CHAPTER IV
NEWS FROM HOME
The next morning we were awakened by the sound of trumpets and great war-drums, and on looking towards the mountains we saw descending to the plain an immense army of Ashantees. We were all thrown into the utmost consternation except Arthur Wellesley, who advised us to look to the great guns and man the walls, never doubting that genii would come to our help if we ourselves could not beat them off by the help of the cannon and rockets.
This advice we immediately followed, while the Ashantees came on like a torrent, sweeping everything, burning the palm-trees, and laying waste the rice-fields.
When they came up to the walls of our city they set up a terrible yell, the meaning of which was that we should be consumed from the face of the earth, and that our city should vanish away; for as it came by magic it should go by the same. Our answer to this insolent speech was a peal of thunder from the mouth of our cannon. Two fell dead, and the rest set off towards the mountains with amazing swiftness, followed by a triumphant shout from their conquerors.
They came back in the afternoon and in the most submissive terms asked for their dead. We granted their request, and in return they allowed us to witness the funeral.
A few days after, on the 21st of September, Ronald, running into the Halls of Justice where we all were, shouted out that there was a ship from England. The Duke of York immediately sent Arthur Wellesley to ascertain the truth of this.
When he arrived at the seashore he found all the crew, consisting of fifty men, had landed. He then examined the state of the ship, and found it was almost a complete wreck. He asked the men a few questions and they seemed greatly surprised to find him here, and asked him how he contrived to live in such a country. He told them to follow him.
When he brought them to the Halls of Justice, the Duke of York asked them to relate their story. They cried: ‘We were driven on your shore by a storm, and we request shelter.’
The Duke of York answered: ‘Fellow-Englishmen, we rejoice that you were driven on our part of the coast, and you shall have shelter if we can give it.’
Accordingly they remained with us about a fortnight, for at the end of that time the genii had fitted out their ship again, when they set sail for England accompanied by Arthur Wellesley.
For about ten years after this we remained at war with the blacks, and then made peace; after which, for about ten years more, nothing happened worth mentioning.
On the 16th of May 1816, a voice passed through the city saying: ‘Set a watch on the tower which looks towards the south, for to-morrow a conqueror shall enter your gates!’
The Duke of York immediately despatched Henry Clinton to the highest tower in the city. About noon Clinton cried out:
‘I see something at a great distance upon the Atlantic.’
We all of us ran to the watch-tower, and on looking towards the ocean we could discern a dark object upon the verge of the horizon which as it neared the shore we saw plainly was a fleet. At last it anchored and the men began to land.
First came seventy-two regiments of horsemen, next, three of infantry, then several high officers. The latter seemed to be the staff of some great general; and last of all came the general himself, who had the bearing of Arthur Wellesley.
After he had marshalled the regiments he ordered them to march, and we saw them enter the gates of the city. When they arrived at the tower they stopped, and we heard the general say:
‘Hill, you may stop here with the army while I go to the Palace of Justice, as I suppose they are all there if they be yet in the land of the living. And, Beresford, you must come with me.’
‘No, no, we are here, Arthur, almost terrified out of our wits for fear you shall burn the tower and sack the city!’ exclaimed the Duke of York as we descended from our hiding-place.
‘What! Are you all here, and not one of you slain in battle or dead in the hospital?’ said His Grace as he sprang from his war-horse and we shook hands with him two at a time. ‘But come, my brave fellows, let us go to the Grand Inn, and in Fernando Hall we will talk of what we have done and suffered since we last met.’
‘Please, your Grace, in what part of the town is the army to be quartered?’ said one of the staff.
‘Oh, never you fear for the army, Murry; we are not amongst Spaniards. Let them follow me.’
‘The army is to follow His Grace the Duke of Wellington,’ said Murry.
‘His Grace the Duke of Wellington!’ we all exclaimed at once in great surprise.
‘Yes,—His Grace the Duke of Wellington,’ said another of the staff. ‘I don’t know who you are, but he is one of the most noble generals, the conqueror of Bonaparte and the deliverer of Europe.’
‘Then the genii don’t always tell lies,’ said Marcus; ‘and I’m very glad of it, for I always thought, Duke, you would return to us with more glory than you had when you went away from us.’
