Volume Ii Part 6 (2/2)

'Thine eyes could only see thy mother's breast; Thy feelings only wished on that to rest; That was thy world;--thy food and sleep it gave, And slight the change 'twixt it and childhood's grave.

Thou saw'st this world like one who, p.r.o.ne, reposes, Upon a plain, and in a bed of roses, With nought in sight save marbled skies above, Nought heard but breezes whispering in the grove: I--thy life's source--was like a wanderer breasting Keen mountain winds, and on a summit resting, Whose rough rocks rose above the gra.s.sy mead, With sleet and north winds howling overhead, And Nature, like a map, beneath him spread; Far winding river, tree, and tower, and town, Shadow and sunlight, 'neath his gaze marked down By that mysterious hand which graves the plan Of that drear country called ”The Life of Man.”

'If seen, men's eyes would loathing shrink from thee, And turn, perhaps, with no disgust to me; Yet thou had'st beauty, innocence, and smiles, And now hast rest from this world's woes and wiles, While I have restlessness and worrying care, So sure, thy lot is brighter, happier far.

'So let it be; and though thy ears may never Hear these lines read beyond Death's darksome river, Not vainly from the borders of despair May rise a sound of joy that thou art freed from care!'

On the 6th of April of this year, Charlotte wrote to Messrs. Aylott & Jones, informing them that 'the Messrs. Bell' were preparing for the press a work of fiction, consisting of three distinct and unconnected tales, which might be published either together, as a work of three volumes of the ordinary novel size, or separately, as single volumes.

It was not their intention to publish these at their own expense, and they wished to know if Messrs. Aylott would be likely to undertake the work, if approved.

The novels must have been well on towards completion before the sisters ventured on these inquiries. The firm thus addressed kindly offered advice, of which Charlotte gladly availed herself to ask some questions. These were respecting the difficulty which unknown authors find in obtaining a.s.sistance from publishers; and Charlotte has indeed informed us that the three tales were going about among them 'for the s.p.a.ce of a year and a half.' But 'Wuthering Heights' and 'Agnes Grey'

at last found acceptance in the early summer of 1847.

A friendly compact had been made between Branwell and Leyland that the latter should model a medallion of his friend, and that Branwell should write the poem 'Morley Hall,'--to which I have had occasion above to allude--a subject in which the sculptor was much interested. Shortly after his sister made the inquiries from Messrs. Aylott, Branwell visited Halifax to sit for his medallion; and, on the 28th of April, he wrote the following letter to his friend:--

'Haworth, Bradford, 'Yorks.

'MY DEAR SIR,

'As I am anxious--though my return for your kindness will be like giving a sixpence for a sovereign lent--to do my best in my intended lines on Morley, I want answers to the following questions.... If I learn these facts, I'll do my best, but in all I try to write I desire to stick to probabilities and local characteristics.

'I cannot, without a smile at myself, think of my stay for three days in Halifax on a business which need not have occupied three hours; but, in truth, when I fall back _on_ myself, I suffer so much wretchedness that I cannot withstand any temptation to get _out_ of myself--and for that reason, I am prosecuting enquiries about situations suitable to me, whereby I could have a voyage abroad. The quietude of home, and the inability to make my family aware of the nature of most of my sufferings, makes me write:

'Home thoughts are not with me, Bright, as of yore; Joys are forgot by me, Taught to deplore!

My home has taken rest In an afflicted breast, Which I have often pressed, But may no more.

'Troubles never come alone--and I have some little troubles astride the shoulders of the big one.

'Literary exertion would seem a resource; but the depression attendant on it, and the almost hopelessness of bursting through the barriers of literary circles, and getting a hearing among publishers, make me disheartened and indifferent, for I cannot write what would be thrown unread into a library fire. Otherwise, I have the materials for a respectably sized volume, and, if I were in London personally, I might, perhaps, try ---- ----, a patronizer of the sons of rhyme; though I daresay the poor man often smarts for his liberality in publis.h.i.+ng hideous trash. As I know that, while here, I might send a ma.n.u.script to London, and say good-bye to it, I feel it folly to feed the flames of a printer's fire. So much for egotism!

'I enclose a horribly ill-drawn daub done to while away the time this morning. I meant it to represent a very rough figure in stone.

'When all our cheerful hours seem gone for ever, All lost that caused the body or the mind To nourish love or friends.h.i.+p for our kind, And Charon's boat, prepared, o'er Lethe's river Our souls to waft, and all our thoughts to sever From what was once life's Light; still there may be Some well-loved bosom to whose pillow we Could heartily our utter self deliver; And if, toward her grave--Death's dreary road-- Our Darling's feet should tread, each step by her Would draw our own steps to the same abode, And make a festival of sepulture; For what gave joy, and joy to us had owed, Should death affright us from, when he would her restore?

'Yours most sincerely,

'P. B. BRONTe.'

The sketch, referred to in this letter, is in Indian-ink, and is of a female figure, with clasped hands, streaming hair, and averted face. We need not entertain a doubt as to whom it is intended to represent. It is inscribed, in Spanish, 'Nuestra Senora de la Pena'--Our Lady of Grief--which also appears on a headstone in the sketch.

The sonnet, which concludes this letter to Leyland, is beautiful as it is sad, and not only possesses the musical cadences, and completeness of theme, so essential in this mode of expression, but exhibits the high culture of Branwell's mind, and the direction in which the irrepressible emotions of his heart are moved.

Branwell, in this communication, makes no further mention of his novel.

Yet the experience of his sisters with their poems had only confirmed the judgment he expressed six months before, that no pecuniary advantage was to be obtained by publis.h.i.+ng verse. The sisters had expended, on their little volume, over thirty pounds; but they valued it rightly as an effort to succeed. It was issued from the press early in May.

Charlotte had conducted the negotiations with the publishers in a very business-like way. She had directed them as to the copies to be sent for review, and as to the advertis.e.m.e.nts, on which she wished to expend little. The book appeared, and the world took little note of it: it was scarcely mentioned anywhere; but the sisters at Haworth waited patiently, and they were not dismayed that they waited in vain; for they had new-born hope in their other literary venture of the three prose stories. 'The book,' says Charlotte of the Poems, 'was printed: it is scarcely known, and all of it that merits to be known are the poems of Ellis Bell. The fixed conviction I held, and hold, of the worth of these poems has not indeed received the confirmation of much favourable criticism; but I must retain it notwithstanding.'

In his letter Branwell expresses himself as still anxious for employment; and wise in the direction in which he seeks it. A total change of scene and circ.u.mstance would have been, at this time, his best cure and greatest blessing. Unhappily, he failed in the attempt; and we find him again writing to Mr. Grundy, inquiring for some kind of occupation.

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