Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (265 page)

CHAPTER III

GLASSTOWN

A few months afterwards the Duke of Strathelleraye determined to visit that wonder of the world, the great city of Africa: the Glass Town, of whose spendour, magnificence, and extent, strength and riches, occasional tidings came from afar, wafted by breezes of the ocean to Merry England.

But to most of the inhabitants of that little isle it bore the character of a dream or gorgeous fiction. They were unable to comprehend how mere human beings could construct fabrics of such a marvellous size and grandeur as many of the public buildings were represented to be; and as to the ‘Tower of all the Nations’, few believed in its existence. It seemed as the cities of old: Nineveh or Babylon with the temples of their gods, Ninus or Jupiter Belus, and their halls of Astarté and Semalt. These most people believe to be magnified by the dim haze of intervening ages, and the exaggerating page of history through which medium we behold them.

The duke, as he had received many invitations from the Glass Townians, who were impatient to behold one whose renown had spread so far, and who likewise possessed vast dominions near the African coast, informed his lady, the Marquis of Tagus, and Lord Cornelius, that in a month’s timehe should take his departure with them, and that he should expect them all to be prepared at that period, adding that when they returned Marina Angus should be created Marchioness of Tagus.

Though it was a bitter trial to Albion to part with one to whom he was now so entirely devoted, yet, comforted by the last part of his father’s speech, he obeyed without murmuring.

On the last evening of his stay in Strathelleraye he took a sad farewell of Marina, who wept as if hopeless; but suddenly restraining her griefs she looked up, with her beautiful eyes irradiated by a smile that like a ray of light illuminated the crystal tears, and whispered:

  
‘I shall be happy when you return’.

Then they parted; and Albion during his voyage over the wide ocean often thought for comfort on her last words.

It is a common superstition that the words uttered by a friend on separating are prophetic, and these certainly portended nothing but peace.

CHAPTER
 
IV

LITERARY AMBITIONS

 
In due course of time they arrived at the Glass Town, and were welcomed with enthusiastic cordiality.

 
After the duke had visited his kingdom he returned to the chief metropolis and established his residence there at Salamanca Palace.

 
The Marquis of
 
Tagus from the noble beauty of his person attracted considerable attention wherever he went, and in a short period he had won and attached many faithful friends of the highest rank and abilities.

From his love of elegant literature and the fine arts in general, painters and poets were soon among his warmest admirers. He himself possessed a most sublime genius, but as yet its full extent was unknown to him.

One day as he was meditating alone on the world of waters that rolled between him and the fair Marina, he determined to put his feelings on paper in a tangible shape that he might hereafter show them to her when anticipation had given place to fruition. He took his pen, and in about a quarter of an hour had completed a brief poem of exquisite beauty. The attempt pleased him and soothed the anguish that lingered in his heart. It likewise gave him an insight into the astonishing faculties of his own mind; and a longing for immortality, an ambition of glory, seized him.

He was a devoted worshipper of the divine works that the Grecian tragedians have left for all succeding ages to marvel at, particularly those of
 
Sophocles the Majestic; and his mind was deeply embued with the spirit of their eagle-flights into higher regions than that of earth or even Parnassus.

Being now sensible in a degree of his lofty powers, he determined, like Milton, to write somewhat that the traditionary muses would not willingly let die, and accordingly commenced a tragedy entitled: ‘Necropolis, or the City of the Dead’. Here was set forth in a strain of the grandest mind the mysteries of ancient Egyptian worship, and he has acknowledged to me that he felt his being absorbed while he wrote it, even by the words himself had made.

Sublime is this surprising production! It is indeed, in the words of an eminent writer (Captain Tree), ‘a noble instance of the almost perfectibility of human intellect’; but there hovers over it a feeling of tender melancholy, for the image of Marina haunted his thoughts, and Amalthea, his heroine, is but an impersonation of her.

This tragedy wreathed the laurels of fame round his brow, and his after-productions, each of which seemed to excel the other, added new wreaths to those which already beautified his temples.

