I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.
Emily Bronte
Wuthering Heights

zaterdag 24 december 2011

Reincarnation of Emily Bronte

Cailin McGlory from the weblog 
sent me an email. 
She told me about her weblog
 and wrote:
" I feel about Branwell the way your feel about the girls"
On this weblog 
you can read this story:

" There is a very strong likelihood that Jewelle St. James, a health-care worker from British Columbia, is the reincarnation of the nineteenth-century novelist Emily Brontë, author of Wuthering Heights. ""
and about the

donderdag 22 december 2011

The Bronte Sisters in winter walking over the moors





With a lot of thanks to Lynn Marie Cunliffe. She gave permission to use these photographs: See for more information on www.abigailsateliers.com and http://abigailsateliers.wordpress.com

Christmas Customs in Bronte Country

Christmas with the Bronte Family, and a look at the festivities celebrated in Yorkshire in the 19th century. Christmas in the Bronte Household; vessel maids and spice cake and Christmas accounts from the Bronte novels - all these and more are described in The Brontes Christmas. No matter how sheltered from the 'excesses' of Christmas, the Bronte children must have heard the Waits. They were the official city watchmen whose job was to patrol the streets at night and keep the peace. However, as they invariably played musical instruments and/or sang, to show they were on duty, that peace cannot have been kept very quietly! At Christmas time, hey played and sang the familiar Christmas carols and songs, and were occasionally rewarded with a few coppers, a pie or a hot drink, it being the season of goodwill. Carols were also sung at the houses by the choirs of local churches.  Carols were also sung at the houses by the choirs of local churches. We've little information about the services held under the Revd Patrick Bronte, the father of the literary family.  The children, after the death of their mother, were cared for by their aunt Branwell, a strict Wesleyan. Maybe, just maybe, their father's little church sang out with Christmas hymns. christmasarchives/brontechristmas

A Bronte meets her sister’s ghost - Reviews - Halifax Courier

The play was acted out in the bleak location of Moor Lodge near Stanbury and iIn a strange twist, Ian Howard (Branwell) interrupts the performance to reveal his theory that the building where we sit was possibly the inspiration for Ferndean in Jane Eyre. Lynn Marie Cunliffe, who played Charlotte, exhibited her range of exquisite hand-made period gowns. Ten year-old Tom Howard played the flute. A Bronte meets her sister’s ghost - Reviews - Halifax Courier
abigailsateliers/a-bronte-christmas-carol-ferndean-manor-dec-19th/

woensdag 21 december 2011

Bronte Weather Project: Anne Bronte's letters

Bronte Weather Project: Anne Bronte's letters: "Charlotte is well, and mediates writing to you. Happily for all parties the east wind no longer prevails - during its continuance she co...

maandag 19 december 2011

Restauration of Top Withens

On the Death of Emily Jane Brontë By Charlotte Brontë

163 years ago today Emily Brontë turned 'her dying eyes reluctantly from the pleasant
sun'as Charlotte put it. 
 
 

"Dec. 21st, 1848.
"Emily suffers no more from pain or weakness now. She never will suffer more in this world. She is gone, after a hard short conflict. She died on Tuesday, the very day I wrote to you. I thought it very possible she might be with us still for weeks; and a few hours afterwards, she was in eternity. Yes; there is no Emily in time or on earth now. Yesterday we put her poor, wasted, mortal frame quietly under the church pavement. We are very calm at present. Why should we be otherwise? The anguish of seeing her suffer is over; the spectacle of the pains of death is gone by; the funeral day is past. We feel she is at peace. No need now to tremble for the hard frost and the keen wind. Emily does not feel them. She died in a time of promise. We saw her taken from life in its prime. But it is God's will, and the place where she is gone is better than that she has left.
My darling, thou wilt never know
The grinding agony of woe
   That we have borne for thee.
Thus may we consolation tear
E’en from the depth of our despair
   And wasting misery.

The nightly anguish thou art spared
When all the crushing truth is bared
   To the awakening mind,
When the galled heart is pierced with grief,
Till wildly it implores relief,
   But small relief can find.
 
