CHAPTER V
Hail, mildly-pleasing Solitude! Companion of the wise and good--
This is the balmy breath of morn, Just as the dew-bent rose is born.
But chief when evening scenes decay And the faint landscape swims away, Thine is the doubtful, soft decline, And that best hour of musing thine. THOMSON
Emily's injunctions to Annette to be silent on the subject of her terrorwere ineffectual, and the occurrence of the preceding night spread suchalarm among the servants, who now all affirmed, that they had frequentlyheard unaccountable noises in the chateau, that a report soon reachedthe Count of the north side of the castle being haunted. He treatedthis, at first, with ridicule, but, perceiving, that it was productiveof serious evil, in the confusion it occasioned among his household, heforbade any person to repeat it, on pain of punishment.
The arrival of a party of his friends soon withdrew his thoughtsentirely from this subject, and his servants had now little leisure tobrood over it, except, indeed, in the evenings after supper, when theyall assembled in their hall, and related stories of ghosts, till theyfeared to look round the room; started, if the echo of a closing doormurmured along the passage, and refused to go singly to any part of thecastle.
On these occasions Annette made a distinguished figure. When she toldnot only of all the wonders she had witnessed, but of all that shehad imagined, in the castle of Udolpho, with the story of the strangedisappearance of Signora Laurentini, she made no trifling impression onthe mind of her attentive auditors. Her suspicions, concerning Montoni,she would also have freely disclosed, had not Ludovico, who was now inthe service of the Count, prudently checked her loquacity, whenever itpointed to that subject.
Among the visitors at the chateau was the Baron de Saint Foix, an oldfriend of the Count, and his son, the Chevalier St. Foix, a sensibleand amiable young man, who, having in the preceding year seen the LadyBlanche, at Paris, had become her declared admirer. The friendship,which the Count had long entertained for his father, and the equalityof their circumstances made him secretly approve of the connection; but,thinking his daughter at this time too young to fix her choice forlife, and wishing to prove the sincerity and strength of the Chevalier'sattachment, he then rejected his suit, though without forbidding hisfuture hope. This young man now came, with the Baron, his father,to claim the reward of a steady affection, a claim, which the Countadmitted and which Blanche did not reject.
While these visitors were at the chateau, it became a scene of gaietyand splendour. The pavilion in the woods was fitted up and frequented,in the fine evenings, as a supper-room, when the hour usually concludedwith a concert, at which the Count and Countess, who were scientificperformers, and the Chevaliers Henri and St. Foix, with the Lady Blancheand Emily, whose voices and fine taste compensated for the want of moreskilful execution, usually assisted. Several of the Count's servantsperformed on horns and other instruments, some of which, placed ata little distance among the woods, spoke, in sweet response, to theharmony, that proceeded from the pavilion.
At any other period, these parties would have been delightful toEmily; but her spirits were now oppressed with a melancholy, whichshe perceived that no kind of what is called amusement had power todissipate, and which the tender and, frequently, pathetic, melody ofthese concerts sometimes increased to a very painful degree.
She was particularly fond of walking in the woods, that hung on apromontory, overlooking the sea. Their luxuriant shade was soothing toher pensive mind, and, in the partial views, which they afforded ofthe Mediterranean, with its winding shores and passing sails, tranquilbeauty was united with grandeur. The paths were rude and frequentlyovergrown with vegetation, but their tasteful owner would suffer littleto be done to them, and scarcely a single branch to be lopped from thevenerable trees. On an eminence, in one of the most sequestered partsof these woods, was a rustic seat, formed of the trunk of a decayed oak,which had once been a noble tree, and of which many lofty branches stillflourishing united with beech and pines to over-canopy the spot. Beneaththeir deep umbrage, the eye passed over the tops of other woods, to theMediterranean, and, to the left, through an opening, was seen a ruinedwatch-tower, standing on a point of rock, near the sea, and rising fromamong the tufted foliage.
Hither Emily often came alone in the silence of evening, and, soothedby the scenery and by the faint murmur, that rose from the waves, wouldsit, till darkness obliged her to return to the chateau. Frequently,also, she visited the watch-tower, which commanded the entireprospect, and, when she leaned against its broken walls, and thought ofValancourt, she not once imagined, what was so true, that this tower hadbeen almost as frequently his resort, as her own, since his estrangementfrom the neighbouring chateau.
