A MISPLACED ATTACHMENT.
Christmas, 1842--Branwell is Cheerful--Charlotte goes to Brussels for
another Year--Branwell receives Appointment as Tutor--Branwell visits
Halifax, and meets Mr. Grundy there--Charlotte's Mental Depression in
Brussels--Mrs. Gaskell attributes it to Branwell's Conduct--Proofs
that it was Not so--Charlotte's 'Disappointment' at Brussels--She
returns to Haworth--Branwell's Misplaced Attachment--He is sent away
to New Scenes.
The death of Miss Branwell had brought Charlotte and Emily home from
Brussels; and Anne, from her situation, was present on the sad
occasion. When the Christmas holidays came round, the sisters were all
at home again. Branwell was with them; which was always a pleasure at
that time, and Charlotte's friend, 'E,' came to see her. Having
overcome the first pang of grief on the death of their aunt, they
enjoyed their Christmas very much together. Branwell was cheerful and
even merry; and in Charlotte's next letter, written in a happy mood
to her friend, who had just left them, he sent a playful message.
'Branwell wants to know,' says Charlotte, 'why you carefully excluded
all mention of him, when you particularly send your regards to every
other member of the family. He desires to know in what he has offended
you? Or whether it is considered improper for a young lady to mention
the gentlemen of a house?'[4] While they were together, plans for
the future were talked over with eagerness and hope. Charlotte had
accepted the proposal of Monsieur Heger that she should return to
Brussels for another year, when she would have completed her knowledge
of French and be fully qualified to commence a school on a footing
which was yet impossible. Emily was to remain at home now to attend to
her father's house, and Anne was to return to her situation as
governess.
[4] 'Unpublished Letters of Charlotte Bronte,' _Hours at
Home_, chap. xi., p. 204.
Branwell also found occupation as tutor in the same family where Anne
had been for some time employed. He commenced his duties, in his new
position, after the Christmas holidays of the year 1842. On his
arrival at the house of his employer, he was introduced to the members
of the family; and it is not too much to say that his new friends were
more than satisfied with his graceful manners, his wit, and the extent
of his information. Here Branwell felt himself happy; for, contrary to
his expectation, he had found, to his mind, a pleasant pasture, with
comparative ease, where he had only looked for the usual drudgery of a
tutor's work. His family were contented that he was thus respectably
and hopefully employed. The gentleman, who had engaged Branwell as
tutor to his son, was a man of some literary attainments; he was fond
of rural sports, and had an urbane disposition, and quick perceptions.
His wife was a lady of lofty bearing, of graceful manners, and kindly
condescension; and, although approaching middle age at the time, was
possessed of great personal attractions.
If the Brontes were glad at Branwell's appointment, the family he had
entered were equally gratified that they had obtained a teacher whose
talents they considered to be equalled only by his virtues. The time
of his master, who was a clergyman, was often taken up with the duties
and engagements of his position, and his lady was generally occupied
with the cares of home and the enjoyments of fashionable country life.
Branwell was not, therefore, too much harassed in the discharge of his
duties; and he found, in the family in which he was placed, none of
the rigid formality which might have rendered his position irksome.
His occupation was varied by many rambles in the neighbourhood with
his pupil; and, in the evening, after the duties of the day were
discharged, when he retired to the farmstead where he lived, his time
was entirely at his own disposal.
Unlike Anne, Branwell was not troubled with an excess of diffidence.
Being naturally of an amiable and sociable disposition, he soon formed
acquaintances in the neighbourhood of his sojourn, and among them was
Dr. ----, physician to the family in which he was a tutor. Besides,
being possessed of a fund of anecdote, combined with an entertaining
manner of relating stories, that alone made him excellent company,
Branwell was found to be a thorough musician, for he had further
cultivated this taste and acquired considerable skill in performance.
Six months soon passed away, and Branwell and Anne once more made the
parsonage at Haworth happy with their presence. One of Branwell's
first impulses, after his welcome at home, was to visit his friends at
Halifax; where, on this occasion, he had the pleasure of meeting with
Mr. Grundy. On the return of himself and his sister to their duties,
there is no doubt that he continued the exertions he had made to
conduct himself with such prudent diligence and self-possession as to
ingratiate himself into the good favour of the family with whom he
resided.
Charlotte was in the Rue d'Isabelle as English teacher; where, having
gained a familiarity with the French language, though growing
home-sick and not well, she resolved to remain till the end of the
year; and, if possible, to acquire a knowledge of German.
