All earth seems proud to wear the livery of the moon. The lake receives the glory, becomes a new heaven and displays another orb whose light floats amongst the waters and quivers brilliantly on the waves. I turned my eyes from these glories finding the attraction of the moon too powerful and sat myself peaceably down on the smooth verdure of the thyme which carpeted the brow. At this very moment yon planet may be the object of thy admiration. Yes, tho’ so far distant, we may both regard this same object. With what pleasure then did I dwell upon its sight. Yet a little while and the cares of this vile earth will rob me of these serene enjoyments. A few years the projects of ambition, the sordid schemes of interest and all the occupations of the world must seclude from such meditations. No, I will resist them, I will repulse their influence if they rob me of the meridian sunshine, if I must waste those hours in cabinets and councils, if the evening must be sacrificed to debates and to watchful consultations, still they shall not rob me of the midnight moon. Then shall we walk and gather plants by her light and her soothing influence shall calm my soul. Poor mortal! Take thy fill of these pleasures to day; for to morrow thou wilt die. Sighing this sentiment, I got up and viewed the lovely situation in which I now stood. I had now attained the steep peak of the mountain; it was a solid rock perpendicular, sharp pointed and without a blade of vegetation. Time had made no impression on this mass nor were its sides imprinted with the least mark of his power; there were no crevices, no nooks by whose assistance I could climb; every part was solid and unworn. Nature had formed it inaccessible and I was contented to let it remain above me. Level with its base on the opposite side of a horrid cleft torn probably by an earthquake, was another mountain, its rocks almost concealed by noble sweeps of wood, the growth of a century flourishing in the height of their perfection. The tall fir, the spreading oak, the round headed beach, the walnut, the juniper, the elegant birch whose slender white stems were silvered by the beams of the moon, formed a beautiful prospect contrasted to the barren peak near which I stood. I could not help desiring to approach so inviting a scene and warily looked round and round and about and here and there for a place or a path, however dangerous, which might lead me to these bowers. No sooner did I approach the gloomy gulph than I retreated, no sooner did I look down the precipices than I despaired gaining the wished for shore. At last after anxiously pacing backwards and forwards the mountain brow, I spied a very narrow ridge about ten yards down formed of the same rock which lined the sides of the cliffs and joining the side I stood on to the opposite bowers like a bridge. But how shall I descend the steep cliff to gain this bridge? I will, I must. So embracing a huge stone and putting my feet on the tough branches of an ancient juniper I slid down and rested luckily on a spot overgrown with soft moss. What a variety of flowers, of shrubs, of plants has nature placed in these crevices, apparently without soil, her accustomed instrument of vegetation. Art would never have dared to have planted them on so barren a foundation. Surely I smell the perfume of the rose, of the pink, of the honeysuckle. See these; they grow their trunks and stems twisted together and hanging over the steeps in fantastic garlands. Figure to yourself this narrow ridge a dangerous gulph on each side, grim, dark, horrible, itself spangled with flowers many of them unknown to me and sending forth a new smell. See me wantonly treading under foot what, if transported to England, would become the pride of our gardens. Take your eyes off this beautiful spot and let them range along a frightful perspective of steeps, of crags, of impending mountains just admitting the moonlight to shew my path and discover the flowers. But I must own I could not enjoy this delicious vegetation untainted by disagreeable sensations, the ridge was so narrow, that the least false step might have precipitated me to destruction, the very herbs and flowers I trod on, tho’ all fair, might give away and put a period to my worldly existence.
Behold then in my countenance a strange mixture of pleasure and pain; haste, mark on your tablets that uncertain character. See how cautiously I measure my steps and poise my body; see how I keep my eyes fixed on the shore and am almost ignorant1 of the scene on each side. Now behold me leap exultingly on a grassy bank and fix my feet in the soil. Well, give me joy. I have surmounted obstacles that at the first glance, my third even, looked actually unsurmountable. I shiver at the danger I have past in a greater degree than at the moment I was engaged in them; ’tis well, or I should have been no more. I lay a few moments on the bank, a gentle breeze fanned the groves, the Gumcistus1 which sprouted out of the verdure on my side dropped its flowers over me. How sweet the pleasure of ease after labour; how agreeable the sensation of surmounting completely any obstacle. Whilst I lay indulging in this manner amongst the vast wilds and uninterrupted solitudes, a thought intruded unwillingly upon me of the good people I had left at home. What will they think become of me? Their imagination will form wild beasts to eat me up, robbers to murder me, rocks (as indeed was not improbable) to give way and roll me from their summits mangled at their feet. Alas! it is in vain to repent. I shall fulfil their fears were I to return and measure back my dangerous uncertain way before the morning. Heavens! how shall I descend the steeps, climb the precipices by this fallacious light. The ardour, the enthusiasm which has helped me on will no longer assist me in getting down.