One evening, she lingered here to a late hour. She had sat on the stepsof the building, watching, in tranquil melancholy, the gradual effectof evening over the extensive prospect, till the gray waters of theMediterranean and the massy woods were almost the only features of thescene, that remained visible; when, as she gazed alternately on these,and on the mild blue of the heavens, where the first pale star ofevening appeared, she personified the hour in the following lines:--
SONG OF THE EVENING HOUR
Last of the Hours, that track the fading Day, I move along the realms of twilight air, And hear, remote, the choral song decay Of sister-nymphs, who dance around his car.
Then, as I follow through the azure void, His partial splendour from my straining eye Sinks in the depth of space; my only guide His faint ray dawning on the farthest sky;
Save that sweet, lingering strain of gayer Hours, Whose close my voice prolongs in dying notes, While mortals on the green earth own its pow'rs, As downward on the evening gale it floats.
When fades along the West the Sun's last beam, As, weary, to the nether world he goes, And mountain-summits catch the purple gleam, And slumbering ocean faint and fainter glows,
Silent upon the globe's broad shade I steal, And o'er its dry turf shed the cooling dews, And ev'ry fever'd herb and flow'ret heal, And all their fragrance on the air diffuse.
Where'er I move, a tranquil pleasure reigns; O'er all the scene the dusky tints I send, That forests wild and mountains, stretching plains And peopled towns, in soft confusion blend.
Wide o'er the world I waft the fresh'ning wind, Low breathing through the woods and twilight vale, In whispers soft, that woo the pensive mind Of him, who loves my lonely steps to hail.
His tender oaten reed I watch to hear, Stealing its sweetness o'er some plaining rill, Or soothing ocean's wave, when storms are near, Or swelling in the breeze from distant hill!
I wake the fairy elves, who shun the light; When, from their blossom'd beds, they slily peep, And spy my pale star, leading on the night,-- Forth to their games and revelry they leap;
Send all the prison'd sweets abroad in air, That with them slumber'd in the flow'ret's cell; Then to the shores and moon-light brooks repair, Till the high larks their matin-carol swell.
The wood-nymphs hail my airs and temper'd shade, With ditties soft and lightly sportive dance, On river margin of some bow'ry glade, And strew their fresh buds as my steps advance:
But, swift I pass, and distant regions trace, For moon-beams silver all the eastern cloud, And Day's last crimson vestige fades apace; Down the steep west I fly from Midnight's shroud.
The moon was now rising out of the sea. She watched its gradualprogress, the extending line of radiance it threw upon the waters, thesparkling oars, the sail faintly silvered, and the wood-tops and thebattlements of the watch-tower, at whose foot she was sitting, justtinted with the rays. Emily's spirits were in harmony with this scene.As she sat meditating, sounds stole by her on the air, which sheimmediately knew to be the music and the voice she had formerly heard atmidnight, and the emotion of awe, which she felt, was not unmixed withterror, when she considered her remote and lonely situation. The soundsdrew nearer. She would have risen to leave the place, but they seemedto come from the way
she must have taken towards the chateau, and sheawaited the event in trembling expectation. The sounds continued toapproach, for some time, and then ceased. Emily sat listening, gazingand unable to move, when she saw a figure emerge from the shade of thewoods and pass along the bank, at some little distance before her. Itwent swiftly, and her spirits were so overcome with awe, that, thoughshe saw, she did not much observe it.
Having left the spot, with a resolution never again to visit it alone,at so late an hour, she began to approach the chateau, when she heardvoices calling her from the part of the wood, which was nearest to it.They were the shouts of the Count's servants, who were sent to searchfor her; and when she entered the supper-room, where he sat with Henriand Blanche, he gently reproached her with a look, which she blushed tohave deserved.
This little occurrence deeply impressed her mind, and, when she withdrewto her own room, it recalled so forcibly the circumstances she hadwitnessed, a few nights before, that she had scarcely courage to remainalone. She watched to a late hour, when, no sound having renewedher fears, she, at length, sunk to repose. But this was of shortcontinuance, for she was disturbed by a loud and unusual noise, thatseemed to come from the gallery, into which her chamber opened. Groanswere distinctly heard, and, immediately after, a dead weight fellagainst the door, with a violence, that threatened to burst it open. Shecalled loudly to know who was there, but received no answer, though,at intervals, she still thought she heard something like a low moaning.Fear deprived her of the power to move. Soon after, she heard footstepsin a remote part of the gallery, and, as they approached, she calledmore loudly than before, till the steps paused at her door. She thendistinguished the voices of several of the servants, who seemed toomuch engaged by some circumstance without, to attend to her calls; but,Annette soon after entering the room for water, Emily understood, thatone of the maids had fainted, whom she immediately desired them to bringinto her room, where she assisted to restore her. When this girl hadrecovered her speech, she affirmed, that, as she was passing up the backstair-case, in the way to her chamber, she had seen an apparition on thesecond landing-place; she held the lamp low, she said, that she mightpick her way, several of the stairs being infirm and even decayed, andit was upon raising her eyes, that she saw this appearance. It stood fora moment in the corner of the landing-place, which she was approaching,and then, gliding up the stairs, vanished at the door of the apartment,that had been lately opened. She heard afterwards a hollow sound.
