From the deep solitudes, into
which she was emerging, and from the gloomy castle, of which she had
heard some mysterious hints, her sick heart recoiled in despair, and
she experienced, that, though her mind was already occupied by peculiar
distress, it was still alive to the influence of new and local
circumstance; why else did she shudder at the idea of this desolate
castle? As the travellers still ascended among the pine forests, steep rose
over steep, the mountains seemed to multiply, as they went, and what
was the summit of one eminence proved to be only the base of another. At length, they reached a little plain, where the drivers stopped to
rest the mules, whence a scene of such extent and magnificence opened
below, as drew even from Madame Montoni a note of admiration. Emily
lost, for a moment, her sorrows, in the immensity of nature. Beyond the
amphitheatre of mountains, that stretched below, whose tops appeared as
numerous almost, as the waves of the sea, and whose feet were concealed
by the forests—extended the _campagna_ of Italy, where cities and
rivers, and woods and all the glow of cultivation were mingled in gay
confusion. The Adriatic bounded the horizon, into which the Po and the
Brenta, after winding through the whole extent of the landscape, poured
their fruitful waves. Emily gazed long on the splendours of the world
she was quitting, of which the whole magnificence seemed thus given to
her sight only to increase her regret on leaving it; for her,
Valancourt alone was in that world; to him alone her heart turned, and
for him alone fell her bitter tears. From this sublime scene the travellers continued to ascend among the
pines, till they entered a narrow pass of the mountains, which shut out
every feature of the distant country, and, in its stead, exhibited only
tremendous crags, impending over the road, where no vestige of
humanity, or even of vegetation, appeared, except here and there the
trunk and scathed branches of an oak, that hung nearly headlong from
the rock, into which its strong roots had fastened. This pass, which
led into the heart of the Apennine, at length opened to day, and a
scene of mountains stretched in long perspective, as wild as any the
travellers had yet passed. Still vast pine-forests hung upon their
base, and crowned the ridgy precipice, that rose perpendicularly from
the vale, while, above, the rolling mists caught the sunbeams, and
touched their cliffs with all the magical colouring of light and shade. The scene seemed perpetually changing, and its features to assume new
forms, as the winding road brought them to the eye in different
attitudes; while the shifting vapours, now partially concealing their
minuter beauties and now illuminating them with splendid tints,
assisted the illusions of the sight. Though the deep valleys between these mountains were, for the most
part, clothed with pines, sometimes an abrupt opening presented a
perspective of only barren rocks, with a cataract flashing from their
summit among broken cliffs, till its waters, reaching the bottom,
foamed along with unceasing fury; and sometimes pastoral scenes
exhibited their “green delights” in the narrow vales, smiling amid
surrounding horror. There herds and flocks of goats and sheep, browsing
under the shade of hanging woods, and the shepherd’s little cabin,
reared on the margin of a clear stream, presented a sweet picture of
repose. Wild and romantic as were these scenes, their character had far less of
the sublime, that had those of the Alps, which guard the entrance of
Italy. Emily was often elevated, but seldom felt those emotions of
indescribable awe which she had so continually experienced, in her
passage over the Alps. Towards the close of day, the road wound into a deep valley. Mountains,
whose shaggy steeps appeared to be inaccessible, almost surrounded it. To the east, a vista opened, that exhibited the Apennines in their
darkest horrors; and the long perspective of retiring summits, rising
over each other, their ridges clothed with pines, exhibited a stronger
image of grandeur, than any that Emily had yet seen. The sun had just
sunk below the top of the mountains she was descending, whose long
shadow stretched athwart the valley, but his sloping rays, shooting
through an opening of the cliffs, touched with a yellow gleam the
summits of the forest, that hung upon the opposite steeps, and streamed
in full splendour upon the towers and battlements of a castle, that
spread its extensive ramparts along the brow of a precipice above. The
splendour of these illumined objects was heightened by the contrasted
shade, which involved the valley below. “There,” said Montoni, speaking for the first time in several hours,
“is Udolpho.”

Emily gazed with melancholy awe upon the castle, which she understood
to be Montoni’s; for, though it was now lighted up by the setting sun,
the gothic greatness of its features, and its mouldering walls of dark
grey stone, rendered it a gloomy and sublime object. As she gazed, the
light died away on its walls, leaving a melancholy purple tint, which
spread deeper and deeper, as the thin vapour crept up the mountain,
while the battlements above were still tipped with splendour. From
those, too, the rays soon faded, and the whole edifice was invested
with the solemn duskiness of evening. Silent, lonely, and sublime, it
seemed to stand the sovereign of the scene, and to frown defiance on
all, who dared to invade its solitary reign. As the twilight deepened,
its features became more awful in obscurity, and Emily continued to
gaze, till its clustering towers were alone seen, rising over the tops
of the woods, beneath whose thick shade the carriages soon after began
to ascend. The extent and darkness of these tall woods awakened terrific images in
her mind, and she almost expected to see banditti start up from under
the trees. At length, the carriages emerged upon a heathy rock, and,
soon after, reached the castle gates, where the deep tone of the portal
bell, which was struck upon to give notice of their arrival, increased
the fearful emotions, that had assailed Emily. While they waited till
the servant within should come to open the gates, she anxiously
surveyed the edifice: but the gloom, that overspread it, allowed her to
distinguish little more than a part of its outline, with the massy
walls of the ramparts, and to know, that it was vast, ancient and
dreary. From the parts she saw, she judged of the heavy strength and
extent of the whole. The gateway before her, leading into the courts,
was of gigantic size, and was defended by two round towers, crowned by
overhanging turrets, embattled, where, instead of banners, now waved
long grass and wild plants, that had taken root among the mouldering
stones, and which seemed to sigh, as the breeze rolled past, over the
desolation around them.