Vampyre' and Other Writings

by Polidori, John William; Bishop, Franklin Charles;

  Hoping to find the enemy unprepared, upon some point or other, we immediately entered our boats. They however watched us, and at the moment of our landing, appeared before us in a body so numerous, that it seemed impossible to escape. We formed our men in the very water into a wedge, and taking a gun and bayonet ourselves, we led them against the foes, determined either to cut our way through, or to fall upon the field of battle. After repeated charges we at last succeeded, but our numbers were reduced to fifty, and several were wounded. We mustered upon the very spot where the liberty of Switzerland had been sworn to by the three patriots; it was the valley of Brunnen. Fortunately the Schweitzers did not pursue us. Travelling night and day, we at last gained the higher parts of the canton, whence my companions came. We separated, and it was a proud moment when they brought their wives and children to thank us as the preservers of their husbands and fathers. Olivieri and myself were now alone amongst the mountains, as a reward was set upon our heads, and as we here depended entirely upon the fidelity of many who had shunned our cause, we determined to depart and seek some other refuge. My friend knew not where to go, being ignorant, as he said, where his family was; he having left it privately, while travelling, to join the Swiss. He however determined to go into the Austrian dominions, and there seek for information. We parted with mutual protestations of friendship, and a promise from him of letting me know by means of Berchtold, when he had found safety. We had had little communication; I therefore scarcely knew more than that Olivieri was not his family name, and that he was an Italian. I had often remarked his eyes to be fixed upon my scarf, but his delicacy preventing him from speaking upon a subject, he perceived I was not willing to converse on, was the cause of our parting without further communication. He was indeed the brother of that object, which had never deserted my thoughts, which, sleeping and waking, my lips had often called upon. No night passed, though dangers surrounded me on every side, without her image rising to cheer for a moment my wearied heart; but the dreams always ended unhappily. It seemed as if the fates were determined to embitter even those moments, in which I was engaged in a noble cause, thus to prepare my mind for those pangs which follow guilt. You may think I rest too much upon these instants of my life; but I dread to narrate my miseries; the recalling to memory anguish and grief racks my heart; but I have begun, and you shall hear the whole.

  Knowing the country well, and being acquainted with every pass, I found no difficulty in reaching the neighbourhood of Beatenberg, and I was soon locked in my sister’s arms. Berchtold and Julia’s anxiety about me had been great, they had heard by report of my being in action, and had seen in the papers the immense reward offered for my person. Seeing me safe they could not contain their joy; but morning came, and I was obliged to depart into the mountains, for who could be trusted? Treachery and avarice had proved at last the master passions in many breasts, though they had at first worn the mask of the noblest virtues. Promising to be back at night, I flew to the Wengern Alp, and there again visited the spot, which now began to appear sacred to my mind. At night I returned to the pastor’s cottage; I only found my sister there, he was gone to Thun. Leaving the house, Julia led me to our mother’s grave, and again begged of me to be cautious, for constantly while I had been absent the same admonition had been given. It did not seem to her to relate to a personal danger; it was a vague threat, that seemed the more terrific, because it could not be decidedly represented to the mind. She then begged of me to-relate the dangers I had undergone; I gave her a minute account of the whole.

  Amongst other things which she mentioned to me, was the arrival of a stranger, who had taken up his abode at Interlaken, and who excited the wonder of his neighbours by the account his servants gave of his riches, and by their intimation of his having communication with an evil spirit. The source of his riches was unknown. Many were the tales related concerning him, and if but half were true, she said, he must certainly be possessed of a wonderful power. He was old and apparently wretched. His only daughter accompanied him, her beauty was as much the subject of conversation, as the riches of her father. These were the only rumours my sister had heard, for they had only arrived a few days before. I wish that I had never known more. I did not laugh at the idea of the supernatural part of the report. We were both too strongly imbued with the tales of our foster-mother not to attach some credit to them. My sister’s dreams, in which our mother visited her, my own which always portended misfortune, had enforced upon our minds the belief of the interference of superior beings.