It was at the beginning of August, as the _vacances_ approached,
that Charlotte became dispirited. The prospect of five weeks of
loneliness in a deserted house, in a foreign city, was more than she
could bear: the last English friend was leaving Brussels: she would
have no one to whom she could turn her thoughts. 'I forewarn you, I am
in low spirits,' she writes,--'that earth and heaven are dreary and
empty to me at this moment.' For the first time in her life she really
dreaded the vacation; 'Alas,' she says, 'I can hardly write, I have
such a dreary weight at my heart; and I do so wish to go home. Is not
this childish?' Yet she was bravely resolved, despite her weakness, to
bear up, to stay; but for Charlotte Bronte, as for Lucy Snowe, those
September days were days of suffering. Once, a little later, her
resolution failed her. She was alone, on some holiday; the other
inmates had gone to visit their friends in the city; Charlotte had
none there now. She was solitary, and felt herself neglected by Madame
Heger; she could bear it no longer, so she went to madame herself and
told her she could not stay; but Monsieur Heger, hearing of it, with
characteristic vehemence, pronounced his decision that she should not
leave, and she remained.
Mrs. Gaskell describes her suffering from depression of mind, arising
from ill-health, in her second year at Brussels, in gloomy terms, and
this seems, indeed, to be the main point she is aiming to illustrate.
She says: 'There were causes for distress and anxiety in the news from
home, particularly as regarded Branwell. In the dead of the night,
lying awake at the end of the long deserted dormitory, in the vast and
silent house, every fear respecting those whom she loved, and who were
so far off in another country, became a terrible reality, oppressing
her and choking up the very life-blood in her heart. Those nights were
times of sick, dreary, wakeful misery, precursors of many such in
after years.'[5] Mr. T. Wemyss Reid, in his monograph on Charlotte,
has very properly taken exception to the manner in which Mrs. Gaskell
has laid stress upon and exaggerated the occasional depression from
which Charlotte suffered; and, certainly, there is nothing to show, in
any of her letters from Brussels, that there was cause for anxiety on
Branwell's account. On the contrary, there is very good evidence that
nothing of the kind interfered with his sister's peace. Charlotte left
Brussels at the end of the year 1843, and arrived at Haworth on the
2nd of January, 1844. Branwell and Anne were also at home for the
Christmas holidays, and Charlotte wrote to her friend 'E' in these
words: 'Anne and Branwell have just left us to return to ----; they
are both wonderfully valued in their situations.'[6]
[5] 'Life of Charlotte Bronte,' chap. xii.
[6] 'Unpublished Letters of Charlotte Bronte,' _Hours at
Home_, xi.
It was known, then, that Branwell had given satisfaction to his
employers, and the happiness at this reunion of the family would have
been complete had it not been for one circumstance. Charlotte's
friends were now expecting that she would commence a school. She
desired it, she says, above all things. She had sufficient money for
the undertaking, and hoped she had some qualifications for success.
Yet she could not then enter upon it. 'You will ask me, why?' she
writes. 'It is on papa's account; he is now, as you know, getting old,
and it grieves me to tell you that he is losing his sight. I have felt
for some months that I ought not to be away from him; and I feel now
it would be too selfish to leave him (at least so long as Branwell and
Anne are absent) in order to pursue selfish interests of my own.' She
appears, from an observation in one of her letters, written some time
after the date at which we have arrived, to have regretted having gone
to Brussels a second time. She says, 'I returned to Brussels after
aunt's death against my conscience, prompted by what then seemed an
irresistible impulse. I was punished for my selfish folly by a total
withdrawal for more than two years of happiness and peace of mind.'[7]
While Charlotte was still at Brussels she heard that some of her
friends thought that the '_epoux_ of Mademoiselle Bronte' must be
on the Continent, since she had declined a situation of L50 a year in
England, and accepted one at L16, and returned to Belgium. This she
appears, in a letter to one of them, to deny; though, whether with the
intention of piquing her friend, or avoiding the question, is not
distinct. Mr. Reid believes that, in this second sojourn at Brussels,
Charlotte Bronte passed through an experience of the heart which
proved the turning-point of her life, and made her what she was; and
that it was not the subsequent misfortunes of her brother, as Mrs.
Gaskell asks us to believe, that destroyed the happiness of her
existence.[8]
[7] 'Charlotte Bronte,' by T. Wemyss Reid, chap. vi.
[8] 'Charlotte Bronte, a Monograph.'
In the middle of March, when the sisters had finished 'shirt-making
for the absent Branwell,' Charlotte took a holiday to visit her
friend, by which her health was improved. On her return she found Mr.
Bronte and Emily well, and a letter from Branwell, intimating that he
and Anne were pretty well, too.
