to the year 1831, but it is very apparent that Mr. Bronte exercised
a large influence in the formation of his children's habits and
characters. He, for instance, had a study in which he spent a
considerable portion of his time. The children had their study also.
Mr. Bronte had written poems and tales, and was wont to tell strange
stories at the breakfast-table. The children imitated him in these
things. Mr. Bronte took an enthusiastic interest in all political
matters; and here the children followed him also. In short, they copied
him in almost everything. Afterwards, he was accustomed to hold himself
up as an example for their guidance, and to tell them how he had
struggled and worked his way to the position he held; and there is no
doubt that his children had a great admiration for his career.
Miss Branwell's influence was altogether distinct from that of Mr.
Bronte. While taking pride in the mental ability of her nephew, she
aimed at making his sisters into good housewives and patterns of
domestic and unobtrusive virtue. With this object, turning her
bed-chamber into a school-room, she taught them to sew and to
embroider; and they occupied their time in making charity clothing, a
work which she maintained 'was not for the good of the recipients, but
of the sewers; it was proper for them to do it.' Under Miss Branwell
they likewise learned to clean, to wash, to bake, to cook, to make jams
and jellies, with many other domestic mysteries; and here, as in
everything else, they were apt pupils.
But, towards the end of the year 1830, it was decided that Charlotte
should seek a wider training elsewhere; and a school, kept by Miss
Wooler, at Roe Head, between Leeds and Huddersfield, was fixed upon. It
was a quaint, old-fashioned house, standing in a pleasant country,
which had an interest for Charlotte, for it lay not far from Hartshead,
where her father's first Yorkshire curacy had been. This circumstance,
together with the proximity of the remains of Kirklees priory--which
had their traditions of Robin Hood--and the strange local stories she
heard from Miss Wooler, led her afterwards to make this district the
scene of her novel of 'Shirley.' Miss Wooler was a kind, motherly lady
who took an interest in each one of her pupils. She had long been a
keen observer, and knew well how to put her knowledge to use in
tuition. In this school, Charlotte, a girl of sixteen, was an
indefatigable student, scarcely resting in her pursuit of knowledge.
She was not exactly sociable, and sat often alone with her book in
play-hours--a thin fragile girl, whose brown hair overshadowed the page
on which her eyes, 'those expressive orbs,' were so intently fixed. Her
companions remarked at that time that she had a great store of
out-of-the-way knowledge, while on some points of general information
she was comparatively ignorant. But when Charlotte left Roe Head, in
June, 1832, she returned to the parsonage at Haworth with more expanded
ideas, and with wider knowledge, and possessing, perhaps, a keener
relish for the delights of the literary world. At Roe Head Charlotte
made the acquaintance of her life-long friend 'E,' and also of Mary and
Martha 'T.'
The family of Bronte appears, about this time, to have been in perfect
peace. Charlotte had corresponded with Branwell when she was at Roe
Head, as a pupil of Miss Wooler; and Mrs. Gaskell has published
portions of a letter sent from that place to him on May 17th, 1832,
when he was in his fifteenth year, in which she showed her old
political leanings wherein Branwell shared. It runs: 'Lately I had
begun to think that I had lost all interest which I used formerly to
take in politics; but the extreme pleasure I felt at the news of the
Reform Bill's being thrown out by the House of Lords, and of the
expulsion, or resignation, of Earl Grey, &c., convinced me that I have
not as yet lost all my penchant for politics. I am extremely glad that
aunt has consented to take in "Fraser's Magazine;" for though I know
from your description of its general contents it will be rather
uninteresting when compared with "Blackwood," still it will be better
than remaining the whole year without being able to obtain a sight of
any periodical whatever; and such would assuredly be the case, as, in
the little wild moorland village where we reside, there would be no
possibility of borrowing a work of this description from a circulating
library. I hope with you that the present delightful weather may
contribute to the perfect restoration of our dear papa's health; and
that it may give aunt pleasant reminiscences of the salubrious climate
of her native place.'[16]
[16] 'Life of Charlotte Bronte,' chap. vi.
Charlotte's political principles were strongly Conservative, as were
those of her father, brother, and sisters, and these principles were
intensified in them all by their religious opinions. They held,
consistently enough, the cherished political convictions of their
party, and they looked upon every concession made to liberal clamour as
an inroad on the very vitals of the Constitution. Hence the jubilation
of Charlotte when the Reform Bill was rejected by the House of Lords on
October 7th, 1831. But the march of events, in after-years, modified
their political opinions considerably.
Branwell at this period, while still under tuition at home, was the
constant companion of his sisters, and frequently accompanied them on
their visits to the moors and picturesque places in the neighbourhood.
'E,' writing in 'Scribner,' says: 'Charlotte's first visit from Haworth
was made about three months after she left school. She travelled in a
two-wheeled gig, the only conveyance to be had in Haworth except the
covered-cart which brought her to school. Mr. Bronte sent Branwell as
an escort; he was _then_ a very dear brother, as dear to Charlotte
as her own soul; they were in perfect accord of taste and feeling, and
it was a mutual delight to be together. Branwell had probably never
been from home before; he was in wild ecstacy with everything. He
walked about in unrestrained boyish enjoyment, taking views in every
direction of the turret-roofed house, the fine chestnut-trees on the
lawn (one tree especially interested him because it was iron-girthed,
having been split by storms, but still flourishing in great majesty),
and a large rookery, which gave to the house a good background--all
these he noted and commented upon with perfect enthusiasm. He told his
sister he was leaving her in Paradise, and if she were not intensely
happy she never would be! Happy, indeed, she then was _in himself_, for
she, with her own enthusiasm, looked forward to what her brother's
great promise and talent might effect. He would be, at this time,
between fifteen and sixteen years of age.[17]
[17] Scribner, ii., 18, 'Reminiscences of Charlotte Bronte.'
In the June of 1833, when Branwell was about this age, we learn that he
drove his sisters with great delight in a trap, or dog-cart, to Bolton
Bridge, to meet their friend 'E,' who waited for the young Brontes in a
carriage at the 'Devonshire Arms.'[18] This was a visit to the ancient
abbey and immemorial woods and vales of Bolton. We may well imagine
from the time of the year--the 'leafy month of June,' when all nature
would be glad, and the deep woods gay with varied leaves, while the
Wharfe, of amber hue, foamed and rushed impetuously down its rocky
channel, from the moorland hills above historic Barden, to the peaceful
meads of the ruined abbey--that the hearts of the Brontes rejoiced,
enchanted and impressed by these glorious and stately solitudes.
[18] Reid's 'Charlotte Bronte, a Monograph,' p. 29.
It cannot but be regretted that, while his sisters could confer in
confidence and familiarity together, and enjoy a community of interests
in secrecy and affection, Branwell had no brother whose sympathetic
counsel he could embrace; but, thrown back upon himself, was led to
seek the society of appreciative friends, who made him acquainted with
the manners and customs of the world, and the vices of society, before
his time had yet come to know much concerning them. It was, indeed,
unfortunately, no infrequent circumstance to see the plastic,
light-hearted, unsuspecting Branwell listening to the coarse jokes of
the sexton of Haworth--the noted John Brown--while that functionary was
employed in digging the graves so often opened in the churchyard, under
the shadow of the parsonage.
It was the kind of society in which he sought relaxation at Haworth
that led him to take an interest, which he long retained, in the
pugilistic ring. The interest in pugilism and the 'noble art,' it must,
however, be remembered, had been made fashionable by wealthy,
influential, and titled people, amongst whom was Lord Byron, and by the
fops and dandies of an earlier period. Jackson, the noted professor,
was a great friend of the poet, and, on several occasions, visited him
at Newstead. Early in this century, too, many men about town were
accustomed to assemble for practice at the academy of Angelo and
Jackson. Branwell, also, read with eagerness the columns of 'Bell's
Life in London,' and other sporting papers of the day. The names and
personal appearance of the celebrated pugilists who, at that time, to
the delight of the _elite_ of society, pounded each other till they
were unlike anything human--for the applause of the multitude, and the
honour of wearing the 'Champion's Belt,'--were familiar to him. 'Bell's
Life' was taken in by an innkeeper at Haworth; and the members of the
village boxing-club, one of whom was Branwell, were posted up in all
public matters relating to the 'noble art of self-defence.' They had
sundry boxing-gloves, and, at intervals, amused themselves with
sparring in an upper room of a building at Haworth. These practices, at
the time of which we speak, were but boyish amusements, and were no
doubt congenial to the animal spirits and energetic temperaments of
those who entered into them, and they were so more especially to
Branwell, who had abundance of both. But it may be that here he became
acquainted with young men whose habits and conduct had a deleterious
influence upon him at the very opening of his career. If, however,
Branwell's high spirit allowed him sometimes to be led away by his
companions, his natural goodness of heart brought a ready and vehement
repentance. The respect he felt for his father's calling, magnified, in
his eyes, any fault of his own--who ought to have been more than
ordinarily good--and, exaggerating his failings, he would lament his
'dreadful conduct' in deep distress. Such unmistakable evidences of
sincerity and truthfulness procured him a ready pardon. He was
necessarily his aunt's favourite; but he attached himself to all about
him with so much readiness of affection that it is quite evident,
whatever his youthful faults, they were of a superficial character
only.
The studies which Branwell pursued in his youth were noticed by his
literary friends, in after-years, to bear a considerable fruit of
classical knowledge. He possessed then a familiar and extensive
acquaintance with the Greek and Latin authors. He knew well the history
and condition of Europe, and of this country, in past and present
times; and his conversational powers on these, and the current
literature of the day, were of the highest order. Mr. Bronte had
obtained musical tuition for his son and daughters, and Branwell was
enthusiastically fond of sacred music, and could play the organ. He was
acquainted with the works of the great composers of recent and former
times; and, although he could not perform their elaborate compositions
well, he was always so excited when they were played for him by his
friends that he would walk about the room with measured footsteps, his
eyes raised to the ceiling, accompanying the music with his voice in an
impassioned manner, and beating time with his hand on the chairs as he
passed to and fro. He was an enthusiastic admirer of the oratorio of
'Samson,' which Handel deemed equal to the 'Messiah,' and of the
Mass-music of Haydn, Mozart, and others. Religion had, indeed, been
deeply implanted in Branwell's breast; but, whenever he heard sacred
music like this, his devotional impressions were deepened, and even in
times of temptation, indulgence, and folly the influence of early piety
was never effaced. Among his minor accomplishments, he had acquired the
practice of writing short-hand with facility, and also of writing with
both hands at the same time with perfect ease, so that he possessed the
extraordinary power of writing two letters at once. His hand-writing
was of an upright character. Branwell, too, had a wonderful power of
observation, and a most retentive memory. It is on record that, before
he visited London, he so mastered its labyrinths, by a diligent study
of maps and books, that he spoke with a perfect knowledge of it, and
astonished inhabitants of the metropolis by his intimate acquaintance
with by-ways and places of which they even had never heard. In person
he was rather below the middle height, but of refined and
gentleman-like appearance, and of graceful manners. His complexion was
fair and his features handsome; his mouth and chin were well-shaped;
his nose was prominent and of the Roman type; his eyes sparkled and
danced with delight, and his fine forehead made up a face of oval form
which gave an irresistible charm to its possessor, and attracted the
admiration of those who knew him. Added to this, his address was simple
and unadorned, yet polished; but, being familiar with the English
language in its highest form of expression, and with the Yorkshire and
Hibernian _patois_ also, he could easily make use of the quaintest
and broadest terms when occasion called for them. It was, indeed,
amazing how suddenly he could pass from the discussion of a grave and
lofty subject, or from a deep disquisition, or some exalted poetical
theme, to one of his light-hearted and amusing Irish or Yorkshire
sallies. He could be sad and joyful almost at the same time, like the
sunshine and gloom of April weather; exhibiting, by anticipation, the
future lights and shadows of his own sad, short, and chequered
existence. In a word, he seemed at times even to be jocular and merry
with gravity itself.
