The Mysteries of Udolpho Page 5

  CHAPTER V

  While in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free. Thomson

  St. Aubert, sufficiently restored by a night's repose to pursue hisjourney, set out in the morning, with his family and Valancourt, forRousillon, which he hoped to reach before night-fall. The scenes,through which they now passed, were as wild and romantic, as any theyhad yet observed, with this difference, that beauty, every now and then,softened the landscape into smiles. Little woody recesses appeared amongthe mountains, covered with bright verdure and flowers; or a pastoralvalley opened its grassy bosom in the shade of the cliffs, with flocksand herds loitering along the banks of a rivulet, that refreshed itwith perpetual green. St. Aubert could not repent the having taken thisfatiguing road, though he was this day, also, frequently obliged toalight, to walk along the rugged precipice, and to climb the steep andflinty mountain. The wonderful sublimity and variety of the prospectsrepaid him for all this, and the enthusiasm, with which they were viewedby his young companions, heightened his own, and awakened a remembranceof all the delightful emotions of his early days, when the sublimecharms of nature were first unveiled to him. He found great pleasure inconversing with Valancourt, and in listening to his ingenuousremarks. The fire and simplicity of his manners seemed to render hima characteristic figure in the scenes around them; and St. Aubertdiscovered in his sentiments the justness and the dignity of an elevatedmind, unbiased by intercourse with the world. He perceived, that hisopinions were formed, rather than imbibed; were more the result ofthought, than of learning. Of the world he seemed to know nothing; forhe believed well of all mankind, and this opinion gave him the reflectedimage of his own heart.

  St. Aubert, as he sometimes lingered to examine the wild plants in hispath, often looked forward with pleasure to Emily and Valancourt, asthey strolled on together; he, with a countenance of animated delight,pointing to her attention some grand feature of the scene; and she,listening and observing with a look of tender seriousness, that spokethe elevation of her mind. They appeared like two lovers who hadnever strayed beyond these their native mountains; whose situation hadsecluded them from the frivolities of common life, whose ideas weresimple and grand, like the landscapes among which they moved, and whoknew no other happiness, than in the union of pure and affectionatehearts. St. Aubert smiled, and sighed at the romantic picture offelicity his fancy drew; and sighed again to think, that nature andsimplicity were so little known to the world, as that their pleasureswere thought romantic.

  'The world,' said he, pursuing this train of thought, 'ridicules apassion which it seldom feels; its scenes, and its interests, distractthe mind, deprave the taste, corrupt the heart, and love cannot existin a heart that has lost the meek dignity of innocence. Virtue and tasteare nearly the same, for virtue is little more than active taste, andthe most delicate affections of each combine in real love. How then arewe to look for love in great cities, where selfishness, dissipation, andinsincerity supply the place of tenderness, simplicity and truth?'

  It was near noon, when the travellers, having arrived at a piece ofsteep and dangerous road, alighted to walk. The road wound up an ascent,that was clothed with wood, and, instead of following the carriage, theyentered the refreshing shade. A dewy coolness was diffused upon the air,which, with the bright verdure of turf, that grew under the trees, themingled fragrance of flowers and of balm, thyme, and lavender, thatenriched it, and the grandeur of the pines, beech, and chestnuts, thatovershadowed them, rendered this a most delicious retreat. Sometimes,the thick foliage excluded all view of the country; at others, itadmitted some partial catches of the distant scenery, which gavehints to the imagination to picture landscapes more interesting, moreimpressive, than any that had been presented to the eye. The wanderersoften lingered to indulge in these reveries of fancy.

  The pauses of silence, such as had formerly interrupted theconversations of Valancourt and Emily, were more frequent today thanever. Valancourt often dropped suddenly from the most animating vivacityinto fits of deep musing, and there was, sometimes, an unaffectedmelancholy in his smile, which Emily could not avoid understanding, forher heart was interested in the sentiment it spoke.

