CONTENTS

*THE TWELVE ADVENTURERS	1
AN ADVENTURE IN IRELAND	19
*THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS	25
THE ADVENTURES OF ERNEST ALEMBERT	45
ALBION AND MARINA	75
*THE RIVALS	95
THE FAIRY GIFT	105
*LOVE AND JEALOUSY	121
*NAPOLEON AND THE SPECTRE	137
*THE TRAGEDY AND THE ESSAY	145
*A PEEP INTO A PICTURE BOOK	161
*MINA LAURY—I	181
*MINA LAURY—II	193

The stories marked with an asterisk (*) are now
published for the first time.

I am alone; it is the dead of night;
I am not gone to rest, because my mind
Is too much raised for sleep. The silent light
Of the dim taper streams its unseen wind,
And quite as voiceless, on the hearth, burns bright
The ruddy ember: now no ear can find
A sound, however faint, to break the lull
Of which the shadowy realm of dreams is full.

Charlotte Brontë

THE TWELVE ADVENTURERS

CHAPTER I
THE COUNTRY OF THE GENII

There is a tradition that some thousands of years ago twelve men from Britain, of a most gigantic size, and twelve men from Gaul, came over to the country of the genii, and while here were continually at war with each other; and, after remaining many years, returned again to Britain and Gaul. In the inhabited parts of the genii countries there are now no vestiges of them, though it is said there have been found some colossal skeletons in that wild, barren sand, the evil desert.

I have read a book called The Travels of Captain Parnell, out of which the following is an extract:

About four in the afternoon I saw a dark red cloud arise in the east, which gradually grew larger till it covered the whole sky. As the cloud spread the wind rose and blew a tremendous hurricane. The sand of the desert began to move and rolled like the waves of the sea. As soon as I saw this I threw myself on my face and stopped my breath, for I knew that this was a tornado or whirlwind. I remained in this situation for three minutes; at the end of that time I ventured to look up. The whirlwind had passed over and had not hurt me, but close by lay my poor camel quite dead. At this sight I could not forbear weeping; but my attention was soon diverted by another object. About one hundred yards further off lay an immense skeleton. I immediately ran up to it and examined it closely. While I was gazing at the long ghastly figure which lay stretched upon the sand before me the thought came into my mind that it might be the skeleton of one of those ancient Britons who, tradition tells us, came from their own country to this evil land, and here miserably perished. While I was pursuing this train of meditation, I observed that it was bound with a long chain of rusty iron. Suddenly the iron clanked and the bones strove to rise, but a huge mountain of sand overwhelmed the skeleton with a tremendous crash, and when the dust which had hid the sun and enveloped everything in darkness cleared away, not a mark could be distinguished to show the future traveller where the bones had lain.

Now, if this account be true—and I see no reason why we should suppose it is not—I think we may fairly conclude that these skeletons are evil genii chained in these deserts by the fairy Maimoune.^*

There are several other traditions, but they are all so obscure that no reliance is to be placed on them.

CHAPTER II
THE VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY

In the year 1798 the Invincible, 74 guns, set sail with a fair wind from England; her crew, twelve men, every one healthy and stout and in the best temper. Their names were as follows:—

Marcus O’Donell,	Ronald Tragnain,
Ferdinand Cortez,	Ernest Fortescue,
Felix de Rothsay,	Gustavus Dumally,
Eugene Cameron,	Frederick Brunswick
Harold FitzGeorge,	(Duke of York), and
Henry Clinton,	Arthur Wellesley.
Francis Stewart,

Well, as I said before, we set sail with a fair wind from England on the 1st of March 1798. On the 15th we came in sight of Spain. On the 16th we landed, bought a supply of provisions, and set sail again on the 20th. On the 25th, about noon, Henry Clinton, who was in the shrouds, cried out that he saw the Oxeye.

