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ite celui de tout autre heros ancien ou moderne。 La gloire de Napoleon crut en une nuit； comme la vigne de Jonas； et il suffit d'un jour pour la fletrir； la gloire de Wellington est comme les vieux chenes qui ombragent le chateau de ses peres sur les rives du Shannon； le chene croit lentement； il lui faut du temps pour pousser vers le ciel ses branches noueuses； et pour enfoncer dans le sol ces racines profondes qui s'enchevetrent dans les fondements solides de la terre； mais alors； l'arbre seculaire； inebranlable comme le roc ou il a sa base； brave et la faux du temps et l'effort des vents et des tempetes。 Il faudra peut…etre un siecle e l'Angleterre pour qu'elle connaise la valeur de son heros。 Dans un siecle； l'Europe entiere saura combien Wellington a des droits e sa reconnaissance。〃
How often in writing this paper 〃in a strange land；〃 must Miss Bronte have thought of the old childish disputes in the kitchen of Haworth parsonage； touching the respective merits of Wellington and Buonaparte！ Although the title given to her DEVOIR is； 〃On the Death of Napoleon；〃 she seems yet to have considered it a point of honour rather to sing praises to an English hero than to dwell on the character of a foreigner； placed as she was among those who cared little either for an England or for Wellington。 She now felt that she had made great progress towards obtaining proficiency in the French language； which had been her main object in coming to Brussels。 But to the zealous learner 〃Alps on Alps arise。〃 No sooner is one difficulty surmounted than some other desirable attainment appears； and must be laboured after。 A knowledge of German now became her object； and she resolved to compel herself to remain in Brussels till that was gained。 The strong yearning to go home came upon her； the stronger self… denying will forbade。 There was a great internal struggle； every fibre of her heart quivered in the strain to master her will； and； when she conquered herself； she remained； not like a victor calm and supreme on the throne； but like a panting； torn； and suffering victim。 Her nerves and her spirits gave way。 Her health became much shaken。
〃Brussels； August 1st； 1843。
〃If I complain in this letter； have mercy and don't blame me； for； I forewarn you； I am in low spirits； and that earth and heaven are dreary and empty to me at this moment。 In a few days our vacation will begin； everybody is joyous and animated at the prospect； because everybody is to go home。 I know that I am to stay here during the five weeks that the holidays last； and that I shall be much alone during that time； and consequently get downcast； and find both days and nights of a weary length。 It is the first time in my life that I have really dreaded the vacation。 Alas！ I can hardly write； I have such a dreary weight at my heart； and I do so wish to go home。 Is not this childish？ Pardon me； for I cannot help it。 However； though I am not strong enough to bear up cheerfully； I can still bear up； and I will continue to stay （D。 V。） some months longer； till I have acquired German； and then I hope to see all your faces again。 Would that the vacation were well over！ it will pass so slowly。 Do have the Christian charity to write me a long； long letter； fill it with the minutest details； nothing will be uninteresting。 Do not think it is because people are unkind to me that I wish to leave Belgium； nothing of the sort。 Everybody is abundantly civil； but home… sickness keeps creeping over me。 I cannot shake it off。 Believe me； very merrily； vivaciously； gaily； yours；
〃C。B。〃
The GRANDES VACANCES began soon after the date of this letter； when she was left in the great deserted pensionnat； with only one teacher for a companion。 This teacher； a Frenchwoman； had always been uncongenial to her； but； left to each other's sole companionship； Charlotte soon discovered that her associate was more profligate； more steeped in a kind of cold； systematic sensuality； than she had before imagined it possible for a human being to be； and her whole nature revolted from this woman's society。 A low nervous fever was gaining upon Miss Bronte。 She had never been a good sleeper； but now she could not sleep at all。 Whatever had been disagreeable； or obnoxious； to her during the day； was presented when it was over with exaggerated vividness to her disordered fancy。 There were causes for distress and anxiety in the news from home； particularly as regarded Branwell。 In the dead of the night； lying awake at the end of the long deserted dormitory； in the vast and silent house； every fear respecting those whom she loved； and who were so far off in another country； became a terrible reality； oppressing her and choking up the very life…blood in her heart。 Those nights were times of sick； dreary； wakeful misery； precursors of many such in after years。