  For several nights I returned, but Berchtold was yet, as we imagined, at Thun. My sister and myself left entirely to ourselves, again talked over the feats of Olivieri, and she often asked me to repeat them, seeming with pleasure to rest upon every circumstance regarding him. Foolishly, I also took a pleasure in relating them, for though we had been constantly rivals, there was a frankness, a heedless daring about him, that excited admiration, at the same time, that the warmth of his expressions called forth a reciprocal feeling of love. I knew not then how to discover the sting protruding from the rich scales of the snake. We conversed upon our mother, and my inquiries were numerous about her person, her voice. I cannot explain it, but I wished even from Julia’s dreams to aid the representation I had formed from her portrait of a being, who seemed even after life, to feel an interest in my fate. In the locket, there was a melancholy look about her dark blue eyes, that was rendered heavenly, by the soft smile playing upon her open lip. I had gazed upon it so often, that I had her image before me, even when far from home, but it was only distinct in the face, which appeared to be gazing on Heaven, with the consciousness of having obtained a prayer for me. Since my sister’s dreams, it seemed as if I knew a mother’s care, and I often sighed, to think, that though thus thoughtful of me even in Heaven, she did not think me worthy of enjoying her smile.

  One morning I left my sister, and retired to the wild borders of the Brientz lake. The sun rose, and with its glittering ray painted on the water, the reflected images of the wild rocks upon the other side. There is a point which juts into the lake, and on it are the ruins of an old church; I did not feel inclined to exert myself to reach a more distant spot, but I laid myself down by an arching gateway, round which the ivy clustered, as if by its tenacious grasp, it would hold together the monuments of another age, upon which the breath of time was acting with a destructive power, unheeded by man. I seemed to feel this breath of time acting upon me as upon these works of man, the wild joys of youth seemed sunk into the melancholy uniform feeling attendant upon age, when all joy is passed, all hope extinguished by the consciousness of the presence of death. I gazed upon the mists as they rolled slowly along the hills, veiling successively the various beauties of the banks, and watched the cloud’s shadow, depriving the lake of its glittering sheen. I rested upon their passing powers, but did not notice, that the glow of the bright sun invariably returned upon the spots, before darkened by a shadow. The peasants’ barge, and the light skiff, passed rapidly before me, but unheeded they passed in silence, for it appeared, as if, even they sympathised in my grief. It was mid-day, I rose to shelter myself from the sun’s ray, and sought that side of the point towards Interlaken. There was a small light skiff upon the water, and in it was a female figure. It was at some distance, it gradually approached; my heart fluttered, my breathing became difficult, my eyes were fixed upon a form I seemed to recognise. Her face was not lit up, as I had seen it, by all the fire of her indignant eye; carried along by her small latin sail, she approached. Her eye was gazing upon the rippling wave, cut by her prow, it seemed as if joy did not dwell there, her eye-lash veiled its splendour, while her black locks curling on the breeze, floated playfully around. Her breast at times would heave as if the sorrow in her bosom was loath to grieve her, but she seemed unwilling it should go, for she rested upon it. I stood intently gazing, it seemed as if my least motion would have at once destroyed an illusion. The current brought her heedless close to the shore, and the boat struck
the bank; she looked around and saw me. It was plain she recognised me, for her eyes fixed upon her scarf. To paint to you, the varying expressions of that eye, and the varied colour of that cheek, is impossible. With slow hesitating steps she approached, our eyes did not dare to meet, and I stood by her for some moments in silence; at last with a trembling voice, she asked me if my name were not Ernestus Berchtold? ‘If you own that name, fly instantly, you have been betrayed, and the bloodsuckers are already, at Interlaken upon their way to Berchtold, do not go there to-night.’ I could hardly acknowledge my name, I was so moved by her voice; she offered to convey me to the other side of the lake, if I thought myself safer there. Unconscious of what I was doing, I entered her boat, and taking the oars, tried by violent exertions to rouse myself; we did not speak; when upon the other side, I landed. Farewell fell from her lips, and it seemed as if the echoes mocking me, repeated farewell. I stood still, watching her as entering the current of the Aar, she was gradually borne down towards Interlaken; even when she had passed the bridge, I gazed, and seemed to see a white speck, that I imagined was her.

