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A review by salicat
The Infernal World of Branwell Bronte by Daphne du Maurier
4.0
I've always been a little obsessed with the Brontes- I don't know, maybe I was their cousin or something in a past life. I'm also a proclaimed Daphne DuMaurier fanatic. So imagine my excitement to find Ms. DuMaurier's biography of that mysterious, supposed-genius brother, Branwell Bronte. This book is short, as was the life of its subject and his sisters. But this review's gonna be long, so bear with me.
Now, I'd heard rumors- mostly college professor gossip- about Branwell during the years. That he really was the one who wrote Wuthering Heights (!!), that he was an addict, a failed genius, tortured, the real Heathcliff, etc. Never having read about him, I concocted a vision of him. In my vision, he was a tall, brooding pale male specimen, with auburn curls and possibly a beard. Hazel eyes, a reproachful voice, cigarette in hands. A nineteenth-century James Dean. I was a little upset to read that I'd gotten only the hair and skin color right. Apparently Branwell Bronte resembled a red-headed Woody Allen more than the fifties film icon.
Sadly, the rumors about the tortured mind were true. Honestly, the first couple of chapters were so dry that I wasn't sure if I'd be able to continue. But I did. The Bronte siblings had a sad early life: their mother and two older sisters passed away when Branwell, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne were all children. They had a loving father and aunt to take care of them, though- and although they weren't well-off, it doesn't appear that they were suffering for money either.
The Bronte siblings wove stories at a young age, collaborating on romantic epics when most people their age were probably playing kick-the-can or whatever 19th century kids did. Branwell was apparently the most prolific. He was "The Boy." And being the "Boy" in an all-girls family in the 1800s, big dreams were pinned upon him. Branwell was a genius- a multi-talented prodigy. He would shine, he would make his family proud.
Then things went downhill. First of all, his father refused to send him to school with his sisters. No reason for this decision is provided. Du Maurier speculates that something was wrong with him emotionally. She carries these speculations throughout the book- that maybe Branwell was epileptic or had some form of schizophrenia. But there is no concrete evidence that supports her speculations.
Apparently Branwell was cheerful good company, and a little full of himself (he was, after all, "The Son"). But whereas the Bronte sisters make it a point to earn steady incomes and write books, Branwell can't stick to one project, job, etc. He's aimless, and he changes his mind frequently. At 23, the "Son" that everyone had pinned such high hopes on is fired from two jobs as a rail station clerk. He's unemployed and mopes (trust me, in this economy, I can sympathize). He takes a job as a tutor and is fired from that for 'inappropriate conduct.' I think we can all read between the lines there, but it's still pure speculation as to what happened. Branwell tells his family that it was a love affair between him and the employer's wife, but Du Maurier has establised that Branwell often can't distinguish reality from fantasy. After that failed job, Branwell spends his time abusing alcohol and laudanum while his sisters make a living through their writing and teaching.
Branwell's story has a sad end- demise at age 31 from abuse of his body and a broken heart. But the thing is- again, what SPECIFICALLY caused Branwell to take this turn? DuMaurier chalks it up to his sensitive nature, combined with the deaths of his older sisters, the pressure of performing as the brilliant only son, and mental illness. The last factor is never proven- it seems that Branwell did have adult ADD possibly, but that's it. As for the sensitivity and family deaths, his sisters went through the same things he did, so what prompted them to soldier on and him to just give up?
This question got me thinking about larger issues, such as what specifically causes the members of the same close-knit family to diverge in such opposite directions? I think hardiness of character is a big role. DuMaurier doesn't come out and say this in her bio, but it's hard for the reader not to think it. An example:
Both Charlotte and Branwell had sent examples of their amateur work to Wordsworth for his commentary (which is kind of like me mailing my short stories to Margaret Atwood asking her to tell me if they're any good, but I digress). Branwell didn't receive a reply, and as for Charlotte, Wordsworth pretty much thought her a bimbo. Ouch! But where Branwell was floored by this and other failures, Charlotte persevered with her writing, even after her self-published poems and first novel failed.
I'm sympathetic to Branwell- it's hard not to be when you're done reading this book. But I also take it as a warning- make sure you're on the Charlotte path in life and not the Branwell.
Charlotte, the only Bronte sibling left after the fame said this about her brother, when trying to figure out how exactly he went wrong, "I seemed to receive an oppressive revelation of the feebleness of humanity; of the inadequacy of even genius to lead to true greatness if unaided by religion and principle."
