Glenaveril, or The Metamorphoses By the Earl of Lytton |
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| 3. | BOOK THE THIRD.
THE ALPS. |
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 | Glenaveril, or The Metamorphoses |  |
237
BOOK THE THIRD. THE ALPS.
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CANTO I. LIFE'S METAMORPHOSES.
I
All ye who roam abroad, what seek ye there?Change? But in search of change what need to roam?
For change to every one comes everywhere,
And comes unsought. Then, why not stay at home?
Surely, at home, enough of change it were
Simply to live, letting time go and come,
While hourly fleet the banks on either side
Of life's continually flowing tide!
II
Home changes are, at least, safe-harvestedBy love unchanged. Their soft succession hides
Their harsh effects. The smile of summers fled
Still in the winter-wrinkled face abides:
Some lingering charm to deck the whitened head,
Habit, Time's old familiar friend, provides:
And, less like Summer gone than Autumn come,
Age follows Youth with Memory's harvest home.
240
III
All ye who roam abroad, what is it ye do?Gaps you create: one in your own lives, one
Among their lives who miss you. Ah, the two
Will (never doubt it!) both be filled anon;
Filled, and, as soon as filled, put out of view!
Closed up, as open graves are, by a stone
That hides what it was meant to indicate,
The coffined corpse beneath its name and date!
IV
Care for the absent soon becomes, at best,The Campo Santo of a convent; paved
With mortuary slabs, so often pressed
By heedless steps that the inscriptions graved
Across them can be neither traced nor guessed;
For even the mute memorials that once craved
Some charitable memory of the dead,
Life treads away with unremembering tread:
V
All but the first and last words are effaced:‘Here lyeth’—that is all the first words say,
And ‘Pray for him!’ in mockery say the last,
And all between is rubbed and worn away;
There, once some cherished effigy was traced,
But form, and face, and features, where are they?
The dead man's image from his smooth grave stone,
And with his image even his name, is gone!
241
VI
Whither, O wanderers, whither do ye go?The smallest streamlets never miss their way,
Roam where they will about the world; but who
Of all earth's human travellers can say
What end the path he treads will take him to?
One goal there is which all must reach some day,
Whether they go abroad or stay at home;
But to get there, what need have ye to roam?
VII
Sons, brothers, fathers, husbands, friends, depart:O'er their departure many a sorrowing eye
Hath wept ‘farewell!’ and many an aching heart
Hath sighed ‘God speed!’ What loving lip will cry
‘Welcome!’ where they are going? Friends they start,
And strangers they return. Return! ah, why?
Tired pilgrims, have ye found not what ye sought?
Yes, but the search was all, the finding nought!
VIII
‘'Tis nailed all over,’ said Emanuel‘Just like a Bishop's Coffin!’ He was eyeing
A Chamouni boot; a perfect miracle
Of cobblery, contrived for fortifying
The human foot in a thick-hided shell,
Such as the Athenian cobbler was for trying
Upon the walls of Athens, to test whether
Stone has the most resisting power, or leather.
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IX
This formidable boot was one of twoBy Chamouni's best bootmaker just made
For the complete equipment of the new
Earl of Glenaveril. ‘I am certain,’ said
That personage, continuing his review
Of its peculiarities, with head
Set on the critical slant, ‘that all this mass
‘Of iron knobs was meant to shoe an ass!
X
‘What is the use of fashioning a boot‘To imitate Achilles' shield? 'Tis all
‘The vanity of that conceited brute,
‘The irrepressible periodical
‘Swiss Tourist; whom it pleases to impute
‘To these poor pimples, that are Nature's small
‘Defects, all sorts of dangers quite confined,
‘If they exist, to his own boastful mind;
XI
‘Or is it, like our cavalry cuirasses,‘Only a reminiscence that has grown
‘Into a decoration which surpasses
‘Absurdity by inconvenience? Own
‘That, if you chanced to slip down the crevasses
‘Ready to gulp you, not a single one
‘Of these big nails would be of service found,
‘Though all are useless upon level ground!’
243
XII
Said Ivor who, with file in hand, meanwhile,Sharpening an alpenstock, beside him sat,
‘Scorn not precaution!’ And with acrid smile,
‘Precaution,’ said Emanuel, ‘what is that?
‘Certificated accident! The tile,
‘Whose fall, to-day, by chance hath missed your hat,
‘Chance may, to-morrow, help to cleave your pate!
‘Precaution comes too soon or else too late;
XIII
‘Last winter by a miracle, without‘A muffler, you escaped a lung disease,
‘And therefore all this summer, go about
‘Wrapped up from chest to chin.’ ‘Ah well, in these
‘Swiss tours,’ said Ivor, ‘'twill not do to flout
‘Precaution. Every guide in this agrees;
‘And wherefore, dear Emanuel, be ashamed’—
‘Stop! Call me not Emanuel,’ he exclaimed,
XIV
‘Call me, My Lord! My title is defined‘In our convention, and I hold to it!
‘Earl of Glenaveril, am I now! And mind
‘That you address me always as 'tis fit
‘My Secretary should. I'm not inclined
‘To waive my novel rank one jot or whit.
‘Noblesse oblige! tho’, doubtless, in what way
‘It is obliging, it were hard to say.’
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XV
‘Inveterate scoffer! born misanthropist!’Said Ivor, laughing, ‘for full well I know
‘Thou from thy sarcasms wouldst not desist
‘On all that goes with noble birth, if thou
‘Couldst even trace thine own back to the list
‘Of Christendom's first Barons!’ ‘Anyhow,’
Emanuel answered, ‘I myself should be
‘In that case last of all their pedigree;
XVI
‘And by the simple fact of being last‘I should confer upon society
‘A blessing greater even than the vast
‘Amount of mischief done in days gone by
‘By the whole tribe of them.’ ‘Go on! thou hast,’
‘Said Ivor, ‘in thy wit's whole armoury
‘No weapon strong enough to overthrow
‘The sway of thine own nature! That I know.
XVII
‘Thou art, in fact, a born arìstocrat‘In all save birth: arìstocrat in all
‘Thy tastes and tendencies, no matter what
‘The motive be that urges thee to call
‘Thyself a democrat, although so flat
‘The contradiction by thy natural
‘And genuine self continually given
‘To that affected character, thank Heaven!
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XVIII
‘Nor else would I have coaxed thee to comply‘With this experimental transposition
‘Of names and titles. Thou dost not deny
‘(Nay more! thou dost affirm) that the transmission
‘Of an inherited capacity
‘Hath made the bee a skilled geometrician;
‘Yet to life's noblest orders dost impute
‘The want of gifts conceded to the brute!’
XIX
‘Ah, first of all,’ replied Emanuel,‘We must distinguish, and agree upon
‘The use of terms. And pray consider well
‘What is transmitted. Bees, from sire to son,
‘(Or, to speak strictly by the oracle,
‘Mother to daughter) have been going on
‘Transmitting what I venture to define
‘As Beeism. Excuse the term, 'tis mine.
XX
‘Examine it, however, and you'll find‘(Putting aside the Queen Bee who, in fact,
‘Is only the whole commonwealth's combined
‘Maternity into one insect packed)
‘That Beeism is the completest kind
‘Of organised equality. Abstract
‘From our Noblesse the most you can refer
‘To its hereditary character,
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XXI
‘And what it yields is the perpetuation‘Of inequality.’ ‘Whereby’ replied
Glenaveril, ‘it makes no deviation
‘From the great law of growth exemplified
‘By Nature, that complete Impersonation
‘Of Inequality!’ ‘Yes, doubtless,’ cried
Emanuel, ‘in individual cases,
‘But never in the usages of races!
XXII
‘Who ever saw a calf of tender age‘Accepted as the hereditary head
‘Of the whole herd that to its pasturage
‘Was by the bull, his father, fitly led?
‘What instinct, still derived from its first stage
‘Hath our Nobility inherited?
‘An instinct, whose relief the law refuses,
‘Of using swords—which nobody now uses!’
XXIII
‘And is it thou, O philosophic friend,’Retorted Ivor, ‘who art thus content
‘A prejudiced position to defend
‘With such a mere pretence at argument?
‘From sterile heights the torrent may descend,
‘But there is grandeur even in its descent,
‘Simply because the source of it was high.
‘Whence comes stagnation? From equality!
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XXIV
‘Rome to the headsprings of the Apennine‘Raised aqueducts, whereby the waters ran,
‘Keeping the freshness of their origin,
‘To slake the thirst of lips republican
‘With purity unsoiled by the supine
‘Maremmas. As the source is, so the man:
‘To every highborn progeny belong
‘Some qualities not common to the throng:
XXV
‘And, be it never so degenerate,‘In Aristocracy doth still exist
‘A something fine, from every other state
‘And form of social growth still vaguely missed:
‘The vulgar, even when they affect to hate,
‘Admire it, nor its influence can resist;
‘Instinctively to its possessors they
‘A deference, that proclaims a difference, pay.’
XXVI
‘His Lordship's breakfast is prepared below!’The waiter, entering, to Emanuel said,
With a profoundly deferential bow;
And then, suspending his obsequious tread,
He added, ‘And the Guides are waiting now
‘His Excellency's orders.’ ‘Good!’ his head
Emanuel nodded. ‘Let them wait till I
‘Can send Herr Müller to them by and by.’
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XXVII
Then turning, as the waiter at that wordThe chamber left, ‘There, Ivor! there,’ said he,
‘From that man's lips thou hast mine answer heard!
‘Hope nothing from the vulgar! Power to be
‘Responsive to distinction is conferred
‘Only on those who are distinguished. See,
‘The vulgar have it not! Between us two,
‘What difference did that man proclaim just now?
XXVIII
‘Each daily circumstance of his vocation‘Must to the highest point it can attain
‘Have trained his faculty of observation;
‘Yet his vulgarity upon us twain,
‘Since our arrival here, without cessation
‘Has exercised that faculty in vain!
‘In thee the essence of nobility
‘Its source reveals: a born plebeian I:
XXIX
‘Yet see! It is enough that I display‘A title men suppose to be mine own,
‘And indiscriminately fling away
‘Donations, in the vilest taste; and down
‘To earth men bow before me, as if they
‘In me revered the very roof and crown
‘Of human nature; while on thee, poor friend,
‘Not even a glance can they afford to spend!
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XXX
‘Thou knowest,’ he continued with a sigh,‘That to perfection of whatever kind
‘No man is more susceptible than I.
‘What saddens and dismays me is to find
‘That everywhere the highest faculty,
‘Whether it be of body or of mind,
‘Has no hereditary place on earth,
‘No aristocracy secured by birth.
XXXI
‘The noblest artist is the first and last‘Of his own kind: on the philosopher
‘All the philosophies of all the past
‘No cognizable ancestors confer:
‘The great creative poet dies at last
‘With no legitimate inheritor.
‘Ah, if the Montmorenci of the mind
‘Had but the power to propagate their kind!
XXXII
‘Or even the Comneni of the plough!’This groan Glenaveril echoed with a sigh;
‘Nature,’ he said, ‘is blind, and doth bestow
‘Her gifts by chance.’ ‘No, Ivor! I deny
‘That Nature,’ cried Emanuel all aglow
With combative rebuke to that reply,
‘Does anything by chance. There is no room
‘For chance in Nature. Natural chance means Doom.
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XXXIII
‘We call that Nature which we understand;‘And what we understand not we call Chance,
‘Using the word that's readiest at hand
‘To fill the place of our own ignorance.
‘Not inadvertently hath Nature planned
‘And fast established the inheritance
‘By safe transmission, in this race or that,
‘Of almond eyes, and noses hooked or flat;
XXXIV
‘And tell me not the Power that can secure‘This permanence of type in nose and eyes
‘Is powerless to perpetuate the pure
‘Inheritance of higher faculties
‘Than sight or smell! No, no! 'tis we, be sure,
‘By some perversity, which I surmise
‘Might be corrected if we knew but how,
‘Forfeit the gifts that Power would fain bestow.