'Then the devil has got a key to that apartment,' said Dorothee, 'for itcould be nobody but he; I locked the door myself!'
The girl, springing down the stairs and passing up the great stair-case,had run, with a faint scream, till she reached the gallery, where shefell, groaning, at Emily's door.
Gently chiding her for the alarm she had occasioned, Emily tried to makeher ashamed of her fears; but the girl persisted in saying, that shehad seen an apparition, till she went to her own room, whither shewas accompanied by all the servants present, except Dorothee, who,at Emily's request, remained with her during the night. Emily wasperplexed, and Dorothee was terrified, and mentioned many occurrencesof former times, which had long since confirmed her superstitions; amongthese, according to her belief, she had once witnessed an appearance,like that just described, and on the very same spot, and it was theremembrance of it, that had made her pause, when she was going to ascendthe stairs with Emily, and which had increased her reluctance to openthe north apartments. Whatever might be Emily's opinions, she didnot disclose them, but listened attentively to all that Dorotheecommunicated, which occasioned her much thought and perplexity.
From this night the terror of the servants increased to such an excess,that several of them determined to leave the chateau, and requestedtheir discharge of the Count, who, if he had any faith in the subject oftheir alarm, thought proper to dissemble it, and, anxious to avoid theinconvenience that threatened him, employed ridicule and then argumentto convince them they had nothing to apprehend from supernatural agency.But fear had rendered their minds inaccessible to reason; and it wasnow, that Ludovico proved at once his courage and his gratitude for thekindness he had received from the Count, by offering to watch, during anight, in the suite of rooms, reputed to be haunted. He feared, he said,no spirits, and, if any thing of human form appeared--he would provethat he dreaded that as little.
The Count paused upon the offer, while the servants, who heard it,looked upon one another in doubt and amazement, and Annette, terrifiedfor the safety of Ludovico, employed tears and entreaties to dissuadehim from his purpose.
'You are a bold fellow,' said the Count, smiling, 'Think well of whatyou are going to encounter, before you finally determine upon it.However, if you persevere in your resolution, I will accept your offer,and your intrepidity shall not go unrewarded.'
'I desire no reward, your excellenza,' replied Ludovico, 'but yourapprobation. Your excellenza has been sufficiently good to me already;but I wish to have arms, that I may be equal to my enemy, if he shouldappear.'
'Your sword cannot defend you against a ghost,' replied the Count,throwing a glance of irony upon the other servants, 'neither can bars,or bolts; for a spirit, you know, can glide through a keyhole as easilyas through a door.'
'Give me a sword, my lord Count,' said Ludovico, 'and I will lay all thespirits, that shall attack me, in the red sea.'
'Well,' said the Count, 'you shall have a sword, and good cheer, too;and your brave comrades here will, perhaps, have courage enough toremain another night in the chateau, since your boldness will certainly,for this night, at least, confine all the malice of the spectre toyourself.'
Curiosity now struggled with fear in the minds of several of his fellowservants, and, at length, they resolved to await the event of Ludovico'srashness.
Emily was surprised and concerned, when she heard of his intention, andwas frequently inclined to mention what she had witnessed in the northapartments to the Count, for she could not entirely divest herself offears for Ludovico's safety, though her reason represented these to beabsurd. The necessity, however, of concealing the secret, with whichDorothee had entrusted her, and which must have been mentioned, with thelate occurrence, in excuse for her having so privately visited the northapartments, kept her entirely silent on the subject of her apprehension;and she tried only to sooth Annette, who held, that Ludovico wascertainly to be destroyed; and who was much less affected by Emily'sconsolatory efforts, than by the manner of old Dorothee, who often, asshe exclaimed Ludovico, sighed, and threw up her eyes to heaven.