Anon a figure enters, quaintly neat,
All pride and business, bustle and conceit;
With looks unalter'd by these scenes of woe,
With speed that, ent'ring, speaks his haste to go.
He bids the gazing throng around him fly,
And carries fate and physic in his eye.
Crabbe.
There is another receptacle for those who die on the Great St. Bernard,
hard by the convent itself. At the close of the time mentioned in the
last, chapter, and near the approach of night, Sigismund was pacing the
rocks on which this little chapel stands, buried in reflections to which
his own history and the recent events had given birth. The snow that fell
during the late storm had entirely disappeared, and the frozen element was
now visible only on those airy pinnacles that form the higher peaks of the
Alps. Twilight had already settled into the lower valleys, but the whole
of the superior region was glowing with the fairy-like lustre of the last
rays of the sun. The air was chill, for at that hour and season, whatever
might be the state of the weather, the evening invariably brought with it
a positive sensation of cold in the gorge of St. Bernard, where frosts
prevailed at night, even in midsummer. Still the wind, though strong, was
balmy and soft, blowing athwart the heated plains of Lombardy, and
reaching the mountains charged with the moisture of the Adriatic and the
Mediterranean. As the young man turned in his walk, and faced this
breeze, it came over his spirit with a feeling of hope and home The
greater part of his life had been past in the sunny country whence it
blew, and there were moments when he was lulled into forgetfulness, by the
grateful recollections imparted by its fragrance. But when compelled to
turn northward again, and his eye fell on the misty hoary piles that
distinguished his native land, rude and ragged faces of rock, frozen
glaciers, and deep ravine-like valleys and glens, seemed to him to be
types of his own stormy, unprofitable, and fruitless life, and to foretell
a career which, though it might have touches of grandeur, was doomed to be
barren of all that is genial and consolatory.
All in and about the convent was still. The mountain had an imposing air
of deep solitude amid the wildest natural magnificence. Few travellers had
passed since the storm, and, luckily for those who, under the peculiar
circumstances in which they were placed, so much desired privacy, all of
these had diligently gone their several ways. None were left, therefore,
on the Col, but those who had an interest in the serious investigations
which were about to take place. An officer of justice from Sion, wearing
the livery of the Valais, appeared at a window, a sign that the regular
authorities of the country had taken cognizance of the murder; but
disappearing, the young man, to all external appearance, was left in the
solitary possession of the pass. Even the dogs had been kennelled, and the
pious monks were healthfully occupied in the religious offices of the
vespers.
Sigismund turned his eye upward to the apartment in which Adelheid and his
sister dwelt, but as the solemn moment in which so much was to be decided
drew nearer, they also had withdrawn into themselves, ceasing to hold
communion, even by means of the eyes, with aught that might divert their
holy and pure thoughts from ceaseless and intense devotional reflections.
Until now he had been occasionally favored with an answering and kind look
from one or the other of these single hearted and affectionate girls, both
of whom he so warmly loved, though with sentiments so different. It seemed
that they too had at last left him to his isolated and hopeless existence.
Sensible that this passing thought was weak and unmanly, the young man
renewed his walk, and instead of turning as before, he moved slowly on,
stopping only when he had reached the opening of the little chapel of the
dead.
Unlike the building lower down the path, the bone-house at the convent is
divided into two apartments; the exterior, and one that may be called the
interior, though both are open to the weather. The former contained piles
of disjointed human bones, bleached by the storms that beat in at the
windows, while the latter is consecrated to the covering of those that
still preserve, in their outward appearance at least, some of the more
familiar traces of humanity. The first had its usual complement of
dissevered and confounded fragments, in which the remains of young and
old, of the two sexes, the fierce and the meek, the penitent and the
sinner, lay in indiscriminate confusion--an eloquent reproach to the pride
of man; while the walls of the last supported some twenty blackened and
shrivelled effigies of the race, to show to what a pass of disgusting and
frightful deformity the human form can be reduced, when deprived of that
noble principle which likens it to its Divine Creator. On a table, in the
centre of a group of black and grinning companions in misfortune, sat all
that was left of Jacques Colis, who had been removed from the bone-house
below to this at the convent for purposes connected with the coming
investigation. The body was accidentally placed in such an attitude that
the face was brought within the line of the parting light, while it had no
other covering than the clothes worn by the murdered man in life.