Nor know’st thou what it is to lie
Looking forth with streaming eye
   On life’s lone wilderness.
‘Weary, weary, dark and drear,
How shall I the journey bear,
   The burden and distress?’
Then since thou art spared such pain
We will not wish thee here again;
   He that lives must mourn.
God help us through our misery
And give us rest and joy with thee
   When we reach our bourne!

Read also:
kleurrijkbrontesisters22-12-1848
kleurrijkbrontesisters/on-tuesday-morning-19-12-1948-emily

Top Withens


Why do the Bronte worshippers take that more-often-than-not-soggy trail up to Top Withens? It’s a question I’ve often asked myself as the place has no proven link with the family. Okay, maybe it was the inspiration behind Emily’s Wuthering Heights – we’ll never know for sure – but the old farmhouse, derelict since the 1930s, continues to attract thousands of visitors every year. A while back I overtook two inadequately dressed Japanese visitors as I walked over the moor. They asked me ‘How faah Top Rivvens?’. They were relieved and excited as I pointed to the blackened ruin on the hillside and I wondered how deflated they might be when they eventually got there. The tourism bodies are certainly never going to play down its importance and I see this week that Yorkshire Water, who own the land and property, have been repointing and blocking off more dangerous areas. The place can be atmospheric and the views are tremendous. You can feel the building bracing itself against the elements but most of all you can let your imagination run riot.

zondag 18 december 2011

Jane Eyre

Z letopisů Angrie - Charlotte Brontë
Včera v 22:51 | K. |  Brontë
Tak jsem po milińech letech zpět... :D
Dneska jsem byla v knihkupectví a, jen tak čistě ze zvyku, se šla podívat do části, kde jsou knížky od Brontëových a Jane Austenové. Když tu náhle, se vedle Villette objevila růžová knížečka. Nadšeně jsem po ní sáhla... Z letopisů Angrie - Charlotte Brontëové. Měla jsem ohromnou radost.
O říši Angrii začala psát Charlotte už jako malá. Vytvořila ho společně s bratrem Branwellem a dohromady ho neustále rozšiřovali o nové a nové příběhy.
Opravdu, nakladatelství Daranus mi dělá radost. Agnes Greyová, Profesor, Emma, Villette a teď tohle. Ještě by to chtělo nové vydání Shirley..janeeyre.blog

Frederika Macdonald wanted to publish Charlotte’s ‘love letters’ to M. Heger



Read this very interesting article

Frederika Macdonald wanted to publish Charlotte’s ‘love letters’ to M. Heger in her forthcoming book, The Secret of Charlotte Brontë, about her adventures at the Pensionnat. 

Abigail's Ateliers


Keighley News reports once again how L.M.C. from Abigail's Ateliers is defending herself from the tabloids. What we hadn't yet heard was the Brontë Parsonage Museum's opinion:
Ann Dinsdale, of the Brontë Parsonage Museum, said: “I think it is great she is so passionate about what she does. She is quite knowledgeable about Bronte costume and extremely pleasant. The stories won’t affect us working with her in the future.” bronteblog

The rest of the auction

The rest of the auction

Parsonage

Parsonage

Charlotte Bronte

Presently the door opened, and in came a superannuated mastiff, followed by an old gentleman very like Miss Bronte, who shook hands with us, and then went to call his daughter. A long interval, during which we coaxed the old dog, and looked at a picture of Miss Bronte, by Richmond, the solitary ornament of the room, looking strangely out of place on the bare walls, and at the books on the little shelves, most of them evidently the gift of the authors since Miss Bronte's celebrity. Presently she came in, and welcomed us very kindly, and took me upstairs to take off my bonnet, and herself brought me water and towels. The uncarpeted stone stairs and floors, the old drawers propped on wood, were all scrupulously clean and neat. When we went into the parlour again, we began talking very comfortably, when the door opened and Mr. Bronte looked in; seeing his daughter there, I suppose he thought it was all right, and he retreated to his study on the opposite side of the passage; presently emerging again to bring W---- a country newspaper. This was his last appearance till we went. Miss Bronte spoke with the greatest warmth of Miss Martineau, and of the good she had gained from her. Well! we talked about various things; the character of the people, - about her solitude, etc., till she left the room to help about dinner, I suppose, for she did not return for an age. The old dog had vanished; a fat curly-haired dog honoured us with his company for some time, but finally manifested a wish to get out, so we were left alone. At last she returned, followed by the maid and dinner, which made us all more comfortable; and we had some very pleasant conversation, in the midst of which time passed quicker than we supposed, for at last W---- found that it was half-past three, and we had fourteen or fifteen miles before us. So we hurried off, having obtained from her a promise to pay us a visit in the spring... ------------------- "She cannot see well, and does little beside knitting. The way she weakened her eyesight was this: When she was sixteen or seventeen, she wanted much to draw; and she copied nimini-pimini copper-plate engravings out of annuals, ('stippling,' don't the artists call it?) every little point put in, till at the end of six months she had produced an exquisitely faithful copy of the engraving. She wanted to learn to express her ideas by drawing. After she had tried to draw stories, and not succeeded, she took the better mode of writing; but in so small a hand, that it is almost impossible to decipher what she wrote at this time.