It is known also that Branwell, at that period of his young life--when
manhood with its hopes and joys, its enterprises and aspirations, its
affections and its responsibilities, stretched before him--was also
busily laying, to the best of his ability, the foundations, as he
trusted, of a brilliant literary or artistic future.
CHAPTER VIII.
ART-AIMS OF THE BRONTES.
Love of Art in the Youthful Brontes--Their elaborate Drawings--
J. B. Leyland, Sculptor--Spartacus--Mr. George Hogarth's Opinion
--Art Exhibition at Leeds--Mr. William Robinson, their
Drawing-Master--Branwell aims at Portrait-Painting--J. B.
Leyland in London--Branwell and the Royal Academy--He visits
London.
The biographers of the Bronte sisters have pointed out especially the
artistic instinct of Charlotte and Emily; and the originality and
fidelity of their written descriptions, and the beauty of the
composition and 'colour' of their word-paintings, have formed an
inexhaustible theme for the various writers on the excellencies of
Bronte genius. The appreciation of art possessed by the members of this
family, whether in drawing, painting, or sculpture, was manifested
early; but, though highly gifted in felicity and aptness of verbal
expression in describing natural scenery, and in the delineation of
personal character, they were not endowed, in like degree, with the
faculty of placing their ideas--weird and wild, or beautiful and joyous
as they might be--in that tangible and fixed shape in which artists
have perpetuated the emanations of their genius. The devotion of
Charlotte and Branwell to art was, nevertheless, so intense, and their
belief was so profound, at one time, that the art-faculty consisted of
little more than mechanical dexterity, and could be obtained by long
study and practice in manipulation, that the sister toiled incessantly
in copying, almost line for line, the grand old engravings of Woollett,
Brown, Fittler, and others till her eyesight was dimmed and blurred by
the sedulous application; and Branwell, with the same belief, eagerly
followed her example. Great talent and perseverance they undoubtedly
had; and, although we are not possessed of any original drawings by
Charlotte of striking character, we know that Branwell drew in
pen-and-ink with much facility, humour, and originality. His
productions, in this manner, will be more particularly noticed in the
course of this work. Charlotte's drawings were said to be
pre-Raphaelite in detail, but they had no approach to the spirit of
that school; and Branwell's pictures, however meritorious they might be
as likenesses of the individuals they represented, lacked, in every
instance, that artistic touch which the hand of genius always gives,
and cannot help giving. While at school at Roe Head, Charlotte had been
noticed by her fellow-pupils to draw better and more quickly than they
had before seen anyone do, and we have been told by one of them that
'she picked up every scrap of information concerning painting,
sculpture, poetry, music, &c., as if it were gold.' The list she drew
up a year or two earlier of the great artists whose works she wished to
see, shows us that her interest in art, even in her thirteenth year,
led her to read of them and their productions.
On her return home in 1832, Charlotte wrote on the 21st July respecting
her course of life at the parsonage: 'In the morning, from nine o'clock
till half-past twelve, I instruct my sisters, and draw; then we walk
till dinner-time. After dinner I sew till tea-time, and after tea I
either write, read, or do a little fancy-work, or draw as I please.'
Charlotte also told Mrs. Gaskell 'that, at this period of her life,
drawing, and walking with her sisters, formed the two great pleasures
and relaxations of her day.'
Mr. Bronte, observing that his son and daughters took pleasure in the
art of drawing, and believing this to be one of their natural gifts
that ought to be cultivated, perhaps as an accomplishment which they
might some time find useful in tuition, obtained for them a
drawing-master. But he also observed that Branwell excelled his sisters
in the art, while he likewise painted in oils, and he may at times have
had some hope that his son would become a distinguished artist.
It is apparent, indeed, that drawing not only engaged much of
Charlotte's leisure, but that it formed a part of home-education. Her
sisters as well as herself underwent great labour in acquiring the art
in these early years, and Branwell also was not behind them in
industrious pursuit of the same object. Charlotte even thought of art
as a profession for herself; and so strong was this intention, that she
could scarcely be convinced that it was not her true vocation. In
short, her appreciative spirit always dwelt with indescribable pleasure
on works of real art, and she derived, from their contemplation, one of
the chief enjoyments of her life. 'To paint them, in short,' says Jane
Eyre, speaking of the pictures she is showing to Mr. Rochester, 'was to
enjoy one of the keenest pleasures I have ever known.'[19] The love the
Brontes thus cherished for art became, as time passed on, a passion,
and its cultivation a pressing and sensible duty. They were not aware
that their industry in, and devotion to it, as they understood it, were
a misdirection of their genius. How far this love of it, and this
eagerness to acquire a knowledge of the mysteries of composition and
analysis, and to be possessed of art-practice and art-learning, may
have been excited and encouraged by the success that had been achieved
by others with whom they were familiar, in the same direction, may be
surmised.
[19] 'Jane Eyre,' chap. xiii.
In the year of Mr. Bronte's appointment to Hartshead, there was born,
at Halifax, an artist, Joseph Bentley Leyland, who was destined to
become the personal friend and inspirer of Mr. Bronte's son, Branwell.
Leyland, in his early boyhood, showed, by the ease and faithfulness
with which he modelled in clay, or sketched with pencil, the objects
that attracted his attention, the direction of his genius. The
sculptor, as he grew in years, treated, with artistic power, classical
subjects which had not hitherto been embodied in sculpture. At the age
of twenty-one he modelled a statue of Spartacus, the Thracian, a
general who, after defeating several Roman armies in succession, was
overthrown with his forces by Crassus the praetor, and slain. The dead
leader was represented at that moment after death before the muscles
have acquired extreme rigidity. The statue, which was of colossal size,
was modelled from living subjects, and was, in all respects, a
production far beyond the sculptor's years. It was the most striking
work of art at the Manchester Exhibition in the year 1832, and was
favourably noticed in the 'Manchester Courier,' on November the 3rd of
that year. Such notices were productive of increased exertion, which
soon became manifest in the creation of other more lofty and successful
works. Among these was a colossal bust of Satan, some six feet in
height, which was pronounced to be 'truly that of Milton's "Arch-angel
ruined."' Mr. George Hogarth, the father-in-law of Charles Dickens--a
gentleman of literary power and knowledge--was the editor of the
'Halifax Guardian' at the time, and visited the artist's small studio,
where he saw, in one corner, under its lean-to roof, for the first
time, the bust of Satan. He was astonished at its merit, and published
his criticism of the work in the paper on May the 24th, 1834. Leyland
was then strongly urged to forward the bust to London, which he did,
with some others he had modelled; and the critics were invited to visit
his studio. The favourable opinion which Mr. Hogarth published, in the
paper of which he was editor, was endorsed, but in more flattering
terms, in the 'Morning Chronicle' of December 2nd, 1834. But there was
held at Leeds, in these years, the Annual Exhibition of the Northern
Society for the Encouragement of the Fine Arts; and Leyland, before he
sent his work to London, included it in his contributions to the
exhibition at Leeds.
The oil-paintings and water-colour drawings that were hung there, in
the summer of 1834, appear to have formed a fine and varied collection.
There were beautiful landscapes in water-colour by Copley Fielding, and
in oil by Alexander Nasmyth, John Linnel, Robert Macreth; and others
were well represented, while historical paintings by H. Fradelle,
sea-pieces by Carmichael, and animal paintings by Schwanfelder, always
good, were highly creditable to these well-known names. A number of
fine portraits by William Bewick and William Robinson added interest
and beauty to the galleries. The reader may conceive, if he will, the
Brontes--Charlotte and Branwell, and, it may be, Mr. Bronte and
Emily--enjoying to the full the paintings and sculptures which were
before them. He may fancy the suddenly expressed, 'Look, Charlotte!' as
some newly discovered picture flashed as a keen delight on the eager
fancy of Branwell's appreciative spirit. He may imagine the ready
criticism of Charlotte, and the attempts which she and her brother made
to divine how much thought had gone to make up the composition of a
work. The young Bronte critics, as they looked on the colossal head of
Satan--on the stern and inflexible firmness of the features 'whose
superhuman beauty is yet covered with a cloud of the deepest
melancholy;' on the representation 'of the great and glorious being
sunk in utter despair,'--might ponder, perhaps, whether an ideal has
dawned upon the imagination of the artist, and so been wrought from no
model, but from the vision of his meditations, or whether success is,
after all, but the evidence of painful elaboration. At any rate, it was
just on such an exhibition of paintings and works of art that Charlotte
and Branwell delighted to dwell in intelligent and educated
observation.
That a new impetus and a new meaning were given to their art-practice
about this time is certain, and it was probably not long after this
date that Mr. Bronte engaged, for the instruction of his son and
daughters, an artist of Leeds, the Mr. William Robinson I have
mentioned as having contributed a number of portraits to the
exhibition. The object of the Brontes was now to practise painting, and
this able instructor was consequently engaged.
Mr. Robinson was a native of Leeds, who had, by natural talent and
steady perseverance, acquired something more than a local reputation.
His early love of art had been such that the wishes of his friends
failed to divert him from its pursuit, and he received lessons from Mr.
Rhodes, sen., of Leeds, an admirable painter in water-colours. But Mr.
Robinson had a strong predilection for portrait-painting, to which he
had devoted his powers, at the same time availing himself of every
opportunity for improving in its practice. In the year 1820, he visited
the metropolis, taking with him an introduction to Sir Thomas Lawrence,
who received him with great kindness, and he became a pupil of this
eminent artist. Sir Thomas, however, with noble generosity, declined
any remuneration whatever, and Robinson assisted his master in his
work. He was introduced to Fuseli, and gained the privilege of studying
at the Royal Academy, his work being characterized by the requisite
merit. He was stimulated to renewed exertion by this much desired
success. In 1824, he had returned to his native town, where he procured
numerous commissions. He was subsequently introduced to Earl de Grey,
of whom he painted portraits, as also of his family. Mr. Robinson, in
addition, painted four portraits for the United Service Club, one of
which was of the Duke of Wellington, who honoured him with several
sittings. Besides these, amongst his other works, was a portrait of the
Princess Sophia, and a copy of one of the Duke of York for the Duchess
of Gloucester. It was from this gentleman that Branwell Bronte and his
sister received a few lessons in portrait-painting at the time of which
I speak, and a knowledge of the master's career did not a little to
fire the mind of the enthusiastic Branwell with ardour to aim in the
same direction, while the contemporary efforts of others added fuel to
the fire.
At this time there were certain artists of the neighbourhood who were
trying their fortunes in London, and who were known to Branwell Bronte
by reputation: C. H. Schwanfelder, the animal painter, and John W.
Rhodes, the son of the artist under whom Mr. Robinson had studied. The
father of the latter had endeavoured to dissuade him from making art
his profession, but all to no purpose: the bent of his genius could not
be curbed. He painted in water-colour and oil with great beauty and
fidelity; the green lane, the wild flower hanging from an old wall,
were his subjects. His works met with well-deserved encomiums in the
London press, and with praise wherever they were exhibited; but, when
full of aspiring hopes, he was attacked, like Girtin, Liversedge, and
Bonnington, by inflammation in the eyes, and ill health. He died at the
early age of thirty-three, and a memoir of him appeared in 'The Art
Journal' of March, 1843. The determination of Charlotte and Branwell to
take, as it were, the Temple of Art by forcible possession, was, it may
be conceived, due also, in some measure, to the growing celebrity of
Leyland; for, in literature and art, Halifax was nearer to the Brontes
than any of the surrounding towns. The praise of Leyland's works,
moreover, had been re-published from the London press in all the papers
of his native county, and poetic eulogies appeared in the 'Leeds
Intelligencer' and in the 'Leeds Mercury;' and, therefore, that they
were eager to emulate his works and to equal his success seems very
probable.
I have felt it necessary to mention these influences, as they alone
serve to explain how it was that Branwell and his sister were led to
think of, and--as regards the brother--to persist for a time in making
a profession of painting for which they had no special aptitude.
