The Bront? Family, Vol. 2 of 2
ds on his Sorrows?-?'Penmaenmawr'?-?Comments ?-?He still Searches and Hopes for Employment?-?Charlo
e find him, almost at the same time, writing two of the finest poems which remain from his hand. It has been seen, in the letter addressed to Mr. Grundy, how he declares that, owing to the state of his mind, he is unable to undertake any literary work worth reading. But we have certain knowledge of an immed
L R
pse upon the
swelled and sigh
etched to move,
its boundless
ocean, thins i
row, lays its
ve, but not in
lder than this
s its lips and
anity grieves
ose members ha
ering takes the
ed eye, and he
storm it floats
d joy have per
ffers not on
worms its cheri
wounded van
ng towards some
re nor gold to
ed in voyage
think upon w
helpless, and
poverty, nor
thou couldst tel
sorrow thou h
which, breathin
trife thy sojou
e thy place-w
nderer o'er the
ery, where t
rsting, whilst thi
ld, whilst thine
waters, dim my
ot with one we
s not break a c
ies dart throu
t all men cov
ward frame, u
life-not cold in
es the sunny l
sure thrilled,
nge for thy u
old oblivion'
th, my health,
slumbers in th
lly, the decay of the drowned in the ocean, and of the living, through the effects of long-continued woe. Branwell had loved, indeed, however unfortunately; and the misery of his passion caused him to turn his reflections within upon himself. As with the 'Wandering Jew,' who sees in every rock, in every bush, in every cloud, without hope of alleviation from his abiding woe, the via crucis of his suffering Lord-every thought of Branwell's gifted mind, every conception of his fertile brain, every aspect, to him, of ocean, earth, and sky,-was, in one way or other, instinct with his own initial and irrepressible affection. Apart, however, from the
seen his
he clouds th
raised thi
think, and
called obl
ng eager han
change for s
soul, this l
die-that po
el strife
d good and c
in one
orpse floating upon the waters, which is seen by the unhappy man in his vision, not, indeed, to give him the
e could not free himself from the unfortunate ideas which had perv
wor
ford,
dear
to tell you why I wished anything of s
signature, "Northangerland," could excite no suspicion-as my late unhappy employer shrank from the bare idea of my being able to w
n her great and agonizing present afflictions, but I reca
er the Welsh mountain, when the band on board the steamer struck up, "Ye banks and braes!"
uld be my greatest cure and blessing,-for really, after hours of thoughts which business would have hushed, I have felt as if I could not live
ld promise to try not to look gloomy. You said you would be at Haworth ere long, but that "e
ust you are getting on well with Beckwith's, as well as
nd feet, and I fear its head also, for it can
on John Brown's return from
main,
. Bro
nclosed wa
AENM
se clouds, this c
ain thy tempe
look upon y
looked on t
roubled than t
aves, companion
frownedst over
atched thee ov
nt, by thousand
with a heart w
hou, o'er smiling
from smiling f
sunlight, tinged
music, looked
ong, o'er murmur
parted,-neve
k in mournful
echo, quite a
d shadows moved i
e, and on th
that sovereig
k than those whic
ds and human ha
attered stones th
t, whose belt o
xon legions
ht, the young,
shed, no doubt cou
igour ever pl
rrows sometime
irit, like thy
enceless agai
ong hast looke
ives not, like a
urse, through eth
from ceaseless s
awr! a better
ades, than that wh
thrilled through
at might be,
memory of th
rested on thy
feeling for th
ee as man's hear
hequered o'er w
guardian, got n
th their charms
t still keep thy
flashes of an
hose thy cragg
nding gleams, wh
y echo to old
whose leaves we
uld snatch it
eath the blight o
ooming, and y
ch my mind woul
could break from
which could o
ell say "perish
saw, far off,
tered, by affl
-that trembl
tle breast and
lung to Ouse'
-objectless-o
draw'st yon mi
nion of va
I obtain th
e storm, as mu
e upheld the f
its own morni
tone. Can I hav
lict-defend-y
rm when haught
ale to England'
ls and steam-smok
breathed peace,
it, arise o'
ain, yet neve
ace the grief
orm and shine, like m
tory, and in the ceaseless changes, and the lights and shadows that fall upon it, with his own wild and stormy existence; the lady, whose charms have bewildered his imagination, supplying him with a subject for sorrowful recollections. The giant hill is the mighty image w
the 4th of November, 1845: 'I hoped to be able to ask you to come to Haworth. It almost seemed as if Branwell had a chance of getting employment, and I waited to know the result of his efforts in order to say, dear --, come and see us. But the place (a secretaryship to a railway committee) is given to another person. Branwell still remains at home; and while he is here, you shall not come. I am more confirmed in that resolution the more I see of him. I wish I could say one word to you in his favour, but I cannot. I will hold my tongue. We are all obliged to you for your kind suggestion about Leeds; but I think our school scheme
acquaintance which those who lived, saw, and spoke with its subject possessed. And, yet, how necessary is such knowledge to the right understanding of anyone's
n the letters. It would be folly to take word for word Charlotte's account of her father's anger when she announced to him a proposal of marriage which had been made to her, and which did not accord with his wish; or to believe that 'compassion or relenting is no more to be looked for from papa than sap from firewood,' when we know that he afterwards voluntarily gave way, and sacrificed his own opinion. Nor would it be right to accept any exaggerated confession of Charlotte about herself, in a literal sense. And thus it does not sound well in Mrs. Gaskell, after completing her account of the outward events of Branwell's life, to say, 'All that is to be said more about Branwell Bront? shall be said by Charlotte herself, not
t?'s oncoming blindness, in the first place, and the difficulty of procuring pupils at Haworth, were the causes
d. But if this incident of the proposed elopement had actually taken place, the delay suggested by Branwell should surely be held as proof that anything positively dishonourable was repulsive to him. The lady, too, had an ample fortune of her own, of which, had she proposed an elopement, she would have informed him. But, if we consider the possible sources from which such a story as this could arise, we may surmise that Mrs. Gaskell,-who first gave it to the public, and on whose authority it alone remains,-obtained it, with the many other incidents she has published, from the current scandal of Haworth,-where else could she have heard it?-and wh
aughter,' which is the story of a romantic elopement. Branwell, early in 1846, proposed to write a poem on Morley Hall, in t
ars afterwards, when Mrs. Gaskell was searching at the former place for materials for her work, the story of this ancient elopement had become mixed with the stories of t
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