THE GRAND CHARTREUSE has exceeded my expectations; it is more wonderfully
wild than I can describe, or even you can imagine. It has possessed me
to such a degree that at present I can neither think, speak, nor write
upon any other subject.
_June_ 5_th_.—I left Geneva, and after passing through a succession of
valleys between innumerable mountains, and after crossing a variety of
picturesque bridges, thrown over the streams which water them, arrived at
Aix, in Savoy, famous for its baths, which, as disagreeable things are
generally the most salutary, ought doubtless to be of the greatest
efficacy; for more uninviting objects one seldom meets with.
Advancing beneath a little eminence, partly rock, partly wall, we
discovered the principal bath, filled with a blue reeking water, whose
very steam is sufficient to seethe one without further assistance.
Scarce had we stood looking on it a minute, before down dashed three or
four dirty boys, as copper-coloured as the natives of Bengal; who by
splashing us all over, and swimming about _à la crapaudine_, convinced us
that it was not their fault, if we would not have companions in the
delights of bathing. I soon hurried away from this salubrious cauldron,
and stepping into a little chapel hard by, where they were singing
vespers, prayed heartily to the Virgin, that I might never need the
assistance of those wonder-working waters over which she presides. As
there was but little company in the town, and little amusement, I went to
bed at nine, and rose at four the next morning, that I might reach before
sunset the celebrated road, which Charles Emanuel had cut through a rocky
mountain. My plan succeeded, and after dining at Chambery (a place
scarce worth speaking of to you), and passing by a cataract that throws
itself from a lofty steep, I began to discover a beautiful woody vale,
terminated on one side by the hallowed cliffs of the Grand Chartreuse,
and on the other by the mountain which Charles Emanuel had perforated in
so extraordinary a manner. The sun was just sinking in a brilliant
cloud, which seemed to repose on a swelling hill, covered with cattle,
when we quitted the cheerful valley, and began to descend between two
ridges of precipices, that at some distance had the appearance of
towering ramparts. Pursuing our route, we found ourselves in a deep
cleft, surrounded by caverns, echoing with a thousand rills which trickle
down their sides, and mingling their murmurs with the rattling of our
wheels and the steps of our horses, infinitely repeated and multiplied,
formed, altogether, the strangest combination of sounds that ever reached
my ears. The road itself is admirably cut, and hewn with such neatness
that, were it not for the savage and desolate air of its environs, I
should have imagined myself approaching some grand castle or considerable
city. Toward the summits of the precipices, that in some places rise to
a majestic elevation (the two sides here and there nearly meeting in an
arch), hang light woods of glossy green, which, being agitated by a
gentle wind, cast a moving shadow over the cleft beneath, and, at a
little distance, gave our road the appearance of a chequered pavement.
Having wound through the bosom of the mountain for some time, I was
struck by the unexpected appearance of a grand edifice, resembling a vast
portal, supported by Doric pilasters, and crowned with an ornamented
pediment. Upon my nearer approach I found a smooth tablet filling up the
space I had allotted for an entrance, on which was engraven a pompous
Latin inscription, setting forth with what incredible labour and
perseverance his Majesty, Charles Emanuel the Second of Sardinia, Cyprus,
and Jerusalem, King, had cut this road through the mountain; which great
enterprise, though unattempted by the Romans, and despaired of by other
nations, was executed under his auspices. I very sincerely wished him
joy, and, as the evening was growing rather cool, was not sorry to
perceive, through an opening in the rocks, a wide-extended plain,
interspersed with meadows, embosomed by woods, in which I distinguished
Les Echelles, a village, where we were to lie, with its chimneys smoking,
under the base of one of the Carthusian mountains, round which had
gathered a concourse of red and greyish clouds.
The twilight was beginning to prevail when we reached our inn, and very
glad I was to leave it at the first dawn of the next day. We were now
obliged to abandon our coach; and taking horse, proceeded towards the
mountains, which, with the valleys between them, form what is called the
Desert of the Carthusians.
In an hour’s time we were drawing near, and could discern the opening of
a narrow valley overhung by shaggy precipices, above which rose lofty
peaks, covered to their very summits with wood. We could now distinguish
the roar of torrents, and a confusion of strange sounds, issuing from
dark forests of pine. I confess at this moment I was somewhat startled.
I experienced some disagreeable sensations, and it was not without a
degree of unwillingness that I left the gay pastures and enlivening
sunshine, to throw myself into this gloomy and disturbed region. How
dreadful, thought I, must be the despair of those who enter it never to
return!