In a minute we were all on deck and gazing eagerly and fearfully towards the mountain over which we saw hanging in the sky the ominous speck. Instantly the sails were furled, the ship tacked about, and the boat was made ready for launching in our last extremity.

Thus having made everything ready, we retired to the cabin, and every one looked as sheepish as possible and noway inclined to meet our fate like men. Some of us began to cry; but we waited a long time and heard no sound of the wind, and the cloud did not increase in size.

At last Marcus O’Donell exclaimed: ‘I wish it would either go backward or forward.’

At this Stewart reproved him, and Ferdinand gave him a box on the ear. O’Donell returned the compliment; but just then we heard the sound of the wind, and Ronald shouted out:

‘The cloud is as big as me!’

Brunswick pulled Ronald away from the window, and ordered him to hold his tongue. Ronald said he would not and began to sing. Felix de Rothsay put his hand over Ronald’s mouth. Harold FitzGeorge got Rothsay behind the throat. Ernest Fortescue held his fist in O’Donell’s face, and Marcus floored Ernest. Cameron kicked Clinton to the other end of the cabin; and Stewart shouted so loud for them to be quiet that he made the greatest noise of any.

But suddenly they were all silenced by a fierce flash of lightning and a loud peal of thunder. The wind rose and the planks of our ship cracked. Another flash of lightning, brighter and more terrible than the first, split our mainmast and carried away our foretop-sail; and now the flashes of lightning grew terrific and the thunder roared tremendously. The rain poured down in torrents, and the gusts of wind were most loud and terrible. The hearts of the stoutest men in our company now quailed, and even the chief doctor was afraid.

At last the storm ceased, but we found it had driven us-quite out of our course, and we knew not where we were.

On the 30th, Gustavus Dumally who was on deck cried out: ‘Land!’

At this we were all extremely rejoiced. On the 31st we reached it, and found it was the island of Trinidad.

We refitted our ship and got in a store of provisions and water, and set sail once more on the 5th of May. It would be endless to describe all our adventures in the South Atlantic Ocean. Suffice it to say that after many storms, in which we were driven quite out of our course and knew not in what part of the world we were, we at last discovered land.

We sailed along the coast for some time to find a good landing-place. We at last found one.

We landed on the 2nd of June 1793. We moored our battered ship in a small harbour and advanced up into the country. To our great surprise we found it cultivated. Grain of a peculiar sort grew in great abundance, and there were large plantations of palm-trees, and likewise an immense number of almond-trees. There were also many olives and large enclosures of rice.

We were greatly surprised at these marks of the land being inhabited. It seemed to be part of an immense continent.

After we had travelled about two miles we saw at a distance twenty men well armed. We immediately prepared for battle, having each of us a pistol, sword, and bayonet. We stood still and they came near. They seemed greatly surprised at us, and we heard one of them say: ‘What strange people!’

The Chief then said: ‘Who are you?’

Wellesley answered: ‘We were cast up on your shores by a storm and require shelter.’

They said: ‘You shall not have any.’

‘We will take it, then!’

We prepared for battle; they did the same.

It was a very fierce encounter, but we conquered: killed ten, took the Chief prisoner, wounded five, and the remaining four retreated.’

The Chief was quite black and very tall; he had a fine countenance and the finest eyes I ever saw. We asked him what his name was, but he would not speak. We asked him the name of his country, and he said: ‘Ashantee.’

Next morning a party of twelve men came to our tents bringing with them a ransom for their Chief, and likewise a proposition of peace from their King. This we accepted, as it was on terms most advantageous to ourselves.

Immediately after the treaty of peace was concluded we set about building a city. The situation was in the middle of a large plain, bounded on the north by high mountains, on the south by the sea, on the east by gloomy forests, and on the west by evil deserts.

About a month after we had begun our city the following adventure happened to us:—

One evening when all were assembled in the great tent, and most of us sitting round the fire which blazed in the middle, listening to the storm which raged without, a dead silence prevailed. None of us felt inclined to speak, still less to laugh, and the wine-cups stood upon the round table filled to the brim. In the midst of this silence we heard the sound of a trumpet which seemed to come from the desert. The next moment a peal of thunder rolled through the sky, which seemed to shake the earth to its centre.