Sigismund gazed long at the pallid lineaments. They were still distorted
with the agony produced by separating the soul from the body. All feeling
of resentment for his sister's wrongs was lost in pity for the fate that
had so suddenly overtaken one, in whom the passions, the interests, and
the complicated machinery of this state of being, were so actively at
work. Then came the bitter apprehension that his own father, in a moment
of ungovernable anger, excited by the accumulated wrongs that bore so hard
on him and his, might really have been the instrument of effecting the
fearful and sudden change. Sickening with the thought, the young man
turned and walked away towards the brow of the declivity. Voices,
ascending to his ear, recalled him to the actual situation of things.
A train of mules were climbing the last acclivity where the path takes the
broken precipitous appearance of a flight of steps. The light was still
sufficient to distinguish the forms and general appearance of the
travellers. Sigismund immediately recognized them to be the bailiff of
Vévey and his attendants, for whose arrival the formal proceedings of the
examination had alone been stayed.
"A fair evening, Herr Sigismund, and a happy meeting," cried Peterchen, so
soon as his weary mule, which frequently halted under its unwieldy
burthen, had brought him within hearing. "Little did I think to see thee
again so quickly, and less still to lay eyes on this holy convent; for
though the traveller might have returned in thy person nothing short of a
miracle--" Here the bailiff winked, for he was one of those Protestants
whose faith was most manifested in these side-hits at the opinions and
practices of Rome,--"Nothing but a miracle, I say, and that too a miracle
of some saint whose bones have been drying these ten thousand years, until
every morsel of our weak flesh has fairly disappeared, could bring down
old St. Bernard's abode upon the shores of the Leman. I have known many
who have left Vaud to cross the Alps come back and winter in Vévey; but
never did I know the stone that was placed upon another, in a workman-like
manner, quits its bed without help from the hand of man. They say stones
are particularly hard-hearted, and yet your saint and miracle-monger hath
a way to move them!"
Peterchen chuckled at his own pleasantry, as men in authority are apt to
enjoy that which comes exclusively of their own cleverness, and he winked
round among his followers, as if he would invite them to bear witness to
the rap he had given the Papists, even on their own exclusive ground. When
the platform of the Col was attained, he checked the mule and continued
his address, for want of wind had nipped his wit, as it might be, in the
bud.
"A bad business this, Herr Sigismund; a thoroughly bad affair. It has
drawn me far from home, at a ticklish season, and it has unexpectedly
stopped the Herr von Willading (he spoke in German) in his journey over
the mountains, and that, too, at a moment when all had need be diligent
among the Alps. How does the keen air of the Col agree with the fair
Adelheid?"
"God be thanked, Herr Bailiff, in bodily health that excellent young lady
was never better."
"God be thanked, right truly! She is a tender flower, and one that might
be suddenly cut off by the frosts of St Bernard. And the noble Genoese,
who travels with so much modest simplicity, in a way to reprove the vain
and idle--I hope he does not miss the sun among our rocks?"
"He is an Italian, and must think of us and our climate according to his
habits; though in the way of health he seems at his ease."
"Well, this is consolatory! Herr Sigismund, were the truth known,"
rejoined Peterchen, bending as far forward on his mule as a certain
protuberance of his body would permit, and then suddenly drawing himself
up again in reserve--"but a state secret is a state secret, and least of
all should it escape one who is truly and legitimately a child of the
state. My love and friendship for Melchior von Willading are great, and of
right excellent quality; but I should not have visited this pass, were it
not to do honor to our guest the Genoese. I would not that the noble
stranger went down from our hills with an unsavory opinion of our
hospitality. Hath the honorable Châtelain from Sion reached the hill?"
"He has been among us since the turn of the day, mein Herr, and is now in
conference with those you have just named, on matters connected with the
object of your common visit."
"He is an honest magistrate! and like ourselves, Master Sigismund, he
comes of the pure German root, which is a foundation to support merit,
though it might better be said by another. Had he a comfortable ride?"
"I have heard no complaint of his ascent."
"'Tis well. When the magistrate goes forth to do justice, he hath a right
to look for a fair time. All are then comfortable;--the noble Genoese, the
honorable Melchior, and the worthy Châtelain.--And Jacques Colis?"
"You know his unhappy fate, Herr Bailiff," returned Sigismund briefly;
for he was a little vexed with the other's phlegm in a matter that so
nearly touched his own feelings.
