The Shining Pyramid (collection)/The Splendid Holiday
THE SPLENDID HOLIDAY
"And there was a broad level by the river," Julian went on, telling the story of his holiday. "A broad level of misty meadows, divided by low banks, between the hills and the river. They say the Roman world is lost beneath the turf, that a whole city sleeps there, gold and marble and amber all buried for ever."
"You did not see anything?"
"No, I suppose not. I used to get up early and go out, and leave the little modern village behind me, hidden in the hot haze. And then I would stand in the misty meadows and watch the green turf shimmer and lighten, as the grey halo rolled away. Oh! the silence. There was no sound except the lapping of the river, the wash of the water on the reeds.
"The banks are yellow mud," he went on, "but in the early morning as the sun began to shine in the mist they pearled and grew like silver. There was a low mound that hid something, and on it an old thorn tree bent towards the east; it was a little way from the tide's brim. I stood there and saw the woods swell out of the haze in the early morning, and that white sun seemed to encompass the town with gleaming walls. If I had stayed still I think I should have seen the glittering legion and the eagles, I should have heard the sonorous trumpets pealing from the walls."
"I expect you have seen and heard more than that," said his friend. "I always told you that the earth, too, and the hills, and even the old walls are a language, hard to translate."
"And I came upon a place that made me think of that," said Julian. "It was far from the town; I lost my way amongst those rolling hills and strayed by footpaths from field to wood, and all that I saw of man was here and there a blue smoke that crawled up from the earth, from the tree, it might be, or the brook, for I could see no house. I went on, always with the sense that I was following an unknown object, and, suddenly, a shape rose from forgotten dreams. An old farm house, built of grey, silvering stones; a long barn wavering and dipping down to a black pool, pine trees overhanging the roof. It was all dim, as if it had been seen reflected in water. I went a little nearer, and I found that I was lifted free of the maze of hills. I fronted the mountain, looking across a deep, broad valley, and all the year the mountain winds must blow upon the porch; they look from their deep windows and see the fleeting of the clouds and the sun on that vast green hill side. Yellow flowers were shaking in the garden, for even on that still day the mountain wind swept across the valley. But those grey glistening walls! A light flowed from them, and they spoke of some thing beyond thought.
"I visited, too, the river valley, passing out to the north. The town was soon hidden behind trees, behind a curtain of Lombardy poplars, whispering of Italy, of the vine, the olive garden. The curving lane led me beneath orchards, their underboughs dark green, almost black, in the shadow, and the road winding between orchard and river led me into the long valley, where the forest is as a cloud upon the hill. I watched the yellow tide cease and the water flow clear, and the breath of the wind was unearthly. It was there that I saw the burning pools."
"You stayed for the sunset?"
"Yes, I stayed all day within the valley. The sky was grey, but not cloudy, rather it was a glowing of silver light that made the earth seem dim and yet shining. Indeed, I say that, though the sun was hidden, you would have dreamed that white moons were floating through the air, for now and again I saw the misty hillside pale and lighten, and a tree would appear suddenly in midforest, and glitter as if it blossomed. Yes, and in the calm meadows by the riverside there were little points of brightness, as if tongues of white fire sparkled in the grey grass."
"And the river itself?"
"It was all the day a hieroglyphic, winding in esses beneath those haunting banks, colourless and yet alight like all the world around. At last, in the evening, I sat down beneath a wych-elm on the slope, where I breathed the scent and knew the heavy stillness of the wood. Then a strong wind blew, high up in heaven, and the grey veil vanished. The sky was clear, pale blue, in the west there was exhibited an opal burning green, and beneath a purple wall. Then, in the middle of the purple a rent opened; there was a red glint and red momentary rays, as if rose-hot metal were beaten and dinted on the anvil, and the sparks fled abroad. So the sun sank.
"I thought I would wait and see all the valley, the river, and the level, and the woods sink into twilight, become sombre, formless. The light went out from the river, the water paled as it flowed between the sad reeds and grasses. I heard a harsh, melancholy cry, and above, in the dusky air, a flight of great birds passed seaward in changing, hieroglyphic order. The keen line of the hills by sunset home seemed to melt away, to become vague.
"Then I saw the sky was blossoming in the north. Rose-gardens appeared there, with golden hedges and bronze gates, and the great purple wall caught fire as it grew leaden. The earth was lit again, but with unnatural jewelled colours; the palest light was sardonyx, the darkness was amethyst, and then the valley was aflame. Fire in the wood, the fire of a sacrifice beneath the oaks. Fire in the level fields, a great burning in the north, and a vehement flame to the south, above the town. And in the still river the very splendour of fire, yes, as if all precious things were cast into its furnace pools, as if gold and roses and jewels became flame."
"And then?"
"Then the shining of the evening star."
"And you," said his friend, "perhaps without knowing, have told me the story of a wonderful and incredible passion."
Julian stared at him in amazement.
"You are quite right," he said, at length.