By this time we were all on our legs, and filled with terror, which was changed to desperation by another blast of the terrible trumpet. We all rushed out of the tent with a shout, not of courage, but fear; and then we saw a sight so terribly grand that even now when I think of it, at the distance of forty years from that dismal night, my limbs tremble and my blood is chilled with fear. High up in the clouds was a tall and terrible giant. In his right hand he held a trumpet; in his left two darts pointed with fire. On a thunder cloud which rolled before him his shield rested. On his forehead was written: ‘The Genius of the Storm.’ On he strode over the black clouds which rolled beneath his feet and regardless of the fierce lightning which flashed around him.

The hoarse voice of the storm was hushed, and a gentler light than the fire of the elements spread itself over the face of the now cloudless sky. The calm moon shone forth in the midst of the firmament, and the little stars seemed rejoicing in their brightness. The giant had descended to the earth, and approaching the place where we stood trembling he made three circles in the air with his flaming scimitar, and then lifted his hand to strike. Just then we heard a loud voice saying: ‘Genius, I command thee to forbear!’

We looked round and saw a figure so tall that the Genius seemed to be but a diminutive dwarf. It cast one joyful glance on us and disappeared.

CHAPTER III
THE DESERT

The building of our city went on prosperously. The Hall of Justice was finished, the fortifications were completed, the Grand Inn was begun, the Great Tower was ended.

One night when we were assembled in the Hall of Justice, Arthur Wellesley, at that time a common trumpeter, suddenly exclaimed, while we were talking of our happiness:

‘Does not the King of the Blacks view our prosperity with other eyes than ours? Would not the best way be to send immediately to England, tell them of the new world we have discovered and of the riches that are in it; and do you not think they would send us an army?’

Francis Stewart immediately rose and said: ‘Young man, think before you speak! How could we send to England? Who would be found hardy enough to traverse again the Atlantic? Do you not remember the storm which drove us on the shores of Trinidad?’

Arthur Wellesley answered: ‘It is with all due deference that I venture to contradict the opinions of older and more experienced men than I am; and it is after much consideration that I have ventured to say what I have said. Well do I remember that storm which forced us to seek refuge amongst foreigners. I am not so rash as to suppose that we of ourselves could cross the ocean on the damaged and leaky vessel we possess, or that we could build another in time to avert the danger which I fear is coming. But in what a short time have we built the city we are now in! How long has it taken to rear the Grand Hall where we now are? Have not those marble pillars and that solemn dome been built by supernatural power? If you view the city from this Gothic window and see the beams of the morn gilding the battlements of the mighty towers, and the pillars of the splendid palaces which have been reared in a few months, can you doubt that magic has been used in their construction?’

Here he paused. We were all convinced that the genii had helped us to build our town. He went on:

‘Now, if the genii have built us our city, will they not likewise help us to call our countrymen to defend what they have built against the assaults of the enemy?’

He stopped again, for the roof shook and the hall was filled with smoke. The ground opened, and we heard a voice saying:

‘When the sun appears above the forests of the east be ye all on the border of the evil desert, for if ye fail I will crush you to atoms.’

The voice ceased, the ground closed, and the smoke cleared away. There was no time for us to consult; the desert lay ten miles off, and it was now midnight. We immediately set off with the Duke of York at our head. We reached the desert about 4 A.M., and there we stopped. Far off to the east the long black line of gloomy forests skirted the horizon. To the north the Mountains of the Moon seemed a misty girdle to the plain of Dahomey; to the south the ocean guarded the coasts of Africa; before us to the west lay the desert.

In a few minutes we saw a dense vapour rise from the sands, which gradually collecting took the form of a Genius larger than any of the giants. It advanced towards us and cried with a loud voice: ‘Follow me!’