  I turned away, and towards evening found myself upon the same spot on which I had first seen her. Again, she had appeared. At first, she had guided me into the path of honour, this day she ensured my safety. Was she then a vision? I asked myself. Was it my guardian angel, who invested that form? I did not think of pursuing my route to any place of greater safety, it seemed as if this spot where my protector had appeared, was secure, I laid me down beneath the rock, that had witnessed her presence, and offering up a prayer to Heaven, I gave way to all the visions my imagination offered. She had recognised me, she knew my name, my rank, and still felt an interest in my safety. If you have ever known, what it is to be in love, you may judge what my feelings were, if not, my words are useless, I hardly slept the whole night.

  Next day I roamed restless over the Alpine heights around, I did not heed the horrors or the beauties of these solitudes. The cataract fell by my side, and yet I heard it not, wherever the valley wound, thither I followed; but as evening threw its stillness over nature, ere the light canopy of Heaven was darkened, I found myself upon the covered bridge of Interlaken, I had forgotten my danger. The open spaces between the beams supporting the roof, enabled me to see the different houses which skirt the river’s side. Mine eyes however gazed upon that one, in which I had heard, the new inhabitants of this neighbourhood had taken up their abode. I had imagined my unknown was the beautiful daughter I had heard of from my sister; and I had not long been upon my station, when I saw her come forth, supporting upon her arm the feeble steps of the old man I had seen with her upon the Wengern Alp. Her eyes, fixed upon his languid face, seemed anxiously to be watching the features of her invalid father. There was a bush not far from the door beneath the wide-spreading canopy of a lofty elm; she placed him there, and I saw reflected on her face, the smile which beamed upon the old man’s, as he gazed upon the setting sun. I watched her slightest action, her every glance, it seemed as if her words soothed the pains of sickness, and lightened the languor attendant upon an invalid’s inactivity. Oh, if that smile had fallen upon myself, as it then fell upon her father, if I had only felt its cheering influence without that burning passion it has excited in this breast; but I must not anticipate my narration. The sun sunk behind the mountains, she carefully shielded her sire from the damp. I watched her retiring steps, heard the door close after her, and at last turned away.

  Intending to depart again to some retired spot, I was advancing, when I perceived that there was some one at the end of the bridge apparently watching me, and then retiring as if to look up the road. Alarmed, I seized my hunting knife and approached him: seeing me advance, he came towards me, it was the servant of Berchtold. He had seen me from a neighbouring height, and anxious, as he said, for my safety, had immediately followed me, and finding me on the bridge, had several times spoken to me without my paying the least attention; perceiving at last how I was engaged in contemplating the beautiful object before me, he had contented himself with guarding the entrance to the bridge. I inquired about the French soldiers, he turned pale, but at that moment I hardly noticed it; he told me that they had been watching Berchtold’s house during the whole of the night, apparently aware of my being in the habit of going there every evening. He informed me that there were only two remaining, whom he had supplied so abundantly with wine, that if I chose to venture towards the cottage, he would inform Berchtold and my sister where they could meet me, while he engaged the attention of my pursuers. How easily I was deceived; I have since known the value of men’s professions; then I was young and confident in virtue. Berchtold and my sister met me, but there were other soldiers in the neighbourhood; those the servant led to a pass by which I must descend on my return. It was but another instance of that venal boasted honour which so much stains the Swiss patriotic history.

