ruined nobleman, no longer able by honest means to supply his pampered
appetites with those indulgencies, which habit had now made absolutely
necessary: many a fugitive Monk, who dreaded the chastisement so justly
due to his violated vows: many a blood-guilty culprit, to whom the world
offered no happier prospect than the gibbet or the rack: and alas! many
an innocent sufferer, driven by the persecution of the powerful or by
the bann of the church to this wild society, in whose polluted bosom he
for the first time became acquainted with guilt. The numbers of these
banditti now considerably exceeded a thousand, all of whom acknowledged
as their chiefs Randolf and Gero.
Besides the above information, the old robber communicated to his fair
questioner many particulars respecting the neighbouring mountains, every
succeeding one of which was more wonderful and terrific than its
predecessor. The Sisters believed no more of these extraordinary tales
than they thought proper: however, they obtained much more credit with
the one, than with the other. Ida’s solitary wanderings through the
subterraneous caverns of her uncle’s castle had given her a degree of
confidence in danger, which before was totally wanting in her character:
and the experience which she had thus acquired, in addition to her
natural high spirits and enthusiastic imagination, converted her from
being the most timid of created beings into a kind of demi-heroine,
ready for adventures, and disposed to set all perils at defiance.
—“All things well considered,” said she to her sister, as they sat one
star-light night before the door of their cavern, round which their
guards lay sleeping; “all things well considered, I am convinced, that
flight is absolutely necessary, and by no means unlikely to be attended
with success. Whether Randolf and Gero prosper in their plans, or fail,
their return will equally bring with it our certain ruin. Then before
that dreaded return takes place, let us summon up our resolution, and
seize the first favourable opportunity to explore the way through yonder
chain of mountains, which old Hugo has described to us in such terrible
colours. The way, by which I fled from the Castle of Sargans, was not
without its horrors: yet I soon grew accustomed to them; and how far
inferior were they to those, which I had heard attributed to the
caverns, and which I believed to be real, till experience convinced me
of my error! Oh, be assured, Constantia! we shall find, that a similar
deception has been used in the present case. Yonder mountains, I am
persuaded, are not entirely covered with ice and snow; between them may
be found, no doubt, many a green and sheltered valley, where we may rest
occasionally, and recover strength sufficient to endure and to conquer
the dangers and difficulties of the way, which still remains to be
traversed. Who knows, but their lofty heads conceal from us some happy
smiling regions, where we may pass the rest of our lives unknown and
unnoticed in innocence and peace, and may become once more as happy, as
we were in the morning of our youth on the banks of the Lake of Thun and
in the green vallies of Frutiger?—Dearest Constantia, be resolute, and
let us hazard the attempt! For the worse, our situation cannot change:
we can lose nothing, even should we fail; we may gain every thing, if we
succeed: even at the worst, the attempt however unprosperous must obtain
for us _one_ advantage, a release from captivity by death without
dishonour.”—
In answer to these representations, Constantia reminded her sister of
the fearful traditions, which Hugo had related to them, respecting the
mountains, and the fantastic beings supposed to inhabit them. She
pointed to the Halsberg Rock, whose steep and lofty head rose exactly
opposite to them, glittering through the gloom of night like an immense
star; and she inquired of Ida, to what cause she attributed this
extraordinary splendour? Was it by any means improbable (she asked) that
these inaccessible heights were appropriated to the residence of evil
spirits; who by night endured there the punishment due to their crimes
in sulphureous fires, of which that light was the reflection; and who by
day employed themselves in leading astray such unwary travellers, as
ventured too near the place of their mysterious torments, and in hurling
them down frightful precipices into depths and abysses, never to rise
again?
Ida replied, that it was by no means her intention to travel into the
clouds so far as the place, whose dazzling brightness had induced her
sister to people it with such terrific inhabitants: and she added, that
being determined on flight, she was better pleased to believe, that the
brightness itself, which seemed like a crown of diamonds encircling the
brows of the venerable Halsberg and his brethren, proceeded merely from
the reflection of the moon and stars on the ice-covered cliffs and
crags, than from brimstone and sulphur burning in a terrestrial Hell.