I asked her whether she had ever taken opium, as the description given of its effects 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. She replied, that she had never, to her knowledge, taken a grain of it in any shape, but that she had followed the process she always adopted when she had to describe anything which had not fallen within her own experience; she had thought intently on it for many and many a night before falling to sleep, - wondering what it was like, or how it would be, - till at length, sometimes after the progress of her story had been arrested at this one point for weeks, she wakened up in the morning with all clear before her, as if she had in reality gone through the experience, and then could describe it, word for word, as it had happened. I cannot account for this psychologically; I only am sure that it was so, because she said it. ----------------------She thought much of her duty, and had loftier and clearer notions of it than most people, and held fast to them with more success. It was done, it seems to me, with much more difficulty than people have of stronger nerves, and better fortunes. All her life was but labour and pain; and she never threw down the burden for the sake of present pleasure. I don't know what use you can make of all I have said. I have written it with the strong desire to obtain appreciation for her. Yet, what does it matter? She herself appealed to the world's judgement for her use of some of the faculties she had, - not the best, - but still the only ones she could turn to strangers' benefit. They heartily, greedily enjoyed the fruits of her labours, and then found out she was much to be blamed for possessing such faculties. Why ask for a judgement on her from such a world?" elizabeth gaskell/charlotte bronte



Poem: No coward soul is mine

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the worlds storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heavens glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.


O God within my breast.
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life -- that in me has rest,
As I -- Undying Life -- have power in Thee!


Vain are the thousand creeds
That move mens hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,


To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by Thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The steadfast Rock of immortality.


With wide-embracing love
Thy Spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.


Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.


There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou -- Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.


--
Emily Bronte

Family tree

The Bronte Family

Grandparents - paternal
Hugh Brunty was born 1755 and died circa 1808. He married Eleanor McClory, known as Alice in 1776.

Grandparents - maternal
Thomas Branwell (born 1746 died 5th April 1808) was married in 1768 to Anne Carne (baptised 27th April 1744 and died 19th December 1809).

Parents
Father was Patrick Bronte, the eldest of 10 children born to Hugh Brunty and Eleanor (Alice) McClory. He was born 17th March 1777 and died on 7th June 1861. Mother was Maria Branwell, who was born on 15th April 1783 and died on 15th September 1821.

Maria had a sister, Elizabeth who was known as Aunt Branwell. She was born in 1776 and died on 29th October 1842.

Patrick Bronte married Maria Branwell on 29th December 1812.

The Bronte Children
Patrick and Maria Bronte had six children.
The first child was Maria, who was born in 1814 and died on 6th June 1825.
The second daughter, Elizabeth was born on 8th February 1815 and died shortly after Maria on 15th June 1825. Charlotte was the third daughter, born on 21st April 1816.

Charlotte married Arthur Bell Nicholls (born 1818) on 29th June 1854. Charlotte died on 31st March 1855. Arthur lived until 2nd December 1906.

The first and only son born to Patrick and Maria was Patrick Branwell, who was born on 26th June 1817 and died on 24th September 1848.

Emily Jane, the fourth daughter was born on 30th July 1818 and died on 19th December 1848.

The sixth and last child was Anne, born on 17th January 1820 who died on 28th May 1849.

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