XXXV
‘Ah, if we only trusted Nature more!‘Doth not the saxifrage select a soil
‘No other plant could thrive in, and thence pour
‘About her affluent stem a dancing coil
‘Of dainty bells? Who knows? in every score
‘Of noble dames, is one, perchance, the spoil
‘Of circumstance unsuited to her case,
‘An unguessed saxifrage born out of place!
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XXXVI
‘A saxifrage constrained to waste away‘Because 'tis planted in too rich an earth
‘For its development! And who can say
‘How many a natural duchess her vile birth
‘On vicious paths condemns to go astray
‘Obscurely, whose else-unpolluted worth
‘With every grace and virtue might adorn
‘Some coronet perchance less nobly worn?
XXXVII
'Tis said, in mockery of a certain race,‘Its custom is before the opening eyes
‘Of every child, as soon as born, to place
‘A fiddle and a purse. If the child tries
‘To clutch the fiddle, in that lucky case
‘'Tis reared as a musician: if it eyes
‘The purse first, its vocation then must be
‘A thief's. The child's choice is accounted free.
XXXVIII
‘An unavowed confession in the terms‘Of this ill-natured pleasantry I find.
‘What of a single people spite affirms,
‘Custom on all inflicts. Though undesigned,
‘The moral's true. The bent of human germs
‘We all ignore; and Childhood's heart and mind
‘Must needs to Custom pay the ruinous price
‘Exacted by Parental Prejudice!
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XXXIX
‘No! I repeat, 'tis Ignorance that doth balk‘The hand of Nature; tho' by humouring it
‘Cattle short-horned, and hogs too fat to walk,
‘Our scientific breeders have the wit
‘To generate; and how boastfully we talk
‘Of these monstrosities, as if 'twere fit
‘The human breed should lack that choice selection
‘Which brings a Yorkshire ham to its perfection!’
XL
‘Well,’ said Glenaveril, laughing as he rose,‘The problem's one of opportunity;
‘And for my part, to solve it, I propose,
‘That we forthwith to breakfast go! for I
‘Begin to feel a hungry germ that grows
‘Impatient for its provident supply
‘Of suitable and timely nourishment.
‘Allons!’ And arm in arm the two friends went.
XLI
A pleasant meal was their repast, and gay,Spread in a bright embrasure of the hall
That served for general dining-room. The day
Was but a few hours old, and cloudless. All
As green as emerald in the clear light lay,
Glittering and glooming underneath a wall
Of radiant whiteness, roofed by a blue sky,
The incomparable Vale of Chamouni.
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XLII
A pungent fragrance from the mountain pineAnd the wet grass embalmed the buxom air;
Fronting the casement, in the fresh sunshine,
Mont Blanc a spacious billowy sheet of bare
Smooth snow against the ethereal hyaline
Spread like a splendid sail, as if he were
About to launch from an ice-built embrasure
His buoyant mass into the aëry azure.
XLIII
The time invited an ascent: but still,The two friends had decided, first of all
Before attempting it, to test their skill
And strength in some comparatively small
And easy enterprise; enough to fill
This day and next, from noon till even fall,
Pleasantly with a picturesque excursion
Involving, said their Guides, no great exertion.
XLIV
Meanwhile, the empty hall wherein was spreadTheir early meal, grew crowded by degrees.
As tutors with small tribes of boys to lead,
Young couples, and mamas with families,
Came strolling in to breakfast, or to read
The list of new arrivals. Among these
One family there was that seemed to be
North German, doubtless of the Bourgeoisie;
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XLV
Such looked, at least, the type of all save one;They took their places at a table set
Near that whereby Glenaveril now alone
Was sitting; for Emanuel, to get
His preparations for the morning done,
Had gone upstairs, in his new part as yet
But ill at ease; and thus, he chanced to quit
The hall as those late comers entered it.
XLVI
The family consisted of a manOf middle age, in whose good-humoured face
A shrewd expression more American
Than German it was possible to trace;
His wife, a buxom dame of full-blown span,
And not without a certain comely grace;
Two little girls, his daughters, you might guess;
And with them their young English governess.
XLVII
This information, with an air discreet,The landlord was communicating now
To a young Austrian officer, whose seat
Fronting Glenaveril's, faced that family row.
Twirling his moustache, a miraculous feat
In waxwork, the young dandy lifted slow
Eyeglass to eye, with supercilious stare,
Enquiring what his fellow-travellers were.
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XLVIII
‘The sauce seems better than the fish!’ said heIn answer to the landlord's information,
‘And that young governess might really be
‘A princess, whose ideal occupation
‘Is to lead lambs about in Arcady!
‘Her lambs should have pink ribbons, decoration
‘Would much improve them; but their shepherdess
‘Looks charming in her very simple dress.’
XLIX
The landlord, chuckling, answered, ‘True, Herr Graf!‘Persons of that condition now-a-days
‘Have airs and graces that would make you laugh,
‘Did you but know, as we do, all their ways.
‘But 'tis our business to know grain from chaff,
‘And no assumed distinction ever pays
‘With us, I promise you! No, I can tell
‘With half an eye the genuine article!’
L
The Herr Graf nodded. ‘Ah, no doubt you can!’He said with a slight accent of disdain.
‘Well, we might make a bargain, honest man,
‘And you should for yourself keep all the grain;
‘Give me the chaff. I like it better than
‘Your genuine article.’ Mine host, again
Chuckling replied, with sundry nods and winks,
‘Ay, ay, that's natural! 'tis a pretty minx!
256
LI
‘But governesses with such lips and eyes‘Are little devils! there's no doubt of that.
‘Once they get into noble families,
‘Heaven knows what pranks their eyes and lips are at!
‘And by the way, Herr Graf, just scrutinize
‘The couple yonder! There's a proof of what
‘I'm saying. Do you see them sitting there?
‘Both looking as if bored to death they were!
LII
‘The husband studying the Figaro,‘Only for an excuse to turn his back
‘Upon his wife! And she—ah, notice, do,
‘With what a fretful wearisome tic-tac
‘She opes and shuts that bracelet! You must know
‘The lady was (a year ago, good lack!)
‘One of those pretty governesses; well,
‘In love with her, of course, the young Graf fell,
LIII
‘And so—’ But here the landlord's accents grewMore confidential and less audible,
As he proceeded to impart some new
Detail which, doubtless, it was just as well
To whisper only. Ivor never knew
The end of that romance, which, truth to tell,
He had indifferently overheard
Without attending to a single word;
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LIV
For he, meanwhile, was deeply studyingHis Alpine map, and from it jotting down
Into his notebook every little thing
About his journey. So the words had flown,
As idly heard as insects on the wing,
About his ears with that monotonous drone
Which lulls a mind on other thoughts intent.
And still Glenaveril o'er his map was bent,
LV
When, without even pausing, as he passed,His message to deliver, in a tone
Pertly betokening his impatient haste
Upon some other business to be gone,
A waiter, with a glance behind him cast,
Exclaimed, ‘Herr Müller, if your meal is done,
‘My lord Glenaveril says he wants the key
‘Of his portmanteau. You can give it me.’
LVI
‘I'll take it him myself,’ Glenaveril said,‘And that immediately. You need not stop.’
Then quietly the map, before him spread,
Into his pocketbook he folded up,
And rose to go. But, as he turned his head,
The little clatter of a broken cup
Stopped him, and there he stayed—beneath a spell
Whose sudden sorcery was invincible:
258
LVII
In the same moment, starting from her seatWith a glad gesture of such passionate stress
That the half-lifted tea-cup to her feet
Fell as she rose, a girl (now motionless
As he himself) stood, statuelike. Her sweet
Young face, rose-flushed, her simple soft grey dress,
Were inundated and illumined all
With a delight divinely virginal;
LVIII
Her gaze was fixed upon Glenaveril,Suffused and radiant with a silent joy
So deep, so pure, so perfect, and so still,
That he, all quivering, and not knowing why
His whole frame trembled with a mystic thrill,
Uttered a glad involuntary cry;
A cry revealing by its vehemence
The swift recovery of some long-lost sense!
LIX
'Twas but a moment: and, for all but two,Less than a moment. No one else perceived
Anything more than a young lady who,
Having upset a tea-cup, shocked and grieved
At the disaster, had sprung up to view
What injury her dress might have received
From her own awkwardness: a natural act
Originating in a clumsy fact.
259
LX
A moment only! But to those embracedWithin the moment's meaning, what a vast
Eternity of feeling then effaced
All the familiar landmarks around past
Present and future confidently traced
By Use and Wont! and what a furnace-blast
From the Creative Fiat breathed sublime
Thro' that one momentary sigh of time!
LXI
As thus she stood—her fluctuous image swayedA little backward in a curve enchanting,
Whose buoyant undulating grace was made
Firm in its fairy poise by the down-slanting
Arm that, behind her, on the chair still laid
A hand to prop what seemed a sea-wave panting
Upon its highest pinnacle before
It bursts in spray on the expectant shore;
LXII
As thus she stood—a rippling tremour heavedEach little loosened tress, as if some nerve
In every single hair had just received
A message from her heart to make it curve
And quiver with a bliss that round her weaved
One of those aureoles whose beams preserve
The else-lost tradition of Beatitude,
Making a Heaven in human flesh and blood;
260
LXIII
As thus she stood—could they have seen her there,The painter would have flung his pencil by,
The sculptor dropped his chisel in despair,
Avowing that Life only can supply
What, to discover it, Art everywhere
Searches Creation with inquisitive eye
And restless hand, in vain—the master-key
To Beauty's supernatural mystery!
LXIV
But for a moment only, and no more,The vision lasted—for a moment all
Throbbing and palpitating to the core
Of its quick essence with an augural
Sensation of some promised bliss that bore
No name as yet—a moment which the fall
Of one word finished. As from a rose-tree
A rosebud falls, it fell. That word was ‘He!’
LXV
Quick, the next minute, the suspended flowOf common life renewed its idle play
Just as before, save for the lingering glow
Given by a word which nothing could unsay
To a discovery nothing could undo.
Mechanically Ivor went his way,
Mounted the stair, Emanuel's chamber found,
Entered it, and stared vacantly around.
261
LXVI
‘What ails thee?’ cried Emanuel. ‘At midday‘Do I behold Precaution, on whose wise
‘Cool wits depends the safety of our way
‘Walking asleep?’ And, in dismayed surprise,
Glenaveril started, like a man who lay
Safe in his bed when last he closed his eyes,
But, waking, finds himself, he knows not how,
Seated upon his housetop in the snow.
LXVII
‘'Tis strange!’ he murmured with a dreamy sigh.‘Extremely strange!’ Emanuel replied;
‘Thy face would lead to the discovery
‘Of Hamlet's secret. Garrick in his pride
‘Could not have better played the part. But why
‘So scared, Glenaveril? Wilt thou not confide
‘In thine Horatio? Hast thou seen the stately
‘But buried Majesty of Denmark, lately?’
LXVIII
‘Good heavens, Emanuel! how shall I explain‘What hath o'erwhelmed me?’ gasped Glenaveril;
‘Oh, I could blush for shame! The cure was vain.
‘I deemed myself recovered. That my will
‘Should be so weak! Such a relapse again!’
‘Relapse?’ Emanuel laughed, ‘What, dreaming still?
‘Thou never a worse malady hast had
‘Than influenza. Is it now so bad?
262
LXIX
‘Poor fellow! sneeze then! Don't apologize,‘They say that sneezing clears the intellect!’
And Ivor answered, with reproachful eyes,
‘Thy remedy is cruel, but its effect
‘Complete. Emanuel, yes! these pleasantries
‘Are merited; for I myself suspect
‘I am insane. Yet, sane or not, just now
‘I saw Cordelia. That is all I know.’
LXX
Emanuel burst into a laughing-fitSo loud and long it shook the window-glass.
‘Really this fooling is too exquisite!
‘Imagine me, true son as ever was
‘Of Germany's dear dreamland, forced to sit
‘Preaching plain common sense (in vain alas!)
‘To an illustrious countryman of Mill
‘And Bentham! Think of that, Glenaveril!’
LXXI
He had sunk, convulsed with laughter, in his chair,At what to him seemed hugely whimsical
In this idea. But, with graver air,
He added ‘Try, dear Ivor, once for all
‘To free thy wits from the disastrous snare
‘Of that incipient madness, poets call
‘Imagination—to excuse the crimes
‘Against good sense committed by their rhymes!