"If I did not know it, Herr Steinbach, dost think I should now be here,
instead of preparing for a warm bed near the great square of Vévey? Poor
Jacques Colis! Well, he did the ceremonies of the abbaye an ill turn in
refusing to buckle with the headsman's daughter, but I do not know that he
at all deserved the fate with which he has met."
"God forbid that any who were hurt, and that perhaps not without reason,
by his want of faith, should think his weakness merited a punishment so
heavy!"
"Thou speakest like a sensible youth, a very Sensible youth--ay, and like
a Christian, Herr Sigismund," answered Peterchen, "and I approve of thy
words. To refuse to wive a maiden and to be murdered are very different
offences, and should not be confounded. Dost think these Augustines keep
kirschwasser among their stores? It is strong work to climb up to their
abode, and strong toil needs strong drink. Well, should they not be so
provided, we must make the best of their other liquors. Herr Sigismund, do
me the favor to lend me thy arm."
The bailiff now alighted with stiffened limbs, and, taking the arm of the
other, he moved slowly toward the building.
"It is damnable to bear malice, and doubly damnable to bear malice against
the dead! Therefore I beg you to take notice that I have quite forgotten
the recent conduct of the deceased in the matter of our public games, as
it becomes an impartial and upright judge to do. Poor Jacques Colis! Ah,
death is awful at any time, but it is tenfold terrible to die in this
sudden manner, posthaste as it were, and that, too, on a path where we
put one foot before the other with so much bodily pain. This is the ninth
visit I have made the Augustines, and I cannot flatter the holy monks on
the subject of their roads, much as I wish them well. Is the reverend
clavier back at his post again?"
"He is, and has been active in taking the usual examinations."
"Activity is his strong property, and he needs be that, Herr Steinbach,
who passeth the life of a mountaineer. The noble Genoese, and my ancient
friend Melchior, and his fair daughter the beautiful Adelheid, and the
equitable Châtelain, thou sayest, are all fairly reposed and comfortable?"
"Herr Bailiff, they have reason to thank God that the late storm and their
mental troubles have done them no harm."
"So--I would these Augustines kept kirschwasser among their liquors!"
Peterchen entered the convent, where his presence alone was wanting to
proceed to business. The mules were housed, the guides received as usual
in the building, and then the preparations for the long-delayed
examinations were seriously commenced.
It has already been mentioned that the fraternity of St. Bernard was of
very ancient origin. It was founded in the year 962, by Bernard de
Menthon, an Augustine canon of Aoste in Piedmont, for the double purposes
of bodily succor and spiritual consolation. The idea of establishing a
religious community in the midst of savage rocks, and at the highest point
trod by the foot of a man, was worthy of Christian self-denial and a
benevolent philanthropy. The experiment appears to have succeeded in a
degree that is commensurate with its noble intention; for centuries have
gone by, civilization has undergone a thousand changes, empires have been
formed and upturned, thrones destroyed, and one-half the world has been
rescued from barbarism, while this piously-founded edifice still remains
in its simple and respectable usefulness where it was first erected, the
refuge of the traveller and a shelter for the poor.
The convent buildings are necessarily vast, but, as all its other
materials had to be transported to the place it occupies on the backs of
mules, they are constructed chiefly of the ferruginous, hoary-looking
stones that were quarried from the native rock. The cells of the monks,
the long corridors, refectories for the different classes of travellers,
and suited to the numbers of the guests, as well as those for the canons
and their servants, and lodging rooms of different degrees of magnitude
and convenience, with a chapel of some antiquity and of proper size,
composed then, as now, the internal arrangements. There is no luxury, some
comfort in behalf of those in whom indulgence has become a habit, and much
of the frugal hospitality that is addressed to the personal wants and the
decencies of life. Beyond this, the building, the entertainment, and the
brotherhood, are marked by a severe monastic self-denial, which appears to
have received a character of barren and stern simplicity from the
unvarying nakedness of all that meets the eye in that region of frost and
sterility.