But after the first impression was worn away, all my curiosity redoubled;
and desiring our guide to put forward with greater speed, we made such
good haste, that the meadows and cottages of the plain were soon left far
behind, and we found ourselves on the banks of the torrent, whose
agitation answered the ideas which its sounds had inspired. Into the
midst of these troubled waters we were obliged to plunge with our horses,
and, when landed on the opposite shore, were by no means displeased to
have passed them.
We had now closed with the forests, over which the impending rocks
diffused an additional gloom. The day grew obscured by clouds, and the
sun no longer enlightened the distant plains, when we began to ascend
towards the entrance of the desert, marked by two pinnacles of rock far
above us, beyond which a melancholy twilight prevailed. Every moment we
approached nearer and nearer to the sounds which had alarmed us; and,
suddenly emerging from the woods, we discovered several mills and forges,
with many complicated machines of iron, hanging over the torrent, that
threw itself headlong from a cleft in the precipices; on one side of
which I perceived our road winding along, till it was stopped by a
venerable gateway. A rock above one of the forges was hollowed into the
shape of a round tower, of no great size, but resembling very much an
altar in figure; and, what added greatly to the grandeur of the object,
was a livid flame continually palpitating upon it, which the gloom of the
valley rendered perfectly discernible.
The road, at a small distance from this remarkable scene, was become so
narrow, that, had my horse started, I should have been but too well
acquainted with the torrent that raged beneath; dismounting, therefore, I
walked towards the edge of the great fall, and there, leaning on a
fragment of cliff, looked down into the foaming gulph, where the waters
were hurled along over broken pines, pointed rocks, and stakes of iron.
Then, lifting up my eyes, I took in the vast extent of the forests,
frowning on the brows of the mountains.
It was here first I felt myself seized by the genius of the place, and
penetrated with veneration of its religious gloom; and, I believe,
uttered many extravagant exclamations; but, such was the dashing of the
wheels, and the rushing of the waters at the bottom of the forges, that
what I said was luckily undistinguishable.
I was not yet, however, within the consecrated inclosure, and therefore
not perfectly contented; so, leaving my fragment, I paced in silence up
the path which led to the great portal. When we arrived before it, I
rested a moment, and leaning against the stout oaken gate, which closed
up the entrance to this unknown region, felt at my heart a certain awe,
that brought to my mind the sacred terror of those, in ancient days,
going to be admitted into the Eleusinian mysteries.
My guide gave two knocks; after a solemn pause, the gate was slowly
opened, and all our horses having passed through it, was again carefully
closed.
I now found myself in a narrow dell, surrounded on every side by peaks of
the mountains, rising almost beyond my sight, and shelving downwards till
their bases were hidden by the foam and spray of the water, over which
hung a thousand withered and distorted trees. The rocks seemed crowding
upon me, and, by their particular situation, threatened to obstruct every
ray of light; but, notwithstanding the menacing appearance of the
prospect, I still kept following my guide, up a craggy ascent, partly
hewn through a rock, and bordered by the trunks of ancient fir-trees,
which formed a fantastic barrier, till we came to a dreary and exposed
promontory, impending directly over the dell.
The woods are here clouded with darkness, and the torrents, rushing with
additional violence, are lost in the gloom of the caverns below; every
object, as I looked downwards from my path, that hung midway between the
base and the summit of the cliff, was horrid and woeful. The channel of
the torrent sunk deep amidst frightful crags, and the pale willows and
wreathed roots spreading over it, answered my ideas of those dismal
abodes, where, according to the druidical mythology, the ghosts of
conquered warriors were bound. I shivered whilst I was regarding these
regions of desolation, and, quickly lifting up my eyes to vary the scene,
I perceived a range of whitish cliffs, glistening with the light of the
sun, to emerge from these melancholy forests.
On a fragment that projected over the chasm, and concealed for a moment
its terrors, I saw a cross, on which was written VIA COELI. The cliffs
being the heaven to which I now aspired, we deserted the edge of the
precipice, and ascending, came to a retired nook of the rocks, in which
several copious rills had worn irregular grottoes. Here we reposed an
instant, and were enlivened with a few sunbeams, piercing the thickets
and gilding the waters that bubbled from the rock, over which hung
another cross, inscribed with this short sentence, which the situation
rendered wonderfully pathetic, O SPES UNICA! the fervent exclamation of
some wretch disgusted with the world, whose only consolation was found in
this retirement.
