THE ORPHAN OF THE RHINE
PART 3
Chapter 3
Yes, let the rich deride, the proud disdain.
These simple blessings of the lowly train;
To me more dear, congenial to my heart.
One native charm than all the gloss of art:
Spontaneous joys, here nature has its play.
The soul adopts, and owns its first-born sway;
Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind.
Unenvied, unmolested, unconfin'd.
--GOLDSMITH
As they
advanced, the most picturesque objects of nature were presented to their view;
mountains crowned with the oak, the beech, and the pine, and the most beautiful
woods, groves, and lakes, interspersed with vineyards and fertile fields! To
behold such a combination of beauties rivalling each other in grace, yet
improving by contrast the effect of the whole, without experiencing the most
pleasurable emotions, would have been scarcely possible; even Paoli appeared
not to be entirely insensible of the power of sylvan attraction, for his
features lost much of their accustomed austerity.
He praised
the rich verdure of the landscape, listened with apparent satisfaction to the
responses of the birds, which were concealed in the pine-forests, and was for
the moment, or affected to be, pleased. He inquired about the strangers at the
inn, what were their names, and whither they were going; and whether the melancholy
account of the invalid, as delivered by the host, had not been exaggerated.
Julie in
this instance mistook curiosity for humanity; from the uncontaminated purity of
her own heart she formed the most liberal opinion of others, and was not a
little gratified on finding in the character of Paoli, at least one trait that
bore the semblance of a virtue.
But when
he found that some of his interrogatories were evaded, and others answered
undecisively, the look of gentleness which he had assumed, vanished, and his
brow wore the cloud of disappointment and of anger.
The
conversation, which this transient good-humour had animated, now sunk into
silence. Madame de Rubine, who found no difficulty in ascertaining the cause,
lamented that she had been deceived, though she had the internal satisfaction
of knowing that it was candour, not childish credulity, that had thus
momentarily obscured her better judgment.
Her
spirits were, however, both soothed and invigorated by the glowing landscape
before her; and she felt refreshed by the soft salute of the zephyr that wafted
the perfume of the flowers which adorned the valleys.
The
peasant girls were busily employed in carrying baskets of grapes from the
vineyards; the chamoix, who during the extreme heat of the day had secluded
themselves in the rocky glens of the precipices, or in the darkest recesses of
the woods, were now skipping about them; while the loud laugh, the jest, and
the song, accompanied their labours, and sometimes the wild harmony of the
shepherd's pipe, attuned to the notes of the Kuhreihen, (The herdsman's song)
echoed from the mountains that simple fascinating air, which is
indiscriminately used by the inhabitants of the Alps, when they drive their
cattle from the valleys to the cultivated tops of the eminences. As the evening
advanced, the rural dance, beneath the deep shade of the trees, began, and the
voices of merriment and delight were every-where heard. Those who were too
ancient to join themselves in the sports, were pleased spectators of those
juvenile delights, which many of them had, perhaps, reluctantly resigned, who
appeared to catch something of the spirit of youth as they contemplated the
happy groups before them. Uncorrupted simplicity was never more forcibly
expressed, nor was ever the charm of content more successfully delineated; for
the peasantry of these beautiful regions seemed to have forgotten all the cares
and anxieties inseparable from humanity, in the unrestrained enjoyment of mirth
and festivity.
Julie
sighed as she surveyed these innocent pastimes, but it was a sigh not of envy,
but regret. She recalled to her recollection days long past, which memory had
too faithfully treasured among her stores, when she also was gay, sportive, and
animated as those who were now blissfully partaking of pastoral amusement. The
road being less rugged than on the preceding day, and the mountains they had to
ascend less rocky, they were enabled to proceed farther than they at first
intended, and in the evening arrived at a small hotel, or post-house, finely
situated near the much-admired Lake of Murat, which is so justly celebrated for
its crystal surface.--Here they remained during the night, and in the morning
continued leisurely on their way; Paoli still silent, Madame de Rubine
thoughtful, and Dorothée and Enrîco gay and talkative.