By this time we had arrived at the Grand Inn, which was a most superior building and large enough to accommodate twenty thousand men. We were soon seated in the hall and listening to Beresford as he related to us how Europe had been set free from the iron chain of a despot, and how the mighty victory had been achieved with which all the civilised world had rung; of the splendid triumphs which had taken place on that glorious occasion; and how all the high sovereigns of Europe had honoured England with their presence on that grand occasion. Longer could we have listened and more could he have told had we not heard the sound of the midnight bell which reminded us that it was time to retire to rest.
Some days after this the Duke of York expressed a wish to return to his own country, and one of the ships with about twenty men was appointed to convey him there.
There were now in the city fifteen thousand men, and we determined to elect a King. Accordingly a council of the whole nation was summoned for the 14th of June 1816. On that day they all assembled in the Palace of Justice. Around the throne sat Marcus O’Donell, Ferdinand Cortez, Henry Clinton, Gustavus Dumally, Harold FitzGeorge, and the Duke of Wellington and his staff.
An intense anxiety pervaded the council to know who would be proposed as King, for not a man of us knew, and no hints had been thrown out. At length the great entrance was closed, and Cortez proclaimed the whole nation to be present. Stewart then rose and said:
‘I propose the most noble Field-Marshal Arthur, Duke of Wellington, as a fit and proper person to sit on the throne of these realms.’
Immediately a loud shout burst forth from the multitude, and the hall rang: ‘Long live our most noble Duke of Wellington!’ and almost immediately afterwards a profound silence prevailed in the house. He said: ‘Fellow-soldiers, I will defend what you have committed to my care.’
Then, bowing to the council, he retired amidst thundering sounds of enthusiastic joy.
C. BRONTË, _April 2nd_, 1829. (Aged 12.)
AN ADVENTURE IN IRELAND
THIS is the second of the two stories in Charlotte Brontë’s earliest manuscript. It was included by Mr. Clement Shorter in _Charlotte Brontë and Her Circle_, 1896, pp. 64-66, and in the enlarged edition of that work, entitled _The Brontës: Life and Letters_, 1908, vol. i. pp. 74-76. It is now reprinted for the first time.
C. W. H.
AN ADVENTURE IN IRELAND
DURING my travels in the south of Ireland the following adventure happened to me. One evening in the month of August, after a long walk, I was ascending the mountain which overlooks the village of Cahin, when I suddenly came in sight of a fine old castle. It was built upon a rock, and behind it was a large wood, and before it was a river. Over the river there was a bridge, which formed the approach to the castle.
When I arrived at the bridge I stood still awhile to enjoy the prospect around me: far below was the wide sheet of still water in which the reflection of the pale moon was not disturbed by the smallest wave; in the valley was the cluster of cabins which is known by the appellation of Cahin; and beyond these were the mountains of Killala. Over all, the grey robe of twilight was now stealing with silent and scarcely perceptible advances. No sound except the hum of the distant village and the sweet song of the nightingales in the wood behind me broke upon the stillness of the scene.
While I was contemplating this beautiful prospect a gentleman, whom I had not before observed, accosted me with ‘Good evening, sir; are you a stranger in these parts?’
I replied that I was. He then asked me where I was going to stop for the night; I answered that I intended to sleep somewhere in the village.
‘I am afraid you will find very bad accommodation there,’ said the gentleman; ‘but if you will take up your quarters with me at the castle, you are welcome.’
I thanked him for his kind offer, and accepted it.
When we arrived at the castle I was shown into a large parlour, in which was an old lady sitting in an armchair by the fireside, knitting. On the rug lay a very pretty tortoiseshell cat. As soon as mentioned, the old lady rose; and when Mr. O’Callaghan (for that, I learned, was his name) told her who I was, she said in the most cordial tone that I was welcome, and asked me to sit down.
In the course of conversation I learned that she was Mr. O’Callaghan’s mother, and that his father had been dead about a year.
