Volume I Part 13 (2/2)

'But--when all at eve, together, Circle round the flickering light, While December's howling weather Ushers in a stormy night: When each ear, scarce conscious, listens To the outside Winter's war, When each trembling eyelash glistens As each thinks of _one_ afar--

Man to chilly silence dying, Ceases story, song, and smile; Thought asks--”Is the loved one lying Cold upon some storm-beat isle?”

And with death--when doubtings vanish, When despair still hopes and fears-- Though our anguish toil may banish, Rest brings unavailing tears.

'So, Old England--when the warning Of thy funeral bells I hear-- Though thy dead a host is mourning, Friends and kindred watch each bier.

But alas! Atlantic waters Bear another sound from far!

Unknown woes, uncounted slaughters, Cruel deaths, inglorious war!

'b.r.e.a.s.t.s and banners, crushed and gory, That seemed once invincible; England's children--England's glory, Moslem sabres smite and quell!

Far away their bones are wasting, But I hear their spirits call-- ”Is our Mighty Mother hasting To avenge her children's fall?”

'England rise! Thine ancient thunder Humbled mightier foes than these; Broke a whole world's bonds asunder, Gave thee empire o'er the seas: And while yet one rose may blossom, Emblem of thy former bloom, Let not age invade thy bosom-- Brightest s.h.i.+ne in darkest gloom!

'While one oak thy homes shall shadow, Stand like it as thou hast stood; While a Spring greets grove and meadow, Let not Winter freeze thy blood.

Till this hour St. George's standard Led the advancing march of time; England! keep it streaming vanward, Conqueror over age and clime!'

In this poem Branwell prefaces his subject with a picture of domestic suffering--one with which he is familiar--and compares the consolation which accompanies the affectionate attentions of those present, with the hopeless fate and untended deaths of such as perish in the storms and wars of distant places, far away from their homes and friends. In the true, loyal, and national spirit which animates him, his manly appeal to England, comprised princ.i.p.ally in the last two verses, is perhaps one of the n.o.blest and most vigorous ever written.

In the May of 1842, Leyland was commissioned to execute certain monuments for Haworth and its neighbourhood; and, on the 15th of that month, Branwell wrote to him, in reference to a design for a monument which he had sent for submission to a committee of which the Rev. P.

Bronte was chairman, and invited him to the parsonage on the 20th of the month, being sure his father would be pleased to see him. Leyland visited Haworth and partook of Mr. Bronte's hospitality; and in the evening, accompanied by the inc.u.mbent and his son, appeared before the monument committee.

Branwell also wrote an interesting letter to Mr. Grundy on May 22nd, 1842, which that gentleman erroneously a.s.signs to 1845.[40] In it he says that he cannot avoid the temptation, while sitting alone, all the household being at church, and he being the sole occupant of the parsonage, to scribble a few lines to cheer his spirits. He alludes to the extreme pain, illness, and mental depression he has endured since his dismissal. He describes himself, while at Luddenden Foot, as a 'miserable wreck,' as requiring six gla.s.ses of whisky to stimulate him, as almost insane! And he feels his recovery from this last stage of his condition to be r.e.t.a.r.ded by 'having nothing to listen to except the wind moaning among old chimneys and older ash trees,--nothing to look at except heathery hills, walked over when life had all to hope for, and nothing to regret.' He reproaches himself, in bitter terms, with seeking indulgence, while at Luddenden Foot, in failings which formed, he declares, the black spot on his character. His sister Charlotte's mind appears to have been cast in the same gloomy mould; for, when suffering under bodily ailment, or the despondency and hopelessness which overshadowed her soul, she was impelled, as we have seen, to make confessions to her friend 'E' of her 'stings of conscience,' her 'visitings of remorse.' She hates her 'former flippancy and forwardness.' She is in a state of 'horrid, gloomy uncertainty,' and clouds are 'gathering darker,' and a more depressing despondency weighs upon her spirits.[41]

[40] 'Pictures of the Past,' p. 84.

[41] Gaskell's 'Life of Charlotte Bronte,' chap. viii.

