THE CHAPLAIN'S VISION.
"The ideal may never be found, yet even then its creation--unless
life is a shadow and the soul a deceit--is a prevision of the
infinite, a promise of ultimate fruition--an intimation of
eternity."--_Essay on_ BROWNING (_Quarterly Review_).
Fair shone the moon over Craig Aran on Midsummer Eve, proudly soaring
above the Peak in her fleecy white cloud-coverings, which ever and
anon stooped low to wrap its dark summit for a moment in their soft
embrace, then rising again into the deep blue heaven were wafted far
into its mysterious heights by the gentlest of summer breezes. Far
below the Peak lay the silent lake, black and dreadful in the shadow
of the mountain, and around it reigned an unearthly stillness,
unbroken by song of bird or distant sheep-bell, such as by day were
wont to break from time to time the dead silence, for now it was
midnight, and as Percival Vere stood at the summit of the Peak and
gazed at the dim, mysterious expanse of hill and dale, it seemed to
him that all the world was sleeping, save himself; and to the young
chaplain, but newly ordained to his holy office, there seemed a
fitting harmony between the silent, awful beauty of this midnight
scene and his own thoughts, beautiful in their new-found, sacred joy,
yet awful too as they measured the new responsibilities which must
henceforth ever fill them with holy dread. Sent on by Lady Bryn Afon
on the previous day to her favourite retreat, the old farmstead a
mile or so below the summit of the mountain, to prepare its occupants
for the reception of herself and her attendants, himself included, he
had heard much talk of the mystic Pool and its legendary Midsummer
Eve visitor between the members of the farm household, and having
never yet visited the far-famed region, he had wandered thither,
impelled more by his intense love of nature to seek out so beautiful
a spot, and there feel himself alone with God, than by any very firm
expectation of verifying the truth of the legend. Yet having had his
romantic Welsh impulses stirred more vividly than usual some few days
since by Lady Rosamond, who had assured him that, did he but gaze
fixedly upon the lake, on the stroke of midnight, he could not fail
to see the mystic maiden, he could not but confess to himself, as he
descended the precipitous green slope which led from the top of the
Peak to the shores of the lake, that were she indeed to reveal
herself, the apparition would scarce surprise him. He laughed, as he
carefully picked his steps among the boulders which strewed the steep
greensward, at his own pleasure in so boyish a freak, and gazed at
the dark and gloomy water with mingled feelings of amused incredulity
and vague expectancy. "Maiden or no maiden," he said to himself,
"this nightly view of the mountain is well worth seeing, and I am
content to bear my Lady Rosamond's derision, after suffering her
persuasions to lead me to so glorious a vision of Nature's beauties.
How marvellous is this unearthly stillness! Even the light breezes
which whispered on the mountain-top are hushed in this dim,
mysterious valley. Methinks 'twas such a stillness Moses must have
felt in the mount, ere the voice of God broke the awful silence. The
sleeping world doth verily seem full of God's presence, and surely
'tis through these hours of silent loveliness that His angels pass to
and fro on their errands of mercy! I marvel not that One should so
oft have sought the mountain-top alone, to hold closest commune with
His Father. For here no breath of this world's evil seems possible,
and the very air around breathes nought but peace. I will rest
awhile here beneath the shadow of the mountain-side, and drink deep
draughts of this pure atmosphere, ere I descend once more to yon
lonely farm, where methinks, in spite of their rude exterior, the
inhabitants have learned after their fashion, from such wondrously
pure and beautiful surroundings, something of that 'peace which
passeth man's understanding.'"