There is nothing tempting to return to a house which my vagaries2 have troubled. All these considerations must be banished for the present from my mind and I will seek comfort as I intended in these shades till the morning. Thus you see how imperfect is our happiness. In the midst of the gratification of my most romantic3 pleasures, these mean sorrows stole in and troubled my enjoyment. Rising from the bank and shaking off the flowers, I plunged into the thickets and let the cool leaves of the beech tree slap my flushed face. After continually stumbling over antiquated stumps and fallen trees, that some violence had laid low, I penetrated (the ground still rising) into the dark, dark, retired recess of the forest and leaning against the trunk of an aged towering pine exclaimed, ‘Where am I? By what strange impulse am I driven? For what end am I come here? Why do I fly like a miscreant from my home and bury myself deeper and deeper in this gloom. What a horrid darkness just visible envelops this wood and fits it for shocking actions. It was to such a solitude, to such a dreary waste that Cain fled, reeking from the murder of his brother, and what murder have I committed, what crime have I perpetrated that I should conceal myself like him from everything human? A sort of madness has hurried me here and I strive in vain to reason with myself. I am not at this instant reasonable.’
Whilst I was saying those passionate words my eye fixed itself on something that bore the semblance of a pool, fed by the snow which melts from the mountains. Into this abyss will I plunge; I will extinguish the flame of life, I will start into eternity; my curiosity shall be satisfied, I will know if…. As I was moving to my destruction something held me back. I trembled; a cold chill froze my blood, my hair softened with a frigid sweat, my soul was shrivelled. I thought my good angel interposed. I heard his instinct speak in me. ‘If mercy has preserved thee from crimes must thou form them thyself? wilt thou work thy own ruin?’ I awoke as from a trance and found myself riveted to the torn branch of the pine against which I still leaned tho’ my imagination had aped motion so strangely that I could scarce distinguish the shadow from the reality. With a violent effort that extricated me from my momentary imprisonment, I disentangled my torn garment and pursued my way amongst the forest almost in total darkness. A faint glimmer amongst the leaves declared1 that I was near an opening and suddenly I emerged to a little knowl covered with smooth verdure and encompassed by the forest on every side, except where a huge rock bulged forth of a bulk, a size, an immensity which exceeded all the others I had passed. Below I could distinguish the aweful mouth of a cavern which seemed to contain the thickest darkness. Its ponderous jaws were hung in fearful suspense and every moment menaced a dreadful fall. From under one of the crags gushed forth clear water tumbling and rolling its course down unseen steeps, till it was heard no more.
Another stream of a more moderate kind trickled and oozed from the porous stone and made itself a channel along the valley bordered by a stately species of lilies and flag2 flowers waving with the gale. Yet another stream flowed out of the cavern mouth black tho’ clear impregnated with mineral gold. These three mysterious rivers filled my mind with wonder. The sky was free from storms, unclouded and serene; no vapours except a few and those light, fleeting round the peaked summit of a monstrous rock where no herb or plant or flower ventured to grow. Below, their growth was luxuriant, cherished by an heated soil and their flowers gigantic and rampant, their odour powerful, breathing vivid spirit into the animal frame.
It was now the hour!
The holy hour, when to the cloudless height
Of yon starred concave climbs the full orb’d Moon.
A soft delusion like a descending dew stole on my senses and I sunk down on the grass, the scene still distinct before my eyes, my mind in a delirium. Sounds seemed to proceed from the cavern, long protracted sounds wafted over the dark bubbling river, swelling peals of distant harmony. Soon I thought the notes of some silver toned instrument accompanied by an angelic voice stole into the porches of my ear filling me full of rapture. Now a full accord, now a majestic pause; now wildly warbling notes dying away amidst the recesses of the caverns. Silence prevailed for a moment. Then a distant murmur in the woods, on the cliffs, on the vapours, on the waters, melody as faint as a departing mist floated in the Æther3 ascending higher and higher till but a vibration remained on my ear. An universal calm succeeded for many moments till it was broken by a faint whisper issuing from the cave. My soul was all attention, every sense on their utmost stretch: the sound increased till I could distinguish something like the human voice modulating in two different tones, one deep and faltering, the other clear, smooth and delightful as the voice I had heard before. My eye had not been much longer fixed on the cavern, before it could distinguish two stately forms emerging from the dark gloom and advancing like phantoms stood silently before the entrance. The tallest wore the figure of a majestic sage, his hoary hair bound by a golden fillet inscribed with unknown characters, his beard waving over an ample robe of deep azure of the colour of the meridian sky and concealing his feet and arms with its folds: one hand grasped a taper rod of gold, the other held a woman who had an imperial mien, a sublime port and a spirit in her opal eyes, a fire which I dare not describe. A mazy vesture of muslin encircled her limbs, proportioned with the most polished finish of delicacy: she had neither gold nor silver nor jewels, her hair was indeed braided with a row of pearls, but its luxuriance almost concealed them. I knew not what to think, nor how to fear. I would willingly have retired, but I know not what chained me to the ground. I dreaded the glance of these beings (whatever they were) and yet I loved them. The looks of the sage encouraged me, the woman had turned aside her opal eyes1 and I lay patiently on the turf, waiting the issue of this apparition.