Constantia’s long abode in a convent and her visionary turn of mind,
made it difficult for Ida to get the better of these superstitious
terrors: yet at length she succeeded. They began to make the necessary
preparations for their attempt. They lost no opportunity of secreting
such provisions, as were not of a very perishable nature and were easy
of conveyance; they also endeavoured to accustom themselves to taking
but little sustenance in the course of the day; and they soon flattered
themselves, that whatever might otherwise be the dangers of their
expedition, they were at least secure against suffering from the attacks
of those two most cruel enemies of poor pilgrims, hunger and thirst. As
to pretences for absenting themselves from the valley, they were easily
to be found. The robbers were too thoroughly persuaded, that flight was
impossible, and too strongly imprest with the idea, that women were too
great cowards to hazard such an attempt, for them to keep any very
strict watch over their prisoners.
Constantia was particularly dexterous in laying springes for snipes,
woodcocks, and other birds, which frequented these rocks in great
numbers; and the light-footed Ida would often explore places in search
of their eggs, where the chamois himself would scarcely have ventured to
climb. Then when the Sisters were successful, they knew so well how to
prepare their booty for the table in a manner the best calculated to
please the palate, that even old Hugo did not think it beneath him to
accept a part of the savoury repast. Sometimes, the eagerness of this
pursuit prevented the girls from perceiving the flight of time; and
night was already closing in, before they regained the cavern. However,
as they seldom returned with empty hands, and as they always did return
at last, these long excursions were seldom found fault with.—One of the
robbers indeed thought proper in a moment of ill-humour to remonstrate
with Hugo on the too great liberty allowed the captives, and to
represent the possibility of their seizing the opportunity to escape;
but the old man was faithful also on this occasion to the opinion, which
he had formerly given respecting the fall of the ice-crags; and
continued to content himself with thinking,—“that which never had
happened, in all probability never would happen at all;” indeed this was
on all occasions a favourite maxim with him: and he frequently averred,
that his adhering to it through life had saved his head many an
unnecessary care, and his limbs many an unnecessary journey.
In the course of these excursions, the Sisters had examined the lower
part of most of the mountains towards the north. They agreed, that a
particular path, which seemed to lead straight over the Halsberg Rock,
appeared to offer the most convenient passage and the greatest prospect
of a successful end to their journey. By this path then they determined
to set forward, as soon as they could summon up resolution sufficient to
enter upon so dangerous an undertaking; but this was no easy matter, and
they still thought it better with every succeeding day to postpone their
journey to the next.
In the mean while, it appeared that Gero and Randolf had not found their
plans so easy of execution, as they had flattered themselves would have
been the case. This was evident from their thinking it necessary to send
for the greatest part of those of their associates, who had been
appointed to watch over the captives and treasures concealed in the
secret valley; and who, being chiefly men, whose strength was
considerably impaired by age or wounds, could only be required to give
assistance in some case of most urgent necessity. This unexpected demand
for their services produced much disturbance among the grey-headed
miscreants. The Sisters thought this a favourable opportunity for
putting their design in execution. Their preparations were already
completed: each took a basket well-filled with wine and provisions in
her left hand, and grasped with her right a strong and knotted staff to
support her tottering feet, as she traversed the slippery paths of the
mountains: and then with hearts beating anxiously, and with cheeks,
almost as pale as the snow-hills to which their steps were addrest, they
set forward to pursue a path till then never trodden by the foot of
mortal.