  St. Aubert was refreshed by the shades, and they continued to saunterunder them, following, as nearly as they could guess, the direction ofthe road, till they perceived that they had totally lost it. They hadcontinued near the brow of the precipice, allured by the sceneryit exhibited, while the road wound far away over the cliff above.Valancourt called loudly to Michael, but heard no voice, except his own,echoing among the rocks, and his various efforts to regain the road wereequally unsuccessful. While they were thus circumstanced, they perceiveda shepherd's cabin, between the boles of the trees at some distance, andValancourt bounded on first to ask assistance. When he reached it, hesaw only two little children, at play, on the turf before the door. Helooked into the hut, but no person was there, and the eldest of the boystold him that their father was with his flocks, and their mother wasgone down into the vale, but would be back presently. As he stood,considering what was further to be done, on a sudden he heard Michael'svoice roaring forth most manfully among the cliffs above, till hemade their echoes ring. Valancourt immediately answered the call, andendeavoured to make his way through the thicket that clothed the steeps,following the direction of the sound. After much struggle over bramblesand precipices, he reached Michael, and at length prevailed with him tobe silent, and to listen to him. The road was at a considerable distancefrom the spot where St. Aubert and Emily were; the carriage could noteasily return to the entrance of the wood, and, since it would be veryfatiguing for St. Aubert to climb the long and steep road to the placewhere it now stood, Valancourt was anxious to find a more easy ascent,by the way he had himself passed.

  Meanwhile St. Aubert and Emily approached the cottage, and restedthemselves on a rustic bench, fastened between two pines, whichovershadowed it, till Valancourt, whose steps they had observed, shouldreturn.

  The eldest of the children desisted from his play, and stood still toobserve the strangers, while the younger continued his little gambols,and teased his brother to join in them. St. Aubert looked with pleasureupon this picture of infantine simplicity, till it brought to hisremembrance his own boys, whom he had lost about the age of these, andtheir lamented mother; and he sunk into a thoughtfulness, which Emilyobserving, she immediately began to sing one of those simple and livelyairs he was so fond of, and which she knew how to give with the mostcaptivating sweetness. St. Aubert smiled on her through his tears, tookher hand and pressed it affectionately, and then tried to dissipate themelancholy reflections that lingered in his mind.

  While she sung, Valancourt approached, who was unwilling to interrupther, and paused at a little distance to listen. When she had concluded,he joined the party, and told them, that he had found Michael, aswell as a way, by which he thought they could ascend the cliff tothe carriage. He pointed to the woody steeps above, which St. Aubertsurveyed with an anxious eye. He was already wearied by his walk, andthis ascent was formidable to him. He thought, however, it would be lesstoilsome than the long and broken road, and he determined to attempt it;but Emily, ever watchful of his ease, proposing that he should rest, anddine before they proceeded further, Valancourt went to the carriage forthe refreshments deposited there.

  On his return, he proposed removing a little higher up the mountain, towhere the woods opened upon a grand and extensive prospect; andthither they were preparing to go, when they saw a young woman join thechildren, and caress and weep over them.

  The travellers, interested by her distress, stopped to observe her.She took the youngest of the children in her arms, and, perceiving thestrangers, hastily dried her tears, and proceeded to the cottage.St. Aubert, on enquiring the occasion of her sorrow, learned that herhusband, who was a shepherd, and lived here in the summer months towatch over the flocks he led to feed upon these mountains, had lost, onthe preceding night, his little all. A gang of gipsies, who had for some
time infested the neighbourhood, had driven away several of his master'ssheep. 'Jacques,' added the shepherd's wife, 'had saved a little money,and had bought a few sheep with it, and now they must go to his masterfor those that are stolen; and what is worse than all, his master, whenhe comes to know how it is, will trust him no longer with the care ofhis flocks, for he is a hard man! and then what is to become of ourchildren!'