We shall not stop to say much of the little courtesies and the ceremonious
asseverations of mutual good-will and respect that passed between the
Bailiff of Vévey and the Prior of St. Bernard, on the occasion of their
present meeting. Peterchen was known to the brotherhood, and, though a
Protestant, and one too that did not forbear to deliver his jest or his
witticism against Rome and its flock at will, he was sufficiently well
esteemed. In all the quêtes, or collections of the convent, the
well-meaning Bernois had really shown himself a man of bowels, and one
that was disposed to favor humanity, even while it helped the cause of his
arch enemy, the Pope. The clavier was always well received, not only in
his bailiwick but in his château, and in spite of numberless little
skirmishes on doctrine and practice, they always met with a welcome and
generally parted in peace. This feeling of amity and good-will extended to
the superior and to all the others of the holy community, for in addition
to a certain heartiness of character in the bailiff, there was mutual
interest to maintain it. At the period of which we write, the vast
possessions with which the monks of St. Bernard had formerly been endowed
were already much reduced by sequestrations in different countries, that
of Savoy in particular, and they were reduced then, as now, to seek
supplies to meet the constant demands of travellers in the liberality of
the well-disposed and charitable; and the liberality of Peterchen was
thought to be cheaply purchased by his jokes, while, on the other hand, he
had so many occasions, either in his own person or those of his friends,
to visit the convent, that he always forbore to push contention to a
quarrel.
"Welcome again, Herr Bailiff, and for the ninth time welcome!" continued
the Prior, as he took the hand of Peterchen, leading the way to his own
private parlor; "thou art always a welcome guest on the mountain, for we
know that we entertain at least a friend."
"And a heretic," added Peterchen, laughing with all his might, though he
uttered a joke which he now repeated for the ninth time. "We have met
often, Herr Prior, and I hope we shall meet finally, after all our
clambering of mountains, as well as our clambering after worldly benefits,
is ended, and that where honest men come together, in spite of Pope or
Luther, books, sermons, aves, or devils! This thought cheers me whenever I
offer thee my hand," shaking that of the other with a hearty good-will;
"for I should not like to think, Father Michael, that, when we set out on
the last long journey, we are to travel for ever in different ways. Thou
may'st tarry awhile, if thou seest fit, in thy purgatory, which is a
lodging of thine own invention, and should therefore suit thee, but I
trust to continue on, until fairly housed in heaven, miserable and unhappy
sinner, that I am!"
Peterchen spoke in the confident voice of one accustomed to utter his
sentiments to inferiors, who either dared not, or did not deem it wise, to
dispute his oracles; and he ended with another deep-mouthed laugh, that
filled the vaulted apartment of the smiling prior to the ceiling. Father
Michael took all in good part, answering, as was his wont in mildness and
good-tempered charity; for he was a priest of much learning, deep
reflection, and rebuked opinions. The community over which he presided was
so far worldly in its object as to keep the canons in constant communion
with men, and he would not now have met for the first time one of those
self-satisfied, authoritative, boisterous, well-meaning beings, of whose
class Peterchen formed so conspicuous a member, had this been the first of
the bailiff's visits to the Col. As it was, however, the Prior not only
understood the species, but he well knew the individual specimen, and he
was well enough disposed to humor the noisy pleasantry of his companion.
Disburthened of his superfluous clothing, delivered of his introductory
jokes, and having achieved his salutations to the several canons, with
suitable words of recognition to the three or four novices who were
usually found on the mountain, Peterchen declared his readiness to enter
on the duty of what the French call restoration. This want had been
foreseen, and the Prior led the way to a private refectory, where
preparations had been made for a sufficient supper, the bailiff being very
generally known to be a huge feeder.
"Thou wilt not fare as well as in thy warm and cheerful town of Vévey,
which outdoes most of Italy in its pleasantness and fruits; but thou
shalt, at least, drink of thine own warm wines," observed the superior, as
they went along the corridor; "and a right goodly company awaits thee, to
share hot only thy repast but thy good companionship."
"Hast ever a drop of kirschwasser, brother Michael, in thy convent?"
"We have not only that, but we have the Baron de Willading, and a noble
Genoese who is in his company; they are ready to set to, the moment they
can see thy face."
"A noble Genoese!"
"An Italian gentleman, of a certainty; I think they call him a Genoese."
Peterchen stopped, laid a finger on his nose, and looked mysterious; but
he forbore to speak, for, by the open simple countenance of the monk, he
saw that the other had no suspicion of his meaning.
"I will hazard my office of bailiff against that of thy worthy clavier,
that he is just what he seemeth,--that is to say, a Genoese!"
"The risk will not be great, for so he has already announced himself. We
ask no questions here and be he who or what he may, he is welcome to come,
and welcome to depart, in peace."
"Ay, this is well enough for an Augustine on the top of the Alps,--he
hath attendants?"
"A menial and a friend; the latter, however, left the convent for Italy,
when the noble Genoese determined to remain until this inquiry was over
There was something said of heavy affairs which required that some
explanations of the delay should be sent to others."