Branwell, in fact, designed to become himself a portrait-painter, and
he conceived that a course of instruction at the Royal Academy afforded
the best means of preparation for that profession.
Being gifted with a keen and distinct observation, combined with the
faculty of retaining impressions once formed, and being an excellent
draughtsman, he could with ease produce admirable representations of
the persons he portrayed on canvas. But it is quite clear that he never
had been instructed either in the right mode of mixing his pigments, or
how to use them when properly prepared, or, perhaps, he had not been an
apt scholar. He was, therefore, unable to obtain the necessary flesh
tints, which require so much delicacy in handling, or the gradations of
light and shade so requisite in the painting of a good portrait or
picture. Had Branwell possessed this knowledge, the portraits he
painted would have been valuable works from his hand; but the colours
he used have all but vanished, and scarcely any tint, beyond that of
the boiled oil with which they appear to have been mixed, remains. Yet,
even if Branwell had been fortunate in his work, he would only have
attained the position, probably, of a moderate portrait-painter. His
ambition, however, took a higher range, and he prepared himself for the
venture, hoping that the desiderata which Haworth could not supply
would be amply provided for him in London, when the long-desired
opportunity arrived.
At Haworth he had been industrious, for he had painted some portraits
of the members of his family, and of several friends. One of these is
well described by Mrs. Gaskell, and her account is worth giving
here:--'It was a group of his sisters, life-size, three-quarters
length ... the likenesses were, I should think, admirable. I only
judge of the fidelity with which the other two were depicted, from the
striking resemblance which Charlotte, upholding the great frame of
canvas, and consequently standing right behind it, bore to her own
representation, though it must have been ten years and more since the
portraits were taken. The picture was divided, almost in the middle, by
a great pillar. On the side of the column which was lighted by the sun
stood Charlotte, in the womanly dress of that day of gigot sleeves and
large collars. On the deeply shadowed side was Emily, with Anne's
gentle face resting on her shoulder. Emily's countenance struck me as
full of power; Charlotte's of solicitude; Anne's of tenderness. The two
younger seemed hardly to have attained their full growth, though Emily
was taller than Charlotte; they had cropped hair and a more girlish
dress. I remember looking on these two sad, earnest, shadowed faces,
and wondering whether I could trace the mysterious expression which is
said to foretell an early death. I had some fond superstitious hope
that the column divided their fate from hers who stood apart in the
canvas, as in life she survived. I liked to see that the bright side of
the pillar was towards _her_--that the light in the picture fell on
_her_. I might more truly have sought in her presentment--nay, in her
living face--for the sign of death in her prime.'[20]
[20] 'Life of Charlotte Bronte,' chap. vii.
From Mrs. Gaskell's description of this one picture, it is apparent
that Branwell possessed, not only the faculty, as we have seen, of
obtaining excellent portraits, but that he had the ability to impress
the faces of his sisters with thought, intelligence, and sensibility;
and to invest them with the habitual expressions they wore, of power,
solicitude, and tenderness. The deep reflection which Branwell bestowed
on this picture, and the care he lavished on its mysterious
composition, show unquestionably the aptitude and capacity of his own
mind, which enabled him to obtain these essential expressions; and it
is evident that his peculiarity of thought invested his picture with
that sadness and gloom which, in after times, tinctured the poems he
wrote under the solemn-sounding pseudonym of 'Northangerland.' This
picture is only one among many others he painted in preparing himself
for his intended studies at the Royal Academy; and the old nurse, Nancy
Garrs, tells me that he often wanted to paint her portrait, but she
told him that she did not think herself 'good-looking enough.'
At a later date Branwell related to Mr. George Searle Phillips the
story of his artistic hopes.[21] He spoke of the great fondness for
drawing manifested by the whole family; and declared that Charlotte,
especially, was well read in art-learning, and knew the lives of the
old masters, whose works she criticized with discrimination and
judgment. But he said that she had ruined her eyesight by making minute
copies of line-engravings, on one of which she was occupied six months.
He also spoke of his own passionate love of art, and of the bright and
confident anticipations with which he had looked forward to his
projected studies at the Royal Academy, which had been the cherished
hope of his family and himself.
[21] 'The Mirror,' 1872.
Leyland had visited London in the December of 1833, when he obtained
from Stothard a letter of introduction to Ottley, the curator of the
Elgin Marbles, to allow him to study the marbles in the British Museum.
Permission was readily granted, and the sculptor availed himself of it.
A year later Leyland took up his residence in the metropolis. He was
received in a friendly manner by Chantrey and Westmacott, the latter
inviting him to dinner, and afterwards showing him his foundry at
Pimlico, and his works in progress, among which was the statue of the
Duke of York. He was also introduced to, and enjoyed the friendship of
Nasmyth--the father of the eminent engineer whose story has recently
been given to the world--and of Warley: one a landscape-painter of
celebrity, and the other famed as an artist in water-colour. The
latter, who had considerable faith in astrology, persisted in drawing
the younger sculptor's horoscope. Among others, he became known to
Haydon, under whom he subsequently studied anatomy. This lamented
artist was a genuine friend, and it was under his instructions that
Leyland perfected his natural perception of the grand and beautiful in
art. While here he modelled, in life-size, a figure of 'Kilmeny,' in
illustration of the passage in Hogg's 'Queen's Wake,' where the sinless
maiden is awakened by Elfin music in fairy-land. It was a successful
work, and was favourably noticed by the critics. It was subsequently
purchased for the Literary and Philosophical Society of his native
town.
It was while Leyland was in the metropolis that Charlotte wrote, on the
6th July, 1835:
'We are all about to divide, break up, separate. Emily is going to
school, Branwell is going to London, and I am going to be a governess.
This last determination I formed myself, knowing that I should have to
take the step sometime, "and better sune as syne," to use the Scotch
proverb; and knowing well that papa would have enough to do with his
limited income, should Branwell be placed at the Royal Academy, and
Emily at Roe Head.'
While this project was warmly engaging the attention of the Bronte
family, Leyland was living in London, at the house of Mr. Geller, a
mezzotinto-engraver, who was a native of Bradford; and, at the time,
the sculptor modelled a group of three figures illustrative of a
passage in Maturin's tragedy of 'Bertram,' which represented the
warrior listening to the prior reading. The work was engraved by
Geller. This group was said to be conceived in the 'true spirit of
Maturin,' and met with the favourable notice of the London periodicals
of the year 1835, the year of Branwell's visit to the metropolis. The
reviews were also reproduced in most of the Yorkshire papers.
The design of putting Branwell forward as an artist, and of giving him
the opportunity and the means of beginning and continuing his studies,
where he might be imbued with the spirit of the great sculptors and
painters who have left imperishable names, and whose works are stored
in the public art-galleries of London, had at last been determined
upon. The sacrifices the Bronte family were prepared to make in order
to secure this object require but a passing notice here. Branwell was a
treasured brother; and they would feel, no doubt, a sincere happiness
in promoting his interests, in furthering his views, and in bringing
his artistic abilities before the world. It would, however, seem
scarcely possible that the difficulties attending Branwell's admission
as a student at the Royal Academy had been duly considered. He could
not be admitted without a preliminary examination of his drawings from
the antique and the skeleton, to ascertain if his ability as a
draughtsman was of such an order as would qualify him for studentship;
and, if successful in this, he would be required to undergo a regular
course of education, and to pass through the various schools where
professors and academicians attended to give instruction. No doubt it
was wished that Branwell should have a regular and prolonged
preparation for his professional artistic career; but it would have
lasted for years, and the pecuniary strain consequent upon it would,
perhaps, have been severely felt, even if Branwell's genius had
justified the outlay. But there is no evidence that he ever subjected
himself to the preliminary test, or made an application even to be
admitted as a probationer.
It would seem that, so far as Mr. Bronte was concerned, his promotion
of the wishes of his children arose rather from a desire to gratify
them. It does not appear that he had any over-sanguine expectation that
Branwell could carry out his ardent intention of becoming an artist.
Mr. Bronte's own wish was, indeed, that his son should adopt his
profession, but the mercurial youth was probably little attracted by
the functions of the clergyman's office.
To London Branwell, however, went, where, without doubt, his object was
to draw from the Elgin Marbles, and to study the pictures at the Royal
Academy and other galleries, with a perfectly honest intention.
Whatever impression he may have received of his own powers as an
artist, when he saw those of the great painters of the time, we have no
certain knowledge; but it does not exceed belief that he was
discouraged when he looked upon the brilliant chef d'oeuvres of Sir
Joshua Reynolds, Gainsborough, Sir Thomas Lawrence, and others; and
that, when he reflected on the immeasurable distance between his own
works and theirs, his hopes of a brilliant artistic career were
partially dissipated. Whether it was due to these circumstances, or
that he had become more fully aware of the early struggles that meet
all who attempt art as a profession, or that his courage failed him at
the contemplation of the unhappy lot which falls to those who, either
from lack of talent or through misfortune, fail to make their mark in
the artistic world; or whether it was because his father was unable to
support him in London during the years of preparation and study for the
professional career,--the requirements of which had not been
sufficiently considered,--is not now accurately known. Branwell, during
his short stay in London, visited most of the public institutions; and,
among other places, Westminster Abbey, the western facade of which he
some time afterwards sketched from memory with an accuracy that
astonished his acquaintance, Mr. Grundy.
Before he left the metropolis, Branwell could not resist a visit to the
Castle Tavern, Holborn, then kept by the veteran prize-fighter, Tom
Spring, a place frequented by the principal sporting characters of the
time. A gentleman named Woolven, who was present through the same
curiosity which led Branwell there, noticed the young man, whose
unusual flow of language and strength of memory had so attracted the
attention of the spectators that they had made him umpire in some
dispute arising about the dates of certain celebrated battles. Branwell
and he became personal friends in after-years.
Branwell returned to the parsonage a wiser man. His disappointment that
he was not to do as others were doing, whom he wished to emulate, was
very great, but he was not yet finally discouraged. We shall see
subsequently to what purpose Branwell put his artistic knowledge. The
failure of the hopes regarding his academical career in art was keenly
felt by his family. It was grievous as it was humiliating, but it was
borne with exemplary patience and resignation. When these painful
experiences had impressed the Bronte sisters with the hopelessness of
high artistic study for Branwell, and when their eyes were opened to
the consciousness that their large gifts did not include art, Charlotte
wrote, in her novel of 'Villette,' under the character of Lucy Snowe:
'I sat bent over my desk, drawing--that is, copying an elaborate
line-engraving, tediously working up my copy to the finish of the
original, for that was my practical notion of art; and, strange to say,
I took extreme pleasure in the labour, and could even produce curiously
finished fac-similes of steel or mezzotinto plates--things about as
valuable as so many achievements in worsted work, but I thought pretty
well of them in those days.'
CHAPTER IX.
CHARLOTTE AT ROE HEAD.
Charlotte returns as a Teacher, with Emily as a Pupil, to Roe
Head--Their Determination to Maintain themselves--Charlotte's Fears
respecting Emily--Charlotte's religious Melancholy--Accuses herself of
Flippancy--She is on the Borders of Despair--Anxiety to Know More of
the World--Emily at Law Hill, Halifax, as a Teacher--Charlotte's
Excitability--She returns Home out of Health.
'We are all about to divide, break up, separate,' Charlotte said, when
conveying to her friend the news of the Academy project, and of her
determination to enter upon life as a governess. If Branwell's ambition
had encouraged her own, its failure made no change in her plans. She
was 'sad,' she says, 'very sad,' at the thoughts of leaving home; yet
she was going back to the school of Miss Wooler, whom she both loved
and respected, to live at Roe Head, this time to teach, it is true,
instead of to be taught. But her sister Emily was to accompany her, as
a pupil of the school, and that they would be together was a
consolation to both sisters; and Charlotte, too, would be near the
homes of the friends she had made when she was herself a pupil there.