We quitted this solitary cross to enter a thick forest of beech-trees,
that screened in some measure the precipices on which they grew,
catching, however, every instant terrifying glimpses of the torrent
below. Streams gushed from every crevice in the cliffs, and falling over
the mossy roots and branches of the beech, hastened to join the great
torrent, athwart which I every now and then remarked certain tottering
bridges, and sometimes could distinguish a Carthusian crossing over to
his hermitage, that just peeped above the woody labyrinths on the
opposite shore.
Whilst I was proceeding amongst the innumerable trunks of the beech
trees, my guide pointed out to me a peak, rising above the others, which
he called the Throne of Moses. If that prophet had received his
revelations in this desert, no voice need have declared it holy ground,
for every part of it is stamped with such a sublimity of character as
would alone be sufficient to impress the idea.
Having left these woods behind, and crossing a bridge of many lofty
arches, I shuddered once more at the impetuosity of the torrent; and,
mounting still higher, came at length to a kind of platform before two
cliffs, joined by an arch of rock, under which we were to pursue our
road. Below we beheld again innumerable streams, turbulently
precipitating themselves from the woods, and lashing the base of the
mountains, mossed over with a dark sea-green.
In this deep hollow such mists and vapours prevailed as hindered my
prying into its recesses; besides, such was the dampness of the air, that
I hastened gladly from its neighbourhood, and passing under the second
portal, beheld with pleasure the sunbeams gilding the Throne of Moses.
It was now about ten o’clock, and my guide assured me I should soon
discover the convent. Upon this information I took new courage, and
continued my route on the edge of the rocks, till we struck into another
gloomy grove. After turning about it for some time, we entered again
into the glare of daylight, and saw a green valley skirted by ridges of
cliffs and sweeps of wood before us. Towards the farther end of this
inclosure, on a gentle acclivity, rose the revered turrets of the
Carthusians, which extend in a long line on the brow of the hill; beyond
them a woody amphitheatre majestically presents itself, terminated by
spires of rock and promontories lost amongst the clouds.
The roar of the torrent was now but faintly distinguishable, and all the
scenes of horror and confusion I had passed, were succeeded by a sacred
and profound calm. I traversed the valley with a thousand sensations I
despair of describing, and stood before the gate of the convent with as
much awe as some novice or candidate, newly arrived, to solicit the holy
retirement of the order.
As admittance is more readily granted to the English than to almost any
other nation, it was not long before the gates opened, and whilst the
porter ordered our horses to the stable, we entered a court watered by
two fountains and built round with lofty edifices, characterized by a
noble simplicity.
The interior portal, opening, discovered an arched aisle, extending till
the perspective nearly met, along which windows, but scantily distributed
between the pilasters, admitted a pale solemn light, just sufficient to
distinguish the objects with a picturesque uncertainty. We had scarcely
set our feet on the pavement when the monks began to issue from an arch,
about half way down, and passing in a long succession from their chapel,
bowed reverently with much humility and meekness, and dispersed in
silence, leaving one of their body alone in the aisle.
The Father Coadjutor (for he only remained) advanced towards us with
great courtesy, and welcomed us in a manner which gave me far more
pleasure than all the frivolous salutations and affected greetings so
common in the world beneath. After asking us a few indifferent
questions, he called one of the lay brothers, who live in the convent
under less severe restrictions than the fathers whom they serve, and
ordering him to prepare our apartment, conducted us to a large square
hall with casement windows, and, what was more comfortable, an enormous
chimney, whose hospitable hearth blazed with a fire of dry aromatic fir,
on each side of which were two doors that communicated with the neat
little cells destined for our bedchambers.
Whilst he was placing us round the fire, a ceremony by no means
unimportant in the cold climate of these upper regions, a bell rang which
summoned him to prayers. After charging the lay brother to set before us
the best fare their desert afforded, he retired, and left us at full
liberty to examine our chambers.