I cannot follow him in the splendour of his literary career, nor even mention so much as the titles of his various works. Suffice it to say he became one of the greatest poets of the age; and one of the chief motives that influenced him in his exertions for renown was to render himself worthy to possess such a treasure as Marina. She in whatever he was employed was never out of his thoughts, and none had he as yet beheld among all the ladies of his Glass Town – though rich, titled, and handsome strove by innumerable arts to gain his favour – whom he could ever compare with her.

CHAPTER V

LADY ZELZIA ELLRINGTON

One evening Albion was invited to the house of Earl Cruchan, where was a large party assembled. Among the guests was one lady apparently about twenty –five or
 
twenty –six years of age. In figure she was very tall, and both it and her face were of a perfectly Roman cast. Her features were regularly and finely formed, her full and brilliant eyes jetty black, as were the luxuriant tresses of her richly –curled hair. Her dark glowing complexion was set off by a robe of crimson velvet trimmed with ermine, and a nodding plume of black ostrich feathers added to the imposing dignity of her appearance.

Albion, notwithstanding her unusual comeliness, hardly noticed her till Earl Cruachan rose and introduced her to him as the Lady Zelzia Ellrington.

She was the most learned and noted woman in Glass Town, and he was pleased with this opportunity of seeing her.

For some time she entertained him with a discourse of the most lively eloquence, and indeed madame de Staël herself could not have gone beyond Lady Zelzia in the conversational talent; and on this occasion she exerted herself to the utmost, as she was in the presence of so distinguished a man, and one whom she seemed ambitious to please.

At length one of the guests asked her to favour the company with a song and tune on the grand piano. At first she refused, but on Albion seconding the request rose, and taking from the drawing-room table a small volume of poems opened it at one by the Marquis of Tagus. She then set it to a fine air and sang as follows, while she skilfully accompanied her voice upon the instrument:

I think of thee when the moonbeams play

On the placid water’s face;

For thus thy blue eys’ lustrous ray

Shone with resembling grace.

I think of thee when the snowy swan

Glides calmly down the stream;

Its plumes the breezes scarcely fan,

Awed by their radiant gleam.

For thus I’ve seen the loud winds hush

To pass thy beauty by,

With soft caress and playful rush

‘Mid thy bright tresses fly.

And I have seen the wild birds sail

In rings thy head above,

While thou hast stood like lily pale

Unknowing of their love.

Oh! For the day when once again

Mine eyes will gaze on thee;

But an ocean vast, a sounding main,

And ever howling sea,

Roll on between

With their billows green,

High tost tempestuously.

  
This song had been composed by Albion soon after his arrival at the Glass Town. The person addressed was Marina. The full rich tones of Lady Zelzia’s voice did ample justice to the subject, and expressed his sense of the honor she had done him in appropriate terms.

  
When she had finished the company departed, for it was then rather late.

CHAPTER VI

THE SPIRIT OF MARINA

  
As Albion pursued his way homewards alone he began insensibly to meditate on the majestic charms of Lady Zelzia Ellrington, and to compare them with the gentler ones of Marina Angus. At first he could hardly tell which to give the preference to, for though he still almost idolised Marina, yet an absebce of four years had considerably deadened his remembrance of her person.

 
While he was thus employed he heard a soft but mournful voice whisper ‘Albion!’

 
He turned hastily round, and saw the form of the identical Marina at a little distance distinctly visible by the moonlight.

 
‘Marina! My dearest Marina!’ he exclaimed , springing towards her, while joy unutterable filled his heart; ‘how did you come here? Have the angels in Heaven brought you?’

  
So saying he stretched out his hand, but she eluded his grasp, and slowly gliding away, said: ‘Do not forget me; I shall be happy when you return’.

  
Then the apparition vanished. It seemed to have appeared merely to assert her superiority over her rival, and indeed the moment Albion beheld her beauty he felt that it was peerless.

  
But now wonder and perplexity took possession of his mind. He could not account for this vision except by the common solution of supernatural agency, and that ancient creed his enlightened understanding had hitherto rejected until it was forced upon him by this extraordinary incident.

  
One thing there was, however, the interpretation of which he thought he could not mistake, and that was the repetition of her last words. ‘I shall be happy when you return’.
 