We obeyed and entered the desert.

After we had travelled a long time, about noon the Genius told us to look around. We were now about the middle of the desert. Nothing was to be seen far or near but vast plains of sand under a burning sun and cloudless sky. We were dreadfully fatigued and begged the Genius to allow us to stop a little, but he immediately ordered us to proceed. We therefore began our march again and travelled a long way, till the sun went down and the pale moon was rising in the east. Also a few stars might now be dimly seen, but still the sands were burning hot, and our feet were very much swollen.

At last the Genius ordered us to halt and lie down. We soon fell asleep. We had slept about an hour when the Genius awoke us and ordered us to proceed.

The moon had now risen and shone brightly in the midst of the sky—brighter far than it ever does in our country. The night-wind had somewhat cooled the sands of the desert, so that we walked with more ease than before; but now a mist arose which covered the whole plain. Through it we thought we could discern a dim light. We now likewise heard sounds of music at a great distance.

As the mist cleared away the light grew more distinct till it burst upon us in almost insufferable splendour. Out of the barren desert arose a palace of diamonds, the pillars of which were ruby and emerald illuminated with lamps too bright to look upon. The Genius led us into a hall of sapphire in which were thrones of gold. On the thrones sat the Princes of the Genii. In the midst of the hall hung a lamp like the sun. Around it stood genii and fairies whose robes were of beaten gold sparkling with diamonds. As soon as their chiefs saw us they sprang up from their thrones, one of them seizing Arthur Wellesley and exclaiming: ‘This is the Duke of Wellington!’

Arthur Wellesley asked her why she called him the Duke of Wellington.

The Genius answered: ‘A prince will arise who shall be as a thorn in the side of England, and the desolator of Europe. Terrible shall be the struggle between that chieftain and you! It will last many years, and the conqueror shall gain eternal honour and glory. So likewise shall the vanquished; and though he shall die in exile his name shall never be remembered by his countrymen but with feelings of enthusiasm. The renown of the victory shall reach the ends of the earth; Kings and Emperors shall honour him; Europe shall rejoice in its deliverer; and though in his lifetime fools will envy him, he shall overcome. At his death renown shall cover him, and his name shall be everlasting!’

When the Genius finished speaking we heard the sound of music far off, which drew nearer and nearer till it seemed within the hall. Then all the fairies and genii joined in one grand chorus which rose rolling to the mighty dome and pillars of the genii palace, and reached among the vaults and dungeons beneath; then gradually dying away it at last ceased entirely.

As the music went off the palace slowly disappeared, and we found ourselves alone in the midst of the desert. The sun had just begun to enlighten the world, and the moon might be dimly seen; but all below there was sand as far as our eyes could reach. We knew not which way to go, and we were ready to faint with hunger; but on once more looking round we saw lying on the sands some dates and palm-wine. Of this we made our breakfast, and then began again to think of our journey, when suddenly there appeared a beaten track in the desert, which we followed.

About noon, when the sun was at its meridian, and we felt weary and faint with the heat, a grove of palm-trees appeared in sight towards which we ran; and after we had rested awhile under its shade, and refreshed ourselves with its fruit, we resumed our march; and that same night to our inexpressible joy we entered the gates of our beautiful city and slept beneath the shadow of its roofs.

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

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

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.

CHAPTER I
CHARACTER OF O’DONELL—CAUSE OF HIS TRAVELS

Not many years ago there lived in a certain city a person of the name of Henry O’Donell. In figure he was tall, of a dark complexion, and searching black eye. His mind was strong and unbending, his disposition unsociable, and though respected by many he was loved by few.

The city where he resided was very great and magnificent. It was governed by a warrior, a mighty man of valour, whose deeds had resounded to the ends of the earth.

This soldier had two sons, who were at that time of the separate ages of six and seven years.