263
LXXII
‘This wild ridiculous romance, concerted‘Most probably for mischief of some kind,
‘And, thanks to Father Edelrath, averted—
‘How can it possibly o'er thy clear mind
‘So tyrannous an influence have exerted
‘That, go where'er thou wilt, thou needs must find
‘The world, as if Creation shared thy craze,
‘Completely peopled with Cordelias?
LXXIII
‘Glenaveril, thou art like an auctioneer‘I heard of once,—a man of statement bold,
‘But limited invention—who, whene'er
‘The subject of the picture that he sold
‘Happened to be a woman whose head-gear
‘Or gown contained in any casual fold
‘An Oriental character, baptized it
‘“Judith”: and as he named it so he prized it.
LXXIV
‘For him (a mania, it appears to me)‘All womankind had but one thing to do:
‘Just to be Judith, or else not to be.
‘It strikes me that 'tis much the same with you;
‘Only you change the name. And I can see
‘That you will soon become a maniac too,
‘If thus’— But here Glenaveril with a rush
‘Drew him towards the window, whispering Hush!’
264
LXXV
Outside, before the porch of the hotel,A carriage stood; five persons into it
Were stepping; Ivor recognised them well;
And, all his face with sudden blushes lit,
‘Look there!’ he whispered to Emanuel,
‘The last to enter—where the children sit—
‘'Tis she!’ Thy face, behind this curtain, screen!
‘I would not for the world that we were seen!’
LXXVI
The smile of mockery that was hoveringAbout Emanuel's features suddenly
Died as he followed Ivor's gaze. ‘Poor thing!’
He murmured with a half-compassionate sigh,
‘A governess, no doubt! But wherefore cling
‘To these insane delusions, Ivor? Why,
‘The girl's no more Cordelia, that is clear,
‘Poor child, than yonder bourgeois is King Lear!
LXXVII
‘No matter! This world's mysteries embrace‘A sacred confraternity unknown
‘'Twixt Beauty, Genius, Suffering, Grandeur, Grace.
‘The initiated have, and they alone,
‘The password of its secret. Earth they pace
‘As strangers; but each other by a tone,
‘A glance, they recognise; and then, alas,
‘With that exchange of signals on they pass!
265
LXXVIII
‘They pass, and meet no more! Poor girl, no doubt‘She too the password knows. Well, let her be!
‘What is the world's stupidity about,
‘When it plants lilies, out of place as she,
‘In its potato-fields? Let us go out!’
‘He cried abruptly. ‘These things frighten me.
‘They make me shiver. Stay not! Let us go
‘And warm ourselves—at the eternal snow!
LXXIX
‘Come! To the glaciers! There, Eternity‘Hath hidden Nature's warmth. My heart is cold!’
And, turning with a quick impatient sigh,
On Ivor's arm he laid an eager hold.
Glenaveril followed him without reply,
Lost in the maze of his own manifold
Sensations; while Emanuel muttered still,
‘To the great glaciers! Come, Glenaveril!’
266
CANTO II. MARIETTA'S NEEDLE.
I
‘No! bless you, no! The level here is seven‘Thousand three hundred two and thirty feet
‘Above the sea, and so we're still from heaven
‘A long way off. You're not the least bit beat,
‘However, tho' we've done it all in even
‘Less than the time I reckoned. You'll compete
‘With old Jacques Balmat, if you keep this pace
‘Ah, yes! that yonder is the Mer de Glace.
267
II
‘Now follow, please, my hand from left to right!‘To-morrow we shall to the Jardin get;
‘'Tis like an emerald brooch upon the white
‘Breast of Talèfre's great glacier neatly set.
‘Yonder you see Lechaud. A goodish height!
‘Ten thousand and nine hundred—(wait a bit!)
‘Nine hundred, fourteen feet. The small Jorasse,
‘Its neighbour, quite another thousand has.
III
‘Look this way now, a little further on!‘There stands the great Jorasse; whose height may be
‘Full thirteen thousand feet and more. Anon
‘Mont Mallet and the Giant's Needle see!
‘You mark that glacier gleaming in the sun?
‘That is Tacul. Just like an ogre's knee,
‘Or a great jetty whitened by the hoary
‘Surge that it cleaves, observe yon promontory!
IV
‘Above it, like a lighthouse on a cliff,‘Stands the Tour Ronde. And now attention, pray!
‘There soars the wonder of all wonders! If
‘You doubt it, you must climb Mont Blanc some day.
‘High as it is, the climb is not so stiff;
‘Just fifteen thousand seven hundred—Heh!
‘Take care my lord! Take care! Don't stand so near!
‘Those stones are loose. The precipice is sheer.
268
V
‘If your foot slips, you'll break your neck before‘You've time to say Goddam; which is, I'm told,
‘The English Paternoster!’ With this roar
Of warning, the Alps' showman here seized hold
Upon Emanuel who (whilst, chatting o'er
A pic-nic feast just done, the Guides made bold
To do the honours of the Alps) had strayed
Away from that statistical parade.
VI
The official information tacked to eachPeak he beheld, vile portraits of them prized
By tourists, and the Guides' monotonous screech
Of introduction to them, vulgarized
The whole horizon far as sight could reach;
And he had wandered off, with undisguised
Impatience, hoping thus to find alone
Some point of view that he might call his own.
VII
For the unwelcome caution just receivedHis thanks were curt and cold, as he sat down
A little further on. The Old Guide, grieved
By the marked want of gratitude thus shown
To his remonstrance, now returning, heaved
A sort of grumbling sigh, half grunt, half groan,
And, gulping down a bumper of Medoc,
Growled ‘They are all just like Flüelen's clock!’
269
VIII
‘What's that?’ said Ivor. ‘It strikes noon,’ he said,‘Three hours ere sunrise. You now, Herr Studènt,
‘Easy to see that you were born and bred
‘In Germany, where folks are reverent
‘And do as they are told! But there's no head
‘In England, because every man is bent
‘On being first, and upon going where
‘None ever went before him, over there!
IX
‘They'd rather go, those English, to the deuce,‘Than not go on!’ Glenaveril, as again
He filled the glass which, after this abuse
Of its proprietor, the Guide was fain
To empty, answered, ‘There's no sort of use
‘In lecturing his lordship to abstain
‘From anything which he is bent upon.
‘He knows what he's about. Let him alone!
X
‘Research is what he lives for. We've time yet.‘Thy brother Francois' cabin is so near,
‘Where we're to pass the night! The sun's not set.
‘Tell me the legend, I still long to hear,
‘About that curious peak we paused to get
‘A longer view of as we passed it. Queer
‘And quaint, you said, the story is, and all
‘About the German Kobold, Rubezahl;
270
XI
‘As I'm his countryman, that interests me.‘I fancied the traditional domain
‘Of this Gnome King, whose German pedigree
‘Our people universally maintain,
‘Extended not beyond the Hartz. How he
‘Hath found his way across the Alps I'm fain
‘To learn. Hath Switzerland no less well known
‘Goblin, or gnome, that she can call her own?’
XII
‘I never heard of any,’ said the Guide.‘Sir, the Swiss people are enlightened men;
‘The Powers of Darkness never could abide
‘Enlightened people. Only, now and then,
‘Makers of books insist on being plied
‘By us with silly stories which again
‘They tell, themselves, and call them popular.
‘Once printed, articles of faith they are!
XIII
‘That's how it happens that an annual‘Migration of sightseers who would not care
‘To look at our magnificent Town Hall
‘Just finished at Geneva, come to stare
‘And rave about a bit of ruined wall
‘Whose only source of interest is that there
‘Some villanous deed is said to have been done
‘Ages ago; or else some ugly stone,
271
XIV
‘Which no one but the Devil himself, they say,‘Could have removed—from where it never was,
‘And placed—where it has ever been! They pay
‘For what we tell them, so these stories pass
‘From mouth to mouth. And I am bound to say
‘That, owing to such tales, the Devil has
‘To us poor devils been a better friend
‘Than all the Saints. I hope I don't offend!
XV
‘As for the legend that I spoke about,‘Of Marietta's Needle, if you will,
‘Why here it is! You'll understand, no doubt,
‘I don't believe a word of it. But still
‘I tell it as I've heard it.’ Then, without
A moment's pause having contrived to fill
And empty a fresh glass, the shrewd old man,
Smacked his moist lips, and thus his tale began:—
XVI
‘This Rubezahl, whom you in Germany‘Call King of Gnomes, as I've been often told,
‘And whom, to say the truth, for my part, I
‘Suspect to have been simply a rich, old
‘Proprietor of silver mines (since gold
‘Not even Rubezahl, were he to try,
‘In either Swiss or German soil could find!)
‘You may have heard, was lovingly inclined.
272
XVII
‘The old Goblin could not set sheep's eyes upon‘A comely wench but what he lost his head—
‘Or lost his heart—no matter, 'tis all one!
‘Tho' many a maiden by the nose had led
‘The great soft-hearted, lubberly Devil's-son,
‘Nothing could wean him from his wish to wed
‘A Christian woman; and he had the power
‘To give his bride, at least, a splendid dower.
XVIII
‘Well, here in Chamouni (a village then)‘A pretty little peasant girl, whose name
‘Was Marietta, this big Devilkin
‘Was so enamoured of that he became
‘Extremely troublesome. No matter when
‘Or where (so pertinacious was the flame
‘He cherished for the little maiden) she
‘Set foot abroad, there at her side, was he.
XIX
‘The poor child found this most embarrassing,‘And mainly on account of a young man
‘With whom she had exchanged a promise ring.
‘They were betrothed when Rubezahl began
‘His importunities: but not a thing
‘Could Michael call his own, except a can,
‘A net, a boat, a cot. He was, in short,
‘A fisherman. You lake was his resort;
273
XX
‘You still can see it, far away down there.‘And Marietta's mother was a woman
‘Who for her offspring had a proper care.
‘That pretty child of hers should marry no man,
‘This worthy woman's wont was to declare,
‘Who had not ('twas before such things were common)
‘First built a big hotel at Chamouni,
‘Where, as you know, are now no less than three.
XXI
‘Poor Michael seemed to Marietta's mother‘A son-in-law not to be thought of. So
‘The two young people could not meet each other
‘Except by stealth, which they contrived to do
‘Once every week at Mass. But what a bother
‘The maiden found it, you may guess, to know
‘That if she ventured out of doors to stir,
‘This love-sick Imp was sure to follow her.
XXII
‘Of course she knew not who or what he was,‘Except that he was not the man she sought.
‘One day, however, coming from the Mass,
‘She managed to tell Michael what she thought
‘That he should know when things to such a pass
‘As this were come, and ask him what she ought
‘To do. She said, with much solicitude,
‘That she by a rich burgher was pursued;
274
XXIII
‘The burgher, too, had promised her, if she‘Would but consent to marry him, Heaven knows what!
‘And he had said that from her mother he
‘Her hand would long ago have sought, but that
‘(Although he was as rich as rich could be,
‘Richer in fact than even Baron Nat,
‘Or the Schultheiss of Berne) for reasons hidden,
‘This natural step was to his love forbidden;
XXIV
‘Unless, indeed, the girl would first of all‘Pledge him her troth, either without condition,
‘Or else, at least, in terms conditional
‘On his accomplishment of some commission
‘From her received. And he assured her, all
‘Her heart could wish a man of his position
‘Could easily perform. Such wealth as his
‘Surmounted even impossibilities!
XXV
‘Now, Michael was a sensible young man,‘Who never in his life had any doubt
‘As to the way in which his interests ran;
‘One of those men who know what they're about,
‘In fact, a Swiss! He had made up his plan
‘In less time than it takes me to point out
‘This merit in his character, and so
‘He told the girl at once what she must do.
275
XXVI
‘“'Tis clear to me, my pretty one,” he said,‘“The eccentric personage whom you suppose
‘“To be a rich old burgher, over head
‘“And ears in love, as his proposal shows,
‘“Is the famed Rubezahl.” A cry of dread
‘Escaped poor Marietta's lips at those
‘Alarming words. But, admirably cool,
‘Michael went on “Don't be a little fool!