The young chaplain's limbs were weary after long wandering and
climbing by hill and dale, and as he sat and leaned his head against
the rock he hardly knew for awhile whether he woke or slept. He had
forgotten the expected vision, and his thoughts had travelled away to
the sermon he was preparing for delivery on the following Sunday in
the tiny church of Glyn Melen, far up in the mountain wilds, and then
they had become curiously vague and indistinct, finally landing him
in dreams, out of which he suddenly awoke with a start. He had slept
but five minutes, but with a sudden recollection of the legend he
pulled out his watch in haste, wondering whether he had after all
slept through the witching hour of midnight, and missed his chance of
verifying the mystic tale. No, it wanted yet five minutes to the
enchanted hour, and once more he closed his eyes, and his thoughts
travelled back to his sermon, and strove to disentangle it from his
dreams. Opening them again suddenly, and gazing upon the lake not
many yards away from his rocky retreat, what was his wonder at
beholding a gloriously beautiful maiden, in clinging white raiment,
gazing sorrowfully at the black surface of the water! He rubbed his
eyes, mistrusting their powers of vision, and looked again, and as he
looked the maiden moved slowly along the shore of the lake, gliding
round it softly and slowly, wringing her hands as she went. She was
wondrously fair! The moonlight shone upon her wealth of golden hair,
which rippled to her waist in streams of glittering gold, and lit up
her white robe till it glistened like true fairy raiment around her
slender form. Her face was pale, and her large dark eyes, as she
raised them in passing, seemed full of unearthly beauty, and sent a
strange thrill through Percival's frame. The startled expression
too, which filled them, as she fixed them for a second full on his
face as she passed, but made the vision more real, and he shrank back
into his rocky hollow, wondering if he were not dreaming. A second
time she passed, and then a third, but her eyes were no more raised
to his, and she glided by more quickly, as though terrified at the
near presence of a mortal. After the third time of her passing he
heard a sudden splash in the water, and covering his eyes for a
moment, with an odd sensation of dread lest he should see one so fair
plunge into the dark and gloomy abyss, he opened them again, to see
but the ripples ever widening towards the shore. That a feeling of
superstitious awe came over him at this wonderful vision, Master Vere
could not deny, and for awhile the still midnight air, so lately
peopled in his thoughts with angelic beings, seemed filled instead
with uncanny visitants from a doubtful world. His thoughts seemed to
be precipitated suddenly, not only from heaven to earth, but surely
to regions below the earth! And yet--so beautiful a vision could not
be from the Evil One? The spiritual beauty of those large sorrowful
eyes and that sweet pale countenance haunted him. Could there indeed
be truth in these weird old legends, and if so, for what intent were
such visions permitted, and whence came they? He walked to the brink
of the lake, and gazed steadfastly into its black depths, no longer
ruffled by the smallest ripple, and showing only a motionless
surface, dark and silent as the grave. No breath of human life save
his own seemed stirring in the vast solitude; only the pale, cold
moon sailed proudly overhead, ever and anon hiding her shining face
beneath some fleecy cloudlet, ere the light breeze caught it and
wantonly tossed it into a thousand fairy fragments. "I conjure thee,
maiden," said the chaplain, in half serious, half comic earnestness,
"if thou art a reality, show thyself again for one moment, that I may
know whether or no I am in right possession of my senses, or but the
victim of some foolish hallucination, bred by my long wandering in
the unearthly silence of this mountain!"
But no voice answered from the mysterious Pool, and no motion upon
its dark surface betokened that the immortal maiden would vouchsafe
to grant a perplexed mortal's prayer.
"I dream, doubtless," said the chaplain, "or else the supernatural
element dwelling in my Welsh blood doth take advantage of these
lonely surroundings, to gain the mastery over my English
common-sense! Yet whether it be with my bodily eyes or but with
those of a disordered mind, I doubt not for one moment that I have
verily seen the appointed vision, ay, and would fain look again upon
one so fair! My heart hath ever yet been in my own keeping, nor felt
any temptation to surrender to the fairest of mortal maidens, and
shall it now be confessed that it succumbs to a mere phantom of
immortal loveliness? Avaunt, Satan! Thou dost but tempt me with thy
sorry wiles, and because I have presumed to feel upon yon
mountain-top that I was nearer to God than others, thou dost hurl me
back to earth, and show me by means of lying visions that I am even
weak as other mortal men! Since the path I have chosen must needs
bring upon me much obloquy and ridicule, not to say, perchance, some
suffering and distress, is it not well that I should suffer no dreams
of earthly bliss to enthral me? And do I not daily thank God that as
yet such thoughts have come to me as no more than idle dreams? Yet
though I have ne'er as yet beheld one for whose sake I have been
tempted to forsake the path of duty, it is at times a passing sweet,
and surely no sinful dream, to imagine ever at my side one who would
be willing to share my hard path with me, and help me, by sweet and
gentle influence, to sway the hearts of men towards the path of
temperance and sobriety! Such a spirit of love and tenderness and
high purpose surely looked forth from those deep-fringed eyes, which
gazed with so affrighted a look upon me as the mystic maiden passed!
Ah, Percival, Percival, thy poor heart is surely turned with folly,
an thou canst thus allow thyself to linger over the memory of an
unearthly vision, created by thine own weak imagination, if perchance
not by the Evil One! Now let me seriously think upon the matter.