In another letter to her friend, Charlotte says she is 'in a strange state of mind--still gloomy, but not despairing. I keep trying to do right.... I abhor myself, I despise myself.' And again, later, she wonders if the new year will be 'stained as darkly as the last with all our sins, follies, secret vanities, and uncontrolled pa.s.sions and propensities,' saying 'I trust not; but I feel in nothing better, neither humbler nor purer.'[42]

[42] 'Unpublished letters of Charlotte Bronte,' _Hours at Home_, vol. xi.

Branwell, however, while making, in a like tone, his unnecessarily exaggerated confession to his friend, sets forth his renovation of soul and body. He has, at length, acquired health, strength, and soundness of mind far superior to anything he had known at Luddenden Foot. He can speak cheerfully, and enjoy the company of another, without his former stimulus. He can write, think, and act, with some apparent approach to resolution, and he only wants a motive for exertion to be happier than he has been for years. He has still something left in him which might do him service. He thinks he ought not to live too long in solitude, as the world soon forgets those who wish it 'Goodbye.' Then, although ashamed of it, he asks for answers to some inquiries he had made about obtaining a new situation, evidently thinking Mr. Grundy's influence of importance in the matter.

This letter must receive a pa.s.sing notice. It shows Branwell's mind vigorous and healthy, although it had been disordered by physical illness accompanied by brooding melancholy. His picture of the lonely parsonage and the solitude of the surrounding country, combined with the expression of his own sad emotions, is graphic enough. His sisters wrote with the same power and the same artistic feeling. The occasion of his writing this letter to Mr. Grundy was his wish to obtain some employment in connection with the railway, and he made this overdrawn confession of his habits and indulgences when at Luddenden Foot, and contrasted them with the great mental, moral, and bodily improvement he had acquired since he left. It was his hope that by this contrast he might make a favourable impression, and that Mr. Grundy's position with the Messrs. Stephenson might be a means of helping him to some employment suited to his tastes and abilities. But Mr. Grundy could not aid him in this object, which he pursued with all the feverish eagerness of his urgent and impetuous nature. With great vigour of expression he declares, 'I would rather give my hand than undergo again the grovelling carelessness, the malignant yet cold debauchery, the determination to find how far mind could carry body without both being chucked into h.e.l.l.'

But Branwell, at the time of which I speak, was full of energy and industry; indeed, he could not be idle. He wrote another letter in reply to one he had received from Mr. Grundy, dated June the 9th, 1842. From this we learn that his friend had either not entertained his applications, or was unable to further his interests in the quarter from which employment could come, for he had given discouraging answers. Branwell felt the disappointment keenly, but says that it was allayed by Mr. Grundy's kind and considerate tone.

His friend had asked why he did not turn his attention elsewhere. To this Branwell replies that most of his relations are clergymen, and others of them, by a private life, removed from the busy world. As for the church, he declares he has not one mental qualification, 'save, perhaps, hypocrisy,' which might make him 'cut a figure in its pulpits.' He informs Mr. Grundy that Mr. James Montgomery and another literary gentleman, who had lately seen something of his work, wished him to turn his attention to literature. He declares that he has little conceit of himself, but that he has a great desire for activity. He is somewhat changed, yet, although not possessed of the buoyant spirits of his friend, he might, in dress and appearance, emulate something like ordinary decency.

In Leyland's art commissions at Haworth, Branwell took great interest, and in his correspondence considerable activity and industry appear.

He wrote, on June the 29th, 1842, to the sculptor, a letter, in which he alludes to the conduct of some gentlemen of the committee at Haworth, who had acted in an unfair way to his friend on a professional matter. He says:--

'I have not often felt more heartily ashamed than when you left the committee at Haworth; but I did not like to speak on the subject then, and I trusted that you would make that allowance, which you have perhaps often ere now had to do, for gothic ignorance and ill breeding; and one or two of the persons present afterwards felt that they had left by no means an enviable impression on your mind.

'Though it is but a poor compliment,--I long much to see you again at Haworth, and forget for half-a-day the amiable society in which I am placed, where I never hear a word more musical than an a.s.s's bray.

When you come over, bring with you Mr. Constable, but leave behind Father Matthew, as his conversation is too cold and freezing for comfort among the moors of Yorks.h.i.+re.'

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