Henry O’Donell was a nobleman of great consequence in the city, and a peculiar favourite with the governor, before whose glance his stern mind would bow; and at his command O’Donell’s self-will would be overcome.

While playing with the young princes he would forget his usual sullenness of demeanour, the days of his childhood returned upon him, and he would be as merry as the youngest, who was gay indeed.

One day, at Court, a quarrel ensued between him and another noble. Words came to blows, and O’Donell struck his opponent a violent blow on the left cheek. At this the military King started up and commanded O’Donell to apologise. This he immediately did, but from that hour of dissent a spell seemed to have been cast over him, and he resolved to quit the city.

The evening before he put this resolution into practice he had an interview with the King, and returned quite an altered man. Before, he seemed stern and intractable; now, he was only meditative and sorrowful. As he was passing the inner court of the palace he perceived the two young princes at play. He called them, and they came running to him.

‘I am going far from this city, and shall, most likely, never see you again,’ said O’Donell.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I cannot tell.’

‘Then why do you go away from us? Why do you go from your own house and lands, from this great and splendid city, to you know not where?’

‘Because I am not happy here.’

‘And if you are not happy here, where you have everything for which you can wish, do you expect to be happy when you are dying of hunger or thirst in a desert, or longing for the society of men when you are thousands of miles from any human being?’

‘How do you know that that will be my case?’

‘It is very likely that it will.’

‘And if it is I am determined to go.’

‘Take this then, that you may sometimes remember us when you dwell with only the wild beasts of the desert, or the great eagle of the mountain,’ said they, as they each gave him a curling lock of their hair.

‘Yes, I will take it, my princes, and I shall remember you, and the mighty warrior King, your father, even when the Angel of Death has stretched forth his bony arm against me, and I am within the confines of his dreary kingdom, the cold, damp grave,’ replied O’Donell, as the tears rushed to his eyes; and he once more embraced the little princes, and then quitted them, it might be, for ever.

CHAPTER II
ABOUT MEETING DELANCY—COMING TO THE OLD CASTLE—ENTERING THE NEW WORLD—DESCRIPTION

The dawn of the next morning found O’Donell on the summit of a high mountain which overlooked the city. He had stopped to take a farewell view of the place of his nativity. All along the eastern horizon there was a rich glowing light, which, as it rose, gradually melted into the pale blue of the sky, in which, just over the light, there was still visible the silver crescent of the moon. Ina short time the sun began to rise in golden glory, casting his splendid radiance over all the face of nature, and illuminating the magnificent city; in the midst of which, towering in silent grandeur, there appeared the palace where dwelt the mighty Prince of that great and beautiful city, all around the brazen gates and massive walls of which there flowed the majestic stream of the Guadima, whose banks were bordered by splendid palaces and magnificent gardens. Behind these, stretching for many a league, were fruitful plains and forests, whose shade seemed almost impenetrable to a single ray of light; while in the distance blue mountains were seen raising their heads to the sky and forming a misty girdle to the plains of Dahomey. On the whole of this grand and beautiful prospect O’Donell’s gaze was long and fixed; but his last look was to the palace of the King, and a tear stood in his eye as he said earnestly:

‘May he be preserved from all evil! May good attend him; and may the chief genii spread their broad shield of protection over him all the time of his sojourn in this wearisome world!’

Then, turning round, he began to descend the mountain. He pursued his way till the sun began to wax hot; when he stopped, and, sitting down, he took out some provisions which he had brought with him, and which consisted of a few biscuits and dates.

While he was eating, a tall man came up and accosted him. O’Donell requested him to sit beside him, and offered him a biscuit. This he refused, and, taking one out of a small bag which he carried, he sat down, and they began to talk. In the course of conversation, O’Donell: learned that this man’s name was Alexander Delancy, that he was a native of France, and that he was engaged in the same pursuit with himself, i.e. the search of happiness. They talked for a long time, and, at last, agreed to travel together. Then, rising, they pursued their journey.