XXVII
‘“He cannot eat you, and his wealth may aid‘“Both of us if my counsel you pursue
‘“Adroitly. Listen! All the old Gnome said
‘“About your mother, and so forth, is true:
‘“His boast that no condition can be laid
‘“Upon him that's beyond his power to do
‘“What he is asked to do, was nothing more,
‘“You may be sure, than a big—metaphor!
XXVIII
‘“Some things would puzzle wiser heads than his,‘“And baffle stronger hands! Leave that to me.
‘“Repulse no more his assiduities;
‘“Encourage them discreetly. And, if he
‘“Offers you little presents, why there is
‘“No harm in taking them. They're sure to be
‘“Useful some day. What else you have to do,
‘“After next Mass I will explain to you.”
276
XXIX
‘Now, you must know that when all this took place‘'Twas in the time of year when overnight
‘The frost begins to form, and one may trace
‘Next morning, hanging to the fir-cones, bright
‘Fine needles of thin ice. The open space
‘Where we just now are sitting was then quite
‘Shut in towards the west by a huge wall
‘Of rock. Yon lake enclasped its pedestal.
XXX
‘And Master Michael, with a secret sigh,‘The enormous mass of this immovable shelf
‘Of grassless granite had been wont to eye,
‘Musing and muttering to his own wise self,
‘“Saints! what a sorry joke it is that I
‘“Most probably a hoard of precious pelf
‘“Have here at hand, and cannot get it out!”
‘“There was good cause for this complaint, no doubt;
XXXI
‘For Michael had sharp eyes as well as brains;‘His cabin, near the lake, was built hard by
‘That rock's broad base; and certain sparkling grains
‘Strewn in its chipped quartz he had chanced to spy,
‘Yellow and fine as flower-dust. With great pains
‘First having scraped together patiently
‘Some handfuls of this dust, he washed it well.
‘It looked like gold. But more he could not tell.
277
XXXII
‘The youngster's first step was, I need not say,‘To keep his secret to himself; his next
‘To reach Geneva, walking all the way;
‘And there, quite confident and unperplexed,
‘He strolled into a goldsmith's shop one day
‘Saying (of course 'twas only a pretext)
‘“Pray can you make me, Sir, a wedding ring
‘“Out of this gold? I want one for next Spring.”
XXXIII
‘The goldsmith took the packet, looked at it,‘And said, “'Twould be a troublesome affair
‘“To make a ring of this. But wait a bit!
‘“Choose out a ring from any you see there,
‘“And you shall have your gold's worth, every whit,
‘“(When I have weighed it) in that ring, whate'er
‘“Its weight may be. Moreover, for the sake
‘“Of the gold's fineness, I'll not charge for make.”
XXXIV
‘Michael the bargain took. His ways he went‘With joy repressed, and projects numberless
‘For finding out some sort of instrument
‘Which might enable him to dispossess
‘The auriferous quartz of all that treasure pent
‘Within its veins. But Michael, being a Swiss,
‘Was Swiss enough to know that, if they knew it,
‘Some other Swiss would covetously do it;
278
XXXV
‘So he said nothing. And I wish to say‘For my part, here, that I do not believe
‘That they would have believed him. Any way,
‘Devil a grain of gold (and much I grieve
‘That what I say is true) since Michael's day,
‘Though you might search these hills from morn to eve,
‘Would you or any one of us discover!
‘But to return to Marietta's lover;
XXXVI
‘I mean her Goblin Lover, Rubezahl.‘By Michael carefully instructed, she
‘Accorded to the Kobold many a small
‘Encouragement. To do him justice, he
‘Did not abuse those favours. After all,
‘He was a gnome; and therefore it may be,
‘Too much in love not to act by her well.
‘Since he was not a man, that's possible.
XXXVII
‘Their meetings, tho’ more frequent now, remained‘Quite innocent. Her mother would be sure
‘To scold her, Marietta had maintained,
‘Were she to lose her time; so, to procure
‘Excuses for these meetings, she now feigned
‘That, if such intercourse was to endure,
‘She needs must bring her work with her, and ply
‘Her needle nimbly in his company.
279
XXXVIII
‘One day, the two were sitting where we sit;‘And, as I said before, 'twas just the time
‘When every fir-cone has attached to it
‘By the conjunction of the morning rime
‘And morning sun, a little sparkling bit
‘Of slender ice that, when the matin prime
‘Is over, falls in drops, dissolving soon
‘Like a wept tear into the warmth of noon.
XXXIX
‘Well, Marietta, when the Gnome was not‘Observing her, stripped off from a fir-cone,
‘And slyly hid within her little hot
‘Close-crumpled hand, the finest-pointed one
‘Of its ice-bodkins; then, when she had got
‘(By softly squeezing it till this was done)
‘The icicle still finer, she whipped out
‘Her needle from the work she was about,
XL
‘Stuck it into her boddice, and went on‘Pretending to be stitching busily
‘With its deceptive substitute. Anon
‘She started up, and with a sudden cry
‘Let fall the icicle which in the sun
‘Flashed as it fell; and, stooping, with a sly
‘Tap of her foot she crushed it bit by bit,
‘While all the while she feigned to look for it.
280
XLI
‘Rubezahl, like a gallant gnome, made haste‘To aid her search; but, since he was ill-made
‘And awkward, the false needle went to waste
‘And vanished while, upon all fours, with head
‘Down-bent he groped, and rummaged, and embraced
‘The unrequiting ground. As fiercer sped
‘His fruitless quest, the maiden's feigned distress
‘Increased apace. She wept; she shook her dress;
XLII
‘She wrung her hands; and “O,” she cried, “to this‘“What will my mother say?” Then Rubezahl
‘Laughing replied, “Your mother will not miss
‘“One little needle, and the loss were small
‘“Even if she knew it! But, dear child, dismiss
‘“These vain alarms which have no cause at all;
‘“To-morrow you shall have, I promise you,
‘“A hundred thousand scores of needles new.’
XLIII
‘“Alas,” said Marietta, “that would not‘“Aid me the least! This needle, you must know,
‘“Is charmed. It is a talisman,—hath got
‘“A secret mark—my mother told me so.
‘“She prizes it immensely, for 'tis what
‘“She stitched her wedding gown with, years ago,
‘“When she was young. She thinks her happiness
‘“Depends upon it. Judge then, my distress!
281
XLIV
‘“O, I shall never dare to own 'tis lost!‘“If any one could get it back for me,
‘“I'd give him willingly the best and most
‘“I have to give, whatever that may be!”
`At this, the Gnome his shaggy forehead tossed
`With a great cry of joy. “Thou hast,” said he,
‘“Named the condition!” Then he softly sighed,
‘“Mine, mine at last! mine own affianced bride!
XLV
‘“Ah, Marietta, how I love thee, dear!”‘The little traitress drooped her pretty eyes;
‘You may be sure 'twas not to hide a tear,
‘But a malicious gleam of sweet surprise
‘At the success of her own insincere
‘Devices. “Well,” she faltered, with feigned sighs,
‘“That was a foolish word! but since 'tis said
‘I'll keep it true, as I'm an honest maid;
XLVI
‘“Only,” she added, “you must swear to me‘“By all that's sacred, you will not betray
‘“A poor girl's confidence; and it must be
‘“The self-same needle I have lost to-day
‘“You bring me back.” “That's understood,” said he.
‘Then Rubezahl, in words I cannot say,
‘Pronounced the dreadful oath that binds a gnome,
‘And his false bride exultingly tripped home.
282
XLVII
‘Forthwith the Goblin, sure of his success,‘Blew through his fingers, and you might have marked
‘(But for the black and roaring dreadfulness
‘Of the tumultuous tempest that now barked
‘And bellowed as if Hell's whole strain and stress,
‘With all the Devil's own artillery parked
‘On yonder peaks, were storming Heaven's last height)
‘You might, I say, have marked a wondrous sight:
XLVIII
‘From all the fissures of the rock uprose‘A multitude of little hairy Elves,
‘Looking like brown old bramble-bushes whose
‘Misshapen roots, as they detached themselves
‘From the loosed soil, turned into ugly toes,
‘That ran and raced about by tens and twelves;
‘Swarms of them, galloping and prancing all
‘Head over heels now, to their monarch's call!
XLIX
‘“Hearken! all ye,” the Gnome King cried, “that scent‘“The slightest savour of the smallest grain
‘“Of metal, whose congenial element
‘“Lurks hidden in the hard rock's inmost vein,
‘“Or wandering strays about earth's surface, blent
‘“With baser matter! Search with might and main!
‘“Nose all this soil, and say if here there be
‘“One particle of iron hid from me!”
283
L
‘And the Dwarves answered, “There is gold, gold, gold!‘“And there is silver, silver, silver, here!
‘“And there is zinc, zinc, zinc, too! and behold,
‘“There's also copper, copper, copper, near!
‘“And lead, lead, lead! and rich and manifold
‘“The metals be, whose scents our noses cheer
‘“With goodly savours all about this spot,
‘“But iron, iron, iron, there is not!”
LI
‘“I bade you not to gibber and to squeak,”‘The Gnome King said, “for minerals of the mine!
‘“'Tis only a steel needle that I seek,
‘“The thing that women use and lose, in fine,
‘“Day after day. Search yet again!” A bleak
‘Frost-bitten-looking little manikin
‘Out of the troop hopped briskly, and unslung
‘A magnet from his belt, to which it hung:
LII
‘And thrice he waved it round about his head;‘And, as he waved it, fast there swarmed to it
‘(Just as about some little bit of dead
‘Carrion, all sorts of flies and insects flit,
‘And settle down there, buzzing to be fed,
‘Each drawn by instinct to its nurture fit)
‘From up and down, here, there, and round it all,
‘A multitude of atoms great and small!
284
LIII
‘“Bring it to me! make haste!” said the Gnome King‘Impatiently. The Dwarf his magnet brought.
‘Its clustered trophies, nails, tacks, everything
‘Upon it, long he searched for what he sought,
‘And found it not. Time's heedless scattering
‘Of iron refuse by Oblivion caught
‘From horseshoe, bootnail, ferrule, crowbar, gun,
‘Was there in heaps; but needle was there none.
LIV
‘Then Rubezahl grew serious, and his face‘Darkened, and long he mused. “At least, I know,”
‘He muttered, “here it fell, in any case!
‘“I saw it fall not half an hour ago.
‘“It must have been transported from the place
‘“Where then she dropped it, by that storm you so
‘“Unnecessarily let loose just now,
‘“Or sunk into some crevice deep below;
LV
‘“Some crevice deeper than the magnet's spell!‘“Stay here till dawn, I bid you, all of you,
‘“And clear this plateau! clear it clean and well
‘“Of every blade of grass and moss! Beshrew
‘“Your eyes and noses if you fail! Each cell
‘“And crevice search! To-morrow, ere the dew
‘“Is off the pine, within the Crystal Grot
‘“Meet me. And tremble if ye bring it not!”
285
LVI
‘At that dread order all the pygmy crowd‘Bowed their brown heads. The King of Gnomes went forth,
‘And, frowning, plunged into a thunder-cloud
‘Which then was speeding darkly to the north.
‘And, Sir, you may imagine what a loud
‘Shout of surprise next morning (which was both
‘A Sunday and a sunny day) there was,
‘When here the folk came flocking by from Mass,
LVII
‘For bare was the whole place of leaf or blade,‘As bald, tho’ not as smooth, as a monk's crown!
‘Rummaged, raked, scraped, and scratched, and ferreted,
‘And fumbled, jumbled, tumbled up and down!
‘The witches had been dancing here, some said,
‘The night after the storm. Each had his own
‘Peculiar theory; but every one
‘Looked scared, and signed himself, as he passed on.
LVIII
‘Meanwhile, when in the Grotto Rubezahl‘His subjects met, his wrath was terrible
‘To learn that the lost needle after all
‘Had not been found. With a demoniac yell,
‘“Splitflint!” he called; and forth there came a small
‘Stout Gnome whose muscles made his lumped limbs swell
‘Like serpents with gorged pouch and sated fang.
