“When the most dismal meal I had ever made was over, he told me we must renew our journey. I obeyed in silence, and we travelled the rest of the night, stopping twice to change horses.
“When morning broke, I found we were in a mountainous coutry: between the high points of land, among which our road lay, I caught glimpses of the sea, and a faint and vague hope presented itself that I might be destined to some port remote from Naples to be sent to England. For none of the various conjectures, which, during this melancholy journey, passed through my mind, were so probable, as that the mother of Montalbert, enraged at what she had heard, and determined, at all events, to divide me from her son, had taken this method to conceal me from him while he was, perhaps, persuaded that I had perished in Sicilly. With this hope, therefore, I looked out anxiously for the element, which, I hoped, might restore me to my country, where I was sure the vigilant love of Montalbert would soon follow me......Ah! vain and flattering illusion! — I indulged it only to embitter the miserable moments which have since passed; and, as they passed, have told me that, though Montalbert lives, I shall see him no more.
“I must lay down my pen and try to conquer the tears which half efface the words I have written, and which will make my letter illegible.
“I have taken a few turns in the gallery — my little Harry in my arms.......Oh! would he could answer when I talk to him of his dear father — he smiles innocently as if he already understood me! — If he should be ill in this desolate place — what would become of me! — The idea freezes my heart; but, alas! why should I torment myself with possible miseries, when I have so many real ones. Heaven sure will spare me from a trial to which I feel my strength altogether unequal. I know that I ought to check these gloomy thoughts, and to preserve my own health, if I would avoid the distresses they represent to me.
“But this is, indeed, difficult, Montalbert! — The poor solitary Rosalie has no human being to listen to her complaints, or to strengthen her resolution. Day after day she wanders round the deserted apartments of this melancholy house; she sees the faces of two servants, mean, ignorant, and without pity, who perform, in silence, the common offices of life, but seem totally insensible of the state of mind of their wretched prisoner: even the beauty of my lovely child does not plead with these people for him, or for me!
“But I shall exhaust myself in lamenting my present situation, and become unable to pursue my narrative.
“I go back then to relate the sequel of my melancholy journey, which continued all that day and the next, with only short intervals of rest; one of these was at a lone inn, on the steep ascent of a mountain, where my conductors put up, rather, I believe, to avoid the violence of a storm that was likely to overtake them on the top of it, than to afford me and my child the repose we greatly needed.
“Imagine, Montalbert, your unhappy wife sitting in one of the most dismal places imagination can conceive; the walls were of brick, and concealed only by the dirt that in most places covered them; there were neither sashes nor shutters to the windows, through which the lightning flashed, and the rain drove with fearful violence: but I had lately beheld convulsions of nature so much more dreadful, that I saw this tempest without any additional terror. Had I been sure that such a destiny awaited me as I have since experienced, I should, perhaps, have been more than indifferent, and have implored some friendly stroke which might have ended mine and my child’s life.....Alas! for what are we reserved?
“I looked at the group, which was assembled in the same room, with alarm infinitely greater than what I felt from the tempest without, violent as it was. I have seen paintings, Montalbert, representing such people; but in England we have no such faces, at least I never saw such!
“The men, however, seemed so well pleased with their quarters, that they were in no haste to depart, and I was afraid we should have passed the night in that hideous place; I could not imagine any thing that might await me at the end of my journey, for the people of the house seemed to be such as I remember reading a description of in one of Smollet’s novels. Willingly, therefore, I obeyed the signal which my companion in the coach, at length, gave for us to proceed forward.
“The remaining part of our journey lasted until, at a late hour in the night, I was removed into one of the carriages of the country, and we again travelled in darkness, very slowly, through roads where a common coach or chaise could not pass, and which would have given me at another time great fears; but I was now so worn down with fatigue, and so bewildered in distracting conjectures of what was to come, that the present evil was less felt; nor should I, I think, have shrunk from death, could I have been assured that my infant would not survive me.
“At length, however, as nearly as I could conjecture, about three in the morning of the third night, we arrived at the place, where the man who was in the carriage told me, I was to remain.
“I was so enfeebled and dispirited, so cramped with a long and fatiguing journey, and so worn down with anguish of mind that I was unable to assist myself in getting out of the coach. The men, however, took me with as much ease as they did my little boy, and a coarse-looking man, who came out of the house, carried a light before us up a long and steep flight of steps. They led to a large hall, paved and lined with marble: it was so large, and so cold, that I fancied myself already in the catacombs; but, alas! I could not weep — I felt the blood forsaking my heart, which seemed to beat no longer. I sat down, however, as the people bade me, till the baggage was brought out of the coach.
“The few ideas, which fatigue and terror left me, pointed to imprisonment as what was certainly to be my lot, and I expected to be led to some dungeon beneath this immense apartment, and left to perish. After some moments, my conductor approached me: he told me, that here his commission ended; that he had orders to leave me in this house, where the necessaries of life would be provided for me, and from whence he needed scarce advise me not to attempt to escape, for escape was impossible, as I was far removed from all who had any knowledge of me, and the whole country was devoted to his employer.