After
having previously passed through a number of those rich and beautiful
fir-woods, for which this country is deservedly eminent, the travellers arrived
at the town of Bern, where it was deemed necessary for them to remain resident
at least for a few days in order to recruit their strength and spirits, in
which time they had an opportunity of surveying that master-piece of Gothic
architecture, the cathedral, which, for taste and greatness of design, scarcely
to be equalled in Switzerland, and of beholding those beautiful walks that run
along its side, commanding, from their elevated situation, one of the most
finished prospects in the world. The large number of handsome fountains too,
which were variously disposed throughout the principal streets, came in for
their share of admiration, as they united beauty with convenience, and gave an
air of coolness and cleanliness to the appearance of the whole.
Julie
recollecting that she was to take another name immediately on her arrival in
Germany, after much revolving in her mind, fixed upon Chamont, and bestowed
upon the infant that of Laurette. She also engaged the most skilful physician
to attend La Roque; and several days having elapsed during their continuance at
Bern, they proceeded on their journey.
Chapter 4
High o'er the pines that, with their darkening shade.
Surround yon craggy bank, the castle rears
Its crumbling turrets; still its tow'ring head.
A warlike mien, a sullen grandeur wears.
--MICKLE
It was at
a late hour when the party arrived at their destined abode, and the shades of
evening had conspired, with the solitude of its situation, to give an air of
gloomy magnificence to the scene. The castle, which was seated upon an
eminence, about a quarter of a league from the bed of the river, seemed to have
been separated by nature from the habitable world by deep and impenetrable
woods. Two of the towers, which were all that remained entire, were half
secreted in a forest; the others, which were mouldering into ruins, opened into
a narrow, uncultivated plain, terminating in a rocky declivity, at the bottom
of which flowed the Rhine, wide, deep, and silent. Paoli, having dismounted,
conveyed them through the principal portal to the door of the great hall; when
heaving a massy knocker, which returned a deep-toned hollow sound, he waited
for some time in visible impatience, and no one approaching, again repeated the
alarm. In a few moments, the bolts being undrawn with a suspicious caution, the
heavy doors were unfolded by an aged domestic, who came forwards to welcome
them, and to lead them into the interior of the mansion.
They were then conducted through a spacious
hall into a room newly fitted up for their reception, which seemed, from the
many vestiges of ancient grandeur which remained, to have been formerly the
grand saloon of the castle. The antique furniture, consisting of many articles
long fallen into disuse, and the dark wainscot composed of larch-wood, which
was overhung with a number of grotesque figures, aided the gloom of its
appearance, and might have awakened unpleasant sensations, had not the effect
been counteracted by the cheerful blaze of a fire, which animated the sinking
spirits of the travellers till the hour that called them to repose. Julie,
having enquired if necessary accommodations were made for the children, which
was answered in the affirmative, partook of some refreshment; and, after
lingering for a few minutes to examine the figures upon the walls, expressed a
wish to retire, and was conducted by Margaritte, the old female domestic, to
her room.
As she
passed along the hall, which was feebly enlightened with the expiring ray of a
dim and solitary lamp, she shuddered involuntarily at the gloom of its
appearance, and followed her guide in pensive silence. Having ascended the stairs,
and passed through the corridor, into which opened several apartments,
Margaritte informed her of the one designed for herself, and wishing her a good
night, left her to repose. Thoughtful and dejected, she retired to her bed. The
desolate aspect of the mansion had already affected her spirits, and as the
wind howled in hollow murmurs round the turret, in which her chamber was
situated, and sometimes in hollow gusts agitated the decayed tapestry with
which it was hung, she looked fearfully around, and shrunk with a superstitious
dread entirely new to her. It seemed as if the dreary abode, to which she was
consigned, had long been forsaken by humanity, and was now become the asylum of
supernatural agents; but reproving herself for this momentary weakness, and
turning her thoughts towards Laurette and Enrîco, her mind dwelt with something
like comfort upon the future, and she sunk into a tranquil slumber.