Granted that I have truly beheld the heroine of ancient legend, and
that she is at times as truly seen by others, what purpose is served
by her being thus permitted to appear year by year to mortal eyes?
And since there must surely pass many a Midsummer Eve when no mortal
foot treads this lonely fastness at midnight's witching hour, what
then avails her unwatched wringing of pale hands, and lonely
wandering around yon Pool? Summon your powers of English reasoning
to bear upon this Welsh folly, Percival Vere, and see if by
hard-headed logic you cannot rid yourself of these supernatural
influences!" And turning his back valiantly, and in some sort of
indignation, upon the scene of his perplexity, the young chaplain
sped down the mountain-side towards the farm, finding in hard
exercise an excellent antidote to the supernatural.
After a few hours of sound slumber he awoke next morning to find the
sun already high in the heavens, and his own midnight vision to
appear in the broad light of day but as a half-forgotten dream. It
was, however, forcibly brought to his recollection during the morning
by Lady Rosamond, who, much to his surprise, appeared towards midday,
in company with her husband, telling him that they had travelled from
Caer Caradoc on the previous day as far as a lonely hamlet some three
or four miles distant from Glyn Helen, where they had rested for the
night, or rather for so much of it as remained to them after a
midnight visit to the Pool beneath Craig Aran. "You were surely not
at the Pool?" exclaimed the chaplain. "It is true that I myself
repaired thither at your ladyship's urgent entreaty; but I did not
understand that you also purposed to come and prove the truth of your
legend, and I verily believed myself to be the only human being amid
such midnight desolation." "I know right well you thought so,"
answered Lady Rosamond calmly; "and aware that you were enjoying the
sensation to the full--for such is the selfishness of man--I would
not for worlds break the spell by intruding upon you my own giddy and
light-hearted personality. We concealed ourselves in a snug niche in
the rock on the farther side of the lake--having seen your evident
desire for, and belief in, your own solitude--whence we had as good a
view of the fair vision as you doubtless had yourself, and whence we
saw you steal forth spellbound from your own retreat after the maiden
had plunged once more beneath the waters, and heard you mutter
certain dark sayings upon the brink, though whether exorcisms upon
the evil thing, or imploring invitations to so wondrous an apparition
to again reveal herself, we were unable to tell. Nevertheless, we
beheld clearly enough how your
"'Eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,'
Did 'glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,'
in vain search after so witching a vision! Was it not so, Ivor?" "I
marvel that in such bright moonlight I failed to see you," said the
chaplain. "It is true I was much wrapped in thought, and looked for
no one, being all unaware of your intent to follow me in my quest;
yet, since you saw _me_----" "'Tis not to be wondered at," said Lady
Rosamond. "It was my wish to watch unobserved the effect of the
sight upon you, knowing you to be an unblushing unbeliever in my
mysterious tale, and moreover, fearing lest in the presence of so
unrestrained a tongue as mine the Fates should not be propitious. It
was easy enough to conceal ourselves, I do assure you. An we had
been so much engrossed by the apparition as you were, forsooth, 'tis
likely enough we had likewise failed to distinguish aught else! Now
confess 'twas no wild-goose chase on which I sent you? You misjudged
me sorely, and went forth, as I well know, but as Isaac of old, to
meditate in the fields at eventide, thinking scorn of me and my old
wives' fables; but what say you now? Spoke I not truly? See, Ivor,
how the tell-tale blood rises to his cheek! He is not even yet
disenchanted. Ah, good Master Vere, you have ever scorned the
maidens within your reach;--now I shall indeed laugh to see you sigh
and grow pale for love of the unattainable!" "Fie, Rosamond," said
Ivor; "methinks our friend will scarce approve such light jesting.