‘Now is the time’ (said the deep voice I had before heard) ‘and now the hour to consult nature. In silence she discloses her wonders, her mineral powers and the juices of her plants. These herbs have now an influence on every animal, hidden from the generality of even the most careful observers. The philosopher 2 who after the researches of many, many long years, vainly imagines the volume of nature extended before him is deceived, unless by toil, by more than European perseverance, by fasting and by meek resignation he wins the Ætherial spirit 3 to befriend him. Then like my sacred tribe he may cast his eye into the very bowels of a mountain, more huge than these, spy out the lurking ore, the glistening diamond, the mineral fraught with powerful influence on the human frame and the concealed source of mighty rivers. The compact soil, the flinty rock, the layer of binding chalk, fathoms of sand and all the barriers in which nature has studded her choicest productions, are all laid open and explored by him alone. What a glorious supremacy does this knowledge give, my emerald-eyed Nouronihar 4 and thou shalt partake it with me. Thou shalt not remain in vulgar ignorance unworthy of the Godlike race of which thou springest.’
‘You, who can read in inmost soul,’answered Nouronihar, ‘can see it bend in acknowledgements before your instructions. You, kind director of my youth, have cheered my lonely path when straying in the subterraneous caverns of the globe. By your assistance have I been supported, by your councils have I sustained the horrors I was decreed to view and prevented despair from gnawing my vitals when…’
Nouronihar could not continue, she cast her humid eyes on the ground and then on the sage who spoke again.
‘The midnight hour will shortly pass away. Therefore let us seize the moment and cull the herb on which the moon shines brightest. It is a plant, which in gross foul material hands might prove the instrument of unlawful power. The evil ones know this and snatch it with their fangs, then commit the prize to their votaries and behold them rise to the summit of ambition, work magical infatuation and cruel delusions, – delusions that mislead, embezzle the noble faculties of the soul and degrade the man to the vile brute or reptile, fill him with destructive passions and hurry him to situations in which he will implore the protection of the instigating fiend and become subject to his power. Such, is the influence of the herb, when given into the power of malignity; but when it is pointed out to those bred in our Schools of virtue,1 like balm it cools the acrid spirit, the tumultuous desire and the turbulent lust of lawless rapine. It is this herb which enlarges and expands the faculties of reason and guides the mind towards the source of all perfection, towards that ALL WISE before whom my sacred tribe fall and at whose mention their inmost soul glows with sensations of love, of gratitude, of awe, too fervent for their mortal frame. In such raptures have I seen them retire to the summit of Gehabil,2 and glorious was the monument of their dissolution. Often have I stood when the clouds would divide and stream with tracks of vivid pure light shot from the mansions of their happiness. Often have I returned and edified the synod of our sages with their parting hour.’
As the Bramin3 spoke, his every action was full of inspiration. The elegant Nouronihar, leaning against the rock, had concealed her face within her folding arms. She was awed, she was penetrated with the sublime instructions of the sage and remained entranced till his voice called her to gather the mysterious herb.
‘Hasten, Nouronihar,’ cried the Bramin, ‘whilst the moonbeam points out thy way. Occasion is near at hand when the balm shall be required.’
… A dread without a cause, a sudden tremor had taken possession of my nerves, the conversation I had heard was so unusual, so aweful, so mysterious that I could form no judgment. The music that had sounded in the spheres, the deportment of the Bramin, who at this moment seated on a monstrous blueish stone was poring attentively over the dark river, had a solemn cast that affected me more than I can express.
Nouronihar had obeyed the command of her instructor, she was kneeling on the herbage brightened by the moon and prying carefully for the plant she was directed to cull. Whilst thus employed I had time to examine her features. Never did my eyes behold so majestic an assemblage, her complexion a clear brown was animated with sentiment and vivacity, glowing with health. Her attitude discovered the harmony of her proportions, her beautiful bosom was in a very visible palpitation when she gathered the wished for herb replete with such qualities. She arose and with a motion graceful as the wave of the palm tree was regaining the cavern when the herb dropped from between her taper fingers. As she turned to take it up a gleam of light shone full upon the turf where I lay and discovered me to her sight. Hastily snatching up the herb she flew swiftly to the Bramin and exclaimed; ‘Father! look! behold that mortal within the verge of this hallowed valley, surely he must be one of the accursed or never could he have dared intrude on this spot and at this holy hour. Speak, Father… he cannot be mortal or how should those tremendous precipices, these gulphs, these natural horrors that encircle our abode been surmounted. Have you not often told me that none of those that tread the plains of that unknown coun
try I have viewed from the pinnacle of our mountain, could enter here? Have you not calmed my inquietudes by repeated assurances of our security? And now some evil one or some Firengui 1 has violated our retreat and polluted this vale by his profane presence. Who dares affirm the purity of our celestial protectors will not take umbrage at this sacriledge and never revisit us more?’
Vathek and Other Stories Page 6