We had sat about an hour, when supper was announced, and after supper Mr. O’Callaghan asked me if I should like to retire for the night. I answered in the affirmative, and a little boy was commissioned to show me to my apartment. It was a snug, clean, and comfortable little old-fashioned room at the top of the castle. As soon as we had entered, the boy, who appeared to be a shrewd, good-tempered little fellow, said with a shrug of the shoulder: ‘If it was going to bed I was, it shouldn’t be here that you’d catch me.’
‘Why?’ said I.
‘Because,’ replied the boy, ‘they say that the ould masther’s ghost has been seen sitting on that there chair.’
‘And have you seen him?’
‘No; but I’ve heard him washing his hands in that basin often and often.’
‘What is your name, my little fellow?’
‘Dennis Mulready, please, your honour.’
‘Well, good night to you.’
‘Good night, masther; and may the saints keep you from all fairies and brownies,’ said Dennis as he left the room.
As soon as I had laid down I began to think of what the boy had been telling me, and I confess I felt a strange kind of fear, and once or twice I even thought I could discern something white through the darkness which surrounded me. At length, by the help of reason, I succeeded in mastering these, what some would call idle fancies, and fell asleep.
I had slept about an hour when a strange sound awoke me, and I saw looking through my curtains a skeleton wrapped in a white sheet. I was overcome with terror and tried to scream, but my tongue was paralysed and my whole frame shook with fear. In a deep hollow voice it said to me:
‘Arise, that I may show thee this world’s wonders,’ and in an instant I found myself encompassed with clouds and darkness. But soon the roar of mighty waters fell upon my ear, and I saw some clouds of spray arising from high falls that rolled in awful majesty down tremendous precipices, and then foamed and thundered in the gulf beneath as if they had taken up their unquiet abode in some giant’s cauldron.
But soon the scene changed, and I found myself in the mines of Cracone. There were high pillars and stately arches, whose glittering splendour was never excelled by the brightest fairy palaces. There were not many lamps; only those of a few poor miners, whose rough visages formed a striking contrast to the dazzling figures and grandeur which surrounded them. But in the midst of all this magnificence I felt an indescribable sense of fear and terror; for the sea raged above us, and by the awful and tumultuous noises of roaring winds and dashing waves it seemed as if the storm was violent. And now the mossy pillars groaned beneath the pressure of the ocean, and the glittering arches seemed about to be overwhelmed. When I heard the rushing waters and saw a mighty flood rolling towards me I gave a loud shriek of terror.
The scene vanished and I found myself in a wide desert full of barren rocks and high mountains. As I was approaching one of the rocks, in which there was a large cave, my foot stumbled and I fell. Just then I heard a deep growl, and saw by the unearthly light of his own fiery eyes a royal lion rousing himself from his kingly slumbers. His terrible eye was fixed upon me, and the desert rang and the rocks echoed with the tremendous roar of fierce delight which he uttered as he sprang towards me.
‘Well, masther, it’s been a windy night, though it’s fine now,’ said Dennis, as he drew the window curtain and let the bright rays of the morning sun into the little old-fashioned room at the top of O’Callaghan Castle.
C. BRONTË, _April 28th_, 1829.
THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS
THE original manuscript of this story is in the possession of Mr. T. J. Wise.
It appears to be the first manuscript which Charlotte Brontë attempted to complete in the form of a book, _i.e._ with a title-page and Preface. The title-page is written in capital letters resembling printing, and the Preface in the young authoress’s ordinary writing.
The story contains the earliest known poem by Charlotte Brontë.
I am indebted to Mr. T. J. Wise for the loan of the original manuscript, thus enabling me to correct and complete a copy of the story in my keeping, and to present an accurate text.
The story was written by Charlotte Brontë at the age of thirteen years. C. W. H.
THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS
A TALE BY CHARLOTTE BRONTË
PRINTED BY HERSELF AND SOLD BY NOBODY &c. &c.
AUGUST THE SEVENTEENTH EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE
PREFACE
THE persons meant by the Chief of the City and his sons are the Duke of Wellington, the Marquis of Douro, and Lord Wellesley.
The city is the Glass Town.
Henry O’Donell and Alexander Delancy are Captain Tarry-not-at-home and Monsieur Like-to-live-in-lonely-places.
CHARLOTTE BRONTË, _August the 17th_, 1829.