‘And who is your employer, Sir? (said I); tell me, at least, that — that I may know by what right, or on what account I am become a prisoner.’
‘You may think yourself fortunate, (returned the man), that you are in the hands of those who do not use all the power they possess; your treatment will in some measure depend on yourself. The people here can do nothing to assist your flight, even if you should be weak enough to tempt them; but I advise you to content yourself with the assurance that every effort will be ineffectual; and, that if you give much trouble to the persons in whose care you remain, your confinement will be made more strict and severe.’
“To this I had nothing to reply, nor did the man stay to hear any farther remonstrance, but hastily left this gloomy apartment, and as dead a silence reigned as if I had been already buried alive.
“The immense hall, or rather cave of marble, was lighted only by a lamp that stood on a distant table, and it seemed to me to have been built for gigantic beings, so great were its dimensions and so heavy its construction.— ‘And is it here (said I to myself, as I surveyed the place) that I am left to die, unaided and unknown? — Or am I consigned to the mercy of the inhabitants of this place?’ — Fatigue and fear, overcoming and depressing my mind, brought before it strange phantoms more horrible than any reality could be; and such an effect had this comfortless solitude on my exhausted spirits, that I thought my situation on the night of the dreadful concussion of earth, when I took shelter in the farm of Alozzi, was infinitely less dreadful. So much heavier do present evils appear than those of the past.
“I believe I had been more than half an hour alone, and began to think I might lie down unmolested on the pavement and die, when the door at the farther end of the hall opened slowly, and a figure, which I could hardly distinguish through the gloom, moved slowly towards me. When it came near me, I discerned that it was a woman in a kind of nun’s dress; she spoke in a low and slow voice. Th
ere was someting in her language which I did not understand; but she seemed to invite me to remove from the place were I was. I arose, therefore, and followed her; she took up the lamp that was burning on the marble table, and proceeded through long and high passages, which appeared to terminate in utter darkness.
“At length we came to a very broad staircase, which my guide began to ascend, though very slowly, and like a person who was either unwilling or unable to arrive very soon at the place whither they were going. I looked up and round this great staircase. Never could a place be imagined more massive, or more impressing, fit to convey the idea of a habitation of goblins and spectres; almost every part was of dark marble, and, in places where ornament was admitted, old paintings, blackened and nearly effaced by time, and some faded gilding, served but to mark the long desertion of its owners.
“The top of the stairs led into a gallery, which, through a marble balustrade, looked down into the great hall I had left, where I saw, by a light they had with them, three or four of the men that had accompanied me, who appeared like assassins assembled to decide on the fate of their vicitm. Yet such were the terrors that had seized me, from the uncertainty and singularity of my situation, that I had more dread of supernatural beings, I knew not what, than of these men who had so lately been the objects of my apprehension.
“This surrounding gallery opened into another very large room, covered with some kind of mosaic painting, and that into another as big, but not in so good repair; at the bottom of which was a table with a crucifix upon it. The third door, that my silent conductress opened, discovered a bedchamber of nearly the same dimensions as the othe two; where a small low bed, that stood in one corner, was hardly discernable. All seemed cold and comfortless, and the air was damp and heavy, as if the room had been long without ventilation. My conductress led me up to the bed— ‘This (said she) is your room, Singora Inglese, and this is your bed.’
“I hastily asked, but in a manner the most conciliating that I could command, whether I might be allowed a light, a fire, and food? — and proceeded to say, how greatly I and my poor little boy were fatigued with a very long jouney of so many days and nights. The woman, whose face I now for the first time saw, looked at me and the innocent helpless creature for which I was pleading. Her countenance, which was sallow and sharp-featured, expressed rather distaste than pity or tenderness; she spoke low, and, as I understood, declined complying with my request; however, she lit an iron lamp that was fastened to the wall, and, without any more ceremony left me as I believed for the night.
“I heard her footsteps fainter and fainter, as she passed through the rooms we had before traversed; the doors shut after her, and again a death-like silence reigned. My child was restless, and I wished to undress him; but the comfort of a fire was denied me, and I surveyed my bed as if it had been my tomb, hardly daring to lie down upon it, yet feeling that I had no longer strength to sit up. I determined, therefore, to wrap myself and my boy in the cloak we had around us, and since I had no change of clothes for him, for my trunks remained in the hall, to attempt hushig him to repose on my breast — a breast torn, alas! with such variety of anguish, that now, though a fortnight has since elapsed, I look back upon those hours with a sensation of astonishment, and, recollecting the severity of my sufferings, am greatful for the power that was lent me to sustain them. “But I break off here, Montalbert, and must recall more perfectly the succeeding hours, before I can finish this narrative, which I intend as a sort of prelude to the melancholy register of my time which I have kept.
“I am supported, Montalbert, by the hope which in my calmer moments never entirely forsakes me, that we shall one day read this journal together, and that, while you suffer for the sorrows of your Rosalie, you will clasp her fondly to your heart, and rejoice that they are no more.