It was a pleasure to think she would be able to see them sometimes.
At the end of July, then, the two proceeded to Roe Head. This was the
first of those adventurous moves which the sisters, from time to time,
made. One of the strongest features, indeed, in their lives is the
persistency with which they essayed to maintain themselves, even when
no apparently pressing necessity impelled them. Yet we may not doubt
that one sad reflection sometimes moved them, and it was that their
father's stipend ceased with his life; that they had no other resource
beyond their own endeavours; and that, such was the uncertainty of all
human concerns, they might at any moment be deprived of home, support,
and shelter. It behoved them then to secure by their personal energies,
while they were able, the very means of subsistence.
When Mr. Bronte saw his young family around him, and when he enjoyed
the comfort of his hearth, the contingency of his death, and the
consequent helplessness of his children, often struck him with
apprehension and sadness. But he had the alleviation that they
inherited, in a marked degree, his own adventurous and energetic
disposition, whose successful career was always before them as an
example and incentive to honourable endeavour.
Mr. Bronte looked back with just satisfaction on the early sacrifices
he had made to advance himself in the world. His children were familiar
with the story of his exertions. They, however, with far higher
talents, were not possessed of the physical strength and powers of
endurance which had aided his progress; and Charlotte and Emily, when
any unusual strain was cast upon them, soon felt their strength
exhausted, and they suffered depression of spirits as the consequence.
Home-sickness was the great trouble of the younger sister, and, before
she had been long at school, Emily grew pale and ill. Charlotte felt in
her heart that, if she remained, she would die; and, at the end of
three months, she returned to Haworth, where, alone among the moors,
with all the wild things of nature, which had inspired so deep an
interest in her feelings, she could be contented. But the youngest
sister, Anne, came to Roe Head in her place, and she and Charlotte seem
to have been very happy there for some time; but a tendency to
religious melancholy had been developing in the elder sister's mind,
imperceptibly, out of her deep religious feeling, and it increased upon
her.
So early as the letter to 'E,' July 6th, 1835, she had spoken of 'duty,
necessity, these are stern mistresses,' as controlling her action in
seeking a situation. Her friend Mary went to see her, and in her letter
to Mrs. Gaskell she says: 'I asked her how she could give so much for
so little money, when she could live without it. She owned that, after
clothing herself and Anne, there was nothing left, though she had hoped
to be able to save something. She confessed it was not brilliant, but
what could she do? I had nothing to answer. She seemed to have no
interest or pleasure beyond the feeling of duty, and, when she could
get, used to sit alone and "make out." She told me afterwards, that one
evening she had sat in the dressing-room until it was quite dark, and
then, observing it all at once, had taken sudden fright.' Some
relaxation was gained by the Midsummer holidays of the year 1836. All
the family were at home, and their friend 'E' visited them, so that a
pleasant period of mental diversion was secured. But, after her return
to her school, despondency came upon her again, and crowded her
thoughts; and she wrote respecting her feelings in religious concerns:
'I do wish to be better than I am. I pray fervently sometimes to be
made so. I have stings of conscience, visitings of remorse, glimpses of
holy, of inexpressible things, which formerly I used to be a stranger
to; it may all die away, and I may be in utter midnight, but I implore
a merciful Redeemer, that, if this be the dawn of the Gospel, it may
still brighten to perfect day. Do not mistake me--do not think I am
good; I only wish to be so. I only hate my former flippancy and
forwardness. Oh! I am no better than ever I was. I am in that state of
horrid, gloomy uncertainty that, at this moment, I would submit to be
old, grey-haired, to have passed all my youthful days of enjoyment, and
to be settling on the verge of the grave, if I could only thereby
insure the prospect of reconciliation to God, and a redemption through
His Son's merits. I never was exactly careless of these matters, but I
have always taken a clouded and repulsive view of them; and now, if
possible, the clouds are gathering darker, and a more oppressive
despondency weighs on my spirits. You have cheered me, my darling; for
one moment, for an atom of time, I thought I might call you my own
sister in the spirit; but the excitement is past, and I am now as
wretched and hopeless as ever.'
Let us not under-estimate the mental suffering which could dictate this
confession. Happily, this was not constantly present, nor her feelings
always so acutely wrought upon. Even in the same letter from which the
above is taken, she wishes her friends should know the thrill of
delight which she experienced when she saw the packet of her friend
thrown over the wall by the bearer, passing in his gig to Huddersfield
Market. She persevered in her place, the whole tendency of her
exaggerated reasoning forbidding her to seek that ease and relaxation
which she needed so much; but she was not incapacitated for her duties,
and probably her family were quite unaware of her troubles: so she
remained.
Branwell and Emily were resolved not to be behind their sister in their
endeavours, and they were full of anxiety to know more of the world
than they could meet with at Haworth. Emily obtained a similar
situation to Charlotte's, in a large school at Law Hill, near Halifax,
where she found her duties far from light. Her extreme reserve with
strangers is remembered by one who knew her there, but she was not at
all of an unkindly nature; on the contrary, her disposition was
generous and considerate to those with whom she was on familiar terms:
her stay at Law Hill terminated at the end of six months. The place of
her sojourn is a lofty elevation, overlooking Halifax. Emily would find
the situation of the school agreeable to her taste, and to her delight
in the weird and grand as presented by the solemn heath-grown heights
of the West-Riding: besides, the air was as pure as that of Haworth,
and Law Hill commanded finer views, among which the range of Oxenhope
moors, in her father's chapelry, was visible. In the other direction,
she could overlook the more cultivated district of Hartshead and
Kirklees, and could see Roe Head, where her sisters Charlotte and Anne
resided. Branwell also, emulating his sisters, obtained the situation
of usher in the locality, which he retained for a few months.
Some adventures with their literary productions interested them at the
close of this year, of which I shall have further to speak. Miss
Wooler's removal of her school to Dewsbury Moor was, in some respects,
unfortunate for the sisters, as the situation was less healthy than the
former one, and, when Charlotte and Anne returned home at Christmas, in
the year 1837, neither was well. Charlotte's nerves were over-strung,
and Anne was suffering from chest affections, which conjured up anew
their recollection of the deaths of Maria and Elizabeth from
consumption. To add to their troubles, Tabby fell on the ice in the
lane, and fractured her leg. The consequence of this was, that they had
to forego the expected pleasure of a visit from their friend 'E,'
through their attendance on the old servant, whom they were unwilling
should be removed to her friends, however desirable this might be on
many grounds. They even went so far as to refuse to eat at all, till
their aunt, who had arranged the matter to the satisfaction of all
concerned, except her nieces, should give up her intention of removing
Tabby. They succeeded, and Tabby remained at the parsonage, where in
time she became convalescent, and Charlotte was enabled to visit her
friends before she resumed her occupation.
Charlotte again returned to her accustomed duties, her nervousness
increasing, not the less; and Mrs. Gaskell says: 'About this time she
would turn sick and trembling at any sudden noise, and could hardly
repress her screams when startled.' Through Miss Wooler's urgency, she
was induced to consult a medical man, who advised her immediate return
to Haworth, where quiet and rest had become for her imperatively
necessary. Then her father sought for her the companionship of her two
friends, Mary and Martha T----, than whose society Charlotte had never
known a more rousing pleasure. They came to stay at the parsonage, and
their cheerful converse and agreeable manners greatly improved
Charlotte's health and spirits. We obtain an interesting picture of the
young party in the following letter that Charlotte addressed to her
friend 'E,' which Mrs. Gaskell has published:
'Haworth,
'June 9th, 1838.
'I received your packet of despatches on Wednesday; it was brought
me by Mary and Martha, who have been staying at Haworth for a few
days; they leave us to-day. You will be surprised at the date of
this letter. I ought to be at Dewsbury Moor, you know; but I stayed
as long as I was able, and at length I neither could nor dared stay
any longer. My health and spirits had utterly failed me, and the
medical man whom I consulted enjoined me, as I valued my life, to
go home. So home I went, and the change has at once roused and
soothed me. I am now, I trust, fairly in the way to be myself
again.
'A calm and even mind like yours cannot conceive the feelings of
the shattered wretch who is now writing to you, when, after weeks
of mental and bodily anguish not to be described, something like
peace began to dawn again. Mary is far from well. She breathes
short, has a pain in her chest, and frequent flushings of fever. I
cannot tell you what agony these symptoms give me; they remind me
so strongly of my two sisters, whom no power of medicine could
save. Martha is now very well; she has kept in a continual flow of
good humour during her stay here, and has consequently been very
fascinating....
'They are making such a noise about me, I cannot write any more.
Mary is playing on the piano; Martha is chattering as fast as her
little tongue can run; and Branwell is standing before her,
laughing at her vivacity.'
Branwell, in these days, was well enough, and could be lively enough,
when occasion served. He had his hopes, his enthusiasm yet: but, in
after-years, he was to fall into a yet deeper and more serious
depression than that through which Charlotte had passed.
CHAPTER X.
BRANWELL BRONTE AND HIS SISTERS' BIOGRAPHERS.
The Light in which Biographers have regarded Branwell--Bibliography
--Mrs. Gaskell--The Causes which led her into Error--Resentment of
Branwell's Friends--Mr. George Searle Phillips--Branwell as Depicted
by Mr. T. Wemyss Reid--Mr. F. H. Grundy's Notice of Branwell--Miss
A. Mary F. Robinson's Portrait of Branwell.
It will be well here--before we reach the periods of Branwell's life
that have been misunderstood--to pause, in our sketch of the Bronte
family, in order to consider certain circumstances regarding him,
which it will be impossible for any future writer on the Brontes to
disregard. It is especially necessary to consider them in a book
which--while dealing with the Bronte sisters, their lives and their
works--proposes, as a special aim, to make Branwell's position clear.
When Derwent Coleridge wrote the short biography of his father, which
is prefixed to the poet's works, he approached the subject in a
somewhat regretful way, asking if the public has a right to inquire as
to that part of a poet's life which does not influence his fellow-men
after death, and declaring that the privacy of the dead is sacred.
He felt too keenly that the sanctity of Coleridge's life had been
broken in upon by those who lacked both accurate knowledge and just
discretion. It is a source of sincere regret to the writer of this
volume that he, too, is compelled by circumstances to treat a part of
his work almost in a deprecatory spirit, and sometimes to assume the
position of defence. For, if the failings of Coleridge have been
discovered and fed upon by those whose curiosity leads them to delight
in such things, what shall we say of Patrick Branwell Bronte, whose
misdeeds have not only been sought out with a persistency worthy of a
better cause, but have also been exaggerated and misrepresented to a
great degree, and whose whole life, moreover, has been contorted by
writers who have endeavoured to find in it some evidence for their own
hypotheses? It has been the misfortune of Branwell that his life has,
to some extent, been already several times written by those who have
had some other object in view, and who, consequently, have not been
studious to acquire a correct view of the circumstances of it. These
writers, it will be seen, have therefore, perhaps unavoidably, fallen
into many grievous errors regarding him, so that his name, at this day,
has come to be held up as a reproach and even as a token of ignominy.
If it be remembered that Mrs. Gaskell, in her 'Life of Charlotte
Bronte,' describes him as a drunkard and an opium-eater, as one who
rendered miserable the lives of his sisters, and might very well have
shot his father; that Mr. T. Wemyss Reid, in his 'Charlotte Bronte, a
Monograph,' has spoken of him as 'this lost and degraded man;' that
Miss Robinson, in her 'Emily Bronte,' has called him a 'poor,
half-demented lonely creature,' and has moralized upon his 'vulgar
weakness,' his 'corrupt and loathsome sentimentality,' and his 'maudlin
Micawber penitence;' and lastly that Mr. Swinburne, in a notice of the
last-named work in the 'Athenaeum,' has said, 'of that lamentable and
contemptible caitiff--contemptible not so much for his common-place
debauchery as for his abject selfishness, his lying pretension, and his
nerveless cowardice--there is far too much in this memoir;' it may well
appear that we have here a strange subject for a biography.