It showed that she was still alive, and that which he had seen could not be her wraith. However, he made a memorandum of the day and hour, namely, the 18th of June 815, twelve o’clock at night.

  
From this time the natural melancholy turn of his disposition increased, for the dread of her death before he should return was constantly before him, and the ardency of his adoration and desire to see her again redoubled.

 
At length, not being able any longer to bear his misery, he revealed it to his father; and the duke, touched with his grief and the fidelity of his attachment, gave him full of permission to visit England and bring back Marina with him to Africa.

CHAPTER VII

ALBION’S RETURN

  
I need not trouble the reader with a minute detail of the circumstances of Albion’s voyage, but shall pass on to what happened after he arrived in England.

 
It was a fair evening in September 185 when he reached Strathelleraye.

 
Without waiting to enter the halls of his fathers he proceeded immediately to Oakwood House. As he approached it he almost sickened when for an instant the thought that she might be no more passed his mind, but summoning hope to his aid and resting on her golden anchor he passed up the lawn and gained the glass doors of the drawing room.

 
As he drew near a sweet symphony of harp music swelled on his ear. His heart bounded within him at the sound. He knew that no fingers but hers could create those melodious tones with which now blended the harmony of a sweet and sad but well-known voice. He lifted the vine branch that shaded the door and beheld Marina, more beautiful he thought than ever, seated at her harp sweeping with her slender fingers the quivering chords.

 
Without being observed by her, as she had her face turned frm him, he entered, and sitting down leaned his head on his hand and, closing his eyes, listened with feelings of overwhelming transport to the following words:

Long my anxious ear hath listened

For the step that ne’er returned;

And my tearful eye hath glistened,

And my heart hath daily burned,

But now I rest.

Nature’s self seemed clothed in mourning;

Even the star-like woodland flower,

With its leaflets fair, adorning

The pathway to the forest-bower,

Drooped its head.

From the cavern of the mountain,

From the groves that crown the hill,

From the stream, and from the fountain,

Sounds prophetic
 
murmured still,

Betokening grief.

Boding winds came fitful, sighing,

Through the tall and leafy trees;

Birds of omen, wildly crying,

Sent their calls upon the breeze

Wailing round me.

At each sound I paled and trembled,

At each step I raised my head,

Hearkening if it his resembled,

Or if news that he was dead

Were come from far.

All my days were days of weeping;

Thoughts of grim despair were stirred;

Time on leaden feet seemed creeping;

Long heart-sickness, hope deferred

Cankered my heart.

Here the music and singing suddenly ceased.

 
Albion raised his head. All was darkness except where the silver moonbeams showed a desolate and ruined apartment instead of the elegant parlour that a few minutes before had gladdened his sight.

 
No trace of Marina was visible, no harp or other instrument of harmony, and the cold lunar light streamed through a void space instead of the glass door. He sprang up and called aloud: ‘Marina!Marina!’ But only an echo as of empty rooms answered. Almost distracted he rushed into the open air. A child was standing alone at the garden gates, who advanced towards him and said: ‘I will lead you to Marina Angus; she has removed from that house to another’.

 
Albion followed the child till they came to a long row of tall dark trees leading to a churchyard, which they entered, and the child vanished, leaving Albion beside a white marble tombstone on which was chiselled :

MARINA ANGUS

She died

18th of June 1815

at 12 o’clock midnight

 
When Albion had read this he felt a pang of horrible anguish wring his heart and convulse his whole frame. With a loud groan he fell across the tomb and lay there senseless a long time, till at length he was waked from the death-like trance to behold the spirit of Marina, which stood beside him for a moment, and then murmuring, ‘Albion, I am happy, for I am at peace’, disappeared!

 
For a few days he lingered round her tomb, and then quitted Srathelleraye, where he was never again heard of.

………………………

 
The reason of Marina’s death I shall briefly relate. Four years after Albion’s departure tidings came to the village that he was dead. The news broke Marina’s faithful heart. The day after, she was no more.

                                             
C.B.

October 12th, 1830