Life of Charlotte Brontë
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- Publication date
- 1887
- Topics
- Brontë, Charlotte, 1816-1855
- Publisher
- London W. Scott
- Contributor
- Robarts - University of Toronto
- Language
- English
26
- Addeddate
- 2006-11-01 19:54:39
- Call number
- ABF-6349
- Camera
- 1Ds
- Copyright-evidence
- Evidence reported by scanner-scott-cairns for item lifeofcharlotteb00birruoft on November 1, 2006: no visible notice of copyright; stated date is 1887.
- Copyright-evidence-date
- 20061101195423
- Copyright-evidence-operator
- scanner-scott-cairns
- Copyright-region
- US
- External-identifier
- urn:oclc:record:1048301043
- Foldoutcount
- 0
- Identifier
- lifeofcharlotteb00birruoft
- Identifier-ark
- ark:/13960/t4nk36s9x
- Lcamid
- 330983
- Ocr_converted
- abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37
- Ocr_module_version
- 0.0.21
- Openlibrary_edition
- OL14020181M
- Openlibrary_work
- OL4926800W
- Page_number_confidence
- 94
- Page_number_module_version
- 1.0.3
- Pages
- 216
- Possible copyright status
- NOT_IN_COPYRIGHT
- Ppi
- 500
- Rcamid
- 332493
- Scandate
- 20061102023723
- Scanner
- ias2
- Scanningcenter
- uoft
- Full catalog record
- MARCXML
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Reviews
Reviewer:
gallowglass
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July 21, 2021
Subject: Mythology of the Moors
“His daughter was thus left alone night after night in that grim house by the church which rose amidst its wet tomb-stones, and there she had to sit listening to the wind wailing over the moors, and sobbing at her door…”
This is Birrell clearly replicating the Brontë myth, as generated by the popular novelist Elizabeth Gaskell, supposedly writing the biography of her friend Charlotte, but actually slipping too easily into fiction. Tourists would visit Haworth, to touch hands with the bleak and cheerless home where the famous sisters grew up, only to be informed by retired servants that it was nothing of the kind. It had actually been a scene of high activity, with lively teenage girls painting and sketching, singing, practising music and forever playing games and practical jokes.
It is true that Gaskell did not meet Charlotte till after the untimely deaths of all the others, and the mood had changed, with Charlotte now a famous author, busy with new work, and her father somehow detached, living a separate life. He would soon become the tragic, lonely figure we have learned to pity, living on and on, the only one left.
The two women clearly enjoyed a friendship of opposites. Charlotte did not like being told by Thackeray that marriage and motherhood were a woman’s only true destiny. All her portraits seem to be putting out a radical feminist signal (though the frown could have had something to do with her short sight). Gaskell, however, was so happily married that she wrote, rather unusually, under the name ‘Mrs. Gaskell’.
Although Birrell does not manage to step clear of the Brontë myth, he supplements it with other elements that spice the narrative in a satisfying way. One is an interesting selection of poems, interspersed into the text, whose themes relate to the story. Another is the occasional reference to contemporary history that might not have occurred to us. The luddite frame-breakers, put out of work by the steam-looms. The catholic emancipation of 1829, and how the High Church protestant Brontës might have felt about it. (TV producers don’t immediately realise that the family spoke in a piercing Ulster accent). And the excitement of the Great Exhibition of 1851.
Two issues he avoids altogether. One is the brother Branwell, known to be a talented artist, brought down by his ‘demons’. Birrell dismisses him in a few words of utter disgust. Another is the nature of Charlotte’s relationship with her (married catholic) employer in Brussels, Constantin Héger. We have always been encouraged to believe that it was purely platonic, as to be expected of a parson’s daughter. But when Charlotte hears someone speaking French for the first time in many years, she writes “Strangely suggestive to hear the French language once more.” And the later emergence of a mass of Charlotte’s letters to him makes the platonic theory quite impossible to believe. Another Brontë myth that needs a decent burial.
Subject: Mythology of the Moors
“His daughter was thus left alone night after night in that grim house by the church which rose amidst its wet tomb-stones, and there she had to sit listening to the wind wailing over the moors, and sobbing at her door…”
This is Birrell clearly replicating the Brontë myth, as generated by the popular novelist Elizabeth Gaskell, supposedly writing the biography of her friend Charlotte, but actually slipping too easily into fiction. Tourists would visit Haworth, to touch hands with the bleak and cheerless home where the famous sisters grew up, only to be informed by retired servants that it was nothing of the kind. It had actually been a scene of high activity, with lively teenage girls painting and sketching, singing, practising music and forever playing games and practical jokes.
It is true that Gaskell did not meet Charlotte till after the untimely deaths of all the others, and the mood had changed, with Charlotte now a famous author, busy with new work, and her father somehow detached, living a separate life. He would soon become the tragic, lonely figure we have learned to pity, living on and on, the only one left.
The two women clearly enjoyed a friendship of opposites. Charlotte did not like being told by Thackeray that marriage and motherhood were a woman’s only true destiny. All her portraits seem to be putting out a radical feminist signal (though the frown could have had something to do with her short sight). Gaskell, however, was so happily married that she wrote, rather unusually, under the name ‘Mrs. Gaskell’.
Although Birrell does not manage to step clear of the Brontë myth, he supplements it with other elements that spice the narrative in a satisfying way. One is an interesting selection of poems, interspersed into the text, whose themes relate to the story. Another is the occasional reference to contemporary history that might not have occurred to us. The luddite frame-breakers, put out of work by the steam-looms. The catholic emancipation of 1829, and how the High Church protestant Brontës might have felt about it. (TV producers don’t immediately realise that the family spoke in a piercing Ulster accent). And the excitement of the Great Exhibition of 1851.
Two issues he avoids altogether. One is the brother Branwell, known to be a talented artist, brought down by his ‘demons’. Birrell dismisses him in a few words of utter disgust. Another is the nature of Charlotte’s relationship with her (married catholic) employer in Brussels, Constantin Héger. We have always been encouraged to believe that it was purely platonic, as to be expected of a parson’s daughter. But when Charlotte hears someone speaking French for the first time in many years, she writes “Strangely suggestive to hear the French language once more.” And the later emergence of a mass of Charlotte’s letters to him makes the platonic theory quite impossible to believe. Another Brontë myth that needs a decent burial.
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