Branwell visited Halifax on the 4th of July of this year. His health
at that time was not so good as formerly, and his sisters noticed that
he was excitable. Till within two or three months of his leaving
Luddenden Foot, when he had attained his twenty-fifth year, though not
strong, he had enjoyed good health, his spirits having almost always
been good. In his youth, unlike Charlotte, he had had no experience of
severe mental depression, no deep suffering from religious melancholy.
It was only when he turned to reflection that he became serious, and
that his thoughts were shaded with the sadness evinced in some of his
early poems. Now, however, his nerve-force was less certain; and,
being more easily excited, that exuberance of spirit and that
elasticity of mind which had distinguished him showed symptoms of
decay. It was not to be expected that he should retain his more
youthful characteristics through life: and Charlotte has told us,
about this time, that something within herself, which used to be
enthusiasm, was tamed down and broken; she longed for an active stake
in life. As she was unable to leave home, she endeavoured to open a
School at Haworth Parsonage. Could she have obtained the promise of
pupils, she proposed to build a wing to the house; but, after meeting
with more or less encouragement, she found that it was quite
impossible to induce anyone by preference to send children to a place
so much exposed to wind and weather. The sisters were not sorry they
had tried; and, it has been unjustifiably suggested, did not regret
too much, that they had failed, because they had fears and
apprehensions respecting Branwell, and thought that the place that
might be his abode could scarcely be fitted for the home of the
children of strangers. Branwell and Anne were at home again for the
Christmas of 1844, and they returned to their duties early in the
following January. In the course of that month Charlotte writes,
'Branwell has been quieter and less irritable, on the whole, than he
was in the summer.'[9]
[9] 'Life of Charlotte Bronte,' chap. xiii.
At this time there was no fear of his leaving his employment, and no
fear that he would be dismissed from it; but a certain excitability
and fitfulness of manner, a disposition to pass suddenly from gaiety
to moody disquietude, which Anne had observed in her brother, had
attracted, also, as has been seen, the serious attention of the other
sisters, who were alarmed by it, and wondered greatly what the cause
might be. And, indeed, a change had been coming over Branwell, for six
months or more, a change which in the beginning had scarcely been
understood by himself. A new feeling had impressed itself upon his
heart that he had never experienced before, and against which he
strove in vain. Branwell, in fact, who had never yet loved beyond the
confines of his own home, had conceived an infatuated admiration for
the wife of his employer, which afterwards, with his warm feelings,
became a deep affection, and finally developed into a fierce and
over-mastering passion. The lady who had dazzled and confused his
understanding, as will presently appear, was unaware of the effect she
had thus produced on the heart of the tutor, and he began to mistake
her kindly, condescending manners for a return of his affection, an
illusion which, as the sequel will show, he nursed to the very end of
his life. Under this peculiar aberration of his mind, he cherished the
hope that, as his employer was in feeble health, he might ere long be
in a position to marry the widow, whom he believed to have already
bestowed her affections upon him; when, being in easy circumstances,
and possessed, as he termed it, of 'the priceless affluence of
enduring peace,' he should be abler as he often declared, undisturbed
by the usual perturbations of literary life, to make sure progress,
and win for himself a name among the best authors of the day.
But at this period of his life Branwell is not known to have written
much verse, his mind being otherwise occupied. The two following
beautiful sonnets, however, are from his pen, dated May, 1845, and
are, together, entitled:
THE EMIGRANT.
'When sink from sight the landmarks of our home,
And,--all the bitterness of farewells o'er,--
We yield our spirit unto ocean's foam,
And in the new-born life which lies before,
On far Columbian or Australian shore,
Strive to exchange time past for time to come:
How melancholy, then, if morn restore--
(Less welcome than the night's forgetful gloom)
Old England's blue hills to our sight again,
When we, our thoughts seemed weaning from her sky,--
That _pang_ which wakes the almost silenced pain!
Thus, when the sick man lies, resigned to die,
A well-loved voice, a well-remembered strain,
Lets Time break harshly in upon Eternity.
When, after his long day, consumed in toil,
'Neath the scarce welcome shade of unknown trees,
Upturning thanklessly a foreign soil,
The lonely exile seeks his evening ease,--
'Tis not those tropic woods his spirit sees;
Nor calms, to him, that heaven, this world's turmoil;
Nor cools his burning brow that spicy breeze.
Ah no! the gusty clouds of England's isle
Bring music wafted on their stormy wind,
And on its verdant meads, night's shadows lower,
While "Auld Lang Syne" the darkness calls to mind.
Thus, when the demon Thirst, beneath his power
The wanderer bows,--to feverish sleep consigned,
He hears the rushing rill, and feels the cooling shower.'
