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A review by jaironside
The Infernal World of Branwell Brontë by Daphne du Maurier
4.0
This was an interesting look at the Bronte sisters' infamous brother, Branwell. Du Maurier, while not entirely free of the utter rubbish put about by Elizabeth Gaskell in her 'The Life of Charlotte Bronte' nevertheless manages to present a moderate biographical account free from inclination towards melodramatics. Most biography is at least partially biased by the author because in order for the author to have written a book about someone's life, they have to find that person interesting. It would be nigh on impossible to do this without forming an opinion on your subject. While I found du Maurier fell into some of the more common traps - of minimising Rev Patrick Bronte as an over religious and rather ineffectual old man and father, of Anne being less talented than her sisters and of Emily being a self contained misanthrope, and we know that at least two of those misconceptions are utterly false - she does present a compelling case for Branwell's nature and personality, together with educated guesses as to how he came to the pass he did.
I found myself at turns sympathising with Branwell, understanding his behaviour while not condoning it and occasionally despising his weakness. So much was expected of him that any failure was anathema and prostrating. He had a great deal of talent in many areas and was made much of for being a prodigy as a child, and between this indulgence and confinement for health reasons, was never taught that all the genius in the world is no substitute for hard work and the willingness to apply effort. Far better for him if things had not come so easily, if his family had not called him a prodigy and made him work for the praise and recognition he craved, he would have got a lot further.
I do agree with du Maurier and other Bronte Scholars that he suffered from epilepsy. In fact if you look at Charlotte and her predisposition to both severe migraines and fantasy being inseparable from reality, you might be forgiven for thinking she also was a sufferer of a particular type of epilepsy. There are many forms of epilepsy that do not involve full complex seizures. To me - and admittedly as a sufferer myself - the symptoms added together sound very like temporal lobe epilepsy. TLE goes hand in hand with severe migraines. One of its main symptoms is that it does not let you sleep. Sufferers are constantly awakened by micro seizures through out the night so they always wake with a feeling of disturbed rest. Another major symptom is that it alters the sufferer's ability to perceive reality - think of Lewis Carroll or Van Gogh (who probably wasn't schizophrenic but most likely suffered TLE). It causes chronic headaches and often synesthesia. Even today, sufferers are misdiagnosed with Schizophrenia rather than a form of epilepsy. Weirdly, it does seem to go hand in hand with a huge creative desire and an ability to make such creations quite extraordinary. Sudden swooping lows of depression and highs of vitality are another side effect. We'll never really know if any of the people I have just mentioned suffered TLE but it is interesting, to me at least, how many points of coincidence there are.
Whatever Branwell suffered from health wise - and if it was a form of epilepsy then Patrick Bronte was probably right to keep it quiet (bear in mind that well up into the 1950s and 60s in UK, epileptics were often shut quietly away by their families who didn't know what to do with them. This included the Windsors. In 19th C epilepsy was considered akin to 'madness' and could get you put for life in an asylum.) - while it may have started him off taking small does of laudanum, and alcohol too, it was Branwell's own weakness of character that saw him fail as hard as he did. That said, a little more understanding rather than censure and disapproval, and a bit more medical intervention might have seen him turn out differently.
An interesting point du Maurier made with regard to the poor infamous Mrs Lydia Robinson, was that the 'affaire' most likely never happened at all. It seems as if, like Charlotte with Monsieur Constantine Heger, Branwell construed the entire thing through a few glances and smiles, then unable to detach fantasy from reality, spread his version of events for which there was not a scrap of evidence. There is in fact a fair amount of evidence that it never happened. Obviously a talented young an taken in of by a scheming, mature woman of social advantage and station, falling in love and destroying himself over it is a far more exciting story - replete with the Byronic flourishes of Emily or Charlotte themselves - and therefore more enticing for the Bronte scholar and more fitting for the Bronte who in the end did so little with his gifts. But the fact of the matter is that it most likely only took place in Branwell's head.
This book is well worth a read for anyone interested in that famous literary family, and stands on its own merit as a faithful attempt at a portrait over a young man we know comparatively little about. My main criticism is that like so many of du Maurier's books, it doesn't end, it just stops, leaving the reader feeling somewhat cheated.
I found myself at turns sympathising with Branwell, understanding his behaviour while not condoning it and occasionally despising his weakness. So much was expected of him that any failure was anathema and prostrating. He had a great deal of talent in many areas and was made much of for being a prodigy as a child, and between this indulgence and confinement for health reasons, was never taught that all the genius in the world is no substitute for hard work and the willingness to apply effort. Far better for him if things had not come so easily, if his family had not called him a prodigy and made him work for the praise and recognition he craved, he would have got a lot further.
I do agree with du Maurier and other Bronte Scholars that he suffered from epilepsy. In fact if you look at Charlotte and her predisposition to both severe migraines and fantasy being inseparable from reality, you might be forgiven for thinking she also was a sufferer of a particular type of epilepsy. There are many forms of epilepsy that do not involve full complex seizures. To me - and admittedly as a sufferer myself - the symptoms added together sound very like temporal lobe epilepsy. TLE goes hand in hand with severe migraines. One of its main symptoms is that it does not let you sleep. Sufferers are constantly awakened by micro seizures through out the night so they always wake with a feeling of disturbed rest. Another major symptom is that it alters the sufferer's ability to perceive reality - think of Lewis Carroll or Van Gogh (who probably wasn't schizophrenic but most likely suffered TLE). It causes chronic headaches and often synesthesia. Even today, sufferers are misdiagnosed with Schizophrenia rather than a form of epilepsy. Weirdly, it does seem to go hand in hand with a huge creative desire and an ability to make such creations quite extraordinary. Sudden swooping lows of depression and highs of vitality are another side effect. We'll never really know if any of the people I have just mentioned suffered TLE but it is interesting, to me at least, how many points of coincidence there are.
Whatever Branwell suffered from health wise - and if it was a form of epilepsy then Patrick Bronte was probably right to keep it quiet (bear in mind that well up into the 1950s and 60s in UK, epileptics were often shut quietly away by their families who didn't know what to do with them. This included the Windsors. In 19th C epilepsy was considered akin to 'madness' and could get you put for life in an asylum.) - while it may have started him off taking small does of laudanum, and alcohol too, it was Branwell's own weakness of character that saw him fail as hard as he did. That said, a little more understanding rather than censure and disapproval, and a bit more medical intervention might have seen him turn out differently.
An interesting point du Maurier made with regard to the poor infamous Mrs Lydia Robinson, was that the 'affaire' most likely never happened at all. It seems as if, like Charlotte with Monsieur Constantine Heger, Branwell construed the entire thing through a few glances and smiles, then unable to detach fantasy from reality, spread his version of events for which there was not a scrap of evidence. There is in fact a fair amount of evidence that it never happened. Obviously a talented young an taken in of by a scheming, mature woman of social advantage and station, falling in love and destroying himself over it is a far more exciting story - replete with the Byronic flourishes of Emily or Charlotte themselves - and therefore more enticing for the Bronte scholar and more fitting for the Bronte who in the end did so little with his gifts. But the fact of the matter is that it most likely only took place in Branwell's head.
This book is well worth a read for anyone interested in that famous literary family, and stands on its own merit as a faithful attempt at a portrait over a young man we know comparatively little about. My main criticism is that like so many of du Maurier's books, it doesn't end, it just stops, leaving the reader feeling somewhat cheated.