It sounds harsh, but I think, and perhaps Du Maurier, if she were alive, would agree, that Branwell wanted the greatness of life, but not the effort that's needed to gain it. Still, he was his sister's muse and joy- I believe that his presence played a role in their feverish literary conceptions, and that's good enough for me.
PS- He didn't write WH, but it's possible that Emily had gotten the idea from him.
Now, I'd heard rumors- mostly college professor gossip- about Branwell during the years. That he really was the one who wrote Wuthering Heights (!!), that he was an addict, a failed genius, tortured, the real Heathcliff, etc. Never having read about him, I concocted a vision of him. In my vision, he was a tall, brooding pale male specimen, with auburn curls and possibly a beard. Hazel eyes, a reproachful voice, cigarette in hands. A nineteenth-century James Dean. I was a little upset to read that I'd gotten only the hair and skin color right. Apparently Branwell Bronte resembled a red-headed Woody Allen more than the fifties film icon.
Sadly, the rumors about the tortured mind were true. Honestly, the first couple of chapters were so dry that I wasn't sure if I'd be able to continue. But I did. The Bronte siblings had a sad early life: their mother and two older sisters passed away when Branwell, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne were all children. They had a loving father and aunt to take care of them, though- and although they weren't well-off, it doesn't appear that they were suffering for money either.
The Bronte siblings wove stories at a young age, collaborating on romantic epics when most people their age were probably playing kick-the-can or whatever 19th century kids did. Branwell was apparently the most prolific. He was "The Boy." And being the "Boy" in an all-girls family in the 1800s, big dreams were pinned upon him. Branwell was a genius- a multi-talented prodigy. He would shine, he would make his family proud.
Then things went downhill. First of all, his father refused to send him to school with his sisters. No reason for this decision is provided. Du Maurier speculates that something was wrong with him emotionally. She carries these speculations throughout the book- that maybe Branwell was epileptic or had some form of schizophrenia. But there is no concrete evidence that supports her speculations.
Apparently Branwell was cheerful good company, and a little full of himself (he was, after all, "The Son"). But whereas the Bronte sisters make it a point to earn steady incomes and write books, Branwell can't stick to one project, job, etc. He's aimless, and he changes his mind frequently. At 23, the "Son" that everyone had pinned such high hopes on is fired from two jobs as a rail station clerk. He's unemployed and mopes (trust me, in this economy, I can sympathize). He takes a job as a tutor and is fired from that for 'inappropriate conduct.' I think we can all read between the lines there, but it's still pure speculation as to what happened. Branwell tells his family that it was a love affair between him and the employer's wife, but Du Maurier has establised that Branwell often can't distinguish reality from fantasy. After that failed job, Branwell spends his time abusing alcohol and laudanum while his sisters make a living through their writing and teaching.
Branwell's story has a sad end- demise at age 31 from abuse of his body and a broken heart. But the thing is- again, what SPECIFICALLY caused Branwell to take this turn? DuMaurier chalks it up to his sensitive nature, combined with the deaths of his older sisters, the pressure of performing as the brilliant only son, and mental illness. The last factor is never proven- it seems that Branwell did have adult ADD possibly, but that's it. As for the sensitivity and family deaths, his sisters went through the same things he did, so what prompted them to soldier on and him to just give up?
This question got me thinking about larger issues, such as what specifically causes the members of the same close-knit family to diverge in such opposite directions? I think hardiness of character is a big role. DuMaurier doesn't come out and say this in her bio, but it's hard for the reader not to think it. An example:
Both Charlotte and Branwell had sent examples of their amateur work to Wordsworth for his commentary (which is kind of like me mailing my short stories to Margaret Atwood asking her to tell me if they're any good, but I digress). Branwell didn't receive a reply, and as for Charlotte, Wordsworth pretty much thought her a bimbo. Ouch! But where Branwell was floored by this and other failures, Charlotte persevered with her writing, even after her self-published poems and first novel failed.
I'm sympathetic to Branwell- it's hard not to be when you're done reading this book. But I also take it as a warning- make sure you're on the Charlotte path in life and not the Branwell.
Charlotte, the only Bronte sibling left after the fame said this about her brother, when trying to figure out how exactly he went wrong, "I seemed to receive an oppressive revelation of the feebleness of humanity; of the inadequacy of even genius to lead to true greatness if unaided by religion and principle."
It sounds harsh, but I think, and perhaps Du Maurier, if she were alive, would agree, that Branwell wanted the greatness of life, but not the effort that's needed to gain it. Still, he was his sister's muse and joy- I believe that his presence played a role in their feverish literary conceptions, and that's good enough for me.
PS- He didn't write WH, but it's possible that Emily had gotten the idea from him.