‘“Splitflint, I name thee head of this night's gang!
286
LIX
‘“Select, and with thee take, three hundred stout‘“Stone-Scrubbers and Sand-Sifters! From thy flock
‘“The strongest and the skilfullest pick out;
‘“Scrape foot-deep the whole surface of the rock
‘“That rears its western battlement about
‘“The plateau where, contriving thus to mock
‘“Our search, that needle still lurks underground,
‘“And woe betide thee if it be not found!”
LX
‘And the poor Gnome King, gnawing his own nails,‘Went home, and flung himself upon a bed
‘Of amethyst. He groaned, “If Splitflint fails,
‘“In sight of all his gang he shall be led
‘“To execution! Till my power prevails
‘“On that cursed needle, I may never wed
‘“The maid I love, nor meet her without shame!”
‘But the next morning things were just the same:
LXI
‘Foot-deep yon rock the obedient Gnomes had filed,‘Sifted the dust of it, and on the top
‘Of its great granite rampart neatly piled
‘The powdery heaps; which soon began to drop,
‘Blown by the breath of morning breezes mild,
‘Down to the lake, where Michael gathered up
‘The golden first-fruits of his crafty plot.
‘But, as for the lost needle—it was not!
287
LXII
‘Michael in sacks conveyed his spoil away,‘And hid it. He those sacks had long prepared
‘In expectation of this wished-for day.
‘The neighbours’ curiosity he feared,
‘But quite superfluous was that fear; for they
‘By the rock's crumbling aspect were so scared
‘That they kept clear of it; and he, no doubt,
‘Scores of alarming rumours spread about.
LXIII
‘As for the Gnome King, when he learned how vain‘Had been the labour of the night, he flew
‘Upon poor Splitflint, whom with might and main
‘By neck and crop deep down the Grot he drew
‘To where a crystal, clear without a stain,
‘Of giant size, had just put forth six new
‘Unfinished facets, each with sloping lid
‘Folded about its nascent pyramid:
LXIV
‘Then, summoning to his relentless rage‘Six Crystal-Builders from earth's nether womb,
‘He bade them forthwith to its final stage
‘Complete that crystal, and therein entomb
‘(A lifelong prisoner in a glassy cage
‘Impregnable!) the luckless Splitflint; whom
‘He left there as a warning to the rest,
‘Laughing “When precept fails, example's best!
288
LXV
‘“ ‘Ho, you there! All of you, behold! and heed!‘“Rubies and garnets, I've enough in store
‘“To cage the whole of you, till you succeed
‘“In finding that lost needle!” And once more
‘He chose another Gnome, and bade him speed
‘The search that night. And when the search was o'er
‘The needle still was missing, and the Gnome
‘Caged in a topaz with a blazing dome.
LXVI
‘In frustrate search the winter passed. Each day‘Others, in turn, the same fate underwent;
‘And bit by bit the rock was scraped away
‘Till its shrunk mass began to represent
‘The image of a needle. Need I say
‘Its aspect struck you so just now, you spent
‘Ten minutes watching it? You know its name
‘Is Marietta's Needle. So, Spring came.
LXVII
‘It was the month of May, and early morn,‘When Rubezahl, whose subjects, one by one
‘All crystallized, had left him now forlorn,
‘(And who himself had, since, his utmost done
‘To find the gift he had so rashly sworn
‘To give to Marietta) stood alone
‘Upon that rock's last remnant, pondering
‘Vast plans to compass such a little thing!
289
LXVIII
‘His face was sombre, and his arms were crossed‘Athwart his chest. As thus stood Rubezahl,
‘Like Bonaparte at St. Helena, lost
‘In thought, he mused—“I saw the needle fall.
‘“Here must it be, and here whate'er the cost
‘“Must it be found! No doubt some magical
‘“Malignant influence, hostile to mine own,
‘“Hath given it power to pierce the impervious stone,
LXIX
‘“And burrow in the bowels of the world;‘“But it shall render up itself I swear,
‘“Tho’ o'er its flinty hiding-place were hurled
‘“Andes on Alps, or I, to reach its lair
‘“Must ransack Hell! Ay, even tho’ round it furled
‘“The red-ribbed pinions of Apollyon were!
‘“To-night this rock's last pile shall disappear,
‘“Or yield its prize! The needle must be here.
LXX
‘“One trial more, the last! and mine shall be,‘“To-morrow, both the bride-gift and the bride!
‘“To-morrow, —patience! hope!” Here suddenly
‘“The Goblin's eyes dilated wild and wide.
‘All up the valley floated sounds of glee;
‘From the church steeple under the hill side
‘A peal of merry bells was chiming loud;
‘And from the church came forth a merry crowd.
290
LXXI
‘It was a bridal company. They passed‘Out of the church, along the vale, with cries
‘Of joyous salutation, as they cast
‘White blossoms, that are born when April dies,
‘Before the bride and bridegroom, who were last
‘To leave the porch. And well the Goblin's eyes
‘Might glare! For Marietta was the bride,
‘Michael the bridegroom pacing at her side.
LXXII
‘He saw them both. He recognised them well.‘He heard the happy chant that seemed to strive
‘For mastery with the chiming marriage bell,
‘Of “Long live Marietta!” and “Long live
‘“Michael!” Within him surged the thunder-swell
‘Of storms more terrible than those that rive
‘And rend these Alps. There, went the maid he loved,
‘She for whose sake the mountains he had moved!
LXXIII
‘Then from the heart of Rubezahl forth went‘One of those awful cries which pierce their way
‘Beyond the limits that suffice to vent
‘All other sounds. For 'tis such cries, they say,
‘That, by our sombre planet wildly blent
‘With the wide music of the spheres, betray
‘Earth as the place of wrongs without redress,
‘And happinesses that are merciless.
291
LXXIV
‘Stopped by that cry, the merry-makers all‘Stood speechless. Every voice of them was still
‘The faces of the crowd, as to a call
‘From Fate, were turned in answer to its shrill
‘Tremendous summons. On the ethereal
‘And fatal peak of that rock-needle, chill
‘With horror they beheld what seemed to be
‘A man; a human figure certainly;
LXXV
‘And the man's arms were raised, as if to seize‘In the void air's invisible emptiness
‘Something—some gift of those dread Destinies
‘Whose task is to avenge and to redress.
‘But the Void's gifts, life never gets; for these
‘Are deaths, effacements, disappearances;
‘And, disappearing too, from that grim height
‘The man himself plunged headlong out of sight.
LXXVI
‘Slow, as the vision vanished, there arose‘From all the hollows of the hills beneath,
‘Wild murmuring melancholy sounds, like those
‘Which Autumn makes when the faint scent of death
‘Hovers along the woodlands where he goes:
‘They were the farewells of the Gnomes, whose faith
‘In human love, by human love betrayed,
‘Was dead. Forever and forever dead!
292
LXXVII
‘From every mountain cave and forest glen,‘And o'er the misty cataracts whence it went
‘To carry its reproachful moan to men,
‘The elfin music of that wild lament,
‘Now piercing shrill, now falling faint again,
‘This wail repeated o'er and o'er, to vent
‘A thousand bitter memories, “O how high
‘Is heaven, and O how deep is perfidy!”
LXXVIII
‘Vain was the search the Village Syndicate‘Commanded! Over all the region round
‘The snow was rummaged; but of that man's fate
‘Not the least indication could be found.
‘Of all who saw the vision I relate,
‘It was, however, the belief profound
‘That they no visionary form had spied,
‘But a real man—some desperate suicide!
LXXIX
‘This was at first, I say, the common faith;‘But afterwards, when they discovered near
‘That Needle Rock, some fifty yards beneath,
‘The mangled body of a traveller,
‘Who by an avalanche was crushed to death,
‘Just as profoundly then convinced they were
‘That the dread spectacle they all had seen
‘A warning apparition must have been;
293
LXXX
‘One of those apparitions that precede‘Some real catastrophe. And, strange to say,
‘(Only that superstitions always breed
‘Such visions) still do folks assert that they
‘On subsequent occasions have indeed
‘Again beheld the phantom. That, you may
‘Believe, or not. I don't. But this I do,
‘For I myself have always found it so:
LXXXI
‘Whenever anyone about this place‘Asserts that he himself has really seen
‘A human figure with a human face
‘Standing where human figure ne'er hath been
‘Save once (and that was but a hearsay case)
‘On Marietta's Needle, (of course I mean
‘The rock we call so now) as sure as fate,
‘Some accident has happened, soon or late.’
LXXXII
‘That's not incredible,’ said Glenaveril,‘Accidents, soon or late, my worthy friend,
‘With or without such visions, always will
‘Happen in dangerous haunts, I apprehend.’
‘Ay,’ said the Guide, ‘no doubt of it. But still,
‘The accidents that image doth portend
‘Invariably happen near this spot.
‘But to my tale, if it fatigues you not;
294
LXXXIII
‘No need to say that Michael had so well‘His potent rival's frenzy utilized,
‘That the construction of a fine hotel
‘(A proof, by his bride's mother highly prized,
‘Of his devotion!) was a bagatelle
‘To the young millionnaire. He had devised
‘A clever tale of legacies received,
‘Which, naturally, nobody believed;
LXXXIV
‘But everyone believed that Michael had‘His wits about him. So that, by and by,
‘All came to the conclusion that the lad
‘Owed to those wits his whole prosperity.
‘They deemed that source of it by no means bad,
‘And liked him all the better. None knew why
‘Or how his sudden fortune he had got;
‘During his lifetime he revealed it not.
LXXXV
‘After his death the secret all came out;‘And 'twas, indeed, his death that proved to be
‘The very means of bringing this about.’
‘But Marietta?’ said Glenaveril, ‘she
‘Was in her husband's confidence?’ ‘No doubt!’
‘And in those early days,’ again said he,
‘Could women keep a secret?’ ‘Wait a bit,’
The Guide said, ‘till you hear the end of it.
295
LXXXVI
‘Poor Marietta was no longer, Sir,‘In a condition to reveal, alas,
‘No matter what. The curse had fall'n on her,
‘And she the first of the Gnome's victims was.
‘Since that event (or else, if you prefer,
‘That vision) which, in common with a mass
‘Of sane spectators, on her bridal day
‘She too had seen, her head was touched, they say.
LXXXVII
‘To her new home, the famous fine hotel‘By Michael built (he guessed not at what cost!)
‘Michael's young wife was borne insensible,
‘And on the way to it her wits were lost.
‘But one idea had been spared to dwell
‘Sole tenant of that ruin. Like a ghost
‘Unlaid, it came and went, and came again,
‘Haunting the empty chambers of the brain:
LXXXVIII
‘That one idea was, that in the snow‘She had lost a precious needle, and was bound
‘To go and look for it, since doomed to know
‘No peace till this lost needle had been found.
‘Her husband, when convinced that it was now
‘Past praying for her reason to come round,
‘Put no restraint upon its harmless craze.
‘He let her have her will, and go her ways;
296
LXXXIX
‘Only at first, for fear of accident‘He had her watched and followed, wheresoe'er
‘The poor young fool, to find her needle, went
‘Wandering among the mountains. But this care
‘Superfluous proved. She was not violent;
‘And, like sleep-walkers, she went safely where
‘Even those who keep their wits might fear to fall.
‘Her wanderings, moreover, were but small;
XC
‘Never beyond the Needle Rock they passed‘And to it always tended. She came home
‘Invariably ere nightfall, running fast
‘As home she ran that day she duped the Gnome.
‘And when they found she took no harm, at last,
‘Go where she would, unwatched they let her roam.
‘Spring, Summer, Autumn, in this way went by,
‘Bringing no change to her calamity.
XCI
‘Everyone pitied her, and let her pass‘Unhindered if she crossed them on their way.
‘“'Tis Marietta, looking in the grass
‘“For her lost needle!” would the children say
‘When they beheld her, as her wont it was,
‘Searching the grass and moss day after day,
‘And, as she searched them, murmuring “O how high
‘“Is heaven, and O how deep is perfidy!”