While Branwell's mind was rendered bright by the sunny hopes of a happy
future, he was enabled to write with pathos, coherency, and beauty, as
is shown in the foregoing sonnets. But it was his misfortune that his
mind was hung too finely upon the balance, and that, as the phantasy of
his affections grew upon him, he became, as will hereafter be
demonstrated, the victim of an 'overheated and discursive imagination,'
and at last 'betrayed that monomaniac tendency' which Lucy Snowe says
she 'has ever thought the most unfortunate with which man or woman can
be cursed.' He became, in fact, almost as soon as the new passion had
taken full possession of his heart, a miserable victim to that morbid
tendency of the mind which, in far lesser degree, characterized his
sister Charlotte, and of which she seems to have lived in occasional
dread. It may be noted that when Lucy Snowe is seeking wildly the
letter, which has been stolen away from her, she accuses herself of
monomania. These mental perturbations grew upon Branwell day by day.
Time passed on; and, when he had been with his employer some two years
and a half, during the concluding portion of which the control he had
exercised over himself was giving way, he began to exhibit the strange
irregularities of his disposition, and the irresistible fervour of his
long-suppressed and feverish passion. Great patience and forbearance
were exercised towards him by the lady of the house; and her sincere
regard for the feelings of his family forbade her, on the first blush
of the affair, to be the means of his dismissal from his employment. He
was not, indeed, dismissed until the step became an absolute necessity.
The banishment from his post was not, however, long delayed, for
Branwell had lost his former self-control; and his imprudence overcame
the reluctance of the lady, who at length made known to her husband,
while Branwell was absent at home, on his holiday, in the July of 1845,
what his conduct had been. A letter was at once sent to him by his
employer, conveying the intimation of his dismissal.
We have been told much in Charlotte Bronte's letters to her friend 'E,'
and in the works of Mrs. Gaskell and other writers, concerning this
event, which laid prostrate the hopes of Branwell, that requires both
comment and correction. We have already seen to what a low state of
mind and body Branwell was for a time reduced by his dismissal from
Luddenden Foot; but his condition in both was as that of sound health,
compared with his utter prostration on his expulsion from his last
employment,--a condition which renders any adequate description
impossible. He had, indeed, been supremely happy. For him, the sun of
prosperity had shone with unsullied splendour, and the rivers of hope
had flowed with music richer and deeper than any of earth. The roses
that bloomed in the paradise of his fervid imagination, were
brighter--and, as he thought, far more lasting--than those, far-famed,
of Suristan, and the green pastures of his hopeful aspirations were
more fertile and fragrant than he had ever thought possible to him in
the years gone by. But, suddenly, the paradise which his poetic and
imaginative spirit had created, was changed, without a moment's
warning, to a region of sleepless nights and wretched days,--'eleven
continuous nights of sleepless horror' he afterwards speaks of,--where
his mind, dismayed and incoherent, reeled and shook in agony intense
and ungovernable.
The distress of the Bronte family on this reverse of Branwell's
prospects can scarcely be conceived in its entirety. So deeply
agonizing was the then state of his affairs, that they could think of
nothing else; and, in their sorrow, had no heart to contemplate the
future. It was under the immediate influence of this misery that Anne
Bronte wrote her pathetic poem, 'Domestic Peace,' in which she deplores
the changed conditions of the family. Charlotte had just returned home
from a visit to her friend, and found her brother in the condition I
have described. Thus she speaks of it, under the date of July the 31st,
1845: 'It was ten o'clock at night when I got home. I found Branwell
ill. He is so very often, owing to his own fault. I was not therefore
shocked at first. But when Anne informed me of the immediate cause of
his present illness I was very greatly shocked. He had last Thursday
received a note from Mr. ----, sternly dismissing him.... We have had
sad work with him since. He thought of nothing but stunning or drowning
his distressed mind. No one in the house could have rest, and at last
we have been obliged to send him from home for a week with some one to
look after him. He has written to me this morning, and expresses some
sense of contrition for his frantic folly. He promises amendment on his
return, but so long as he remains at home I scarce dare hope for peace
in the house. We must all, I fear, prepare for a season of distress and
disquietude. I cannot now ask Miss ---- or anyone else.'
Branwell's distress had proved so really acute at the disgrace which
had befallen him that Mr. Bronte, becoming alarmed for the
consequences, decided to send his son away to new scenes in the hope of
diverting his mind from the subject. That this was, to some extent,
successful is evident from Branwell's letter to his sister, in which
his natural feelings and repentant disposition found expression.
Branwell had remembered his former visit to Liverpool, and selected
that place on this occasion, and sailed thence to the coast of Wales.
The sad feelings that impressed him on the voyage were afterwards
expressed in verse.