Peterchen again looked steadily at the Prior, smiling, as in pity, of his
ignorance.
"Look thou, good Prior, much as I love thee and thy convent, and Melchior
von Willading and his daughter, I would have spared myself this journey,
but for that same Genoese. Let there be no questions, however, between us:
the proper time to speak will come, and God forbid that I should be
precipitate! Thou shalt then see in what manner a bailiff of the great
canton can acquit himself! At present we will trust to thy prudence. The
friend hath gone to Italy in haste, that the delay may not create
surprise! Well, each one to his humor on the highway: it is mine to
journey in honor and security, though others may have a different taste.
Let there be little said, good Michael: not so much as an imprudent look
of the eye;--and now, o' Heaven's sake, thy glass of kirschwasser!"
They were at the door of the refectory, and the conversation ceased. On
entering, Peterchen found his friend the baron, the Signor Grimaldi, and
the châtelain of Sion, a grave ponderous dignitary of justice, of German
extraction like himself and the Prior, but whose race, from a long
residence on the confines of Italy, had imbibed some peculiarities of the
southern character. Sigismund and all the rest of the travellers were
precluded from joining the repast, to which it was the intention of the
prudent canons to give a semi-official character.
The meeting between Peterchen and those who had so lately quitted Vévey
was not distinguished by any extraordinary movements of courtesy; but
that between the bailiff and the châtelain, who represented the
authorities of friendly and adjoining states, was marked by a profusion of
politic and diplomatic civilities. Various personal and public inquiries
were exchanged, each appearing to strive to outdo the other in manifesting
interest in the smallest details on those points in which it was proper
for a stranger to feel an interest. Though the distance between the two
capitals was fully fifteen leagues, every foot of the ground was travelled
over by one or the other of the parties, either in commendation of its
beauties, or in questions that touched its interests.
"We come equally of Teutonic fathers, Herr Châtelain," concluded the
bailiff, as the whole party placed themselves at table, after the
reverences and homages were thoroughly exhausted, "though Providence has
cast our fortunes in different countries. I swear to thee, that the sound
of thy German is music to my ears! Thou hast wonderfully escaped
corruptions, though compelled to consort so much with the bastards of
Romans, Celts, and Burgundians, of whom thou hast so many in this portion
of thy states. It is curious to observe,"--for Peterchen had a little of
an antiquarian flavor among the other crude elements of his
character--"that whenever a much-trodden path traverses a country, its
people catch the blood as well as the opinions of those who travel it,
after the manner that tares are scattered and sown by the passing winds.
Here has the St. Bernard been a thoroughfare since the time of the Romans,
and thou wilt find as many races among those who dwell on the way-side as
there are villages between the convent and Vévey. It is not so with you of
the Upper Valais, Herr Châtelain; there the pure race exists as it came
from the other side of the Rhine, and honored and preserved may it
continue for another thousand years!"
There are few people so debased in their own opinion as, not to be proud
of their peculiar origin and character. The habit of always viewing
ourselves, our motives, and even our conduct, on the favorable side, is
the parent of self-esteem; and this weakness, carried into communities,
commonly gets to be the cause of a somewhat fallacious gauge of merit
among the population of entire countries. The châtelain, Melchior de
Willading, and the Prior, all of whom came from the same Teutonic root,
received the remark complacently; for each felt it an honor to be
descended from, such ancestors; while the more polished and artificial
Italian succeeded in concealing the smile that, on such an occasion, would
be apt to play about the mouth of a man whose parentage ran, through a
long line of sophisticated and politic nobles, into the consuls and
patricians of Rome, and most probably, through these again into the wily
and ingenious Greek, a root distinguished for civilization when these
patriarchs of the north lay buried in the depths of barbarism.
This little display of national vanity ended, the discourse took a more
general turn. Nothing occurred during the entertainment, however, to
denote that any of the company bethought him of the business on which they
had met. But, just as twilight foiled, and the repast was ended, the Prior
invited his guests to lend their attention to the matter in hand,
recalling them from their friendly attacks, their time-worn jokes, and
their attenuated logic, in all of which Peterchen, Melchior, and the
châtelain had indulged with some freedom, to a question involving the life
or death of at least one of their fellow-creatures.
The subordinates of the convent were occupied during the supper with the
arrangements that had been previously commanded; and when Father Michael
arose and intimated to his companions that their presence was now expected
elsewhere, he led them to a place that had been completely prepared for
their reception.