The weather lowered, and the casements permitted very little light to
enter the apartment: but on the other side it was amply enlivened by the
gleams of the fire, that spread all over a certain comfortable air, which
even sunshine but rarely diffuses. Whilst the showers descended with
great violence, the lay brother and another of his companions were
placing an oval table, very neatly carved and covered with the finest
linen, in the middle of the hall; and, before we had examined a number of
portraits which were hung in all the panels of the wainscot, they called
us to a dinner widely different from what might have been expected in so
dreary a situation. The best fish, the most exquisite fruits, and a
variety of dishes, excellent without the assistance of meat, were served
up with an order and arrangement that showed it was not the first time
they had entertained in the noblest manner. But I was not more struck
with the delicacy of the entertainment, than with the extreme cleanness
and English-like neatness of the whole apartment and its furniture. A
marble fountain, particularly, gave it a very agreeable aid, and the
water that fell from it into a porphyry shell was remarkable for its
clearness and purity. Our attendant friar was helping us to some
Burgundy, which we pronounced of very respectable antiquity, when the
Coadjutor returned, accompanied by two other fathers, the Secretary and
Procurator, whom he presented to us. You would have been both charmed
and surprised with the cheerful resignation that appeared in their
countenances, and with the easy turn of their conversation.
The Coadjutor, though equally kind, was as yet more reserved: his
countenance, however, spoke for him without the aid of words, and there
was in his manner a mixture of dignity and humility, which could not fail
to interest. There were moments when the recollection of some past event
seemed to shade his countenance with a melancholy that rendered it still
more affecting. I should suspect he formerly possessed a great share of
natural vivacity (something of it being still, indeed, apparent in his
more unguarded moments); but this spirit is almost entirely subdued by
the penitence and mortification of the order.
The secretary displayed a very considerable share of knowledge in the
political state of Europe, furnished probably by the extensive
correspondence these fathers preserve with the three hundred and sixty
subordinate convents, dispersed throughout all those countries where the
court of Rome still maintains its influence.
In the course of our conversation they asked me innumerable questions
about England, where formerly, they said, many monasteries had belonged
to their order; and principally that of W., which they had learnt to be
now in my possession.
The Secretary, almost with tears in his eyes, beseeched me to revere
these consecrated edifices, and to preserve their remains, for the sake
of St. Hugo, their canonized Prior. I replied greatly to his
satisfaction, and then declaimed so much in favour of Saint Bruno, and
the holy prior of Witham, that the good fathers grew exceedingly
delighted with the conversation, and made me promise to remain some days
with them. I readily complied with their request, and, continuing in the
same strain, that had so agreeably affected their ears, was soon
presented with the works of Saint Bruno, whom I so zealously admired.
After we had sat extolling them, and talking upon much the same sort of
subjects for about an hour, the Coadjutor proposed a walk amongst the
cloisters and galleries, as the weather would not admit of any longer
excursion. He leading the way, we ascended a flight of steps, which
brought us to a gallery, on each side of which a vast number of pictures,
representing the dependent convents, were ranged; for I was now in the
capital of the order, where the General resides, and from whence he
issues forth his commands to his numerous subjects; who depute the
superiors of their respective convents, whether situated in the wilds of
Calabria, the forests of Poland, or in the remotest districts of Portugal
and Spain, to assist at the grand chapter, held annually under him, a
week or two after Easter.
This reverend father Dom Biclét died about ten days before our arrival: a
week ago they elected the Pere Robinét prior of the Carthusian convent at
Paris in his room, and two fathers were now on their route to apprise him
of their choice, and to salute him General of the Carthusians. During
this interregnum the Coadjutor holds the first rank in the temporal, and
the Grand Vicaire in the spiritual, affairs of the order; both of which
are very extensive.
If I may judge from the representations of the different convents, which
adorn this gallery, there are many highly worthy of notice, for the
singularity of their situations, and the wild beauties of the landscapes
which surround them. The Venetian Chartreuse, placed in a woody island,
and that of Rome, rising from amongst groups of majestic ruins, struck me
as peculiarly pleasing. Views of the English monasteries hung formerly
in such a gallery, but had been destroyed by fire, together with the old
convent. The list only remains, with but a very few written particulars
concerning them.
Having amused myself for some time with the pictures, and the
descriptions the Coadjutor gave me of them, we quitted the gallery and
entered a kind of chapel, in which were two altars with lamps burning
before them, on each side of a lofty portal. This opened into a grand
coved hall, adorned with historical paintings of St. Bruno’s life, and
the portraits of the Generals of the order, since the year of the great
founder’s death (1085) to the present time. Under these portraits are
the stalls for the Superiors, who assist at the grand convocation. In
front appears the General’s throne; above, hangs a representation of the
canonized Bruno, crowned with stars.