297
XCII
‘One January morning, when all night‘The weather had been freezing hard, they found
‘Her sleeping-chamber (a ground floor one) quite
‘Deserted, and the casement near the ground
‘Set open wide; a candle, still alight,
‘But choking in its socket, made a sound
‘As hoarse as a death-rattle where the wick
‘Gasped suffocated in the candlestick;
XCIII
‘An open letter on the table lay‘Unfinished; 'twas in Marietta's hand.
‘“Michael,” the letter said, “I cannot stay!
‘“He came just now beneath my window, and
‘“Tapped at the casement, calling, Come away!
‘“The moon is light, the snow is bright, the land
‘“Is clear and still, and I will help thee now
‘“To find thy needle, for its place I know.
XCIV
‘“It is the cold down there makes dead men ache,‘“He told me, and no winding-sheet hath he.
‘“And so I promised him for pity's sake,
‘“That, when the needle's found, as found 'twill be,
‘“A winding-sheet to warm him I will make.
‘“'Twill soon be done, for he depends on me,
‘“And I must finish it for him, poor man,
‘“(I promised that) as quickly as I can.
298
XCV
‘“He has been dead so long, and that is why‘“He is so cold, so cold! Beneath the breast
‘“Of the black earth, he says, where dead men lie,
‘“There is no warmth. I wonder how he guessed
‘“Where we shall find our needle! O how high
‘“Is heaven, and—How does it go on, the rest?
‘“I have forgotten. He will be offended.
‘“That vexes me.” And so the letter ended.
XCVI
‘The whole of Chamouni was soon astir‘In search of her, for all had loved her well.
‘Despite the hardness of his character,
‘Michael retained an indescribable
‘Sort of remorseful tenderness for her
‘Who was the accomplice, and, as it befell,
‘The victim, of his well-planned stratagem.
‘Fast he pressed forward at the head of them.
XCVII
‘Instinctively the steps of all were bent‘Towards the rock which was already known
‘As Marietta's Needle, since she went
‘Daily to visit it; but not alone
‘On that account, for it was evident
‘To all, that by degrees this rock had grown
‘Into the semblance of a needle. You,
‘That strange similitude have noticed too;
299
XCVIII
‘The point of it, as you perceived just now,‘Is planted downwards; and against the sky
‘The head, to which the long shaft broadens slow,
‘Reveals, exactly like a needle's eye,
‘An oblong fissure. Well, Sir, you must know
‘Michael was first, in his anxiety,
‘To reach the plateau, where transfixed with awe
‘The others found him. This is what they saw:
XCIX
‘Beneath a frozen pine from whose down-weighed‘Black boughs the slipping snow-dust fell fine sifted,
‘Sat Marietta. On her lap was laid
‘A linen sheet; and in one hand uplifted
‘She held an icicle. And there she stayed
‘Motionless, tho' the climbing snows had drifted
‘Up to her knees. For she was frozen dead.
‘All held their breath, and not a word was said,
C
‘So stupefied was each spectator there!‘But a fresh horror seized on everyone,
‘When, with a scream of agonized despair,
‘Michael now suddenly began to run
‘Tumultuously here, there, everywhere
‘About the plateau, as if chasing one,
‘To seize whose image, seen by none beside,
‘The wretched man still desperately tried:
300
CI
‘And all the while he shouted out, “Come back!‘“Come back! Turn, Marietta, turn! 'Tis I,
‘“Thy husband—Michael! Hear me, girl! Alack,
‘“Will no one help to stop her? Not so nigh
‘“The edge, child! François, keep her off that track!
‘“Pierre! Louis! André! Jacques! for Heaven's sake try
‘“To hold her! Ah, the cowards! Look at her!
‘“So close—and all of you afraid to stir!”
CII
‘Then while, immovable as all could see,‘Frozen beneath the frozen pine, still sat
‘The white dead woman whose false phantom he
‘Was thus importunately clutching at,
‘The maniac, with a frantic spring, shook free
‘The frightened friends that, scarcely knowing what
‘They feared, vain arms around him strove to lock,
‘And, bounding, clambered up the Needle Rock!
CIII
‘From where it strikes the plateau, near this spot,‘(You may have noticed, as we came along)
‘That rock seems easy of ascent, and not
‘So desperately steep but that a strong
‘And active man, if he good wind had got,
‘And a cool head, might without going wrong,
‘The summit reach. Yet all the world's aware
‘No man could keep his head a moment there.
301
CIV
‘Michael, indeed, as by a miracle,‘Did reach the summit; reached it safe and sound!
‘But he no sooner reached it, than the spell
‘Seemed broken, and his wits again he found,
‘Only to lose them in the horrible
‘Sense of his danger. Piteously around
‘The poor wretch stared in terror-struck surprise,
‘Then, shuddering all over, shut his eyes.
CV
‘And those who, impotent to save or aid,‘Watched from below, in that short interval
‘Of anguish, saw him lift a hand that strayed
‘Feeling about like a blind man's. Then all
‘His body totteringly soughed and swayed,
‘His arms with flapping jerk fantastical
‘Beat, like a bird's wings, the impalpable air;
‘And in a minute more the rock was bare.
CVI
‘From crag to crag the body like a stone‘Went bounding to the frozen lake below.
‘For that crevasse is quite a recent one,
‘You noticed, as we came along just now,
‘Under the Needle Rock. Where it hath grown
‘The waters of the lake used once to flow.
‘So to the cabin where his life began
‘His death restored Michael the fisherman!
302
CVII
‘Hid in that cabin, there were found at last‘Huge heaps of gold-dust. Michael had no heirs;
‘So all this treasure to the Commune passed,
‘Who made good use of it when it was theirs.
‘Upon the wealth by Michael's craft amassed,
‘And by his death dispersed, this tale declares
‘That the prosperity of Chamouni
‘Was founded. But the tale is all a lie!’
CVIII
‘It is a tale,’ said Ivor, as the GuideMade this remark, ‘that bears undoubtedly
‘Strong family resemblance to a wide
‘Group of like tales. Perchance the reason why
‘Is that to cheat the Devil fills with pride
‘The People's honest heart. There's something sly
‘In human nature, which, to be excused,
‘Gets itself thus legitimately used.
CIX
‘Your Michael was, however, I should say,‘A character distinctly national;
‘It seems, at least, that he knew how to play
‘(Turning them to his own advantage all)
‘On other folks' requirements in a way
‘That shows he must have had a special call
‘To keep an inn; by which means, now and then,
‘Men do make money out of other men.
303
CX
‘But tell me what of Rubezahl became!‘Had he no more adventures of this kind?’
‘I think not,’ said the Guide. ‘At least, his name
‘Nowhere in other love-tales can I find.
‘Love-making he had found a losing game,
‘And after this experience had no mind,
‘It may be, Sir, to play the dupe again;
‘Or else, the Chamouni maidens are too plain,
CXI
‘And Marietta may perhaps have been‘In that particular unlike them all;
‘Anyhow, nothing more has since been seen,
‘In this enlightened land, of Rubezahl.
‘If, after this, the Hartz became the scene
‘Of his adventures, 'tis but natural
‘Thence to infer that there the men are blinder,
‘It may be, or the women somewhat kinder.
CXII
‘Nevertheless, the notion, as I've said,‘Still lingers here, that Rubezahl (no doubt
‘Because 'twas here that he had lost his head,
‘Falling in love with Marietta) out
‘Of pure revenge and spite is sometimes led
‘To take his stand again on yonder height,
‘In order to announce the near event
‘Of some inevitable accident.
304
CXIII
‘As for myself, I need not tell you, Sir,‘I put no faith in rumours of that sort.
‘Well as I know the goblin character
‘Of Marietta's Needle by report,
‘There's nothing in these rumours, I aver
‘From simple observation. For, in short,
‘I know that rock as well as mine own hand,
‘And know that no one on its top could stand.’
CXIV
As he made this decisive declarationOf incredulity, the Guide arose,
And stood awhile in silent contemplation
Of the horizon, whose ethereal snows,
Rose-coloured now with the illumination
Of sunset, shone in a sublime repose.
Glenaveril watched him. Suddenly he saw
The man's face gleaming with a ghastly awe;
CXV
And that strong-minded marcher in the vanOf Popular Enlightenment, was all
Trembling from head to foot. A shudder ran
Thro' his whole frame; he seemed about to fall,
But with an effort stayed himself, as, wan
With a wild look of unequivocal
Horror, he stood still pointing in the air,
And gasping, ‘Saints in Heaven, the thing is there!’
305
CXVI
Glenaveril started to his feet, and gazedWhere the Guide's hand was pointing. With a cry
Of anguish, he too trembled, awed, amazed.
Darkly distinct against the glowing sky,
Upon the Needle-Rock which there upraised
Its shining pinnacle, immovably
A human figure stood. He knew it well.
That human figure was Emanuel.
306
CANTO III. THE CATASTROPHE.
I
Meanwhile, the Guide was now recoveringFrom the first terrors of the false alarm
With which, despite his scorn of everything
That savoured of a superstitious charm,
He had mistaken for the dread Gnome King
(That phantom harbinger of human harm!)
In the dark solitary image there,
The traveller confided to his care.
II
Freed from this ghastly error, the old manWas seized forthwith by fears more practical
About the risk his reputation ran
If any harm should to his charge befall;
And, to relieve his feelings, he began
To pour forth fresh anathemas on all
The English race,—much more concerned about
His patent than Emanuel's fate, no doubt.
307
III
‘Confound the fool!’ he grumbled, ‘I declare‘'Tis that insane milord of yours again!
‘How, in the devil's name, did he get there?
‘Hah, by St. Peter's legs, the fellow's brain
‘Must all be just as wrong-side-up as were
‘The Saint's toes when, lest they should make him vain,
‘They crucified him topsy-turvy. Ho!
‘Monsieur Milord, hold fast! Don't look below!
IV
‘Was ever such a madman! If he meant‘To break his neck, he should have staid at home,
‘And not come here with that absurd intent,
‘To mix us all up in his venturesome
‘Vagaries! Zounds! if there's an accident
‘He'll compromise the Alps! I wish that some
‘Fine folks would take into consideration
‘That guiding maniacs is not our vocation!
V
‘All English lords are lunatics! Here, Jean,‘Get up!’ And angrily he shook awake
His sleeping eomrade (who, when he began
His story-telling, had seen fit to make
A shorter journey, like a prudent man,
Into the land of dreams) ‘Get up, and take
‘With thee the longest rope that we have got!
‘Look yonder! Haste thee fast, and linger not!
308
VI
‘The Needle, turn upon the glacier side;‘To attempt it from the plateau were in vain;
‘Once on the glacier, 'tis an easy stride
‘To reach the lower ridge of the moraine.
‘Fling him the rope's end up, and bid him bide
‘Just where he is, till I am back again.
‘I must to Francois for the ladders run,
‘For till we get them nothing can be done.
VII
‘'Tis lucky that the cabin is so near!‘He never will be able to get down
‘By the same way that he got up, that's clear;
‘And there's no way at all, he should have known,
‘Upon this side, where the descent is sheer.
‘Be careful, comrade, how the rope is thrown;
‘See that the end of it is firmly braced.
‘And now, God speed! We must be off. Make haste!’
VIII
The Guide's composure, as these plans he made,Partly assuaged Glenaveril's agitation
On seeing that Emanuel had strayed
Into so perilous a situation,
Where even a chamois might have been afraid
To place its foot. The Needle's elevation,
Moreover, from the plateau, to his sight
Presented no such formidable height;
309
IX
He knew not, or he had not understood,That from this point, although the height seemed small,
There was no access possible. The rock, viewed
From where he stood, looked low; but it was all
So slippery here that its low altitude
Availed not. On the other side, the fall
Was awful. There, between the point and base
Was nothing but illimitable space.
X
This Needle, the last granite splinter leftOf a huge mountain that by gradual stages
Had slowly crumbled down into the cleft
Of the crevasse beneath the weight of ages,
Forgotten avalanches had bereft
Of all save that wild sadness which engages
Men's pitying superstition to adorn
With Fancy's flowers Time's ravages forlorn.
