And I could almost be persuaded that the 'Cedars of Lebanon' are those very pines you see sticking up round about. "Yonder on the ridge you see 'The Chinese Wall' with buttresses every little while, just like the many hundreds of miles of that great wall about the Flowery Kingdom, manned by pig-tail crew to keep the hordes of Tartars out. " 'The Pageant of the Nations' is a spectacle which may be seen from the rim of Bryce Canyon in which the ruined inheritance of all the old civilizations of the Ancient World walk past, each with its battered heritage — feudal castle of Chivalry, the Acropolis of Athens, the Chinese Wall, the Persian Mountain of Trial, the Cathedral from Medieval Europe, alongside of the more recent 'Mormon' stockade, England's Queen, and hero of Indian poem. The Cathedral When down in below, had we gone on a little farther, we would have come to The Cathedral, a form of Gothic pile, now crumbled nearly into ruins; the once proud spire that lifted man's aspirations heavenward, now fallen to the height of the main edifice. Long, long ago, long before Strassburg, Milan, or the great masterpiece of Sir Christopher Wren emerged from his dreams to take form in nave and Spirc_long, long, long ago, this ancient edifice stood, silently biding its time in the Silent City to be seen by men. The Mountain of Trial "This sharp edged mountain that rises from the depths upward to

754 IMPROjMEMENT ERA your feet, so easily viewed from the rim where tourists walk, is called 'The Mountain of Trial.' The ancient Persians believed that when a person died the naked soul walked this scimitar edge on trial: and were it loaded down with the double sin of debauchery and vice, and staggering under the inroads of excesses, as the eager flames lapped up from either side to claim their victim, the weakened soul of the impure stumbled and fell; but the soul of the good, used to walking the 'straight and narrow path,' upright with strength preserved, strode' forward, surmounting its trial, until, danger passed, bright-eyed Houris received him on the other side and conducted the meritorious one to the sacred "presence of Ormadz." That evening after the last story was told, a little brown head lay nestling upon a pillow, and before surcease of the day fell in full, little lips muttered, "Tell me another one — a long story." The story teller walked out in the moonlight to the rim, to the rock jutting over the edge, with Torquelston Castle mellowed in the pale beams, and stood there listening intently. As I said, "to a story teller is given much to see, and to hear more." As she stood there in the moonlight she saw an ancient yoeman in the feudal baron's service slowly and laborously walk the castle wall from tower to tower and climb the farther parapet, forcing old joints to the menial task of crying the hours, a never ceasing round; a lantern in his hand in which the light had long since flickered out when the gleam faded from chivalry; she saw the ancient servitor mount the parapet's tower and there lustily yell: "Ten o'clock, and all is well." One standing behind the story teller, unobserved, a sordid person with mind grovelling, remarked, "How noisy the night hawks are tonight; did you but just hear that one?" jfc ^C 5^ 3{C ^S And thus ended the Formal Opening of Bryce Canyon in 1925, as Imagination ended its flight, coming with startling suddenness from a realm peopled with fairies, gnomes, and gracious queen, strewn with the debris of crumbled heritages from the Past, to set foot once more on solid terra firma — to come with saddening abruptness from flights of fancy where the cry of "Ten o'clock and all is well" is heard as nothing but the roar of a falling night hawk in his search for food with open gorge. Delia, Utah. Here and There Mud slingers never have clean hands. Any kind of weather is better than no weather at all. Many a child absorbs fine principles over his mother's knee. A doctor is not a financial success until he discovers some new disease. Some house-maids are wireless wonders — they are always listening in. When the cook book becomes the best seller, there will be more happy home. — D. C. R.