But, since the publication of Miss Robinson's 'Emily Bronte,'--in which
Branwell is specially degraded,--it has been felt by many admirers of
the Brontes that it was desirable his life should be treated
independently of the theories and necessities of his sisters'
biographers, and in a spirit not unfriendly to him; for there are many
people who believe that Branwell's genius has never been sufficiently
recognized, and there are a few who know that, notwithstanding his many
failings and misdeeds, the charges made against him are, not a few of
them, wholly untrue, while many more are grossly exaggerated, and that
his disposition and character have been wholly misrepresented. Having
in my possession many of his letters and poems, and having been
personally acquainted with him, I have undertaken the task of telling
the story of his life in connection with the lives of his sisters, for
I think that there is much in his strange and sad history that ought to
be known, while sufficient evidence exists of his mental power to prove
that he was a worthy member of the intellectual family to which he
belonged. It may not be amiss here, in order to illustrate
circumstances that will be alluded to in parts of this work, to touch
slightly upon the bibliography of Branwell's life, and endeavour to
discover the causes which have contributed to the ill-repute in which
he is generally held.
Mrs. Gaskell, who became acquainted with Charlotte Bronte after the
deaths of her brother and sisters, when all that was most sorrowful in
her life had been enacted, saw, or thought she saw, in her the
evidences of a deep dejection, the result of a life passed under
circumstances of misery and depression. In her 'Life of Charlotte
Bronte,' this writer's endeavour to trace the successive influences of
the trials of Charlotte's life upon her, and to find in them the
explanation of what was, perhaps, in some measure, an idiosyncrasy of
character, has led her, in the strength of her own preconception, to
interpret many circumstances to the attestation of her theory. Such, at
all events, is the explanation which Mr. T. Wemyss Reid has offered, in
his 'Charlotte Bronte, a Monograph,' of the partial manner in which
Mrs. Gaskell has dealt with certain of Miss Bronte's letters. If we
conceive Mrs. Gaskell writing with this preconception, tending to give
undue weight to all that was unhappy in the history of her heroine, we
need feel little surprise that her account of the lives of the Brontes
is too often a gloomy one, that their isolation at Haworth, their
poverty, and their struggles have been exaggerated, or that, in order
to throw in a sombre background to her picture, she was unduly
credulous in listening to those unfounded stories with which she made
Mr. Bronte to appear, in act, at least, diabolical, and which have
helped to depict the career of Patrick Branwell Bronte in such dark and
tragic colours. She had heard at Haworth the story of his disgrace, his
subsequent intemperance, and his death. Herein she believed was the
great sorrow of the sisters' minds, the care which had induced a morbid
peculiarity in their writings, and cast a shadow upon their lives. Mrs.
Gaskell seems to have thought it devolved upon her, not merely to
picture beginnings of evil in the brother, and trace them to his ruin;
but, also, to punish the lady whom she held responsible for what has
been termed 'Branwell's fall.' To this end she thought it right to lay
at the lady's door, in part, the premature deaths of the sisters; and,
in sustaining the idea that the effect on them of the brother's
disgrace was what she believed it to be, she was led to employ partial
versions of the letters, and exaggerate the whole course of Branwell's
conduct. Her book was read with astonishment by those whose characters
were made to suffer by it, and she was obliged, in later editions, to
omit the charges against the lady; and also those against Mr. Bronte.
But Mrs. Gaskell still maintained that, whatever the cause, the effect
was the same.
It was not believed at the time, by some, that, because Mrs. Gaskell
had been obliged to withdraw the statements complained of, in the later
editions of her work, they were necessarily untrue. Mr. Thackeray had
said that the life was 'necessarily incomplete, though most touching
and admirable,' and the original edition was still in circulation, and
was pirated abroad.
The friends of Branwell Bronte, those who from actual acquaintance knew
his mental power and real disposition, resented greatly the wrong that
had been done to his memory; and several representations were made in
his favour. One of these was in an article entitled: 'A Winter's Day at
Haworth,' published in 'Chambers's Journal,' 1869. Mr. George Searle
Phillips, in the 'Mirror,' of 1872, also published some valuable
reminiscences which tended to show Branwell's true elevation of
character and gentleness of disposition.
The publication of Mr. Wemyss Reid's 'Charlotte Bronte, a Monograph,'
in the year 1877, while it called attention to the original view of
Branwell's life and character, did not aim to remove it. Mr. Reid
repudiated, with success, the idea that the effect of Branwell's career
upon Charlotte and Emily was what Mrs. Gaskell represented it to have
been, without expressing any dissent from the story itself. This writer
does not, indeed, appear to have suspected that the explanation was to
be found in the fact that Branwell was not so bad as he had been made
to appear, or that Mrs. Gaskell had fallen into other errors besides
those of the letters which he corrected. But, though Mr. Reid carefully
avoided the reproduction of the details of Mrs. Gaskell's account of
Branwell's life, what reference is made to him in the 'Monograph,'
after the period of his youth, is always in terms of reprobation, which
have done nothing to discourage belief in the suppressed scandal.
Moreover, Mr. Reid revived some of the charges against Mr. Bronte, and
painted a sinister portrait of him.
It was under these circumstances that Mr. F. H. Grundy, C.E., another
friend of Branwell's, in his 'Pictures of the Past' (1879), endeavoured
to do some justice to his memory, and declared, notwithstanding his
great failings, that his abilities were of a very high order, and his
disposition one that should be admired. I have found Mr. Grundy's
materials of use in this work. But, unfortunately, this friend of
Branwell's wrote from recollection, and made such great mistakes in
the chronology of his life that his account did not give a true
interpretation of actual circumstances. Mr. Grundy, too, had evidently
refreshed his memory with a perusal of Mrs. Gaskell's volume, and
so his information was considerably tinctured with that writer's
misconceptions. This notice had the very opposite effect to that which
was intended, and has since been largely used by writers whose purpose
has led them to rank Branwell with the fallen.
In Miss Robinson's recently published 'Emily Bronte,' the scandal of
Branwell's life, which Mrs. Gaskell laid before the reading world,
has been reproduced, and her evil report of his character greatly
increased. 'Why,' it might well be asked, 'should it be necessary to
publish the records of a brother's misdeeds as a conspicuous feature
in a sister's memoir? Why revive a scandal that has been so long
suppressed?' Miss Robinson has, indeed, given her reason, in that
Branwell's sins had so large a share in determining the bent of his
sister's genius, that 'to have passed them by would have been to ignore
the shock which turned the fantasy of the "poems" into the tragedy of
"Wuthering Heights,"' and here, probably, is the only adequate purpose
that could have been found in doing so; but it is scarcely sufficient
to explain why Miss Robinson has, almost from her first mention of
Branwell Bronte to her remarks on his death, treated every act of his
life with contumely, censure, and contempt, or that she has, in
opposition to every previous opinion, represented his abilities as
almost void. While Mr. Reid suggested that Emily Bronte, in writing her
novel, must have obtained some of her impressions from her brother's
conduct, Mr. Grundy had made a statement tending to show that Branwell
had written a portion of the story himself. If Branwell's abilities
were no better than Miss Robinson says they were, she has disposed of
Mr. Grundy's assertion at once; but not the less does she employ other
reasons for that end, and the degradation she has thought it necessary
to show in Branwell, answers quite as much to prove the impossibility
of his having written the work, as to picture the cause of brooding in
Emily, under which she produced the tragedy of 'Wuthering Heights.'
With views similar to those with which Mrs. Gaskell wrote, Miss
Robinson, in following the biographer of Charlotte, has fallen into the
same errors. In order to make it clear that the part Branwell had in
the production of 'Wuthering Heights,' by his sister, was subjective,
this writer has found it necessary to show in his life much of what is
worst in the characters of the story. So completely has Miss Robinson
carried out this portion of her work, that Mr. Swinburne was led to
say, in his notice of it, that 'Emily Bronte's tenderness for the
lower animals ... was so vast as to include even her own miserable
brother.'[22] But Miss Robinson has not succeeded so far without much
unfairness to the victim of her theory, in omissions and errors of
fact. I shall have occasion to treat at some length, later, Branwell's
relationship both to 'Wuthering Heights' and 'The Tenant of Wildfell
Hall.'
[22] 'Athenaeum,' June 16th, 1883, p. 762.
I hope, indeed, to be able to prove that Branwell was (as all who
personally knew him aver him to have been) a man of great and powerful
intellectual gifts, to relieve his memory of much of the obloquy
that has been heaped upon it, and to clearly show the remarkable
individuality of his character. I shall find it necessary, in doing so,
to take exception to the portions of Mrs. Gaskell's 'Life of Charlotte
Bronte' which deal with her brother, as to some extent I had to do to
those which refer to Mr. Bronte. More especially, however, will it be
necessary to deal with the fuller statements in the first edition of
the work, and with their repetition and amplification in the more
recent volumes of Mr. Reid and Miss Robinson.
I have thought it necessary to introduce these remarks in this place,
in order that the reader, when he comes to the consideration of certain
statements made by previous writers concerning Branwell, and his
relationship with his sisters, may have a clear understanding of the
views with which the works containing these statements have been
written.
CHAPTER XI.
BRANWELL AT BRADFORD.
Branwell becomes a Freemason--His love of Art undiminished--Has
Instruction in Oil-Painting--Commences Portrait-Painting at
Bradford--His Commissions--His Letter to Mr. Thompson, the Artist
--Miss Robinson's Charges of Misconduct--Her Erroneous Statements
--Branwell's true Character and Conduct at Bradford--Remarks on
his alleged Opium-eating there.
When Branwell returned from London it was not without sincere
satisfaction that his acquaintances welcomed their gifted and versatile
friend back to Haworth, certain of whom induced him to become a
freemason. Thus Branwell was brought into closer connection with the
convivial circles of the village.
There was held at Haworth, at the time, 'The Lodge of the Three
Graces.' In this lodge Branwell was proposed as a brother, and accepted
on the 1st of February, 1836, initiated February the 29th, passed March
the 28th, and raised April the 25th of that year, John Brown being the
'Worshipful Master.' Branwell was present at eleven meetings in 1836,
the minutes of one of these--September the 18th--being fully entered by
him. On December the 20th of the same year, he fulfilled the duties of
'Junior Warden;' and, at seven meetings of the lodge, from January the
16th to December the 11th, 1837, he was secretary, and entered the
minutes. He also, on Christmas Day of the same year, officiated as
organist.[23] In addition to his duties in connection with the Masonic
Lodge, he likewise undertook the secretaryship of the local Temperance
Society, of which he was a member.
[23] Riley's 'History of the Airedale Lodge,' p. 48.
Branwell's love of art had been too strong, and his interest in its
practice too intense, to allow even such a check as that which his
aspirations had received in the failure of the Academy project to
finally discourage him. Hence it was, I suppose, when he had
relinquished his place of usher that his passionate desire of becoming
an artist, still cherished under disappointment, revived. He conceived,
as the project of studying at the Royal Academy had not proved
feasible, that, if he had a full course of instruction from Mr.
Robinson, he could, in that way, qualify himself, perhaps as well, to
adopt the profession of a portrait-painter, more valuable in those
days, when photographers were not, than now; and Mr. Bronte, leaning to
his son's wish, was induced to sanction the proposal, as it might
provide Branwell with an alternative occupation to that of tutor, the
only other that seemed open to him.