Towards nightfall they lay down in the open air, and slept soundly till morning, when they again set off; and thus they continued till the third day, when, about two hours after noon, they approached an old castle, which they entered; and, as they were examining it, they discovered a subterraneous passage which they could not see the end of.

‘Let us follow where this passage leads us, and, perhaps, we may find happiness here,’ said O’Donell.

Delancy agreed, and the two stepped into the opening. Immediately a great stone was rolled to the mouth of the passage, with a noise like thunder, which shut out all but a single ray of daylight.

‘What is that?’ exclaimed O’Donell.

‘I cannot tell,’ replied Delancy; ‘but, never mind, I suppose it is only some Genius playing tricks.’

‘Well, it may be so,’ returned O’Donell; and they proceeded on their way.

After travelling for a long time—as near as they could reckon about two days—they perceived a silvery streak of light on the walls of the passage, something like the light of the moon. In a short time they came to the end of the passage, and, leaping out of the opening which formed, they entered a new world.

They were, at first, so much bewildered by the different objects which struck their senses that they almost fainted; but, at length recovering, they had time to see everything around them. They were upon the top of a rock which was more than a thousand fathoms high. All beneath them were liquid mountains tossed to and fro with horrible confusion, roaring and raging with a tremendous noise, and crowned with waves of foam. All above them was a mighty firmament, in one part covered with black clouds from which darted: huge and terrible sheets of lightning. In another part an immense globe of light, like silver, was hanging in the sky; and several smaller globes, which sparkled exceedingly, surrounded it.

In a short time, the tempest, which was dreadful beyond description, ceased; the dark, black clouds cleared away; the silver globes vanished, and another globe, whose light was of a gold colour, appeared. It was far larger than the former, and, in a little time, it became so intensely bright, that they could no longer gaze on it; so, after looking around them for some time, they rose and pursued their journey.

They had travelled a long way when they came to an immense forest, the trees of which bore a large fruit of a deep purple colour, of which they tasted and found that it was fit for food. They journeyed in this forest for three days, and on the third day they entered a valley, or rather a deep glen, surrounded on each side by tremendous rocks whose tops were lost in the clouds. In this glen they continued for some time, and at last came in sight of a mountain which rose so high that they could not see the summit, though the sky was quite clear. At the foot of the mountain there flowed a river of pure water, bordered by trees which had flowers of a beautiful rose colour. Except these trees nothing was to be seen but black forests and huge rocks rising out of a wilderness which bore the terrible aspect of devastation, and which stretched as far as the eye could reach. In this desolate land no sound was to be heard, not even the cry of the eagle or the scream of the curlew; but a silence like the silence of the grave reigned over all the face of nature, unbroken except by the murmur of the river as it slowly wound its course through the desert.

CHAPTER III
COMING TO THE CAVE—MANNER OF LIFE—ARRIVAL OF THE OLD MAN

After they had contemplated this scene for some time, O’Donell exclaimed: ‘Alexander, let us abide here. What need have we to travel farther? Let us make this our place of rest.’

‘We will,’ replied Delancy. ‘And this shall be our abode,’ added he, pointing to a cave at the foot of the mountains.

‘It shall,’ returned O’Donell, as they entered it.

In this country they remained for many long years, and passed their time in a manner which made them completely happy. Sometimes they would sit upon a high rock, and listen to the hoarse thunder rolling through the sky and making the mountains to echo and the desert to ring with its awful voice. Sometimes they would watch the lightning darting across black clouds and shivering huge fragments of rock in its terrible passage. Sometimes they would witness the great, glorious orb of gold sink behind the far distant mountains which girded the horizon, and then watch the advance of grey twilight, and the little stars coming forth in beauty, and the silver moon rising in her splendour, till the cold dews of night began to fall; and then they would retire to their beds in the cave with hearts full of joy and thankfulness.