  The innocent countenance of the woman, and the simplicity of her mannerin relating her grievance, inclined St. Aubert to believe her story; andValancourt, convinced that it was true, asked eagerly what was the valueof the stolen sheep; on hearing which he turned away with a look ofdisappointment. St. Aubert put some money into her hand, Emily too gavesomething from her little purse, and they walked towards the cliff; butValancourt lingered behind, and spoke to the shepherd's wife, who wasnow weeping with gratitude and surprise. He enquired how much money wasyet wanting to replace the stolen sheep, and found, that it was asum very little short of all he had about him. He was perplexed anddistressed. 'This sum then,' said he to himself, 'would make this poorfamily completely happy--it is in my power to give it--to make themcompletely happy! But what is to become of me?--how shall I contriveto reach home with the little money that will remain?' For a moment hestood, unwilling to forego the luxury of raising a family from ruin tohappiness, yet considering the difficulties of pursuing his journey withso small a sum as would be left.

  While he was in this state of perplexity, the shepherd himself appeared:his children ran to meet him; he took one of them in his arms, and, withthe other clinging to his coat, came forward with a loitering step. Hisforlorn and melancholy look determined Valancourt at once; he threw downall the money he had, except a very few louis, and bounded awayafter St. Aubert and Emily, who were proceeding slowly up the steep.Valancourt had seldom felt his heart so light as at this moment; hisgay spirits danced with pleasure; every object around him appeared moreinteresting, or beautiful, than before. St. Aubert observed the uncommonvivacity of his countenance: 'What has pleased you so much?' said he.'O what a lovely day,' replied Valancourt, 'how brightly the sunshines, how pure is this air, what enchanting scenery!' 'It is indeedenchanting,' said St. Aubert, whom early experience had taught tounderstand the nature of Valancourt's present feelings. 'What pity thatthe wealthy, who can command such sunshine, should ever pass their daysin gloom--in the cold shade of selfishness! For you, my young friend,may the sun always shine as brightly as at this moment; may your ownconduct always give you the sunshine of benevolence and reason united!'

  Valancourt, highly flattered by this compliment, could make no reply butby a smile of gratitude.

  They continued to wind under the woods, between the grassy knolls of themountain, and, as they reached the shady summit, which he had pointedout, the whole party burst into an exclamation. Behind the spotwhere they stood, the rock rose perpendicularly in a massy wall to aconsiderable height, and then branched out into overhanging crags. Theirgrey tints were well contrasted by the bright hues of the plants andwild flowers, that grew in their fractured sides, and were deepened bythe gloom of the pines and cedars, that waved above. The steeps below,over which the eye passed abruptly to the valley, were fringed withthickets of alpine shrubs; and, lower still, appeared the tufted tops ofthe chesnut woods, that clothed their base, among which peeped forth theshepherd's cottage, just left by the travellers, with its blueish smokecurling high in the air. On every side appeared the majestic summitsof the Pyrenees, some exhibiting tremendous crags of marble, whoseappearance was changing every instant, as the varying lights fell upontheir surface; others, still higher, displaying only snowy points, whiletheir lower steeps were covered almost invariably with forests of pine,larch, and oak, that stretched down to the vale. This was one ofthe narrow vallies, that open from the Pyrenees into the country ofRousillon, and whose green pastures, and cultivated beauty, form adecided and wonderful contrast to the romantic grandeur that environsit. Through a vista of the mountains appeared the lowlands of Rousillon,tinted with the blue haze of distance, as they united with the waters ofthe Mediterranean; where, on a promontory, which marked the boundary ofthe shore, stood a lonely beacon, over which were seen circling flightsof sea-fowl. Beyond, appeared, now and then, a stealing sail, white withthe sun-beam, and whose progress was perceivable by its approach to thelight-house. Sometimes, too, was seen a sail so distant, that it servedonly to mark the line of separation between the sky and the waves.