Were I, after walking along the dim cloisters, and passing through the
antechapel, faintly illuminated by a solitary lamp, suddenly to enter
this hall at midnight, when the convocation is assembled, and the synod
of venerable fathers, all in solemn order, surrounding the successor of
Bruno, it would be a long while, I believe, before I could recover from
the surprise of so august a spectacle. It must indeed be a very imposing
sight: the gravity they preserve on these occasions, their venerable age
(for Superiors cannot be chosen young), and the figures of their deceased
Generals, dimly discovered above, may surely be allowed to awe even an
heretical spectator into a momentary respect for the order. For my own
part, I must confess, that the hall, though divested of all this
accompaniment, filled me with a veneration I scarcely knew how to account
for; perhaps the portraits inspired it. They were all well executed, and
mostly in attitudes of adoration. The form of Bruno was almost lost in
the splendour of the stars which hovered over him. I could in some
moments fancy myself capable of plunging into the horror of a desert, and
foregoing all the vanities and delights of the world, to secure my memory
so sublime a consecration.
The Coadjutor seemed charmed with the respect with which I looked round
on these holy objects; and if the hour of vespers had not been drawing
near, we should have spent more time in the contemplation of Bruno’s
miracles, portrayed on the lower panels of the hall. We left that room
to enter a winding passage (lighted by windows in the roof), that brought
us to a cloister six hundred feet in length, from which branched off two
others, joining a fourth of the same most extraordinary dimensions. Vast
ranges of slender pillars extend round the different courts of the
edifice, many of which are thrown into gardens belonging to particular
cells.
We entered one of them: its inhabitant received us with much civility,
walked before us through a little corridor that looked on his garden,
showed us his narrow dwelling, and, having obtained leave of the
Coadjutor to speak, gave us his benediction, and beheld us depart with
concern. Nature has given this poor monk very considerable talents for
painting. He has drawn the portrait of the late General, in a manner
that discovers great facility of execution; but he is not allowed to
exercise his pencil on any other subject, lest he should be amused; and
amusement in this severe order is a crime. He had so subdued, so
mortified an appearance, that I was not sorry to hear the bell, which
summoned the Coadjutor to prayers, and prevented my entering any more of
the cells. We continued straying from cloister to cloister, and
wandering along the winding passages and intricate galleries of this
immense edifice, whilst the Coadjutor was assisting at vespers.
In every part of the structure reigned the most death-like calm: no sound
reached my ears but the “minute drops from off the eaves.” I sat down in
a niche of the cloister, and fell into a profound reverie, from which I
was recalled by the return of our conductor; who, I believe, was almost
tempted to imagine, from the cast of my countenance, that I was
deliberating whether I should not remain with them for ever.
But I soon roused myself, and testified some impatience to see the great
chapel, at which we at length arrived, after traversing another labyrinth
of cloisters. The gallery immediately before its entrance appeared quite
gay, in comparison with the others I had passed, and owes its
cheerfulness to a large window (ornamented with slabs of polished
marble), that admits the view of a lovely wood. Being neatly glazed, and
free from paintings or Gothic ornaments, it allows a full blaze of light
to dart on the chapel door; which is also adorned with marble, in a plain
but noble style of architecture.
The father sacristan stood ready on the steps of the portal to grant us
admittance; and, throwing open the valves, we entered the chapel and were
struck by the justness of its proportions, the simple majesty of the
arched roof, and the mild solemn light, equally diffused over every part
of the edifice. No tawdry ornaments, no glaring pictures, disgraced the
sanctity of the place. The high altar, standing distinct from the walls,
which were hung with a rich velvet, was the only object on which many
ornaments were lavished, and even there the elegance of the workmanship
concealed the glare of the materials, which were silver, solid gold, and
the most costly gems. It being Whit-Sunday, this altar was covered with
statues of gold, shrines, and candelabra of the stateliest shape and most
delicate execution. Four of the latter, of a gigantic size, were placed
on the steps; which, together with part of the inlaid floor within the
choir, were spread with beautiful carpets.
The illumination of so many tapers striking on the shrines, censers, and
pillars of polished jasper, sustaining the canopy of the altar, produced
a wonderful effect; and, as the rest of the chapel was visible only by
the faint external light admitted from above, the splendour and dignity
of the altar was enhanced by contrast. I retired a moment from it, and
seating myself in one of the furthermost stalls of the choir, looked
towards it, and fancied it had risen like an exhalation.