Mr. Robinson's charge, on the few occasions of his lessons at Haworth
parsonage, had been two guineas for each visit. But it was now arranged
that Branwell should receive instruction from the artist at his studio
in Leeds. In this way he would not only have better opportunities of
acquiring the art, but the cost would be much less. For this purpose,
he stayed at an inn in Briggate, but occasionally took his master's
pictures to Haworth to copy. Under this kind of tuition he continued
for some months, when, having completed his studies, he resolved upon
turning the instruction he had received, probably through the kindness
of his aunt, to profitable account. With this professional intention,
he engaged private apartments in Bradford, and took up his residence as
a portrait-painter, under the interest of his mother's relative, the
Rev. William Morgan, of Christ Church. Among others, he painted
portraits of this gentleman, and of the Rev. Henry Heap, the vicar. For
some months Branwell was successful in maintaining himself by these
praiseworthy efforts; but it was scarcely to be expected that he could
succeed sufficiently well in competition with the older and more
experienced artists of the neighbourhood.
Among his other pictures, were portraits of Mrs. Kirby, his landlady,
and her two children. One of these, a beautiful little girl, was his
special favourite. At his frequent request, she dined with him in his
private sitting-room, her pleasant smiles and cheerful prattling always
charming him.
It may be mentioned here that, when Branwell had entered upon his
studies under Mr. Robinson, he formed an acquaintance with a
fellow-student, Mr. J. H. Thompson, who was a portrait-painter at
Bradford. A close friendship grew up between them; and this artist,
being more experienced than Branwell, gave, now and then, finishing
touches to the productions of his young friend.
Soon after Branwell gave up his profession as an artist at Bradford, he
wrote to Mr. Thompson, in reference to some misunderstanding which had
arisen between himself and his landlady. The letter is dated from
'Haworth, May the 17th, 1839.'
'DEAR SIR,
'Your last has made me resolve on a visit to you at Bradford, for
certainly this train of misconceptions and delays must at last be
put a stop to.
'I shall (Deo volente) be at the "Bull's Head" at two o'clock this
afternoon (Friday), and _do_ be there, or in Bradford, to give
me your aid when I arrive!
'I am astonished at Mrs. Kirby. I have no pictures of hers to
finish. But I said that, if I returned there, I would varnish three
for her; and also I do not understand people who look on a kindness
as a duty.
'Once more my heartfelt thanks to you for your consideration for
one who has none for himself.
'Yours faithfully,
'P. B. BRONTE.'
Mrs. Kirby had not been quite satisfied with the pictures before
mentioned; but, on hearing Mr. Thompson's favourable opinion, she at
once gave way. Although Branwell ceased his residence at Bradford for
the reasons assigned, he afterwards painted portraits occasionally at
Haworth; but also frequently visited his friends at the former place,
having become acquainted with the poets and artists of the
neighbourhood, as we shall presently see.
Miss Robinson has undertaken to draw Branwell's portrait at this
juncture of his affairs, when she says he had attained the age of
twenty years, though in fact he was twenty-two; and the following is
the labour of her hands: 'He went to Bradford as a portrait-painter,
and--so impressive is audacity--actually succeeded for some months in
gaining a living there.... His tawny mane, his pose of untaught genius,
his verses in the poet's corner of the paper could not for ever keep
afloat this untaught and thriftless portrait-painter of twenty. Soon
there came an end to his painting there. He disappeared from Bradford
suddenly, heavily in debt, and was lost to sight until, unnerved, a
drunkard, and an opium-eater, he came back to home and Emily at
Haworth.'[24]
[24] 'Emily Bronte,' p. 64. It may be noted here, to show in
some sort what amount of credibility attaches to these
representations, that Miss Robinson has placed Branwell's
portrait-painting at Bradford subsequent to his tutorship at
Broughton-in-Furness, though really he did not go there until
a year later.
These statements are simply untrue. I have the positive information of
one who knew Branwell in Leeds, and who resided in Bradford at the time
when he was there, that he did not leave that town in debt; that he
certainly was not a drunkard; and that, if he took anything at all, it
was but occasionally, and then no more than the commonest custom would
permit. I would rather believe--if all other evidence were wanting--the
account of Branwell given by the friends who knew him personally, and
who, at the moment in which I write, are still living on the spot where
he exerted himself to gain a living by the labour of his own hands,
than the unfair, unjust, and exaggerated charges quoted above. But
Branwell's letter to his friend disposes at once of the assertion that
he 'disappeared from Bradford suddenly, heavily in debt, and was lost
to sight.' And, as to the statement that he was unnerved and a
drunkard, one should surely rather accept the evidence of those who
knew him, that he was, on the contrary, as they unhesitatingly say, 'a
quiet, unassuming young man, retiring, and diffident, seeming rather of
a passive nature, and delicate constitution, than otherwise.' And,
moreover, his visits to Bradford, after he had given up his profession
there, were frequent, for his literary tastes, his artistic pursuits,
and his musical abilities had secured him many friends in that town.
Assuredly the biographer of Emily has been very unfortunate, to say the
least, in her account of Branwell's honest, upright, and honourable
endeavour to make his living by the profession of art at Bradford.
Miss Robinson asserts that Branwell was an opium-eater 'of twenty,' in
addition to the other baneful habits she ascribes to him. There is,
however, no reliable evidence that, at this period of his life, he was
any such thing; and, considering the fact that the biographer of Emily
has assigned Branwell's art-practice at Bradford to a period subsequent
to his tutorship at Broughton-in-Furness, one may, perhaps, be
permitted to suspect that she is equally in error in her assertions as
to his opium-eating so young. Branwell did, indeed, later, fall into
the baneful habit, and suffered at times in consequence; but there is
no reason to believe that he became wholly subject to it, or was
greatly injured by the practice, either in mind or body. We can only
surmise as to the original cause of his use of opium; but, when we
consider the extraordinary fascination which De Quincey's wonderful
book had for the younger generation of literary men of his day, we
shall recognize that Branwell, who read the book, in all probability
fell under its influence. Let us remember, moreover, that the young
man's two sisters had died of consumption, and that De Quincey declares
the use of the drug had saved him from the fate of his father who had
fallen a victim to the same scourge. Lastly, it should not be forgotten
that, in the first half of this century, the use of opium became, in
some sort, fashionable amongst literary men, and that many admirers of
De Quincey and Coleridge deemed that the practice had received a
sufficient sanction. But the former of these writers had used the drug
intermittently, and we have reason to believe that Branwell, who
followed him, did likewise. Let us, then, imagine the young Bronte,
revelling in the realm of the dreamy and impassioned, and hoping fondly
that consumption might be driven away, resolving to try the effect of
the 'dread agent of unimaginable pleasure and pain,' a proceeding from
which many less brave would have shrunk. Branwell had doubtless read,
in the 'Confessions of an English Opium-eater,' that the drug does not
disorder the system; but gives tone, a sort of health, that might be
natural if it were not for the means by which it is procured. He would
believe that--in one under this magic spell, that is--'the diviner part
of his nature is paramount, the moral affections are in a state of
cloudless serenity; and high over all the great light of the majestic
intellect.' Mrs. Gaskell describes the operation of opium upon herself.
She says: 'I asked her' (Charlotte) 'whether she had ever taken opium,
as the description of its effects, given in "Villette," was so exactly
like what I had experienced--vivid and exaggerated presence of objects
of which the outlines were indistinct, or lost in golden mist, etc.'[25]
Branwell could not have tasted these stronger effects of the drug when
he first made use of it; but it should be remembered that he several
times recurred to the practice, and suffered the consequent pains and
penalties.
[25] 'Life of Charlotte Bronte,' chap, xxvii.
After his portrait-painting at Bradford, he never again resided there,
and it was about the period of his leaving that place that he began to
see the artistic career he had chosen was a mistake, and he determined
to give it up as a profession. Moreover, other influences, as we shall
see, had been, and were still, at work upon him which caused him to
turn once more to literature. From the period of his acquaintance with
the drawing-masters, he had become associated with the literary as well
as the artistic circles of the neighbourhood; and he anticipated the
literary future of his sisters.
CHAPTER XII.
LITERARY INFLUENCES AND ASPIRATIONS.
New Inspiration of Poetry--Wordsworth--Southey, Scott, and Byron
--Southey to Charlotte Bronte--Hartley Coleridge--His Worthies of
Yorkshire--Poets of the West-Riding--Alaric A. Watts--Branwell's
Literary Abilities.
In the early part of the present century, the spirit of poetry began to
make itself felt in quarters where previously it had never been known.
The pedantic affectation of the Della Cruscan school gave place, in the
works of a passionate lover of Nature like Wordsworth, to a fresher and
purer inspiration, that delighted in familiar themes of domestic and
rural beauty, which were often both humble and obscure. It was
Wordsworth, indeed, who 'developed the theory of poetry,'--as Branwell
Bronte well knew--that has worked a greater change in literature than
has, perhaps, been known since the period of the Renaissance. In his
endeavour to solve the difficulty of 'fitting to metrical arrangement a
selection of the real language of men in a state of vivid sensation,'
Wordsworth had prepared the way for a natural outburst of poetic
feeling, occupied with familiar and simple topics. The writers of the
so-called 'Lake School' of poets, and especially Wordsworth, Coleridge,
and Southey, were, in fact, the leaders of the new movement; and,
speedily, responsive to the free note of genius uncurbed, there arose
from many an unknown place in England the sweet sound of poetic voices
not heard before. At the same time, the touch of romanticism, which was
imparted by Scott and Byron, had a great influence on many of the
younger poets of the new school. It is evident, to anyone who has
studied the local literature of that time, that the works produced
under such inspiration were often of great and permanent merit.
Southey, writing to Charlotte Bronte in 1837, indeed says, 'Many
volumes of poems are now published every year without attracting public
attention, any one of which, if it had appeared half-a-century ago,
would have obtained a high reputation for its author.'
Nowhere, probably, in England was the influence of the poets of
Westmoreland felt more deeply than in the valleys of the West-Riding
of Yorkshire. Indeed, a young publisher of that district, Mr. F. E.
Bingley, had sufficient appreciation of genius, and enterprise enough,
to bring him to Leeds for the purpose of publishing works from Hartley
Coleridge's hand. The younger Coleridge--besides the prestige of his
fathers name--had already become known as an occasional contributor to
'Blackwood's Magazine,' wherein first appeared his poem of 'Leonard
and Susan,' so much admired. Mr. Bingley entered into an engagement
to enable him to publish two volumes of poems, and a series of
'Biographical notices of the Worthies of Yorkshire and Lancashire,'
which Hartley Coleridge was to write. One of the volumes of poems was
issued from the press in 1833, and was well received. 'The Worthies'
proceeded to the third number, forming an octavo volume of six hundred
and thirty-two pages, when circumstances compelled Mr. Bingley to sell
the remainders to another publisher, who issued a second edition of
this well-known work, with a new title, in the year 1836. From the same
press there came, in 1834, 'Cyril, a Poem in Four Cantos; and Minor
Poems,' by George Wilson. C. F. Edgar, who was editor of the 'Yorkshire
Literary Annual,' the first volume of which appeared in 1831, was also
the author of a volume of poems, published by Mr. Bingley in the
succeeding year; and other poetical works followed from the Leeds
press.
But, in those days, there was scarcely a locality in the populous
West-Riding of Yorkshire without its poet, and that poet, too, a man of
no mean powers. Nicholson, the Airedale poet, had, previously to the
time of which I speak, published his 'Airedale, and other Poems,' and
his 'Lyre of Ebor.' His poetical talents were really excellent, and his
versatility, and the happy character of his effusions, made Nicholson
very popular in the West-Riding. He died in 1843. The gifted poet of
Gargrave, Robert Story, had published, in earlier years, many songs and
poems in the local papers; and he issued, in 1836, a volume, entitled,
'The Magic Fountain.' This was followed, in 1838, by 'The Outlaw,' and
by 'Love and Literature,' in the year 1842. This poet was an ardent
partizan of the Conservatives, and his lyrical abilities were devoted
with unflagging energy to their cause. His 'Songs and Poems,' and his
'Lyrical, and other Minor Poems,' were subsequently published. His
political songs were vigorous, and his pastoral ones were redolent of
pastures, meadows, and moors, breathing all the freshness of nature in
its happiest time. Thomas Crossley, the 'Bard of Ovenden,' like Story,
possessed of lyrical talents of the highest order, was a frequent
contributor to the county papers; and he published, in 1837, an
admirable and delightful volume, entitled, 'The Flowers of Ebor.' In
the same year, William Dearden, the 'Bard of Caldene,' the possessor of
high gifts, published his 'Star-Seer; a Poem in Five Cantos,' which was
distinguished by great power, originality, and loftiness of conception.
