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Emily Bronte and The Fatally Femenine
Emily Bronte and The Fatally Femenine
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access to Victorian Poetry
BRONTE, WHO LOST HER OWN MOTHER AND TWO OLDER SISTERS WITH-
in the first six years of her life, creates - and often destroys - in her
poetry and in her one surviving work of fiction an array of "earthly
mothers," including Gondal's Queen Augusta Geraldine Almeda, Catherine
Earnshaw, and Nature herself, who emerge from Bronte's imaginative
grapplings with mortality as inextricably linked with the forces of death and
only sporadically with beauty. Bronte's most capable biographer, Winifred
Gerin, tells us that the lives of Maria Bronte's widower and orphans were
"profoundly, lastingly, affected by her loss," and pretty much leaves it at
that, while she underplays the effect of her two sisters' deaths on the then
six-year-old Emily. l However, the fact that Emily Bronte's first momentous
encounters with death robbed her of beloved female family members and
thus suggested femininity's particular vulnerability to mortality significantly
colors her presentation of the feminine, and especially of the maternal, in her
poetry, which, rather than Wuthering Heights, will be the focus of this essay.
Taking their cue from Charlotte Bronte's famous remark, "Stronger than a
man, simpler than a child, [Emily's] nature stood alone,"2 many critics have
discerned in Emily Bronte a rather masculine cast of mind; and C. Day
Lewis went so far as to claim that "the source of [her] proud recalcitrance,
her preoccupation with themes of captivity, exile and freedom was her sex;
the limitation of not being a man."3 Outrageously sexist as Lewis' essay
often is, he is not altogether wrong - he just does not go far enough; for
Bronte's desire for alternative selfhoods, as expressed in her poetry, prompts
her to embrace a variety of roles, including men, spirits, Nature, and, most
importantly, a fiery and eloquent Queen, who herself takes on as many
and often yearning for their lost place within the natural cycle, within
"Earth's dungeon tomb" (N 158). In creating a female persona who never
succumbs to death, Bronte overcompensates for her identification of
mortality with the feminine; Augusta represents in part Bronte's attempt to
recuperate her gender, to deny its powerful associations with death, but
Gondal's Queen, in fact, emerges from the poems as an emblem of mortality,
destructive and isolated - an unusual femme fatale who suffers as well as
torments, an "earthly mother" who exposes her infant daughter to a
snowstorm.
on the permeable ego boundaries more evident in women than men - both
Bronte's mercurial poetic identity and her obsession with isolation as ex-
pressed in both her Gondal and non-Gondal poems. Partially because
Bronte saw herself and her Gondal characters as "members of a network
of relationships," she regarded isolation as particularly horrible, never
embracing it in the way that such (male) Romantic precursors as Wordsworth
and Shelley often do (Gilligan, p. 30). Throughout her "personal" (non-
Gondal) poetry, Bronte laments severed connections with nature,14 with
humanity,15 and with her own version of "Intellectual Beauty," her "God
of Visions" (N 176), while her Gondal poetry, especially Augusta's mono-
logues, is rife with broken relationships, destroyed by death and betrayal,
and full of imprisoned speakers suffering both physical and emotional
solitude.16
Yet Bronte rarely shies from exploring the feelings of isolation and
bereavement which she and her personae share; and her willingness to
remain "in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching
after fact & reason" reveals her affinities with Keats's poet of Negative
Capability. 17 Adrienne Rich's strong admiration for Keats and for his notion
of Negative Capability, and her connection of the latter - and, implicitly,
Keats's remarks on the "camelion Poet" - with the Jungian concept of weak
ego boundaries suggests Keats's "poetical Character" which "is continually
. . . filling some other Body" as a feminine mode of imagination, while
identifying the "wordsworthian or egotistical sublime" with the phallus,
which "stands alone," stubbornly unified, and impervious to the external
world, except where it reflects its own concerns.18 Although I am not sure
that Emily Bronte would agree with Keats that the ideal poet has no identity,
no self - not even her Gondal poetry is purely dramatic, objective - her
ability to create and to imaginatively coalesce with a variety of characters of
both genders, many in situations utterly foreign to her own, allies her with
Keats's "camelion Poet." Moreover, Bronte seemed to take "as much
delight in conceiving an Iago as an Imogen" (Perkins, p. 1220), which brings
us to Gondal itself, rather more full of villains than angelic heroines, and
ruled by a remarkable Queen who embodies, if neither extreme Keats cites, a
whole range of positions within the moral spectrum he implies.
