ed together, and the mystery of its redemption;
for the mazes of interwoven lines and changeful pictures lead always at
last to the cross, lifted and carved in every place and upon every
stone; sometimes with the serpent of eternity wrapt round it, sometimes
with doves beneath its arms, and sweet herbage growing forth from its
feet; but conspicuous most of all on the great rood that crosses the
church before the altar, raised in bright blazonry against the shadow of
the apse. And altho in the recesses of the aisles and chapels, when the
mist of the incense hangs heavily, we may see continually a figure
traced in faint lines upon their marble, a woman standing with her eyes
raised to heaven, and the inscription above her, "Mother of God," she
is not here the presiding deity. It is the cross that is first seen, and
always, burning in the center of the temple; and every dome and hollow
of its roof has the figure of Christ in the utmost height of it, raised
in power, or returning in judgment.
Nor is this interior without effect on the minds of the people. At every
hour of the day there are groups collected before the various shrines,
and solitary worshipers scattered through the darker places of the
church, evidently in prayer both deep and reverent, and, for the most
part, profoundly sorrowful. The devotees at the greater number of the
renowned shrines of Romanism may be seen murmuring their appointed
prayers with wandering eyes and unengaged gestures; but the step of the
stranger does not disturb those who kneel on the pavement of St. Mark's;
and hardly a moment passes from early morning to sunset in which we may
not see some half-veiled figure enter beneath the Arabian porch, cast
itself into long abasement on the floor of the temple, and then rising
slowly with more confirmed step, and with a passionate kiss and clasp of
the arms given to the feet of the crucifix, by which the lamps burn
always in the northern aisle, leave the church, as if comforted....
It must therefore be altogether without reference to its present
usefulness, that we pursue our inquiry into the merits and meaning of
the architecture of this marvelous building; and it can only be after we
have terminated that inquiry, conducting it carefully on abstract
grounds, that we can pronounce with any certainty how far the present
neglect of St. Mark's is significative of the decline of the Venetian
character, or how far this church is to be considered as t
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