You wrong him likewise, for Sir Galahad is to my thinking too
chivalrous a knight to 'think scorn' of a woman." "He will ne'er
find one in this mortal world to his liking, nevertheless," answered
Lady Rosamond. "He expects more virtues than the best of us can
realise. Now confess, Sir Galahad, after your night's experience,
that there must needs be, as our good Master Shakespeare hath it,
'more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your
philosophy?'" "My philosophy hath verily acknowledged limits,"
answered the chaplain with a smile, "but I have not yet come to a
decision as to whether such visions belong to either earth or heaven,
or perchance may not appertain to quite another region." Lady
Rosamond clapped her hands, and laughed as though some secret delight
were too much for her. "A gallant speech truly!" she said. "I blush
for you, Percival Vere, that you can harbour in your bosom such
thoughts of one so fair. Go to! Thou art a hopeless youth, and I
have done with you! You were ever proud as Lucifer, and you are loth
to confess that you were in the wrong and I in the right with respect
to our ancient legend, in which, as an Ap Gryffyth, you are bound to
believe with all your heart." "My heart beareth witness to many
things," said the chaplain with a smile; "and amid its timely
counsels I find a warning against too ready a credence of the Lady
Rosamond's wiles, at such times as a more frolicsome mood than
ordinary doth overtake her! Wherefore the matter of my midnight
vision must needs be yet more fully weighed in my mind ere I dare
commit myself to any solemn avowal of the legend's truth." "The
broad light of day has made you once more bold in your incredulity,"
said Lady Rosamond. "But you have confessed already your belief--or,
not to offend you, I will call it your suspicion--that your fair
vision was an ambassador from the nether world, and to that, good
Master Percival, I will hold you! Verily you are scarce more
chivalrous after all than your renowned grandsire towards our poor
sex! I trow he must needs have loved indeed some of your
nether-world phantoms, to make him so bitter of speech against us all!
"'If women could be fair, and yet not fond,
Or that their love were firm, not fickle still,
I would not marvel that they make men bond
By service long to purchase their goodwill;
But when I see how frail these creatures are,
I muse that men forget themselves so far.
'To mark the choice they make, and how they change,
How oft from Phœbus do they fly to Pan;
Unsettled still, like haggards wild they range,
These gentle birds that fly from man to man;
Who would not scorn, and shake them from the fist,
And let them fly, poor fools, which way they list?
'Yet for disport we fawn and flatter both,
To pass the time, when nothing else can please,
And train them to our lure with subtle oath,
Till, weary of their wiles, ourselves we ease;
And then we say, when we their fancy try,
To play with fools, O what a fool was I!'*
* Poem by Vere, Earl of Oxford; died 1604.
There, friend Percival, how gallant a grandfather hadst thou! Yet do
I pity him, poor man, for I doubt not he had himself by nature a
constanter heart than most, and was at some period sorely tried by
one of my sex! What shame that some inconstant ones should so drag
our good name in the dust! I scarce can in my mind's eye see you
'fawn and flatter,' proud Percival, e'en to gain the goodwill of a
mystic water-sprite! Well, a truce to folly,--your reverend
countenance looks grave over your grandsire's woe, unless it be over
my unseemly mirth?--The Lady Bryn Afon, whom I encountered yesterday
on my journey hitherwards, bade me assure you of her arrival towards
sunset this evening, and moreover of her husband's wish that you
should remain in attendance upon her for so long a time as she is
pleased to sojourn in this wild spot, since he has himself no
immediate need of your services, and would fain have you lay by a
store of new strength in this healthful region, after your past
months of hard reading."
"He is kindly considerate for my welfare," answered the young
chaplain; "and if he truly has no urgent need of me, I confess that a
short stay in this lovely spot will please me well enough. Lady Bryn
Afon's apartments are in perfect readinesss, due preparation having
been made for her waiting-maids likewise, and for the companion she
brings with her." "She brings then a guest?" asked Lady Rosamond
carelessly. "Know you who she may be?" "I have understood,"
answered Master Vere, "that the far-famed river-maiden was again in
attendance upon her. My Lord Bryn Afon has told me of the strong
attachment she has formed for her, and of her having already
accompanied her in her travels abroad some few years since. He
appears well satisfied that the maiden is a fitting companion for
her." "Know you aught of this fair maid of Gwynnon?" asked Lady
Rosamond. "Nay," he answered, "save only some tales of her deserted
infancy, which have reached my ears during the times of my lecturing
in your neighbourhood, together with some mention of her great beauty
of countenance, and devotion to her foster-father." "Yes, 'tis a
strange tale," said Lady Rosamond. "Since that time I have myself
seen somewhat of her, and do also entertain no small affection for
her. Well, we must be going, for Sir Ivor begins to wear a grave
countenance over my unwearying tongue! We shall have no fear in
leaving our fair friends to your reverend charge. My lord and I ride
homewards to-morrow after a night's sojourn with good Master Rhys
Prichard, and shall shortly after repair to town, which will
doubtless be our next place of meeting with you. Adieu! reverend
knight, and may no more supernatural visions disturb the even tenor
of your way!"