Each was persuaded, that she was thoroughly acquainted with the nature
of these mountains, because they had examined the two or three first
miles of them. They dreamed of green vales and silvery fountains,
because they had occasionally found such among the lower parts of the
Halsberg Rock. But how bitter were their sensations, when they
perceived, that with every moment the path became more rough and
difficult; when they found, that their endeavours to keep on the same
level were in vain, and that they were compelled to ascend into the more
bleak and lofty regions of the mountain! at length they stopped in
despair: they exchanged looks of terror, and murmured a few broken
words, respecting the hopelessness of their attempt and the necessity of
returning. They embraced each other with a sigh of anguish, and then
began to retrace their way to the robber’s valley; for even this now
appeared to them an object less terrible, than certain death in this
kingdom of frost and desolation. However, they had not proceeded far,
before they discovered, that (miserable as it was) even this last
resource was denied to them. It was evident, that they had missed their
way; to which ever side their course was directed, they still found
themselves compelled to ascend. It seemed, as if they were inclosed in
some magician’s circle, from whence there was no escaping; or as if
incensed at their invasion of his territories, the spirit of the
mountain had so fascinated their eyes, that they could only see the
paths which led upwards to his cloudy palace, but none which by
descending into the vale would enable them to escape from his vengeance.
As yet they had not felt themselves quite solitary in these realms of
terror. Sometimes a chamois bounded by them; sometimes their footsteps,
echoing from the frozen rock, scared from its nest a screaming eagle:
but still the further that they advanced, the more silent and awful
seemed all around them; and the greater that the number became of those
gigantic masses of ice, which they left behind, the greater number still
were seen towering before them in the distance. Here all animation
seemed to end: here the stillness of death appeared to have fixed its
everlasting dwelling. No solitary weed, no single blade of grass showed
itself from between the frozen rifts. Only here and there appeared some
scanty patches of moss, and of another plant without colour, taste, or
smell; thin, frail and white as the snow, from which it was produced.
Constantia paused for a moment: she prest her sister’s hand, and silent
tears streamed down her cheeks, while she pointed to a pair of
milk-white butterflies; the only living creatures to be seen in this
melancholy place, and perhaps the last, which _they_ should ever see. It
was clear, that not their own sport or inclination had brought the
insects thither, but that some unlucky gust of wind had forced them into
these inhospitable desarts. The poor little flutterers flew round each
other for a while in still contracting-circles, and then sank on the
ground, overpowered by the killing wind which blew from the Ice-hills.
The Sisters gazed upon them with looks of compassionate anguish; in the
fate of these two unfortunate wanderers they read their own. Their feet
were already seized by the frost; it would have been impossible for them
to have proceeded much further, had not a better path presented itself
before them. This, it is true, was free from ice and snow; but on the
other hand it was much more difficult and rough, on account of immense
masses of fallen rock, which occasionally barred up the path completely.
Over these they were obliged to climb, not without danger; neither did
they suffer themselves to be scared from proceeding by the precipices,
which frequently yawned on both sides of them, and threatened the poor
Pilgrims with death in their abysses. But oh! how amply were they repaid
for all which they had suffered in traversing this path, when they
perceived some narrow planks laid from one of those precipices to
another. Here then were certain proofs, that human beings had past this
way before them; had performed the journey with success; and had left
these memorials to assure any wanderers who might follow them, that it
was not impossible for patience and perseverance to overcome the
obstacles, which opposed their painful progress. Now then the Sisters
hastened onwards with fresh spirits and recruited hopes. Alas! it was
not long, before each separately perceived skulls, and other fragments
of human skeletons, which told them but too plainly, how vain was the
attempt of escaping from these rocks with life! each knew but too well
the object which shocked her; each felt but too plainly the truth, which
the sight of that object conveyed: but neither told what she had seen to
the other, lest she should make her sister’s bosom share the anguish of
her own.