Here I remained several minutes breathing nothing but incense, and should
not have quitted my station soon, had I not been apprehensive of
disturbing the devotions of two aged fathers who had just entered, and
were prostrating themselves before the steps of the altar. These
venerable figures added greatly to the solemnity of the scene; which as
the day declined increased every moment in splendour; for the sparkling
of several lamps of chased silver that hung from the roofs, and the
gleaming of nine huge tapers which I had not before noticed, began to be
visible just as I left the chapel.
Passing through the sacristy, where lay several piles of rich embroidered
vestments, purposely displayed for our inspection, we regained the
cloister which led to our apartment, where the supper was ready prepared.
We had scarcely finished it, when the Coadjutor, and the fathers who had
accompanied us before, returned, and ranging themselves round the fire,
resumed the conversation about St. Bruno.
Finding me very piously disposed by the wonders I had seen in the day to
listen to things of a miraculous nature, they began to relate the
inspirations they had received from him, and his mysterious apparitions.
I was all attention, respect, and credulity. The old Secretary worked
himself up to such a pitch of enthusiasm, that I am very much inclined to
imagine he believed, in these moments, all the marvellous events he
related. The Coadjutor being less violent in his pretensions to St.
Bruno’s modern miracles, contented himself with enumerating the noble
works he had done in the days of his fathers, and in the old time before
them.
It grew rather late before my kind hosts had finished their narrations,
and I was not sorry, after all the exercise I had taken, to return to my
cell, where everything invited to repose. I was charmed with the
neatness and oddity of my little apartment; its cabin-like bed, oratory,
and ebony crucifix; in short, everything it contained; not forgetting the
aromatic odour of the pine, with which it was roofed, floored, and
wainscoted. The night was luckily dark. Had the moon appeared, I could
not have prevailed upon myself to have quitted her till very late; but,
as it happened, I crept into my cabin, and was by “whispering winds soon
lulled asleep.”
Eight o’clock struck next morning before I awoke; when, to my great
sorrow, I found the peaks, which rose above the convent, veiled in
vapours, and the rain descending with violence.
After we had breakfasted by the light of our fire (for the casements
admitted but a very feeble gleam), I sat down to the works of St. Bruno;
of all medleys the strangest. Allegories without end: a
theologico-natural history of birds, beasts, and fishes: several chapters
on paradise; the delights of solitude; the glory of Solomon’s temple; the
new Jerusalem; and numberless other wonderful subjects, full of
enthusiasm and superstition.
Saint Bruno was certainly a mighty genius; I admire the motives which
drew him to this desert; but perhaps before we come to that part of the
story, you will like to know what preceded it. My Saint (for Bruno has
succeeded Thomas of Canterbury) was of noble descent, and possessed
considerable wealth. He was not less remarkable for the qualities of his
mind, and his talents gained him the degree of Master of the great
sciences in the University of Rheims; here he contracted a friendship
with Odo, afterwards Urban the Second. Being always poetic, singular,
and visionary, he soon grew disgusted with the world, and began early in
life to sigh after retirement. His residence at Grenoble, where he was
invited by Hugo, its bishop, determined him to the monastic state.
This venerable prelate imparted to him a vision in which he seemed to
behold the desert and mountain beyond his city visible in the dead of
night by the streaming of seven lucid stars that hung directly over them.
Whilst he was ardently gazing at this wonder, a still voice was heard
declaring it the future abode of Bruno—by him to be consecrated as a
retirement for holy men desirous of holding converse with their God. No
shepherd’s pipe was to be heard within these precincts; no huntsman’s
profane feet to tread these silent regions, which were to be dedicated
solely to their Creator; no woman was to ascend this mountain, nor
violate by her allurements the sacred repose of its inhabitants.
Such were the first institutions of the order as the inspired Bishop of
Grenoble delivered them to Bruno, who selecting a few persons that, like
himself, contemned the splendours of the world and the charms of society,
repaired with them to this spot; and, in the darkest parts of the forests
which shade the most gloomy recesses of the mountains, founded the first
convent of Carthusians, long since destroyed.
Several years passed away, whilst Bruno was employed in actions of the
most exalted piety; and, the fame of his exemplary conduct reaching Rome
(where his friend had been lately invested with the papal tiara), the
whole conclave was desirous of seeing him, and entreated Urban to invite
him to Rome. The request of Christ’s vicegerent was not to be refused;
and Bruno quitted his beloved solitude, leaving some of his disciples
behind, who propagated his doctrines, and tended zealously the infant
order.
The pomp of the Roman court soon disgusted the rigid Bruno, who had
weaned himself entirely from worldly affections.
