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. 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.
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. Brontë, 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. Brontë.’
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.’
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 Quince
y’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 Brontë, 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.’ 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.
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 Brontë — 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 Brontë 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 Brontë 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 abi
lity. 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 Brontë 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 Brontës, 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 Brontës 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.
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