Thus did the poor weary girls continue to wander onwards, till day-light
faded; the increasing gloom made the surrounding objects appear doubly
terrific. At length the moon rose. Ida and Constantia were passionate
admirers of the charms of nature: it is true, that their hearts were too
full of anxiety, and their limbs too much tortured by the severity of
the frost, to admit of their feeling in its whole strength of beauty the
admirable scene, which the moon-beams now exhibited to their view: yet
was not that beauty entirely disregarded by them. Each called her
sister’s attention to the dazzling and indescribable splendour, which
now unexpectedly surrounded them: each, in hopes of imparting a gleam of
momentary satisfaction to the other, exaggerated her admiration at the
pompous show, and forced an expression of pleasure into her countenance,
which was totally foreign to her heart. The moon rose still higher; her
image was reflected a thousand-fold from the enormous crystallizations,
which presented themselves on all sides, hanging from the broken crags,
and threatening every moment to fall into the profound gulphs beneath
them. The objects around seemed on a sudden like some region described
in romance, where diamond-rocks and palaces of precious stones are
raised in an instant in a wild desart by the wand of some arch-magician:
everything appeared enchanted, and the Sisters, as they now hastened
onwards, seemed wandering in a flood of silver light: but alas! that
light was cheerless and unwarming. It only enabled them to contemplate
the regions of frost around them, but gave them no relief from the pain,
which that frost inflicted! with a sentiment of sorrow not to be
exprest, they folded each other in a strict embrace.
—“All around us is so bright and fair!” said Ida; “alas! and _we_ are so
wretched!”—
Constantia only answered her with tears—yet after remaining for a few
moments in this attitude of tender sorrow, they were sensible, that a
kind of cheering warmth had communicated itself from each bosom to the
other. Yet Constantia now declared, that she found it impossible for her
to proceed onwards: but if any place could be found, not so totally
frozen as to threaten any one, who should rest there, with the sleep of
death, she trusted, that after a short repose she should be able to
resume her journey with recruited strength and spirits. They had fancied
for some time, that they could distinguish the distant murmur of a
stream of water; and they now naturally concluded, that a place, where
water was still unfettered enough to flow, could not be altogether
destitute of warmth.
Ida encouraged her fainting sister to drag herself a few paces further,
in hopes of discovering that place of rest, which she had just declared
so necessary.
They ventured to enter one of the enormous caverns, which the
penetrating moon-beams deprived of some part of its natural terrors. As
they proceeded, they were sensible of a different temperature of air
from that, which they breathed in the more exposed parts of the
mountain: by comparison they could almost call the sensation, which they
now experienced, by the pleasing name of warmth; and the feel of
something like soft moss under their feet encouraged them with the
conviction, that here at least all vegetation was not completely at an
end. The roar of the water-fall by this time was almost deafening; but
no persuasions could induce the timid Constantia to advance one step
further into the cavern, than where it was illuminated by the
moon-beams.
She sank almost insensible upon the mossy carpet; while the more active
Ida bethought herself of every possible means of alleviating the
sufferings of her fellow-Pilgrim. The contents of their baskets remained
untouched, for anxiety of heart had prevented them hitherto from being
sensible either of thirst, or hunger. Ida now bathed her sister’s pale
lips with some drops of wine; she then splintered the staves, which had
guided their tottering steps in this hazardous journey; and she hastened
to collect a few precious fragments of broken wood, which while entering
the cavern she had remarked in the moon-shine; probably they were the
remains of a plank, which had served some former traveller as a bridge
over the wide chasms between the rocks.
With a flint and the steel clasp of her girdle she contrived to strike
out a few sparks of fire. It was not long, before she had the
satisfaction to see the wood blazing; and she started in admiration and
astonishment at the magnificent show, which the strengthening fire-light
presented before her; the Sisters were at the entrance of an immense and
vaulted cavern, whose sides and roof appeared to be entirely formed of
ice: from the extreme end of it the rush of the water-fall proceeded and
was repeated by innumerable echoes: while the flames played sometimes on
large sheets of crystal, smooth, bright, and polished as Venetian
mirrors, and sometimes fell upon the broken crags of the rock, whence
they were reflected in a thousand ways, and which they tinged with a
thousand colours.
