The Infernal World of Branwell Bronte (Virago Modern Classics)

The Infernal World of Branwell Bronte (Virago Modern Classics)

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 1844080757

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The Infernal World of Branwell Bronte (Virago Modern Classics)

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 1844080757

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


As a bold and gifted child, Branwell Bronte's promise seemed boundless to the three adoring sisters over whom his rule was complete. But as an adult, the precocious flame of genius distorted and burned low. With neither the strength nor the resources to counter rejection, unable to sell his paintings or publish his books, Branwell became a spectre in the Bronte story, in pathetic contrast with the astonishing achievements of his sisters.

Daphne du Maurier concentrates all her biographer's skill on the shadowy figure of Branwell Bronte, and no reader could fail to be intensely moved by Branwell's final retreat into laudanum, alcohol - and death

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Noctes, Christmas Dreams, Christopher in his Sporting Jacket to read.’ He continued: Now, sir, to you I appear writing with conceited assurance; but I am not; for that I know myself so far as to believe in my own originality; and on that ground I desire of you admittance into your ranks. And do not wonder that I apply so determinedly; for the remembrances I spoke of have fixed you and your Magazine in such a manner upon my mind that the idea of striving to aid another periodical is horribly

and warm personality, could not discuss the things that really mattered: books, poems, pictures, music, life. There was no one of Branwell’s intellectual level in Haworth, when his sisters were away and his father was in no mood to sympathize. Almost certainly Mr Brontë would have discouraged Branwell from attempting to break into the literary or artistic worlds, on the grounds that there was no money to be made in either, except under rich or noble patronage. Better, he must have said, that his

condemnatory, be most gratefully received by, Sir, your most humble servant, P. B. Brontë. The first piece is only the sequel of one striving to depict the fall from unguided passion into neglect, despair, and death. It ought to show an hour too near those of pleasure for repentance, and too near death for hope. The translations are two out of many made from Horace, and given to assist an answer to the question—would it be possible to obtain remuneration for translations such as these from

not weep, I would not weep; Our Mother needs no tears; Dry thine eyes too, ’tis vain to keep This causeless grief for years. What though her brow be changed and cold, Her sweet eyes closed for ever? What though the stone—the darksome mould Our mortal bodies sever? What though her hand smooth ne’er again Those silken locks of thine – Nor through long hours of future pain Her kind face o’er thee shine? Remember still she is not dead, She sees us, Gerald, now, Laid where her angel

with most uneasy palpitations. I should like extremely to have an hour’s sitting with you, and if I had the chance, I would promise to try not to be gloomy. You said you would be at Haworth ere long but that ere has doubtless changed to ne’er, so I must wish to get to Halifax sometime to see you. I saw Murray’s monument praised in the papers, and I trust you are getting on well with Beckwith’s, as well as with your own personal statue of living flesh and blood. Mine, like your Theseus, has lost

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