Being wholly intent on futurity, the bustle and tumults of a busy
metropolis became so irksome that he supplicated Urban for leave to
retire; and, having obtained it, left Rome, and immediately seeking the
wilds of Calabria, there sequestered himself in a lonely hermitage,
calmly expecting his last moments. Many are the miracles which he
wrought and which his canonized bones have since effected: angels (it is
said), hovered round him in his departing hour, and bore him on their
wings to heaven. The different accounts of his translation are almost
endless; and as they are all nearly in the same style, it will be
needless to recite them.
I had scarcely finished taking extracts from the life and writings of St.
Bruno when the dinner appeared, consisting of everything most delicate
which a strict adherence to the rules of meagre could allow. The good
fathers returned as usual with the dessert, and served up an admirable
dish of miracles, well seasoned with the devil and prettily garnished
with angels and moonbeams. {284}
Our conversation was interrupted, very agreeably, by the sudden intrusion
of the sun, which, escaping from the clouds, shone in full splendour
above the highest peak of the mountains, and the vapours fleeting by
degrees discovered the woods in all the freshness of their verdure. The
pleasure I received from seeing this new creation rising to view was very
lively, and, as the fathers assured me the humidity of their walks did
not often continue longer than the showers, I left my hall.
Crossing the court, I hastened out of the gates, and running swiftly
along a winding path on the side of the meadow, bordered by the forests,
enjoyed the charms of the prospect, inhaled the perfume of the woodlands,
and now turning towards the summits of the precipices that encircled this
sacred inclosure, admired the glowing colours they borrowed from the sun,
contrasted by the dark hues of the forest. Now, casting my eyes below, I
suffered them to roam from valley to valley, and from one stream (beset
with tall pines and tufted beech trees) to another. The purity of the
air in these exalted regions, and the lightness of my own spirits, almost
seized me with the idea of treading in that element.
Not content with the distant beauties of the hanging rocks and falling
waters, I still kept running wildly along, with an eagerness and rapidity
that, to a sober spectator, would have given me the appearance of one
possessed, and with reason, for I was affected with the scene to a degree
I despair of expressing.
Whilst I was continuing my course, pursued by a thousand strange ideas, a
father, who was returning from some distant hermitage, stopped my career,
and made signs for me to repose myself on a bench erected under a
neighbouring shed; and, perceiving my agitation and disordered looks,
fancied, I believe, that one of the bears that lurk near the snows of the
mountains had alarmed me by his sudden appearance.
The good old man, expressing by his gestures that he wished me to recover
myself in quiet on the bench, hastened, with as much alacrity as his age
permitted, to a cottage adjoining the shed, and returning in a few
moments, presented me some water in a wooden bowl, into which he let fall
several drops of an elixir composed of innumerable herbs, and having
performed this deed of charity, signified to me by a look, in which
benevolence, compassion, and perhaps some little remains of curiosity
were strongly painted, how sorry he was to be restrained by his vow of
silence from inquiring into the cause of my agitation, and giving me
farther assistance. I answered also by signs, on purpose to carry on the
adventure, and suffered him to depart with all his conjectures
unsatisfied.
No sooner had I lost sight of the benevolent hermit, than I started up,
and pursued my path with my former agility, till I came to the edge of a
woody dell, that divided the meadow on which I was running from the
opposite promontory. Here I paused, and looking up at the cliffs, now
but faintly illumined by the sun, which had been some time sinking on our
narrow horizon, reflected that it would be madness to bewilder myself, at
so late an hour, in the mazes of the forest. Being thus determined, I
abandoned with regret the idea of penetrating into the lovely region
before me, and contented myself for some moments with marking the pale
tints of the evening gradually overspreading the cliffs, so lately
flushed with the gleams of the setting sun.
But my eyes were soon diverted from contemplating these objects by a red
light streaming over the northern sky, which attracted my notice, as I
sat on the brow of a sloping hill, looking down a steep hollow vale,
surrounded by the forests, above which rose majestically the varied peaks
and promontories of the mountains.
The upland lawns, which hang at immense heights above the vale, next
caught my attention. I was gazing alternately at them and the valley,
when a long succession of light misty clouds, of strange fantastic
shapes, issuing from a narrow gully between the rocks, passed on, like a
solemn procession, over the hollow dale, midway between the stream that
watered it below and the summits of the cliffs on high.
