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In Charlotte Brontë's 'Albion and Marina,' the reader is immersed in a world of romanticism and gothic undertones. The novel follows the tumultuous love story between the handsome but brooding Earl of Albion and the ethereal beauty Marina, set against the backdrop of the rugged English moors. Brontë's vivid descriptions and poetic prose transport the reader to a fairy-tale like setting, while exploring themes of love, betrayal, and societal constraints. The novel is a blend of mystery and romance, with a twist of the supernatural, making it a compelling and engaging read for fans of gothic literature. Brontë's attention to detail and deep character development add layers of complexity to the story, keeping readers captivated until the very end.
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I have written this tale out of malignity for the injuries that have lately been offered to me. Many parts, especially the former, were composed under a mysterious influence that I cannot account for.
My reader will easily recognise the characters through the thin veil which I have thrown over them. I have considerably flattered Lady Zenobia Zelzia Ellrington. She is not nearly so handsome as I have represented her, and she strove far more vigorously to oust some one from another person’s good graces than I say. But her endeavours failed. Albion has hitherto stood firm. What he will do I cannot pretend to even guess; but I think that Marina’s incomparable superiority will prevail over her Frenchified rival, who, as all the world knows, is a miller, jockey, talker, bluestocking, charioteer, and beldam united in one….
The conclusion is wholly destitute of any foundation in truth, and I did it out of revenge. Albion and Marina are both alive and well for aught I know.
One thing, however, will certainly break my heart, and that is the admission of any scandal against Tree (the publisher); but I hope my readers will pardon me for it, as I promise to make amends with usury next time I write a book.
C. Wellesley
October 12th, 1830
I wrote this in four hours. C.B.
Albion
There is a certain sweet little pastoral village in the south of England with which I am better acquainted than most men. The scenery around it possesses no distinguished characteristic of romantic grandeur or wildness that might figure to advantage in a novel, to which high title this brief narrative sets up no pretentions.
Neither rugged lofty rocks, nor mountains dimly huge, mark with frowns the undisturbed face of nature; but little peaceful valleys, low hills crowned with wood, murmuring cascades and streamlets, richly cultivated fields, farmhouses, cottages, and a wide river, form all the scenic features. And every hamlet has one or more great men.
This had one and he was ‘na-sheep-shanks’. Every ear in the world had heard of his fame, and every tongue could bear testimony to it. I shall name him the Duke of Strathelleraye, and by that name the village was likewise denominated.