XI
Smooth from the plateau to the point, elsewhereIts broken surface, turned to the abyss,
Uneasy foothold still vouchsafed. And there
That vegetable gnome whose region is
Remote from man's, the mountain juniper,
Crouching deformed, from its interstices
Peeped, or put forth a clambering crooked root
That looked like some brown goblin's grewsome foot.
310
XII
Attracted by the aspect, half sublimeAnd half grotesque, of this grim monument
Set there as its last protest against time
By the resentful Alp, Emanuel bent
His steps towards it. Something seemed to chime
In his own heart harmonious to its rent
Yet resolute form—some sentiment allied
To nature in revolt—a ravaged pride!
XIII
Raised barely fifty feet above the ledgeOf the broad plateau, to whose level disk
Its summit at right angles turned an edge
Smooth as the surface of an obelisk,
(While down it shot from the moraine's left ridge,
Rough with anfractuosities grotesque,
A shaft that disappeared beyond sight's soundings)
The rock's sole grandeur rose from its surroundings;
XIV
But well by these, could he but reach its brow,Would its explorer be repaid, for there
The charmed spectator might aspire to know
What the ger-eagle feels when in mid-air
He wheels above the world. Nothing but snow
And air rose-lighted underneath, save where
Far off the bright green valley gleamed, and gloomed
The dark blue lake in icy vaults entombed!
311
XV
Emanuel, gazing up to that lone height,Felt, with a mystic ecstasy elate,
Some foretaste of this coveted delight.
His sombre spirit yearned to extricate
Itself, for once, completely from the trite
And yet tenacious bondage of that state
Which separates man from nature more or less,
By his continual self-consciousness.
XVI
‘Thought, tethered not to him who thinks! pure Thought!‘Thought by itself! O, were it possible
‘For human nature to attain to aught
‘So like Divinity!’ mused Emanuel.
‘By Action's restless mechanism caught,
‘And forced, as in an engine, to propel
‘Man to man's personal aims—ambition, pelf,
‘Love, science, safety—Thought is not itself:
XVII
‘But O the rapture! could Thought slip the sense‘Of Self, that cripples its capacious span,
‘And (freely spreading forth its wings immense,
‘Like that strange Sprite the Arabian fisherman
‘Loosed from the little iron vessel, whence
‘It soared and swelled, colossal) from each plan
‘Or purpose of self-interest liberate
‘Itself, and to infinity dilate!’
312
XVIII
This fancy filled his soul with yearnings vast.For once, the weight, the burden, and the pain,
Of his own vexed identity to cast
Wide to the winds of heaven! to be again
Careless as Nature, conscious of no past,
No present, and no future! to attain
To the supreme Idea, and immerse
The individual in the universe!
XIX
And, stooping forward, he perceived that, whereThe Needle faced the precipice, the stone
Was rough with broad projections here and there;
Half consciously he placed his foot on one;
The ground held firm; and up this natural stair
The clambering juniper long roots had thrown;
Like Theseus grasping Ariadne's clue,
He by their aid his pathway could pursue.
XX
His first steps were but an experiment,A half-mistrustful tentative essay.
The experiment succeeded. On he went,
Clutching the rope-like roots. The upward way
Grew easier, and soon the whole ascent
Had been completed. On the summit grey
Of Marietta's Needle safe he stood;
Nothing all round him but the solitude.
313
XXI
And what a solitude! One boundless glanceEmbraced the whole horizon. Chastity
And passion! Snow and sunlight, in a trance
Of solemn glory! With a deep-drawn sigh
Of rapture, in that rose-hued radiance,
Like an alighted Seraph silently
Contemplating the world, and winged and eyed
From head to foot, he stood beatified.
XXII
While there he leant upon his alp-staff fastFixed in a fissure, as a sentinel
Leans on his spear, and measuring round the vast
Horizon's aëry zone, Emanuel
Was to self-consciousness recalled at last
By a shrill shout that sounded like a yell;
For now the second Guide, with might and main,
Had clambered up the ridge of the moraine.
XXIII
There, on a pile of splintered stones astride,A coil of rope the man was loosening slow;
While, shouting, to Emanuel he cried,
To eatch the rope he was about to throw,
Fasten it to the summit on the side
Nearest the plateau, and then drop below,
Using the knots in it, as down he went,
With hands and feet, to steady his descent.
314
XXIV
In the same moment, with a dismal thrill,Not far beneath him, he beheld, scarce more
Than twelve or fifteen feet, Glenaveril,
Who, just as he himself had done before,
Had left the plateau, and was standing still
Half up the precipice that beetled o'er
The vast crevasse upon the other side.
Glenaveril had thus outstripped the Guide;
XXV
Outstripped the Guide, without a sound! His faceAnd lips were whiter than the snows that laid
Their livid silence round that perilous place;
Emanuel could see that he had made
(And that he now was tightening it apace
About his waist, as if he were afraid
It might not hold) a threefold girdle wrought
Out of a second rope which he had brought;
XXVI
He saw Glenaveril, when this was done,Making the other end of the rope tight
About an old pine stump—the only one
That barren spot vouchsafed; and this was quite
Splintered and broken short above the stone
Its roots still clasped; all else of it the might
Of some unconquerable avalanche
Had snapped and whirled asunder, trunk and branch.
315
XXVII
Emanuel understood this silent toil—Glenaveril's face of dumb determination,
The life-belt and the anchor, and the coil,
Were the life-boatman's desperate preparation,
Before he plunges in the surge, to foil
Death's clutch, by keeping some communication
With the firm cliff, from which into the deep
For life or death he is about to leap:
XXVIII
But here, the anchorage was nothing moreThan an old rotten stump which might give way;
A dreadful precipice, the sheltering shore;
The deep, one vast abysm (the light of day
Was leaving fast, and darkness hovering o'er)
Of empty air, now yawning for its prey;
The lifeboat, all that since his life began
His heart best loved; and he the shipwrecked man!
XXIX
Up to this moment, on his pinnacleOf isolated grandeur, all alone
With the lone Infinite, Emanuel
Had had no fear, no thought, about his own
Existence. When he heard the Guide's loud yell,
As the man shouted to him, to make known
The desperate rescue ready for him now,
He turned and, for the first time, looked below.
316
XXX
This sudden contrast was too violent;The terror by Glenaveril's face betrayed
Was to his own transmitted. While he bent
His gaze on those mute preparations made
For his escape, their revelation sent
A surging rush of blood into his head;
His limbs felt loosened; his foot seemed to stand
Infirm; the alp-staff quivered in his hand.
XXXI
Not even a gesture's silent intimation,Still less the utterance of a syllable,
Since the beginning of this situation
Had been exchanged. But Ivor's eye could tell
All that was passing; and, with consternation
Seeing the changed face of Emanuel,
He braced himself together, setting wide
His legs, like a young wrestler, with firm stride;
XXXII
Then to Emanuel in a loud clear toneCalmly he called, ‘Lean not so heavily
‘Upon thy staff, but hold it fast. Well done!
‘Now shut thine eyes. That's right! Rest so, while I
‘Count sixty. That will calm thy blood. Anon
‘Open them. Not too quickly! And then try
‘To fix them upon Jean. I'll give the word,
‘Keep quiet till he throws thee up the cord!
317
XXXIII
‘Straighten thy knees, then; keeping thy left hand‘Upon thine alp-staff, and the right hand free.
‘No need to move thy body! Only stand
‘Straight, and keep Jean in view. Don't look at me!
‘When the rope passes catch it quickly, and
‘Holding it fast still in the right hand—see,
‘This way, quite loosely—without letting go,
‘Pass thy right arm about the alp-staff—so!
XXXIV
‘Hast thou completely understood all this?’Emanuel, from his pinnacle in the skies,
In a voice faint and husky answered ‘Yes.’
‘Now, art thou ready?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Open thine eyes.
‘Dost thou see Jean, there?’ ‘No.’ ‘He is standing less
‘Than thirty paces yonder on the rise
‘Of the moraine—there to the left, below
‘The plateau. Now, then, canst thou see him?’ ‘No.’
XXXV
Emanuel's voice was huskier, and lessDistinct each time. A gesture of despair
Glenaveril was unable to repress;
And, for an instant, he stood speechless there,
Half paralysed by his immense distress.
The light was waning fast. In that dim air,
On that lone height, Emanuel's image, too,
Faint as his voice and indistincter grew.
318
XXXVI
After a dismal pause, Glenaveril,Still gazing upward, to Emanuel
Cried in a tone whose accents, tho' more shrill,
Were yet assured, ‘No matter! it is well.
‘Only lift up thy right hand, and stand still!
‘When the rope passes, try if possible
‘To seize it. It is sure to touch thy hand.
‘Jean!’ ‘Sir!’ ‘Be ready. Wait for the command.’
XXXVII
‘All right, Sir!’ said the Guide. ‘Depend on me.’‘Good! But begin not ere I give the word;
‘And then, as soon as I have counted three,
‘(Three is the signal) you can fling the cord.
‘Be careful that the slip-knot runs quite free,
‘And keep your eyes well fixed upon my lord.
‘Now then, attention! I begin. One—two—
‘Three!—’ And away the rope's loosed circle flew;
XXXVIII
Silent and fleet it flew into the airLike a long flying serpent filleted
With knotty studs, and, fast unwinding there
Its spiral rings in an ellipse, it made
A sudden downward dip, as if it were
Evading consciously Emanuel's head,
Touched his raised hand, that stirred not as it passed
Uncaught; and, frustrate, fell to earth at last.
319
XXXIX
‘The attempt has failed!’ Glenaveril groaned. And then,‘Fear not, Emanuel! Be calm!’ he cried.
‘We cannot now employ the rope again;
‘But 'tis no matter. Canst thou there abide
‘Five minutes only till we are three men
‘Instead of two? Five minutes! The Old Guide
‘In less time than five minutes will be here
‘With all the ladders. Thou hast nought to fear!’
XL
And to these agonized enquiries, allBrokenly came the answer from above
In interjections hoarse and guttural,
‘Glenaveril! the rock begins to move—
‘Beneath my feet 'tis rolling like a ball—
‘And my head splits as if a pickaxe clove
‘Through skull and brain—and both my feet feel dead—
‘And all things suddenly have turned blood-red!’
XLI
Then cried Glenaveril, loud as he could cry,‘Plant fast thy staff upon the Needle's top!
‘Let thyself slide along it quietly
‘Down to the ledge! The staff thy fall will stop,
‘And thou canst sit there. Or if not,—then try
‘To grasp the ledge—and fear not, friend, but drop!’
Scarce had he spoken, ere from the rock's shelf
A thunderous cataract detached itself;
320
XLII
And down the Needle Rock, loud roaring, crashedTumultuously an immense white cloud
Of snow, and dust, and splintered stones. Twosmashed
Bits of a broken staff, that whirling shroud
Bore with it: two wild arms that flapped and dashed
The air, like a tossed puppet's: and, thro' a crowd
Of shapeless things that shook its fluttering pall,
A human body in headforemost fall.
XLIII
For this catastrophe, by him foreseen,Glenaveril waited, breathless, resolute:
As a skilled player calculates with keen
Precision both the motion and the route
Of a rebounding ball, so he had been
Careful the dreadful coming to compute
Of that dear burden he awaited there,
And with a shout he sprang into the air;
XLIV
Sprang, swift as a young leopard on its prey,Into the abyss that girt the precipice!
One impulse only did his limbs obey;
And that was to hold fast at any price,
And never loose. He spread his arms, and they
Closed as tenacious as an iron vice
Upon the indiscriminate human heap
That thus dashed with him headlong to the deep.
321
XLV
So in a wild inextricable embraceThe bodies of the two friends, bound together,
Swung o'er the void abysm of dusky space;
Suspended only by the quivering tether
Of the strained cord, which jerked and tugged apace
At its half-rotten anchorage. The wide ether
Was deathly dumb, and wan as death the white
Wide snows, and darkening o'er them crept the night.
322
CANTO IV. DEATH'S METAMORPHOSES.