One evening they were seated in this cave by a large blazing fire of turf which cast its lurid light to the high arched roof and illuminated the tall and stately pillars, cut by the hand of nature out of the stony rock, with a cheerful red glare that appeared strange in this desolate land, which no fires had ever before visited, except those fierce flames of death which flash from the heavens when robed in the dreadful majesty of thunder. They were seated in this cave then, listening to the howling night-wind as it swept in mournful cadences through the trees of the forest which encircled the foot of the mountain and bordered the stream which flowed round it. They were quite silent, and their thoughts were occupied by those that were afar off, and whom it was their fate most likely never more to behold.

O’Donell was thinking of his noble master and his young princes; of the thousands of miles which intervened between him and them; and the sad, silent tear gushed forth as he ruminated on the happiness of those times, when his master frowned not, when the gloom of care gave place to the smile of friendship, when he would talk to him and laugh with him, and be to him, not as a brother,—no, no, but as a mighty warrior, who, relaxing from his haughtiness, would now and then converse with his high officers in a strain of vivacity and playful humour not to be equalled. Next he viewed him in his mind’s eye at the head of his army. He heard, in the ears of his imagination, the buzz of expectation, of hope, and supposition which hummed round him as his penetrating eye, with a still keenness of expression, was fixed on the distant ranks of the enemy. Then he heard his authoritative voice exclaim: ‘Onward, brave sons of freedom! Onward to the battle!’ And, lastly, his parting words to him: ‘In prosperity or in misery, in sorrow or in joy, in populous cities or in desolate wildernesses, my prayer shall go with you!’ darted across his mind with such painful distinctness, that he at length gave way to his uncontrollable grief at the thought that he should never behold his beloved and mighty commander more; and burst into a flood of tears.

‘What is the matter, Henry?’ exclaimed Delancy.

‘Oh, nothing, nothing,’ was the reply; and they were resuming their tacit thinking, when a voice was heard outside the cavern, which broke strangely upon the desolate silence and that land which for thousands of years had heard no sound save the howling of the wind through the forest, the echoing of the thunder among mountains, or the solitary murmuring of the river; if we except the presence of O’Donell and Delancy.

‘Listen!’ cried Alexander; ‘listen! What is that?’

‘It is the sound of a man’s voice,’ replied Henry; and then snatching up a burning torch he rushed to the mouth of the cave, followed by Delancy. When they had got there they saw the figure of a very old man sitting on the damp, wet ground, moaning and complaining bitterly. They went up to him. At their approach he rose and said:

‘Are you human or supernatural beings?’

They assured him that they were human. He went on:

‘Then why have you taken up your abode in this land of the grave?’

O’Donell answered that he would relate to him all the particulars if he would take shelter for the night with them. The old man consented, and when they were all assembled round the cheerful fire, O’Donell fulfilled his promise; and then requested the old man to tell them how he came to be travelling there. He complied, and began as follows:—

CHAPTER IV
OLD MAN’S TALE

I was the son of a respectable merchant in Moussoul. My father intended to bring me up to his own trade, but I was idle and did not like it. One day, as I was playing in the street, a very old man came up to me and asked me if I would go with him. I asked him where he was going. He replied that if I would go with him he would show me very wonderful things. This raised my curiosity and I consented. He immediately took me by the hand and hurried me out of the city of Moussoul so quickly that my breath was almost stopped, and it seemed as if we glided along in the air, for I could hear no sound of any footsteps. We continued on our course for a long time, till we came to a glen surrounded by very high mountains. How we passed over these mountains I could never tell. In the middle of the glen there was a small fountain of very clear water. My conductor directed me to drink of it. This I did and immediately I found myself in a palace, the glory of which far exceeds any description which I can give. The tall, stately pillars, reaching from heaven to earth, were formed of the finest, purest diamonds; the pavement sparkling with gold and precious stones; and the mighty dome, made solemn and awful by its stupendous magnitude, was of a single emerald. In the midst of this grand and magnificent palace was a lamp like the sun, the radiance of which made all the palace to flash and glitter with an almost fearful grandeur. The ruby sent forth a streak of crimson light, the topaz gold, the sapphire intensest purple, and the dome poured a flood of deep, clear splendour which overcame all the other gaudy lights by its mild, triumphant glory. In this palace were thousands and tens of thousands of fairies and genii, some of whom flitted lightly among the blazing lamps to the sound of unearthly music, which died and swelled in a stream of wild grandeur, suited to the words they sang:—