The sun
shone in full splendour when she awoke, and reminded her that she had slept
past her usual hour. Hastily arising, she endeavoured to ring the bell, that
she might inquire of Dorothée how the children had rested; but from long
neglect it seemed to have forgot its office, and it was some time before she
succeeded. In a few minutes her faithful servant attended with the infant and
Enrîco; whilst the innocent smiles of the former, and prattling simplicity of
the latter, contributed to chase away every melancholy impression which her new
situation had occasioned. Having pressed them to her bosom with maternal
tenderness, she desired breakfast to be instantly prepared, and dressed herself
in haste. The day, which was chiefly devoted to domestic arrangements, passed
with unusual rapidity. The attention of Madame de Rubine was now chiefly
divided between her children, and the cares of her household, which two
material concerns so entirely occupied her thoughts, that she did not revert so
frequently as before to the primary cause of her inquietudes. The family, which
was stationary before their arrival, consisted of Margaritte, an old female
servant, the same who had directed her to her apartment on the preceding night;
Lisette, who was her granddaughter, and Ambrose, a man who had been long
resident in the family of the Marchese, to whom she was introduced by the name
of Chamont.
The
countenance of Paoli still wore the same forbidding expression; and though
Julie found it necessary to consult with him on some subjects relative to her
present establishment, she still retained an unconquerable aversion to his
general conversation and deportment, which gave an air of reserve to her
manners, that not escaping his penetration, excited an equal degree of distrust
in his breast, which he endeavoured to smother in silence. As it was necessary,
both from the desire of the Marchese, and from the age of the child committed
to her care, that the baptismal rites should be performed, a friar, from a
neighbouring monastery, of the Carthusian order, was applied to, who, according
to the usual ceremonies of the Romish church, gave her the name of Laurette.
When this was concluded, Julie, who had not yet examined the different
apartments in the castle, wandered for some time in uninterrupted silence
through a long extent of desolated chambers, some of which were hung with old arras,
and others wainscotted with cedar and Spanish oak. The furniture, which seemed
to be nearly coeval with the building, being formed of the most durable
materials, had long resisted the attacks of time; but was now, with the damps
and with age, falling fast into decay. She then proceeded through a gallery to
a suite of rooms that communicated with the eastern turret, the last of which
opened into the oriel. Here she observed several portraits, which appeared to
have been the workmanship of some of the best Italian masters. Two of them
which were apparently more modern than the rest, chiefly engaged her attention;
though even these were so covered with dust, and so injured with the damps, as
to have lost much of their former beauty. The first was the figure of a young
warrior, who was supposed to have been mortally wounded in an engagement. He
was supported by two grey-haired veterans; an allegorical figure of Death
approached with a dart, which Valour, accoutred as Mars, opposed with his
shield. The other was the figure of a female leaning upon a tomb; it possessed
uncommon beauty and expression; the hands were clasped as if in prayer; the
eyes, which were dark, were directed towards heaven with peculiar sweetness,
and spoke, in a language the most eloquent, the extreme sensibility of the
mind.
Having
gazed for some time upon these pictures with silent admiration, she proceeded
through a gallery which led to the western side of the structure; in which were
also several spacious and forsaken apartments that received additional gloom
from the evening twilight, and made her shrink with fearful apprehension. She
wondered why the Marchese had placed her and the children in this comfortless
abode; or, if this was indispensable, why he had not made it more habitable? It
seemed as if he was uninterested in her happiness, and careless of her
fate:--the words of La Roque returned forcibly upon her mind; he had pronounced
him a murderer; she shuddered at the thought, and reproved herself for not
prevailing upon Mademoiselle when she led her from the room, to give her the
outlines of the story; though she entertained the hope that in a short time she
should be able to discover their residence, and might then be informed of the
whole. Wrapped in silent meditation, she rambled for some time through the long
winding passages, without being able to find the marble staircase which she had
first ascended; but was relieved from this incertitude on reaching the
corridor, which she descended in haste, leaving the greater part of the mansion
to be explored at some future time.
Though an
air of melancholy distinguished every object around, there was much of the
sublime and the beautiful in the appearance of the castle, and also in the
surrounding scenery. Julie, having again crossed the hall, proceeded towards
the portico, being resolved to examine more minutely the awful grandeur of its
external aspect, which she had never attempted before, having been engaged in
the duties of her family the greater part of the day. Walking into the inner
court, which was wild and grass-grown, she stopped to observe a figure, which
haste and the darkness of the evening had prevented her from perceiving on her
arrival. It was a column of the Corinthian order, on whose summit was erected
an equestrian statue of black marble, representing a young hero in complete
armour, which, on examination, she found was designed for the same as the
portrait she had observed in the oriel. It seemed to aid the solemnity of the
scene, and acquired additional character from the loneliness of its situation;
surrounded by lofty walls, which were overgrown with wild weeds, and the deadly
night-shade, whilst the thread moss encrusted the fragments of the fallen
ramparts which lay scattered at the base of the pillar, it seemed to stand as
if exulting in its strength, and triumphing amid the desolation and ruin it
surveyed.