I
Life hath exhausted the whole arsenalOf terror: Life doth decorate and fill
Daily its formidable realm with all
Weapons that wound, and instruments that kill:
Life is a tyrant at whose beck and call
Is every misery, and every ill,
All maladies, and all uncertainties,
And but one certainty—the end of these:
II
And yet Life smiles! Death for itself retainsBut one gift only—silence: Death is rest:
Death is the end of all Life's countless pains:
Death's eyes are shut: Death's mouth is dumb: Death's breast
Is calm: from those locked lips, like lawless trains
Of bandit troops for plunder armed, with crest
Gay-plumed, no more shall issue forth to strife
The Passions that have devastated Life:
323
III
From those shut eyes, to lure and to betray,No more shall gleam the looks whose very smile
Troubles the heart, and with its subtle play
Awakes a thousand wishes that beguile
Their hesitating victim far away
From his repose: Death breathes no word in guile;
Death breaks no promise: Death betrays no rightful
Reliance on its pledge. Yet Death is frightful!
IV
Why is the straw on yonder pavement strown?It is that Death to yonder house draws near,
And Death brings silence with it. The loud town
Quickens its pace along that street; to hear
No echo of a footfall up or down
Its muffled stones dismays the gossips. Drear
And lightless look those shuttered windows, where
No face is seen. For Death has entered there.
V
Within that chamber, under its dim shadeThe lamp burns low. No sound can pass that door;
And the thick carpet silences the tread
That steals a tiptoe o'er the noiseless floor;
A man the chamber quits with bended head;
One waits without, whose hand he shakes with more
Than wonted warmth; and not a word is spoken;
But each hath understood the silent token.
324
VI
The man that went will come again no more;His task is done, he hath nought left to do;
But something else, that was not there before,
Hath entered; something awful, something new;
None saw it pass, none oped to it the door,
It makes no sound; or, if a sound, but few
That sound have heard, from the close-curtained bed.
Only a sigh. A sigh, and all is said!
VII
Wherefore those sobs, those moans, those stifled cries,Those overflowing tears that fall so fast?
Why have yon man and woman, as they rise,
Their arms about each other wildly cast,
Gazing on that white face with weeping eyes?
It is because this sigh hath been the last,
Because the faint and half inaudible breath
That wafted it away from them was Death.
VIII
But when Death passes in the street, it goesMore loudly, goes with clamour and with crowd,
With comment and confusion. Barely those
Six stalwart men, whose heads and backs are bowed
Beneath the litter where in state repose
Death's trophies, can make way between the loud
Inquisitive groups, at each street-corner growing
Thicker, along the road that they are going:
325
IX
From mouth to mouth a rumour flies about;Like sparks in scattered tinder dancing over
Some street wherein the folks have just put out
A burning house, quick questions kindle and hover,
And cross and mix in a disorderly rout:
‘When did they first the accident discover?’—
‘How many dead?’—‘Two.’—‘No, I heard it said
That only one of them was found stone dead;
X
‘The other's breathing yet.’—‘But he'll die too,‘He cannot live!’—‘How happened this event?’—
‘They say it was a suicide.’—‘Pooh, pooh!
‘I tell thee, neighbour, 'twas an accident’—
‘No, 'twas an Englishman.’—‘That's always so!’—
‘Who was the little German, then, that went
‘All risks to save him?’—‘I don't know.’—‘They say
‘It was his lordship's German tutor.’—‘Nay,
XI
‘Only a servant.’—‘No, indeed, I hear‘It was his secretary.’—‘That's the same.’—
‘I doubt it! No one but a friend would care
‘Torisk his life so.’—‘What was the man's name?’—
‘I never heard.’—‘He's dead, tho', I declare.’—
‘No, 'tis the Englishman that's dead.’—‘'Tis shame
‘And pity that a man so young and rich
‘Should go and lose his life at toss and pitch!’—
326
XII
‘Ah, that's their way!’—‘I've heard the two men fell‘Together headlong into a crevasse,
‘Three hundred metres down.’—‘That's possible.’—
‘No, no! the bodies near the great Jorasse
‘Were found not far from Francois' cabin.’—‘Well,
‘I know, at least, whichever way it was,
‘(For this the guide assured me, so 'tis true)
‘'Twas no light job to separate the two!
XIII
‘The man who tried to save the other one‘Gripped him so fast, they were obliged to break
‘His arm, to get the second man undone;
‘And I am told they had some work to take
‘His teeth out of the dead man's coat. There's none,
‘(Say, neighbours, what you will!) shall ever make
‘My mind convinced that those two men were not
‘Sworn foes! Some deadly quarrel they had got;
XIV
‘Twas an American duel. You'll find out‘That there has been a woman in the case.’—
‘But, neighbour, where did all this come about?’—
‘At the Croix Rouge.’—‘No, no, I know the place,
‘'Twas Marietta's Needle.’—‘Ah, no doubt,
‘That fatal rock! It always brings disgrace!
‘There'll be some dreadful accident.’—‘If these
‘Are not enough, friend, thou art hard to please!’
327
XV
So talked the gossips. Idle words were said,And idle questions asked. Death's silent pall
Death's secret kept. Emanuel was dead:
His skull was shattered in that fatal fall,
His face disfigured horribly. With head
Grievously hurt, limbs broken, bruised, and all
Covered with blood and dust, but breathing still,
Back with the dead they bore Glenaveril.
XVI
Glenaveril? Nay, but dead on his death-bierNow lay Glenaveril's Earl, Viscount of Lea,
Baron of Auch-na-Lavaroch, a Peer
Of England and of Scotland, twenty-three
Years old two days before the day that here
He came to his untimely end. And he
That still lived on, who was he? There were few
That cared to ask, and there was none that knew.
XVII
And on the morrow Lord GlenaverilWas buried with such pomp as the poor place
With much ado could put forth, to fulfil
The obligations due to ancient race,
And noble name, and wealth more precious still,
Ere Death had time completely to efface
The memory of their last possessor. All
Were present at His Lordship's Funeral.
328
XVIII
The whole affair was admirably done,A most well-managed, orderly affair!
Death—procès verbal—list of every one
Of the Deceased's effects, which duly were
To the Police made over, who anon
Transmitted them to the legitimate care
Of Her Britannic Majesty's Legation
At Berne, with an appropriate explanation.
XIX
And thro' the correspondence that ensued,With mutual satisfaction, in no less
Than twenty notes, the Authorities renewed
The pleasure and the honour to express
The sentiments with which they were imbued:
The Chamouni Magistrate had the happiness
To certify to the Innkeeper's bill
For burying Mylord Glenaveril:
XX
The British Secretary, with like zest,Indulged the pleasure of acknowledging
That document, together with the chest
Containing His Late Lordship's watch and ring,
Pins, shirt-studs, sleeve-links, seals and all the rest
Of His Late Lordship's trinkets. Everything
In short was done the best way possible,
And all were pleased that all passed off so well:
329
XXI
Mine Host, whom governesses, when well made,And funerals, when ill-managed, failed to please,
Was paid, and satisfied. The Guides were paid.
The Mutes were paid. The Doctor got his fees
For having proved that His Late Lordship's head
Was cracked, and having certified with ease
That it was past his power to mend it. Thus
All were contented, all unanimous,
XXII
Waiters, and Porters, Clerk and Sexton! allThe Tourists also; and the Magistrate
Of Chamouni; and the two Federal
Swiss Councils, both the Small one and the Great;
And the Attache who expressed no small
Delight to have made the acquaintance of the Late
Earl of Glenaveril at his funeral,
An interesting occasion to recall!
XXIII
But pleased beyond all other men was one,A Half-pay Officer; who, all surprise,
While seated by a smoky fire, alone
In a dark London lodging, rubbed his eyes,
Scarce trusting the good news, as he read on;
When in the Times with deepening ecstasies
He saw the telegram that morning sent
From Chamouni about ‘the sad event.’
330
XXIV
That telegram into his pocket pouredThe pleasant promise of a wealth untold;
It changed those lodgings to three castles, stored
With every kind of luxury; it rolled
Thro' the dim channels of a life abhorred
Pactolus in a cataract of gold;
With a fierce sudden joy, that made him start,
It filled that man's mean envious narrow heart—
XXV
The frenzy of a covetous delight!Such as in some dim corner, some small cell,
Of a cracked ceiling, a lean spider might
Feel when the web, which, tho' she wove it well,
Hath long been unemployed and empty quite,
Begins to vibrate with the visible
Convulsions of a strangled fly's death-thrill;
For this man now was Lord Glenaveril.
XXVI
And the church registers of the deceaseOf the late Earl, who, last of his own race,
For this man's gain had passed into the peace
Of death—and all the papers that replace
With perfect regularity (no crease
Unseemly ruffles, and no blots deface)
The irregular emotions that once tore
And tossed the beating heart that beats no more,—
331
XXVII
All these, with an official seal well stamped,Went to rejoin more papers, safely housed
In pigeon-holes along some closely cramped
Official shelf; where their arrival roused
The swarms of dust about their neighbours camped;
And all those swarms of dust forthwith caroused
And welcomed the new comers with a dance
Danced down a sunbeam they had caught by chance.
XXVIII
As for Emanuel Müller (the young manWhom His Late Lordship had picked up, 'twas said,
To teach him German, when he first began
That luckless tour whose sad finale made
Such a sensation among all the clan
Of Alpine Tourists,) he no doubt was paid,
Like all the others, for his ended task;
And what became of him none cared to ask.
XXIX
So that when, three months after that event,There came to the hotel at Chamouni
An old white-headed man, wrinkled and bent,
Who, with a quivering lip, and tear-stained eye,
Having heard all about the accident
Befallen Lord Glenaveril, anxiously
Asked for Emanuel Müller, who could blame
The landlord if he had forgot that name?
332
XXX
At last Mine Host remembered, and replied‘Ah yes, His Lordship's Secretary! Well,
‘He was much hurt the day His Lordship died.
‘That I remember. But I cannot tell
‘What has become of him. I heard the Guide
‘Declare it was a perfect miracle
‘That he survived. But, living still, I know
‘He left our house more than a month ago.
XXXI
‘A Hamburg merchant, who was staying here,‘And with his family, I think, arrived
‘The very morning of the day that dear
‘Young nobleman unluckily contrived
‘To break his neck — Just think! an English Peer,
‘So young, so rich, so handsome! had he lived,
‘We could have spared the other!—Well, I say
‘That merchant carried the young man away;
XXXII
‘He said, I think, that this young Schmidt—I mean,‘Young Müller—was a kinsman of some kind,
‘A cousin of his wife's—He must have been
‘A man that's well to do, Sir, I'm inclined
‘To think, that merchant! and his age between
‘Fifty and sixty, I should say. But, mind,
‘I know, Sir, nothing of him, further than
‘The name he gave here, which was Eckermann.
333
XXXIII
‘He said he would look after that young Schmidt,‘No, Müller—Well, the name's a common one!
‘He took the young man with him. Wait a bit!
‘Where did they go to? Oh, they must have gone
‘Towards Italy, now I remember it.
‘'Tis all that I remember. If you've done,
‘Excuse me! There's a carriage at the door,
‘And really I can tell you nothing more.’
XXXIV
When the old man all these details had heard,Which told him nothing that he wished to know,
He asked where Lord Glenaveril was interred.
The landlord called the Boots, and bade him show
The place to him. But the old man preferred
To go alone. He went with footsteps slow
And feeble; and, when he returned, his head
Hung lower, and his eyelids were more red.
XXXV
He did not seem to be a personageOf any mark, but, as the entry showed
In the hotel-book, on its latest page,
An old philologist, whose name bestowed
Scant lustre on that volume. To his age
Or grief, however, one good thing he owed;
The landlord did for him what he had done
For no one else, and left him quite alone.
END OF VOL. I.
‘Jacques Balmat was the first who made the ascent of Mont `Blanc. When he disappeared in 1835 he was 70 years old. He went out with a hunter of Valorsine to chase the chamois, parted from him near the Pic du Midi, having proposed an ascent which the other thought too dangerous; but poor Jacques was from his youth a gold-finder; one who believed it possible to become suddenly rich by such a discovery. He always preferred to follow this phantasy rather than act as guide, and he paid for it the forfeit of his life.’—Murray's Handbook.
| Glenaveril, or The Metamorphoses | |