In this fairy land of light
No mortals e’er have been;
And the dreadful grandeur of this sight
By them hath not been seen.
It would strike them shuddering to the earth
Like the flash from a thunder-cloud;
It would quench their light and joyous mirth
And fit them for the shroud.
The rising of our palaces
Like visions of the deep,
And the glory of their structure,
No mortal voice can speak.

Chorus:

The music of our songs,
And our mighty trumpet’s swell,
And the sounding of our silver harps,
No mortal tongue can tell.

Of us they know but little,
Save when the storm doth rise,
And the mighty waves are tossing
Against the archèd skies.
Then oft they see us striding
O’er the billow’s snow-white foam,
Or hear us speak in thunder
When we stand, in grandeur lone,
On the darkest of the mighty clouds
Which veil the pearly moon,
Around us lightning flashing,
Night’s blackness to illume.

Chorus:

The music of our songs,
And our mighty trumpet’s swell,
And the sounding of our silver harps,
No mortal tongue can tell.

When they had finished there was a dead silence for about half an hour; and then the palace began slowly and gradually to vanish, till it disappeared entirely, and I found myself in the glen surrounded by high mountains, and the fountain, illuminated by the cold light of the moon, springing up in the middle of the valley; and standing close by was the old man who had conducted me to this enchanted place. He turned round and I could see that his countenance had an expression of strange severity which I had not before observed.

‘Follow me,’ he said.

I obeyed, and we began to ascend the mountain. It is needless to trouble you with a repetition of my adventures. Suffice it to say that after two months’ time we arrived at a large temple. We entered it. The interior as well as the outside had a very gloomy and ominous aspect, being entirely built of black marble. The old man suddenly seized me and dragged me to an altar at the upper end of the temple; then, forcing me down on my knees, he made me swear that I would be his servant for ever. This promise I faithfully kept, notwithstanding the dreadful scenes of magic of which every day of my life I was forced to be a witness. One day he told me he would discharge me from the oath I had taken, and commanded me to leave his service. I obeyed, and, after wandering about the world for many years, I, one evening, laid myself down on a little bank by the roadside, intending to pass the night there. Suddenly, I found myself raised in the air by invisible hands. In a short time I lost sight of the earth, and continued on my course through the clouds till I became insensible; and, when I recovered from my swoon, I found myself lying outside this cave. What may be my future destiny I know not.

CHAPTER V
DEPARTURE OF THE OLD MAN—DISAPPEARANCE OF DELANCY—TRANSPORTATION OF O’DONELL—HIS ARRIVAL AT THE CITY—HIS ARRIVAL AT THE PALACE, AND HIS INTERVIEW WITH HIS CHIEF—HE FINDS DELANCY

When the old man had finished his tale, O’Donell and Delancy thanked him for the relation, adding at the same time that they had never heard anything half so wonderful. Then, as it was very late, they all retired to rest. Next morning, O’Donell awoke very early, and, looking round the cave, he perceived the bed of leaves on which the old man had lain to be empty. Then rising he went out of the cave.

The sky was covered with red, fiery clouds, except those in the east whose edges were tinged with the bright rays of the morning sun as they strove to hide its glory with their dark veil of vapours, now all beauty and radiance by the golden lines of light which streaked their gloomy surface beneath this storm-portending sky; and, far off, to the westward rose two tremendous rocks whose summits were enveloped with black clouds rolling one above another with an awful magnificence well-suited to the land of wilderness and mountain which they canopied.