  In the mean time I learnt from Berchtold that he had walked to Berne, hoping to cause my sentence of outlawry to be cancelled; that the French employers had lulled him with hope until he had been rash enough to acknowledge my being in this neighbourhood; when they would listen to him no longer, but sent the soldiers I have mentioned. Even Ochs, who had formerly been his school-fellow, had laughed when he reproached him for so vile a breach of confidence. I spoke with my sister apart, and informed her of my discovery, she was surprised, and seemed downcast; but Berchtold, who had gone to listen, and reported all silent, joining us, we could not proceed in our conversation. I embraced them, and had begun to descend the steep, when I heard myself challenged; having my gun with me, I fired, and the challenger fell; but one leapt upon my back, it was my own servant, and I was surrounded. I struck upon every side, but it was in vain: determined, however, to be revenged, I threw myself upon the ground with the traitor; as we turned, I succeeded in getting him undermost, and plunged my hunting-knife up to the hilt in his chest. He groaned and died. I surrendered.

  I was hurried to Interlaken, put into a boat, and before the dawn of day, was locked in the prisons of Thun. I expected to be immediately taken out and shot. I was not, however, disturbed till night, when I was awakened from a sound sleep, and, guarded by a company of soldiers, was ordered to be conveyed to the castle of Chillon, upon the lake of Geneva. Entering into conversation with the soldier who marched by my side, I heard from him that Berchtold and my sister had in vain applied for admission to my dungeon, upon hearing of my misfortune; that the reason I was removed at this late hour arose from the magistrate’s fearing a rescue by the people, who once or twice in the day had seemed, by their tumultuous meeting, inclined to force the prison of him whom they called their only remaining patriot. From him I first learnt that my name was in every mouth; that there were romantic tales printed about me, and spread over all the country in spite of the police which endeavoured to suppress them. I did not feel any vain exultation at this; I was too near death; but I certainly experienced some satisfaction in the thought, that for Louisa, – that – that was her name. For years locked up within my breast, it has not passed my lips. I have not dared to utter that name, not even whisper it to my own ear; but it has been deeply engraven here. It is now a spell that conjures up horrid thoughts; once it did not.

  But I must command myself. I had not visited this part of Switzerland yet, though beautiful, and perhaps richer than any I had seen, it passed unobserved before my eyes. The simple villagers, hearing my name, came round the inns at which we stopped, and looked upon me in silence. Mothers brought their children to me to kiss, as if my kiss could call down a blessing, or inspire heroism. I crossed the Dent de Jamanu, and soon saw the castle once the prison of Bonniva, now destined to be my own.

  The draw-bridge was up, and the sentinels were parading as if they esteemed the castle of importance. Upon my name being mentioned the bridge was lowered, and I soon heard the clash of the chains employed in raising it after me. It seemed to be accompanied by a voice that bade hope to leave me. The rude stare of the soldie
rs, and the bustling scene of the officers, running to and fro, did not tend to relieve the sorrow that weighed upon me. I had dared danger in the chase upon the Alps; death in battle; yet here the thoughts of leaving all, oppressed me. I did not think of the pain of parting with existence; but Berchtold, my sister, the vision of the Wengern Alp, all seemed to press upon my imagination with eyes, that, by their look, seemed to denote a breaking heart. My head fell upon my breast, while, with folded arms, I walked along the vaulted passage. I was searched, all was taken from me, my knife, the little money I had. The rude jailor already had his hand upon the scarf, retaining it with a firm grasp, I looked at him, and seeing his daughter close by his side, ‘If that child,’ I said, ‘should be far – far from thee, and thou couldst not hope to see her but in Heaven, couldst thou part with the only relic of her memory?’ He looked upon his child, and let go his hold.

  I was taken into a room where several officers were deliberating concerning me. I had stood before them some time, when one asked me my name. ‘Ernestus Berchtold’ was my answer. ‘It is the traitor;’ fell from the lips of one. I looked upon him; he could not stand my glance, but sunk into silence. They were considering whether they should lead me to instant execution, or whether I should be confined till the pleasure of the government at Berne should be known, as it was thought that they might wish to make a more public exhibition of the punishment of him they so gratuitously called a traitor. I was respited by one voice, and was instantly ordered to my dungeon.