“If that moment ever comes, Montalbert, for what calamities will it not overpay us!”
CHAPTER 24
THE next letter from Rosalie to Montalbert thus described her subsequent situation......
“My jailers were, however, less severe than I expected. With a feeble step, and a heart overwhelmed with anguish, I was exploring, as well as I could, the room I was in, to see if it afforded me such security for the night as depended on bolts or locks: I opened a door on the farther side of it, which led into long and high passages, and from whence the wind rushed with a violence which obliged me to shut it hastily. I was endeavouring to fasten it withinside, by pushing the bolt that was too rusty for my strength to move, when I heard heavy steps as of several persons approaching through the great rooms adjoining. Alarmed, I returned nearer to the light; and, breathless and trembling, I waited for the entrance of these people. My fears, however, somewhat subsided, when I saw a man, who appeared to be a peasant, approach with wood, and another with the boxes that contained mine and my child’s clothes, while the woman, whom I had seen before, stood at the door; one of the men made a fire, the other went away, and in a few moments returned with some provisions and wine. Every thing passed in profound silence, except when it was broken by my attempting to express to the woman, in whom all authority seemed to be vested, my gratitude for these indulgencies, and entreated her to allow that the door, to which I pointed across the room, might be fastened withinside. She ordered one of the men to do it, and having placed the supper before me, and left a small bundle of wood to feed the fire, they all departed, and I prepared to recruit my strength and refresh my poor baby by changing his clothes. He was soon in a sweet sleep, and now, for the first time for many hours, this melioration of my condition afforded me the relief of shedding tears. My destiny still appeared dreadful, but as there seemed to be no design to destroy my life, I trusted that whoever had taken so much trouble to remove me would at length relent, and that I should be one day restored to you, Montalbert.
“Determining then to arm myself with patience, and to resign myself wholly to that Providence which had hitherto protected me, I laid down on my little bed, after securing as well as I could the other door of the chamber; but, still prepossessed with an idea of its dampness, I dared not undress myself; fatigue, however, overcame all apprehensions, and I slept several hours, till the calls of my nursling awakened me to a sense of his sorrows and my own.
“I recollected instantly all that had happened to me, and turned my eyes toward the immense windows of my room, between the thick wooden shutters of which day appeared. I arose, and with some difficulty opened one of them, and beheld from it a diversified landscape of great extent, terminated on one side by the sea at the distance of hardly a mile; a river, which ran from the country on the left of the castle, fell into the ocean just beneath, where a few mean houses, intermingled with some ruined buildings, gave me the idea of an ancient port; between the place where I was and the sea the ground was marshy and cheerless, but on each side the land formed a mountainous curve, covered with woods, of which another window gave me a more distinct view. I opened the casement by the utmost exertion of my strength; and refreshed by the morning air and the cheering light of the sun, I took courage to examine the place where it seemed but too probable I was destined long to remain.
“I found that I was in an immense fortress, or castle, situated on an eminence, and covering for a considerable space its unequal summit. Great square towers, more ancient than the rest, projected over the declivity; but the spaces between these had more the appearance of old Italian houses, such as I had been used to see. On the side next the sea there was a deep fossé, beyond which the hill fell perpendicularly into a sort of marsh; but on the other side, on which the window I had opened looked, it appeared as if that part of it, immediately near the house, had once been cultivated as a garden or plantation, for amidst inequalitites, which seemed to have been made by human art for the purposes of defence, were a few groups of very old cypresses, and square enclosures bordered with evergreens, now wild and run into disorder. Among them I observed two or three colossal statues and pillars of marble, all of which seemed
to have suffered from violence, for I could perceive that they were broken and mutilated: beyond this ground, which I ought, perhaps, to call a garden, the country rose into very high mountains on each side of the river, leaving on its banks a valley of about half a mile in extent, were a few straggling cottages surrounded with olive grounds such as I remember in Sicily, and there were some plantations of oranges about the houses, with vinyards on the hills where the wood was cleared away. Higher mountains closed the land prospect, and the course of the river was lost among them.
“Such appeared, on my first survey of it, the place where I was, perhaps, to pass my life; but, I saw the bright sun above me, I beheld variety of objects illuminated by his beams, I felt the balmy breath of Heaven on my face, which seemed to restore the enfeebled powers of life. My boy smiled on me, and appeared uninjured in his health by the faitgues he had gone through, and hope and peace in some measure returned.
“In examining, however, and reflecting on my situation, I began to be convinced, that what the man, who conducted me, had told me was true; that I was placed where there was no possible means of escape — I knew not in what part of Italy I was; the people I had seen, spoke, I thought, a language unlike the Italian I had learned, and I guessed from the manner of the woman, when I addressed myself to her, that she understood me with difficulty. I was entirely in the power of the person, whoever it was, to whom this castle or feudal residence belonged, and probably the whole country round was inhabitied by vassals and dependents who dared not assist me, even if I had possessed the means of speaking to or bribing them.
Complete Poetical Works of Charlotte Smith Page 231