  On the other side of the valley, immediately opposite to the spot wherethe travellers rested, a rocky pass opened toward Gascony. Here no signof cultivation appeared. The rocks of granite, that screened the glen,rose abruptly from their base, and stretched their barren points to theclouds, unvaried with woods, and uncheered even by a hunter's cabin.Sometimes, indeed, a gigantic larch threw its long shade over theprecipice, and here and there a cliff reared on its brow a monumentalcross, to tell the traveller the fate of him who had ventured thitherbefore. This spot seemed the very haunt of banditti; and Emily, as shelooked down upon it, almost expected to see them stealing out fromsome hollow cave to look for their prey. Soon after an object not lessterrific struck her,--a gibbet standing on a point of rock near theentrance of the pass, and immediately over one of the crosses she hadbefore observed. These were hieroglyphics that told a plain and dreadfulstory. She forbore to point it out to St. Aubert, but it threw a gloomover her spirits, and made her anxious to hasten forward, thatthey might with certainty reach Rousillon before night-fall. It wasnecessary, however, that St. Aubert should take some refreshment, and,seating themselves on the short dry turf, they opened the basket ofprovisions, while

  by breezy murmurs cool'd, Broad o'er THEIR heads the verdant cedars wave, And high palmetos lift their graceful shade. -----THEY draw Ethereal soul, there drink reviving gales Profusely breathing from the piney groves, And vales of fragrance; there at a distance hear The roaring floods, and cataracts.* *Thomson

  St. Aubert was revived by rest, and by the serene air of this summit;and Valancourt was so charmed with all around, and with the conversationof his companions, that he seemed to have forgotten he had any furtherto go. Having concluded their simple repast, they gave a long farewelllook to the scene, and again began to ascend. St. Aubert rejoiced whenhe reached the carriage, which Emily entered with him; but Valancourt,willing to take a more extensive view of the enchanting country, intowhich they were about to descend, than he could do from a carriage,loosened his dogs, and once more bounded with them along the banks ofthe road. He often quitted it for points that promised a wider prospect,and the slow pace, at which the mules travelled, allowed him to overtakethem with ease. Whenever a scene of uncommon magnificence appeared, hehastened to inform St. Aubert, who, though he was too much tired towalk himself, sometimes made the chaise wait, while Emily went to theneighbouring cliff.

  It was evening when they descended the lower alps, that bind Rousillon,and form a majestic barrier round that charming country, leaving it openonly on the east to the Mediterranean. The gay tints of cultivation oncemore beautified the landscape; for the lowlands were coloured with therichest hues, which a luxuriant climate, and an industrious people canawaken into life. Groves of orange and lemon perfumed the air, theirripe fruit glowing among the foliage; while, sloping to the plains,extensive vineyards spread their treasures. Beyond these, woods andpastures, and mingled towns and hamlets stretched towards the sea, onwhose bright surface gleamed many a distant sail; while, over the wholescene, was diffused the purple glow of evening. This landscape with thesurrounding alps did, indeed, present a perfect picture of the lovelyand the sublime, of 'beauty sleeping in the lap of horror.'

  The travellers, having reached the plains, proceeded, between hedgesof flowering myrtle and pomegranate, to the town of Arles, wherethey proposed to rest for the night. They met with simple, but neataccommodation, and would have passed a happy evening, after the toilsand the delights of this day, had not the approaching separation throwna gloom over their
spirit. It was St. Aubert's plan to proceed, on themorrow, to the borders of the Mediterranean, and travel along its shoresinto Languedoc; and Valancourt, since he was now nearly recovered, andhad no longer a pretence for continuing with his new friends, resolvedto leave them here. St. Aubert, who was much pleased with him, invitedhim to go further, but did not repeat the invitation, and Valancourthad resolution enough to forego the temptation of accepting it, thathe might prove himself not unworthy of the favour. On the followingmorning, therefore, they were to part, St. Aubert to pursue his way toLanguedoc, and Valancourt to explore new scenes among the mountains, onhis return home. During this evening he was often silent and thoughtful;St. Aubert's manner towards him was affectionate, though grave, andEmily was serious, though she made frequent efforts to appear cheerful.After one of the most melancholy evenings they had yet passed together,they separated for the night.