It was largely influenced by the spirit of romanticism, and flowed with
the sweetest diction.
This also was the age of 'Souvenirs,' 'Keepsakes,' 'Forget-me-nots,'
and 'Annuals,' which sold very largely, and contained much that was
really good. Heath, the proprietor of the 'Keepsake,' as we are told by
Southey, sold fifteen thousand copies in one year, and used four
thousand yards of watered-silk for the next issue; for these volumes
were always resplendent in silk and gold. Alaric A. Watts, who
published, in 1822, his 'Poetical Sketches' (a fourth edition of which,
enlarged and exquisitely illustrated with designs by Stothard and
Nesfield, was required), became, in the same year, editor of the 'Leeds
Intelligencer,' which he conducted with much spirit and ability. He
afterwards established the 'Manchester Courier,' which he for some time
edited, and was well-known in the northern shires. In 1828 and 1829
appeared his 'Poetical Album,' 'Scenes of Life, and Shades of
Character,' in 1831; and from 1825 to 1834 he produced his 'Literary
Souvenir; a Cabinet of Poetry and Romance,' with great and deserved
success. It is more than likely that the great popularity of his
venture led to the publication of 'The White Rose of York,' a similar
volume, which was brought out at Halifax in the year 1834. This work
was edited by George Hogarth, and, in addition to the authors already
mentioned--who were, with the exception of Nicholson, the Airedale
poet, and the Leeds authors, contributors to it--were F. C. Spencer,
author of 'The Vale of Bolton,' a volume of poems; Henry Ingram, author
of a volume entitled, 'Matilda'; Henry Martin, editor of the 'Halifax
Express'; John Roby, author of 'The Traditions of Lancashire;' and
others. There was also in the work a contribution, entitled 'Morley
Hall,'--treating of a legend of the last-named county--by C. Peters,
the subject of which also exercised the abilities of the author of 'The
Flowers of Ebor'; and subsequently interested Branwell Bronte in a
similar manner--his friend Leyland having modelled a scene from the
story, in clay.
It is beyond question that these literary influences, which stirred the
depths of feeling in Yorkshire, had a profound effect on the earlier
writings of the Brontes, and probably were their original inspiration.
All the local papers were filled with the news of the literary
movement; and the busy brains in the parsonage of Haworth could not but
be raised to emulation by the tidings. Branwell, especially, who knew
personally many of the workers in the new field whom I have named, and
was never so happy as when he could enjoy their company, was soon
moved, in the midst of his art-aspirations, to partake in their
literary labours. At this time, the tastes of the Brontes in this
direction, and their progress in poetical and prose composition, began
to inspire them with hopes and anticipations of the brightest
character. From childhood their attempts at literary composition had
formed, according to Charlotte herself, the highest stimulus, and one
of the liveliest pleasures they had known. They began to find out that
their genius was not artistic, but literary, and to pursue its bent
with increasing ardour and the warmest interest.
It cannot be doubted that Branwell, greatly influenced, perhaps, by his
sisters, or they, more probably, by him--for they ever regarded his
genius as greater than their own--was soon employing his pen as often,
and more successfully, than his pencil. Mr. Bronte's daughters were
possessed largely of discriminating and critical powers, sufficient to
enable them to judge accurately of the abilities of their brother; and
Mrs. Gaskell allows that, to begin with, he was perhaps the greatest
genius of this rare family, and this more even in a literary than in an
artistic sense. Their favourable judgment was based on evidence they
had before them. They were not ignorant of his poetical and prose
compositions; and that these showed great beauty of thought and much
felicity of expression, as well as considerable power, originality, and
freshness of treatment, the evidences will appear in the subsequent
pages.
CHAPTER XIII.
EARLY POEMS.
Branwell's Letter to Wordsworth, with Stanzas--Remarks upon it--No
Reply--He Tries Again--His Interest in the Manchester and Leeds
Railway--Branwell's Literary and Artistic Friends at Bradford and
Halifax--Leyland's Works there--Branwell's great Interest in
them--Early Verses--Mrs. Gaskell's Judgment on his Literary Abilities.
Branwell, even while working at art with great energy, was not, as I
have said, oblivious of his literary power. While, however, the work of
his sisters was to be conducted with great earnestness of purpose, it
was unfortunate that the scintillations of Branwell's genius were too
often fitful, erratic, and uncertain: his mind, indeed, even at this
time, was unstable.
It may be noted, as characteristic of all Mr. Bronte's children, that,
united with sterling gifts of intellectual power and literary acumen,
there was always some mistrust as to the merit of their _own_
productions, especially of poetical ones. They seem to have felt
themselves like travellers wandering in mist, or struggling through a
thicket, or toiling on devious paths with no reliable information at
hand, until they arrived at a point where progress looked impossible,
until they had obtained a guide in whom they had confidence. It
appeared, indeed, to the Brontes that, without an opinion on their
work, time might be altogether wasted on what was unprofitable.
Charlotte, therefore, in the December of 1836, determined to submit
some of her poems to the judgment of Southey; and it would seem that
she also consulted Hartley Coleridge.
Before, however, Southey had answered his sister's letter, Branwell
ventured, in a similar spirit, to address Wordsworth, for whose
writings he had a great admiration. The following is his letter; and,
although it has been previously published, it must not be omitted
here.[26]
[26] Gaskell's 'Life of Charlotte Bronte,' chap. viii.
'Haworth, near Bradford,
'Yorkshire, January 19th, 1837.
'SIR,
'I most earnestly entreat you to read and pass your judgment upon
what I have sent you, because from the day of my birth, to this the
nineteenth year of my life, I have lived among secluded hills,
where I could neither know what I was, or what I could do. I read
for the same reason that I ate or drank--because it was a real
craving of nature. I wrote on the same principle as I spoke--out of
the impulse and feelings of the mind; nor could I help it, for what
came, came out, and there was the end of it. For as to
self-conceit, that could not receive food from flattery, since to
this hour not half-a-dozen people in the world know that I have
ever penned a line.
'But a change has taken place now, sir; and I am arrived at an age
wherein I must do something for myself: the powers I possess must
be exercised to a definite end, and as I don't know them myself I
must ask of others what they are worth. Yet there is not one here
to tell me; and still, if they are worthless, time will henceforth
be too precious to be wasted on them.
'Do pardon me, sir, that I have ventured to come before one whose
works I have most loved in our literature, and who most has been
with me a divinity of the mind, laying before him one of my
writings, and asking of him a judgment of its contents. I must come
before some one from whose sentence there is no appeal; and such a
one is he who has developed the theory of poetry as well as its
practice, and both in such a way as to claim a place in the memory
of a thousand years to come.
'My aim, sir, is to push out into the open world, and for this I
trust not poetry alone--that might launch the vessel, but could not
bear her on; sensible and scientific prose, bold and vigorous
efforts in my walk in life, would give a further title to the
notice of the world; and then, again, poetry ought to brighten and
crown that name with glory; but nothing of all this can be ever
begun without means, and as I don't possess these, I must in every
shape strive to gain them. Surely, in this day, when there is not a
_writing_ poet worth a sixpence, the field must be open, if a
better man can step forward.
'What I send you is the Prefatory Scene of a much longer subject,
in which I have striven to develop strong passions and weak
principles struggling with a high imagination and acute feelings,
till, as youth hardens towards old age, evil deeds and short
enjoyments end in mental misery and bodily ruin. Now, to send
you the whole of this would be a mock upon your patience; what
you see, does not even pretend to be more than the description
of an imaginative child. But read it, sir; and, as you would
hold a light to one in utter darkness--as you value your own
kind-heartedness--_return_ me an _answer_, if but one word,
telling me whether I should write on, or write no more. Forgive
undue warmth, because my feelings in this matter cannot be cool;
and believe me, sir, with deep respect,
'Your really humble servant,
'P. B. BRONTE.'
Mrs. Gaskell gives the following six stanzas, which are about a third
of the whole, and declares them not to be the worst part of the
composition:--
'So where He reigns in glory bright,
Above those starry skies of night,
Amid His Paradise of light,
Oh, why may I not be?
'Oft when awake on Christmas morn,
In sleepless twilight laid forlorn,
Strange thoughts have o'er my mind been borne
How He has died for me.
'And oft, within my chamber lying,
Have I awaked myself with crying,
From dreams, where I beheld Him dying
Upon the accursed tree.
'And often has my mother said,
While on her lap I laid my head,
She feared for time I was not made,
But for Eternity.
'So "I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
And let me bid farewell to fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes."
'I'll lay me down on this marble stone,
And set the world aside,
To see upon her ebon throne
The Moon in glory ride.'
Branwell's letter to Wordsworth is, for the most part, well written,
and breathes an eager spirit, which shows the anxiety he was under to
know the opinion of a high and competent judge as to how he stood
with the Nine. It tells us the ardour with which he read and wrote,
the ambitious turn of his mind, and the special aims which he then
had in the literary world. But the verses, although imbued with a
fervent spirit of early piety, were such as Wordsworth could not
justly review without giving discouragement, and it seems probable he
preferred to keep silence rather than, by an open avowal, to give
pain--if pain must be given--as the lesser evil of the two. Or,
perhaps, he took amiss the ready frankness and apparent self-esteem
which, notwithstanding the disavowal, would probably seem present to
him in the letter of the young stranger who addressed him, without
sending any evidence of the powers of which he expressed himself so
confidently. But, at any rate, Mrs. Gaskell informs us that the
letter and verses were preserved by the poet till the Brontes became
celebrated, and that he gave the communication to his friend, Mr.
Quillinan, in 1850, when the real name of 'Currer Bell' became known.
It must not be overlooked that, in the verses which Mrs. Gaskell has
printed, we have no opportunity of studying Branwell's dramatic
powers, which apparently found scope in the poem he had written. In
them is no development of the effect of the passionate feelings which
Branwell describes: 'struggling with a high imagination and acute
feelings,' and ending 'in mental misery and bodily ruin.'
However, discouraged by long waiting, or assisted by friendly advice
and criticism, he toiled on in silence at his literary work, as he
did at art. The year 1837 turned out an important one for Charlotte.
In March, she at last received the answer from Southey, which she
considered a 'little stringent,' and from which she declared she had
derived good. She says, in her reply to the Laureate, 'I trust I
shall never more feel ambitious to see my name in print.... That
letter is consecrated; no one shall ever see it, but papa, and my
brother and my sisters.'
It would seem that Branwell, notwithstanding the failure of his first
venture with Wordsworth, tried again, at a later date, with some
other, and more matured, compositions, which he submitted to that
poet and to Hartley Coleridge, 'who both,' says Mrs. Gaskell,
'expressed kind and laudatory opinions.' But, perhaps, the fact that,
to the letter quoted above, Wordsworth sent no answer, and did not
tell him whether he should 'write on, or write no more,' discouraged
Branwell for a time; and he may have been led to suspect that his
productions were worthless, and that time might 'henceforth be too
precious to be wasted upon them.' In this way, perhaps, he was
induced to turn with greater energy to his profession of art, as a
means of getting on, of which I spoke in a former chapter, though we
shall see that he did not abandon his literary work.
Branwell also now found opportunities of making himself acquainted
with the grand and wild scenery of the mountainous borders of the
counties of York and Lancaster, a wider district than his sisters
could well survey.