She now
proceeded through a gate into the outer court, which was still more wild than
the former one, leading to the principal portal. The grey mist of the twilight,
which now deepened and reflected upon every object a dusky hue, made her
fearful of venturing through the avenues at that lonely hour, and occasioned
her to return again towards the castle. As she surveyed that lofty edifice,
which seemed to shrink from observation in the deep recesses of the wood, her
imagination dwelt with horror upon the miseries of war, which rendered
necessary those impenetrable fortresses, those massy walls that spoke of murder
and imprisonment, in which the proud possessor, wrapped in selfish security,
listened to the cry of anguish and the groan of death with sullen apathy.
She was
roused from these reflections by the appearance of Paoli, who had just emerged
from the wood, and with his arms folded upon his breast, in the attitude of
musing, was crossing the inner court. As soon as the gloom permitted him to
distinguish her, he started and retreated, as a person who, conscious of guilt,
recedes from the eye of observation, lest his secret designs should be
displayed; but, anxious to learn for whom the statue was designed, and the
pictures she had seen in the oriel, she followed him into the hall, and
interrogated him concerning them. He seemed, however, averse to gratifying her
curiosity; but whether this proceeded from his ignorance of the subject, or his
own uncommunicative disposition, he was too great a master of dissimulation for
her to discover; but though he did not give her the information she immediately
desired, he indulged her with a piece of intelligence of a more interesting
nature, which was, that he intended to quit the mansion on the following day.
This intimation was received with pleasure not only by Julie, but also by the
rest of the family, who all acknowledged themselves weary of his
unprepossessing deportment and manners.
When the
morning arrived, whilst Paoli was preparing to depart she wrote a few lines to
the Marchese, to acquaint him, that, agreeable to his former request, she had
named the infant; and from his not having signified any desire of fixing upon
it himself, previous to her residence in the castle, she had ventured to give
it that of Laurette. She concluded this concise epistle with informing him,
that she considered herself as strictly bound to fulfil the promises already
made, and depended upon his honour for a future provision for Enrîco. This
being folded up, and delivered to the steward, he repeated his formal adieus,
and set forwards towards Italy.
Julie,
whose time was now uniformly devoted to the service of her little favourites,
and other laudable occupations, became gradually reconciled to her new
situation; and habit so powerfully prevailed, as to render scenes, which were
at first beheld with an unconquerable emotion of terror, interesting and even
charming. She frequently rambled in the woods, which were beautiful and wild,
and sometimes on the banks of the Rhine; where, taking her pencil or her lute,
she would oftentimes linger till the close of the day, till the sun having sunk
beneath the horizon, was lost beyond the distant hills. A long acquaintance
with sorrow had given strength and elasticity to her mind. She had acquired by
effort an advantage which Nature, though in other respects liberal, had
withheld; an advantage which enabled her at once to endure misfortune, and to
triumph over it. She knew that a state of uninterrupted happiness was never
intended to be the lot of mortality, and that to suffer with uniform fortitude
was true dignity. This lesson, which her mother had inculcated in youth, she
had cherished in maturity. The meek and unaffected piety of that excellent
parent was never absent from her thoughts, and she exerted her most strenuous
endeavours to emulate her virtues. Time, though it had thrown a veil over the
acute sorrow which her loss had excited, had awakened a more tender, if a less
melancholy sensation, when her imagination reverted with more than filial affection
to the past; and as in rural scenes the mind is more abstracted from worldly
pursuits, it is also more susceptible of amiable impressions. This directed her
to the recollection of every estimable precept delivered by her deceased and
much-lamented parent, which had been hitherto the established rule of her
conduct.
As no
material incident occurred at the castle of Elfinbach for a considerable time
after the arrival of the family, it may here be proper to introduce the story
of Julie de Rubine, that the reader may be acquainted with the nature of these
misfortunes which had occasioned her to embrace, in early youth, a life of
almost total seclusion.
To be continued