As Fanny Ratchford and others have told us, the Gondal saga
originated from a box of wooden soldiers that Bran well Bronte received from
his father when the boy was nine and Emily eight. 19 Under the leadership of
Branwell, all four Bronte children wrote and acted out a series of plays
revolving around characters identified with the various soldiers. Eventually,
Emily and Anne broke from Branwell and Charlotte's masculine and
military "Young Men's Play" to create Gondal, a North Pacific Island in
which the feminine reigned: generally the male characters played secondary
roles, the land's capital was dubbed Regina, and a dynamic Queen replaced
Branwell's "Master-men." Although the Gondal saga became a collaborative
project, Emily initiated the epic and remained highly engaged with it even
after Anne's interest flagged. As Fanny Ratchford points out, Augusta
herself was Emily's creation; and Anne's 1845 birthday note implies that
Emily kept her Gondal poetry, in which she sympathetically fuses with her
central character, separate from the prose chronicle on which the sisters
worked together.20 Through Augusta, Bronte could explore, in private, her
need to create a powerful, even indestructible, female figure, though the
resilient A.G.A. ultimately reinforced the disturbing connection between
mortality and the feminine which Bronte's childhood losses of mother and
sisters helped compel her to make.
In "There shines the moon, at noon of night" (N 9), the first extant
utterance of Bronte's primary persona according to Hatfield's chronology,
Augusta is engaged in what will become a typical activity for her: mourning
the death of one of her lovers, in this case, Alexander, Lord of Elbe, a
shadowy Napoleon of sorts, exiled, like most male Gondals, to the isles of the
dead. Several years after Elbe's death, Augusta has returned to Lake Elnor,
where she recalls the last moments of her lover's life and comments on
how nature even now seems to share in her grief and isolation: the moor
is "lonely" and "drear" and "still the fern-leaves sighing wave / Like
mourners over Elbe's grave." Yet Augusta deliberately contrasts rather than
identifies herself with the Earth when she exclaims, "And Earth's the same
but oh to see / How wildly Time has altered me!"; and her insistence on her
own mutability dissociates her both from her former self ("Am I the being
who long ago / Sat watching by that water side, / The light of life expiring
slow ?") and from the constancy of the Earth which, she and Bronte believe,
links it not with life but with death. As the Gondal saga continues, Augusta's
alterability, decried as cruel infidelity by betrayed lovers in such poems as "I
knew not 'twas so dire a crime" and "Light up thy halls!" (N 81, N 85), often
represents a kind of insuppressible life force, as opposed to the (stagnant)
stability that others seem to demand from her and that she herself explicitly
connects with death when she describes a lover's heart as "changeless as the
grave" (later altered to "faithful as the grave," N 110). Although Augusta
expresses genuine grief and empathy in her elegy "There shines the moon,"
the poem in fact concludes with Elbe's pitiful realization that his beloved
"will soon return / Back to that land [Gaaldine] in health and bloom," an
accusation that Augusta never denies.21 Bronte deliberately closes the poem
with a striking juxtaposition of images - the beautiful and flourishing
heroine and the "mouldering corpse" of her "Lord" - in an attempt to
dissociate herself, through her persona, from "the lonely grave" that seems
to long for a female companion.
"how can I live lonely here?/' "Too dark . . . / Are the hours to come . . . /
That Time is treasuring up for me" - echo with rather hollow irony. Her
command that the dying man "call Death - yes, Death, he is thine own!"
enables her to dissociate herself from mortality by identifying it with her
(masculine) mate.
Bronte's need to transfer the "doleful imagery" (N 34) of death from
her own gender to the masculine sphere is once again evident in the poems
ascribed to F. De Samara, which include "Light up thy halls!" (N 85) and
"Thy sun is near meridian height" (N 133), both addressed to an absent
A.G.A. By taking on the persona of one of Augusta's betrayed lovers,26
Bronte can explore the essential ambivalence toward her heroine which
often erupts in the Queen's own monologues. Because she imaginatively
participates in De Samara's anguish and suicide in these poems, Bronte can
glorify neither Augusta's multiplicity (or, in this case, duplicity) nor her gift
for survival. After a last remembrance of Augusta's "pictured face," De
Samara furiously dismisses the image and cries:
While Augusta's presence at the death and at the grave of Lord Elbe seems
vaguely sinister, she is not literally responsible for his death; but her
presence in the mind of her "raving, dying victim" De Samara is "dark" and
"deadly" (N 1 33, N 85), powerful enough to lead the young man to an "early
tomb" (N 1 33). Once again, the Gondal saga presents a masculine victim of a
mortal wound, but this time Augusta is not thereby lifted above death but
implicated in it.
In the saga's most dramatic example of Augusta's complicity with
death, "A Farewell to Alexandria" (N 108), Bronte's central persona aban-
dons her infant daughter, perhaps an illegitimate "child of love," to a violent
snowstorm:
Augusta's intense need for freedom - from human ties and from her own
(mortal) nature - compels her to reject motherhood, though not without
regret.27 Had Bronte allowed Augusta to embrace maternity, her "natural"
role, she would have forfeited her heroine's apparent immunity from
"Nature's sad reality," the death sentence which hovers over each of her
children (N 174). The poem "Geraldine" (N 150), written two years after
"A Farewell to Alexandria" but depicting an earlier episode, focuses on
Augusta "lonely in her distant cave" singing and talking to her child, h
words framed by the speech of, presumably, one of her retainers. Bron
decision not to present this scene as an A.G.A. monologue suggests
desire to distance herself from Augusta, though not as completely as she d
in the F. De Samara poems. Fanny Ratchford finds that "Geraldin
records "A.G.A.'s resolution to commit infanticide" (GondaVs Quee
p. 22), a convincing reading in light of both Bronte's impulse to return t
obviously troubling subject - the (brief) motherhood of her persona - lo
after introducing it in her saga and her recent composition of another po
dealing with motherhood, "I see around me tombstones grey" (N 149
which she explicitly feminizes Earth for the first time in her poetry a
stresses the heritage of death she has left her children.28
Through the anonymous speaker's eyes we see Augusta (Geraldin
"bending o'er her beauteous child" as "she clasped its sleeping form," bu
this lovely image of maternity is undercut by the rest of the scene in
"cavern wild." Observing his "lady," the speaker discerns somethi
unnatural in her communion with her infant:
Augusta needs to regard her child as a kind of "strange" and "magic" change-
ling, longing for its original home, in order not only to justify abandoning
her duties as a mother but also to ensure that "sin shall never blanch that
cheek, / Nor suffering charge that brow." In creating a persona who
embodies feminine power and endurance, Bronte felt it necessary to detach
Augusta from Nature herself - the most generous and the most exacting of
mothers - as well as to punish her for her transgressions of the natural order,
which would expose her to the same fate - death - that continually surrounds
her but which usually leaves her unscathed. Haunted by a sense of inexpi-
able guilt (J. Hillis Miller calls her "a kind of female Manfred"), Augusta
hopes to remove her daughter from "earth's frenzied strife" (N 169) and thus
from the temptation to follow in her mother's footsteps, "feed[ing] on Death,
that feeds on men."31 The poem closes with the words of the original speaker,
who seems to intuit vaguely his Queen's resolution to kill her child: "/
watching o'er her slumber, wept / As one who mourns the dead!"
By temporarily forsaking Augusta as her persona and entering the
consciousness of someone close to her, Bronte can present a more balanced
view of Augusta than either the passionate monologues by Augusta herself
or by her enamored and/or betrayed lovers offer. Through the eyes of an
affectionate but not overly intimate observer, Bronte - and her readers - can
sympathize with, without endorsing, A.G.A.'s self-imposed, or rather,
Bronte-imposed rejection of community, of permanent ties, and of her own
mortality. That Bronte begins writing such pieces as "Geraldine" and "How
few, of all the hearts that loved" (N 171) - relatively objective poems which
focus on Augusta without assigning her the role of primary speaker - after
composing the fragmentary ballad "The Death of A.G.A." (N 143),
suggests the poet's desire to step back from the character who had inhabited
her imagination for more than four years. While an early poem such as
"Sleep brings no joy to me" (N 34), an A.G.A. monologue in which Augusta
bemoans her nightly torment by "the shadows of the dead" and yearns for
the "sleep of death," may seem self-indulgent (on the speaker's part) as well
as unconvincing, later works in which an onlooker perceives the tragedy in
Augusta's status as an "outsider," as "Sidonia's deity" in a "home of clay"
(N 154, N 44) evince Bronte's realization of what she has done to Gondal's
Queen: she has denied her, in the words of Tennyson's Tithonus, "the
power to die."32 Even "The Death of A.G.A.," with its moving lament by
Lord Eldred, possibly the speaker of "Geraldine" and "How few, of all the
hearts that loved," mythologizes Augusta, refusing her the role of a "mere"
woman that she herself has refused her daughter. Called a "fiend" by one of
her murderers, she meets her death like a valiant Amazon, and once dead,
she is referred to as an "idol," a "wild morn," and a "glorious sun" who had
been "so adored, so deified." After Bronte destroys her heroine, however,
she can reassess and then recreate her as a genuinely poignant and much
more human figure, who in our final glimpse of her, does not gain sustenance
from another's downfall, as in earlier poems, but who instead must struggle
against despair even fifteen years after her loved one's death.
Augusta's final monologue, "Cold in the earth, and the deep snow piled
above thee!" (N 182), an elegy for her second husband Julius Brenzaida,
When Bronte allows Augusta to rejoin "the World's tide" in this poe
does so in a completely different spirit than in "There shines the m
noon of night," Augusta's first lyric written almost exactly eigh
before.35 Whereas the earlier poem closes with Elbe's bitter realizati
Augusta will return home in "health and bloom" and "forget [his] lo
grave," "Cold in the earth" emphasizes Augusta's struggle to ove
"rapturous pain" and "divinest anguish" - both essentially self-in
emotions - and her willingness to accept "Time's all-wearing wa
longer gaining strength and stature from a vanquished male, Augus
retains her vitality and eloquence as she stands poised between the l
for "Earth's dungeon tomb" and her desire to live, part of the cycle t
eventually reunite her in death with her "sweet Love of youth."
If we label Emily Bronte's Gondal saga as derivative melodra
study it solely for its prefiguration of themes and characters in Wut
Heights, we lose an opportunity to explore with the poet - and
extraordinary persona - such central concerns as mortality, gender, is
and identity. Although "Cold in the earth" by no means signals the
Notes
Queen will become not the earth goddess that Gallant invokes, but a mere
mortal, subject to dissolution and decay (pp. 85-86).
11 Homans, p. 109. Homans rather enigmatically alludes to the "sinister effects"
produced by Bronte's "pattern of supplanting identity"; and I suppose she is
referring to what she believes to be Bronte's failure to establish her own poetic
voice as a result of her deference to various personae.
12 Irigaray, "This sex which is not one," in New French Feminisms, p. 103.
1 3 Carol Gilligan, In a Different Voice: Psychological Theory and Women 's Devel-
opment (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1982), p. 35.
14 Bronte felt intimately connected with the moors surrounding Haworth and she
records her longing for her beloved landscape in N 92, written when she worked
at Law Hill as a teacher in 1838. The homesickness Bronte suffered whenever
she left Haworth (her 1845 excursion with Anne seems an exception) sprang as
much from her attachment to "her" moors as to "the hearth of home" (N 92).
15 See, for example, Nil, which finds the speaker "As friendless after eighteen
years, / As lone as on [her] natal day."
1 6 Physical solitude in itself did not seem to bother Bronte; in fact, she often sought
it, taking long walks through the moors, accompanied only by her dog, Keeper.
17 John Keats, Letter to George and Tom Keats (December 21-27, 1817), in
English Romantic Writers, ed. David Perkins (New York, 1967), p. 1209.
1 8 All quotes are from Keats's Letter to Richard Woodhouse (October 27, 1 8 1 8), in
Perkins, p. 1220. Rich's comments on Keats and Jung can be found in Adrienne
Rich 's Poetry: Texts of the Poems, The Poet on Her Work, Reviews and Criticism,
ed. Barbara Charlesworth Gelpi and Albert Gelpi (New York, 1975), p. 1 1 5- In
his own discussion of Bronte's relation to Keatsian and Wordsworthian poetics,
Denis Donoghue in "The Other Emily" explicitly identifies her with the
"egotistical sublime," calling her Gondal poems "soliloquies" (p. 166). While I
agree with Donoghue that the Gondal poems are not pure dramatic monologues
in which persona and poet remain entirely distinct, his label of "ventriloquism"
and his charge that Bronte's speakers are "extreme functions of [her] own
personality" (p. 171) deny the diversity of characters whose consciousnesses she
enters both in the Gondal poetry and elsewhere, and underestimates her
impressive achievement in creating the central figure of her saga, Queen
Augusta, by no means merely an extension of Bronte's personality and a rich,
complex character despite the loss of the prose chronicle which might clarify her
position in the work as a whole.
19 See Fanny Ratchford, The Brontes' Web of Childhood (New York, 1941), esp.
chaps. 2, 9, 13, and 17. Winifred Gerin covers much of the same ground but
stresses young Emily's interest in representatives of female power, of whom the
(then) Princess Victoria was one, and discusses the Gondal epic as a "feminist"
revision of Branwell and Charlotte's plays (see her Emily Bronte, chaps. 2-3).
20 Anne's note, cited in Ratchford's GondaVs Queen, p. 194, suggests that Emily
kept her poetry not only separate from the joint project, but secret as well.
2 1 Augusta is recalling Elbe's final words before his death, so although he seems to
get in the last word, as it were, his speech is subsumed by Augusta's own: she is
in the position to quote him; he is in reality permanently silent.
22 Ordinarily Bronte merely writes the initials or an abbreviation of the name of
her Gondalian speaker at the top of each poem. Augusta is the only character
25 No matter that he is long dead in an earlier poem; as J. Hillis Miller points out
in The Disappearance of God: Five Nineteeth-Century Writers (Cambridge,
Massachusetts, 1963), the Gondal saga comprises "a collection of eternal events.
... In one sense the Gondal saga was a sequence of temporally related events,
like history. In another sense it was the simultaneous existence of all its events in
a perpetual present outside of time" (pp. 160-161).
26 While we might wonder whether Augusta's reputation for treachery results
from "misreadings" of her by the men within the saga, Augusta herself alludes
to - and is tormented by - her own "deeds untrue" in N 169 and hints at
unspecified crimes that rob her of repose in N 34 and N 96. Even her second
husband Julius Brenzaida, whose death inspires in Augusta the most genuine
grief we witness in the saga, has occasion to curse her "faithless lips" in N 81
(I do not think the Irigarayan pun is intended).
27 Augusta's refusal of motherhood anticipates Catherine Earnshaw's "abandon-
ment" of her newborn daughter, though in the novel, the mother dies, while the
daughter survives.
28 Margaret Homans provides an insightful reading of this poem in Women Writers
and Poetic Identity, pp. 147-149, although she finds more bitter irony in the
speaker's rejection of Heaven in favor of Mother Earth than I can discern.
29 The line from Wordsworth's Ode is echoed in Bronte's phrase "the heaven,
whence thou [the infant Alexandria] hast come."
30 Julius Brenzaida, Augusta's second husband. The child may have been born
before the two were married, or, as Ratchford suggests in GondaVs Queen, chaps.
8 and 9, after Brenzaida's death. Piecing together the Gondal saga is always a
perilous enterprise.
31 William Shakespeare, Sonnet 146, in The Complete Works of Shakespeare, 3rd
ed., ed. David Bevington (Glenview, Illinois, 1980), p. 1608. When discussing
Augusta's exploits, one generally would not consider "men" here as generic.
The remark by J. Hillis Miller is from The Disappearance of God, p. 185.
32 Alfred, Lord Tennyson, "Tithonus," 1. 70, in The Poems of Tennyson, ed.
Christopher Ricks (London, 1969).
33 In this poem, Bronte calls her heroine Rosina of Alcona, one of several names
the infinitely varied Queen of Gondal enjoys.
34 In his brilliant study, The English Elegy (Baltimore, 1 985), Peter Sacks utililizes
the Freudian concept of "the work of mourning" and singles out the latter
stanza as exemplifying how a female poet represents this process. Arguing that
"the woman's [as well as the man's] mourning . . . recapitulate [s] not only her
loss of the mother but also her internalization and identification with the
idealized parental figure," Sacks focuses on Bronte's word "weaned" and finds
that the speaker "repeats her separation from the mother but also adopts the role
of the mother" in order to resist "an illegitimate and regressive desire" for
union - through death - with the lost parent (p. 15). In terms of the dynamic I
have been discussing between Bronte and her persona, a dynamic considerably
influenced by the deaths of the poet's mother and sisters, this at least tentative
willingness to allow Augusta - and thus herself - a maternal role bespeaks some
progress in Bronte's own "work of mourning."
35 Bronte wrote "There shines the moon" on March 6, 1837, and "Cold in the
earth" on March 3, 1845.