The Manchester and Leeds Railway was, at the time, in course of
construction below Littleborough, passing through the picturesque and
romantic vale of Todmorden. Branwell became greatly interested in the
work; and as stores, and other things for the completion of the line
to Hebden Bridge, were forwarded from Littleborough by canal, having
been previously sent to that place from Manchester by train, he soon
ingratiated himself with the boatmen, and was frequently seen in
their boats. It was on one of these occasions that Mr. Woolven,
previously mentioned, who was officially employed on the works,
recognized at once the clever young man who had surprised the company
at the 'Castle Tavern,' Holborn, and entered into conversation with
him. These incidents led to a friendly intercourse between them,
which continued for some years.
Among his Bradford acquaintances, Branwell numbered, in addition to
Geller, the mezzotinto-engraver, previously mentioned, Wilson
Anderson, an admirable landscape-painter, whose productions are
valued as truthful pictures of the places they represent, and on
account of the skilfulness of their manipulation and colouring; and
also Richard Waller, a well-known and excellent portrait-painter. To
these may be added Edward Collinson, a local poet; Robert Story; and
John James, the future historian of Bradford. All these were personal
acquaintances of Branwell, as well as of Leyland, and the intercourse
between them was frequent. For more than twenty years a party of
these friends was accustomed to meet, from time to time, at the
'George Hotel,' Bradford, under the auspices of Miss Rennie, who
greatly prided herself on seeing at her house, in their hours of
leisure, the artistic and literary celebrities of the neighbourhood.
Leyland was at Halifax, being there to erect certain monuments, which
he had executed in London for various patrons in his native town.
While there, he modelled, in the upper room of an ancient house, his
colossal group of 'African Bloodhounds,' his model being a living
specimen of the breed; and the group, which was exhibited in London,
was favourably noticed. Landseer regarded it as the 'noblest modern
work of its kind.' It is now in the Salford Museum. The progress of
this group intensely interested Branwell and his Bradford friends;
and they frequently visited Leyland's temporary studio. It also
formed the subject of a poem by Dearden.[27] Finding this studio of
insufficient height for a great work he contemplated--a colossal
group of 'Thracian Falconers'--Leyland afterwards took a suitable
place in another part of the town, which, likewise, became a
meeting-place of the local _literati_. The new work was to consist of
three figures, the centre one being seated, and having upon his right
fore-finger a hawk; while his left hand rested on the shoulder of a
youth just roused, as if by some sudden sound; and, on his right, was
a similar youth, half-recumbent, and also in a listening attitude. The
centre figure was alone completed, and is now in the Salford Museum.
[27] 'The Death of Leyland's African Bloodhound,' by William
Dearden, author of 'The Star-Seer.' London, 1837. (Longmans.)
Branwell, on his visits to the artist's studio, often lamented the
dissipation of his high artistic hopes, and confessed that he saw
with pain how misplaced his confidence in his own powers had been.
But the sculptor was a poet also, and thus Branwell and he worked in
the same field. Many of Leyland's poems were published in the
Yorkshire papers, and also in the 'Morning Chronicle,' and were
always considered to be of true poetic excellence. Branwell relied
much on the artist's judgment in literary matters, and often
submitted his productions to him.
Although Bronte had, as we have seen, abandoned the hope of a high
artistic career, he still clung to the practice of portrait-painting,
and this gave him leisure to court the muse. The following are the
earliest of his poems, of which the MSS. are in my possession; and
these are fragments only. The first is a verse of eleven lines, dated
January 23rd, 1838, which originally concluded a poem of sixty;--
'There's many a grief to shade the scene,
And hide the starry skies;
But all such clouds that intervene
From mortal life arise.
And--may I smile--O God! to see
Their storms of sorrow beat on me,
When I so surely know
That Thou, the while, art shining on;
That I, at last, when they are gone,
Shall see the glories of Thy throne,
So far more bright than now.'
This fragment, written by Branwell at the age of twenty-one, is
characteristic of the early tone of his mind. His naturally amiable
and susceptible disposition had soon become imbued with the spirit of
Christian piety which surrounded his life. He was, too, at the time,
full of noble impulses and high aspirations; but the shade of
melancholy implanted in his constitution had begun to influence his
writings. The following, which is the beginning of another poem, must
have been written in some such thoughtful mood, though the title is
not borne out in the portion I am able to give.
DEATH TRIUMPHANT.
MAY, 1838.
'Oh! on this first bright Mayday morn,
That seems to change our earth to Heaven,
May my own bitter thoughts be borne,
With the wild winter it has driven!
Like this earth, may my mind be made
To feel the freshness round me spreading,
No other aid to rouse it needing
Than thy glad light, so long delayed.
Sweet woodland sunshine!--none but thee
Can wake the joys of memory,
Which seemed decaying, as all decayed.
'O! may they bud, as thou dost now,
With promise of a summer near!
Nay--let me feel my weary brow--
Where are the ringlets wreathing there?
Why does the hand that shades it tremble?
Why do these limbs, so languid, shun
Their walk beneath the morning sun?
Ah, mortal Self! couldst thou dissemble
Like Sister-Soul! But forms refuse
The real and unreal to confuse.
But, with caprice of fancy, She
Joins things long past with things to be,
Till even I doubt if I have told
My tale of woes and wonders o'er,
Or think Her magic can unfold
A phantom path of joys before--
Or, laid beneath this Mayday blaze--
Ask, "Live I o'er departed days?"
Am I the child by Gambia's side,
Beneath its woodlands waving wide?
Have I the footsteps bounding free,
The happy laugh of infancy?'
In this beautiful fragment we have the first passionate out-pouring
of the self-imposed woes, which, proceeding from within, were
thereafter to overspread and tincture with darkest colours every
thought of Branwell's mind. We see him here for a moment, standing in
incipient melancholia, in what appears to him to be a desert of
mental despondency; but, turning back with a fond affection for the
past, and recalling, in plaintive words, the joys of 'departed days.'
He seems here, indeed, to seek in the mysteries of the soul those
pleasures and hopes which his mortal self cannot afford him. Branwell
never appears to have forgotten, as I have previously suggested, the
sad circumstances of the death of his sisters; and his solitary
broodings over these visitations gave a morbid tone to his writings.
It was in 1838 that he adopted the pseudonym of 'Northangerland.' His
earlier poems, although occasionally showing some power, were not
sufficiently gifted to add to the lustre of Bronte literature.
Mrs. Gaskell, alluding to Branwell's literary abilities about this
time, says: 'In a fragment of one of his manuscripts which I have
read, there is a justness and felicity of expression which is very
striking. It is the beginning of a tale, and the actors in it are
drawn with much of the grace of characteristic portrait-painting, in
perfectly pure and simple language, which distinguishes so many of
Addison's papers in the "Spectator." The fragment is too short to
afford the means of judging whether he had much dramatic talent, as
the persons of the story are not thrown into conversation. But,
altogether, the elegance and composure of style are such as one would
not have expected from this vehement and ill-fated young man. 'He
had,' continues Mrs. Gaskell, 'a stronger desire for literary fame
burning in his heart than even that which occasionally flashed up in
his sisters'.' She says also that, 'He tried various outlets for his
talents ... and he frequently contributed verses to the "Leeds
Mercury."' The latter statement, however, is incorrect, for nothing
of Branwell's appears in that journal.
CHAPTER XIV.
POEMS ON 'CAROLINE.'
The Poetical bent of Branwell's Genius--'Caroline's Prayer'--'On
Caroline'--'Caroline'--Spirit of these Early Effusions.
While Branwell was occupying his leisure as stated in the last
chapter, and otherwise employing himself in a desultory way, he
pursued the poetic bent of his genius, and sought the improvement of
his diction and verse. Among the earliest of his poetical productions,
the following are, perhaps, the best. They are distinguished by a
similar train of thought and reflection, and by similar sentiments of
piety and devotion, as also by the same gloom and sadness of mood,
which pervade the poems of his sisters. Indeed, without knowing they
were actually Branwell's, we might easily believe them to be from the
pen of Charlotte, Emily, or Anne.
The three following poetical essays are on 'Caroline,' under which
name Branwell indicates his sister Maria; and, in two of them, he
records his reminiscences of her death and funeral obsequies. The
first of the three, which he has framed in the sentiments and words
of a child, is entitled:
CAROLINE'S PRAYER,
OR THE CHANGE FROM CHILDHOOD TO WOMANHOOD.
'My Father, and my childhood's guide!
If oft I've wandered far from Thee;
E'en though Thine only Son has died
To save from death a child like me;
'O! still--to Thee when turns my heart
In hours of sadness, frequent now--
Be Thou the God that once Thou wert,
And calm my breast, and clear my brow.
'I'm now no more a little child
O'ershadowed by Thy mighty wing;
My very dreams seem now more wild
Than those my slumbers used to bring.
'I further see--I deeper feel--
With hope more warm, but heart less mild;
And former things new shapes reveal,
All strangely brightened or despoiled.
'I'm entering on Life's open tide;
So--farewell childhood's shores divine!
And, oh, my Father, deign to guide,
Through these wide waters, Caroline!'
The second is:
ON CAROLINE.
'The light of thy ancestral hall,
Thy Caroline, no longer smiles:
She has changed her palace for a pall,
Her garden walks for minster aisles:
Eternal sleep has stilled her breast
Where peace and pleasure made their shrine;
Her golden head has sunk to rest--
Oh, would that rest made calmer mine!
'To thee, while watching o'er the bed
Where, mute and motionless, she lay,
How slow the midnight moments sped!
How void of sunlight woke the day!
Nor ope'd her eyes to morning's beam,
Though all around thee woke to her;
Nor broke thy raven-pinioned dream
Of coffin, shroud, and sepulchre.
'Why beats thy breast when hers is still?
Why linger'st thou when she is gone?
Hop'st thou to light on good or ill?
To find companionship alone?
Perhaps thou think'st the churchyard stone
Can hide past smiles and bury sighs:
That Memory, with her soul, has flown;
That thou canst leave her where she lies.
'No! joy _itself_ is but a shade,
So well may its remembrance die;
But cares, life's conquerors, never fade,
So strong is their reality!
Thou may'st forget the day which gave
That child of beauty to thy side,
But not the moment when the grave
Took back again thy borrowed bride.'
Here Branwell, though he has changed the form of expression and the
circumstance of the loss, is still occupied with the same theme of
family bereavement, with which Charlotte herself was so much
impressed.
The following was intended as the first canto of a long poem. It also
is entitled, 'Caroline;' and is the soliloquy of one 'Harriet,' who
mourns for her sister, the subject of the poem, calling to mind her
early recollection of the death and funeral of the departed one. It
is extremely probable that Branwell made 'Harriet' a vehicle of
expression for Charlotte or Emily, as he had adopted the name of
'Caroline' for Maria.
CAROLINE.
'Calm and clear the day declining,
Lends its brightness to the air,
With a slanted sunlight shining,
Mixed with shadows stretching far:
Slow the river pales its glancing,
Soft its waters cease their dancing,
As the hush of eve advancing
Tells our toils that rest is near.
'Why is such a silence given
To this summer day's decay?
Does our earth feel aught of Heaven?
Can the voice of Nature pray?
And when daylight's toils are done,
Beneath its mighty Maker's throne.
Can it, for noontide sunshine gone,
Its debt with smiles repay?
'Quiet airs of sacred gladness
Breathing through these woodlands wild,
O'er the whirl of mortal madness
Spread the slumbers of a child:
These surrounding sweeps of trees
Swaying to the evening breeze,
With a voice like distant seas,
Making music mild.
'Woodchurch Hall above them lowering
Dark against the pearly sky,
With its clustered chimneys towering,
Wakes the wind while passing by:
And in old ancestral glory,
Round that scene of ancient story,
All its oak-trees, huge and hoary,
Wave their boughs on high.
''Mid those gables there is one--
The soonest dark when day is gone--
Which, when autumn winds are strongest,
Moans the most and echoes longest.
There--with her curls like sunset air,
Like it all balmy, bright, and fair--
Sits Harriet, with her cheek reclined
On arm as white as mountain snow;
While, with a bursting swell, her mind
Fills with thoughts of "Long Ago."