In the day…time； driven abroad by loathing of her companion and by the weak restlessness of fever； she tried to walk herself into such a state of bodily fatigue as would induce sleep。 So she went out； and with weary steps would traverse the Boulevards and the streets； sometimes for hours together； faltering and resting occasionally on some of the many benches placed for the repose of happy groups； or for solitary wanderers like herself。 Then up againanywhere but to the pensionnatout to the cemetery where Martha layout beyond it； to the hills whence there is nothing to be seen but fields as far as the horizon。 The shades of evening made her retrace her footstepssick for want of food； but not hungry； fatigued with long continued exerciseyet restless still； and doomed to another weary； haunted night of sleeplessness。 She would thread the streets in the neighbourhood of the Rue d'Isabelle； and yet avoid it and its occupant； till as late an hour as she dared be out。 At last； she was compelled to keep her bed for some days； and this compulsory rest did her good。 She was weak； but less depressed in spirits than she had been； when the school re…opened； and her positive practical duties recommenced。
She writes thus：…
〃October 13th； 1843
〃Mary is getting on well； as she deserves to do。 I often hear from her。 Her letters and yours are one of my few pleasures。 She urges me very much to leave Brussels and go to her； but； at present； however tempted to take such a step； I should not feel justified in doing so。 To leave a certainty for a complete uncertainty； would be to the last degree imprudent。 Notwithstanding that； Brussels is indeed desolate to me now。 Since the D。s left； I have had no friend。 I had； indeed； some very kind acquaintances in the family of a Dr。 …； but they； too； are gone now。 They left in the latter part of August； and I am completely alone。 I cannot count the Belgians anything。 It is a curious position to be so utterly solitary in the midst of numbers。 Sometimes the solitude oppresses me to an excess。 One day； lately； I felt as if I could bear it no longer； and I went to Madame Heger； and gave her notice。 If it had depended on her； I should certainly have soon been at liberty； but M。 Heger； having heard of what was in agitation； sent for me the day after； and pronounced with vehemence his decision； that I should not leave。 I could not； at that time； have persevered in my intention without exciting him to anger； so I promised to stay a little while longer。 How long that will be； I do not know。 I should not like to return to England to do nothing。 I am too old for that now； but if I could hear of a favourable opportunity for commencing a school； I think I should embrace it。 We have as yet no fires here； and I suffer much from cold； otherwise； I am well in health。 Mr。will take this letter to England。 He is a pretty…looking and pretty behaved young man； apparently constructed without a back… bone； by which I don't allude to his corporal spine； which is all right enough； but to his character。
〃I get on here after a fashion； but now that Mary D。 has left Brussels； I have nobody to speak to； for I count the Belgians as nothing。 Sometimes I ask myself how long shall I stay here； but as yet I have only asked the question； I have not answered it。 However； when I have acquired as much German as I think fit； I think I shall pack up bag and baggage and depart。 Twinges of homesickness cut me to the heart； every now and then。 To…day the weather is glaring； and I am stupified with a bad cold and headache。 I have nothing to tell you。 One day is like another in this place。 I know you； living in the country； can hardly believe it is possible life can be monotonous in the centre of a brilliant capital like Brussels； but so it is。 I feel it most on holidays； when all the girls and teachers go out to visit； and it sometimes happens that I am left； during several hours； quite alone； with four great desolate schoolrooms at my disposition。 I try to read； I try to write； but in vain。 I then wander about from room to room； but the silence and loneliness of all the house weighs down one's spirits like lead。 You will hardly believe that Madame Heger （good and kind as I have described her） never comes near me on these occasions。 I own； I was astonished the first time I was left alone thus； when everybody else was enj