But this was not the time for amusing herself with unprofitable
observation, and Ida soon recovered herself from her momentary
enthusiasm. Constantia lay by the side of the little fire, still in
great need of comfort and assistance; and it was long, before her
sister’s efforts to revive her produced the desired effect. The first
favourable consequence of these endeavours was a gentle slumber, as she
lay reclined upon the moss, which by this time, had acquired a slight
degree of warmth; Ida seated herself close by the fire, occupied in
feeding and preserving it, and determined not to allow her eyes to
close, in order that she might devote herself to watching the slumbers
of her sister.
Yet the night appeared so long, that she would have found it impossible
to resist her inclination to sleep, if she had not sought some more
active employment. Accustomed by her adventures in the Donat-Fortress to
long wanderings in caves and darkness, she resolved to beguile the
tedious hours with exploring the more retired depths of the rock, and
tracing to its source the water, whose distinct roar assured her, that
it could be at no great distance. The kindly warmth of the fire had
recruited her spirits and restored her strength in a great measure; and
she found herself able to undertake the task of wandering through the
frozen cavern, without being in danger of yielding to the cold. Midnight
was past, when guiding her course by the light of a blazing fire-brand
she drew near the thunders of the cataract, and her limbs trembled less
with cold, than with expectation of the sight which she was now on the
point of witnessing. Who can penetrate without emotion into the earth’s
interior sanctuary? who can presume to pry into Nature’s secret abodes,
where the great Mother brings forth those children of her strength the
mighty Floods, without feeling awe-struck by the bold and desperate
undertaking?
The blazing fire-brand was here unnecessary. An opening in the cavern’s
roof gave free admittance to the moon-beams, and the whole extent was
brilliantly illuminated. Ida now beheld a spectacle, to which she
doubted whether the whole universe could produce a rival. From the
summit of a rock of ice, whose height the eye measured with difficulty,
and which was entirely formed of the river’s own frozen evaporations,
did the rapid torrent of the Aar precipitate the whole volume of its
waters headlong, till it reached an enormous mass of broken pieces of
rock, the probable accumulation of ages. Here it divided itself into
more than twenty lesser rivers, which sought their passage into the vale
below, in a variety of directions.—The scene was most splendid, but also
was most awful!—the moon-light made the foaming flood appear like a
torrent of liquid silver; which produced the most singular and fantastic
effects, as it rushed with rebellowing roar among the groupes of
colossal rocks around it, and interrupted with the glitter of its
streams, the deep gloom occasioned by their shadows, Ida looked up to
the awful height, whence the torrent descended, covering her with the
light sprinkling of its foam: she looked down into the fearful gulph, in
which its waters were buried: she looked upon the cavern’s glittering
walls, covered with incrustations of innumerable shapes and colours, and
upon the moving shadows, which fell from the surrounding gigantic rocks.
The sight was too much for her; she felt her head grow giddy; the
fire-brand dropt from her grasp, and she sank upon the ground almost
insensible.
She soon recovered herself, and hastened to quit a scene, whose awful
beauties were more than she could bear in the weak and agitated state of
her nerves. She could discern the glimmerings of the distant fire, and
hastened back to the outward cavern; where she found Constantia still
buried in repose. The flame was now getting low, and more fuel was not
to be procured: but it had already warmed the cave sufficiently to
remove any apprehension, lest the sleeper should be frozen. Since
therefore her watching ceased to be necessary, Ida no longer resisted
the drowsiness, against which for some time past she had found it so
difficult to contend. Besides, through the opening of their
resting-place she could already discern the first faint reddening of the
approaching morn; she therefore laid herself down by Constantia’s side
with the pleasing reflection, that the cave would soon be warmed and
gladdened by the power of the sun; and that when her still-slumbering
sister should open her eyes, she would not behold those gloomy
appearances, which during that long sad night had produced upon herself
such deep and melancholy impressions.