The tranquillity of the region the verdure, of the lawn, environed by
girdles of flourishing wood, and the lowing of the distant herds, filled
me with the most pleasing sensations. But when I lifted up my eyes to
the towering cliffs, and beheld the northern sky streaming with ruddy
light, and the long succession of misty forms hovering over the space
beneath, they became sublime and awful. The dews which began to descend,
and the vapours which were rising from every dell, reminded me of the
lateness of the hour; and it was with great reluctance that I turned from
the scene which had so long engaged my contemplation, and traversed
slowly and silently the solitary meadows, over which I had hurried with
such eagerness an hour ago.
Hill appeared after hill, and hillock succeeded hillock, which I had
passed unnoticed before. Sometimes I imagined myself following a
different path from that which had brought me to the edge of the deep
valley; another moment, descending into the hollows between the hillocks
that concealed the distant prospects from my sight, I fancied I had
entirely mistaken my route, and expected every moment to be lost amongst
the rude brakes and tangled thickets that skirted the eminences around.
As the darkness increased, my situation became still more and more
forlorn. I had almost abandoned the idea of reaching the convent; and
whenever I gained any swelling ground, looked above, below, and on every
side of me, in hopes of discovering some glimmering lamp which might
indicate a hermitage, whose charitable possessor, I flattered myself,
would direct me to the monastery.
At length, after a tedious wandering along the hills, I found myself,
unexpectedly, under the convent walls; and, as I was looking for the
gate, the attendant lay brothers came out with lights, in order to search
for me. Scarcely had I joined them when the Coadjutor and the Secretary
came forward, with the kindest anxiety expressed their uneasiness at my
long absence, and conducted me to my apartment, where Mr. — was waiting,
with no small degree of impatience; but I found not a word had been
mentioned of my adventure with the hermit; so that, I believe, he
strictly kept his vow till the day when the Carthusians are allowed to
speak, and which happened after my departure.
We had hardly supped before the gates of the convent were shut, a
circumstance which disconcerted me not a little, as the full moon gleamed
through the casements, and the stars, sparkling above the forests of
pines, invited me to leave my apartment again, and to give myself up
entirely to the spectacle they offered.
The Coadjutor, perceiving that I was often looking earnestly through the
windows, guessed my wishes, and calling a lay brother, ordered him to
open the gates, and wait at them till my return. It was not long before
I took advantage of this permission, and escaping from the courts and
cloisters of the monastery, all hushed in death-like stillness, ascended
a green knoll, which several ancient pines strongly marked with their
shadows: there, leaning against one of their trunks, I lifted up my eyes
to the awful barrier of surrounding mountains, discovered by the
trembling silver light of the moon shooting directly on the woods which
fringed their acclivities.
The lawns, the vast woods, the steep descents, the precipices, the
torrents, lay all extended beneath, softened by a pale bluish haze, that
alleviated, in some measure, the stern prospect of the rocky promontories
above, wrapped in dark shadows. The sky was of the deepest azure;
innumerable stars were distinguished with unusual clearness from this
elevation, many of which twinkled behind the fir-trees edging the
promontories. White, grey, and darkish clouds came marching towards the
moon, that shone full against a range of cliffs, which lift themselves
far above the others. The hoarse murmur of the torrent, throwing itself
from the distant wildernesses into the gloomy vales, was mingled with the
blast that blew from the mountains. It increased. The forests began to
wave, black clouds rose from the north, and, as they fleeted along,
approached the moon, whose light they shortly extinguished. A moment of
darkness succeeded; the gust was chill and melancholy; it swept along the
desert, and then subsiding, the vapours began to pass away, and the moon
returned the grandeur of the scene was renewed, and its imposing
solemnity was increased by her presence. Inspiration was in every wind.
I followed some impulse which drove me to the summit of the mountains
before me; and there, casting a look on the whole extent of wild woods
and romantic precipices, thought of the days of St. Bruno. I eagerly
contemplated every rock that formerly might have met his eyes; drank of
the spring which tradition says he was wont to drink of; and ran to every
pine whose withered appearance bespoke a remote antiquity, and beneath
which, perhaps, the saint had reposed himself, when worn with vigils, or
possessed with the sacred spirit of his institutions.
It was midnight: the convent bell tolled; for the most solemn hour of
prayer was arrived. I cannot, nor would I, attempt to unfold to you, in
prose, half the strange things of which I thought, and which I seemed to
see, during this wild excursion. However, I owe to it the poetical
humour in which I composed the following lines, written immediately on my
return, in the album of the fathers, during the stillest watch of the
night: