m THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY V.7 Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. University of Illinois Library NOV ^ ^ m 1 ^ HOV 05 24 OCT MAY 10 m 1 MAR 0 4 APR ? ^975 m 985 ^990 1991 m C 1993 L161 — H41 i I I i V r}Rlcliinoud.R^.del I 'i I Ijl i e h f?d bv iipr Rrn tl-i p rr> M " w Y . r i< , LIBRARY OF !Mt THE HAWORTH EDITION THE LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE By MRS. GASKELL WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY CLEMENT K. SHORTER ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK AND LONDON HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 1902 J Copyright, 1900, by Clkmknt K. Shorter. All riolU* reierved. ^ CONTENTS PAGE Introduction xvii A Bronte Chronology xxxv CHAPTER I Description of Keighley and its Neighbourhood — Haworth Parson- age and Church— Tablets of the Bronte family 1 CHAPTER II Characteristics of Yorkshiremen— Manufactures of the West Rid- ing — Descendants of the Puritans— A characteristic incident — Former state of the country— Isolated country houses — Two Yorkshire squires — Rude sports of the people — Rev. William Grimshaw, Curate of Haworth — His opinion and treatment of his parishioners — The 'arvill,' or funeral feasts— Haworth Field- Kirk — Church riots at Haworth on the appointment of Mr. Redhead as Perpetual Curate — Characteristics of the popula- tion — Arrival of Mr. Bronte at Haworth 11 CHAPTER III ^The lev. Patrick Bronte — His marriage with Miss Branwell of Of Peazance — Social customs in Penzance — The Branwell family —Letters of Miss Branwell to Mr. Bronte — Marriage of Mrs. B'onte — Thornton, the birth-place of Charlotte Bronte — Re- mcral to Haworth — Description of the Parsonage— The people of Jaworth — The Bronte family at Haworth — Early training of '.he little Brontes — Characteristics of Mr. Bronte — Death of Mn. Bronte — Studies of the Bronte family — Mr. Bronte's ac- coint of his children 36 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi CHAPTER IV PAOB Miss Bran well comes to Haworth — Account of Cowan Bridge School, established by the Rev. Carus Wilson— Originals of •Miss Scatcherd,' 'Helen Burns/ and 'Miss Temple ' — Out- break of fever in the school — Characteristics of the Bronte sis- ters—Deaths of Maria and Elizabeth Bronte 61 CHAPTER V The old servant Tabby — Patrick Bran well Bronte — Charlotte Bronte's catalogue of her juvenile productions, with specimen page — Extracts from the introduction to ' Tales of the Islanders' — 'History of the Year 1829' — Charlotte's taste for art — Ex- tracts from other early writings in MS. — Charlotte's mental tendencies and home duties — A strange occurrence at the Par- sonage — A youthful effusion in verse 82 CHAPTER VI Personal description of Charlotte Bronte— Miss W 's school at Roe Head — Oakwell Hall and its legends— Charlotte's first ap- pearance at school — Her youthful character and political feel- ings — School days at Roe Head — Mr. Cartwright and the Lud- dites — Mr. Roberson of Heald's Hall — Chapel scenes and other characteristics of Heckmondwike and Gomersall 96 CHAPTER VII Charlotte Bronte leaves school, and returns home to instruct her sisters — Studies and books at the Parsonage — Visit from a school friend — Letters to a friend visiting London for the first time— On the choice of books — On dancing — Character. and tal- ents of Bran well Bronte — Plans for his advancement — Prospect of separation 122 CHAPTER VIII \ I Charlotte as teacher at Miss W 's school — Emily's home-sicjt- ness — Letters indicative of Charlotte's despondency and mel- ancholy — The sisters at home — Winter evenings at Haworth-^ Charlotte writes to Southey, and Bran well to Wordsworth- - Branwell's letter and verses— Prospect of losing the society of friend— Charlotte's correspondence with Southey — Letter wri CONTENTS ix Page ten in a state of despondency — Accident to the old servant, and characteristic kindness of the Brontes — Symptoms of illness in Ann 3 Bronte— Charlotte's first proposal of marriage— Charlotte and Anne go out as governesses — Charlotte's experience of gov- erness life — Advent of the first Curate at Haworth — A second proposal of marriage— -A visit to the sea-side 142 CHAPTER IX Branwell Bronte still at home — Miss Branwell and her nieces — Plan of keeping a school— Charlotte commences her first story — The Curates at Haworth — Charlotte's sentiments on rxkdr- riage — She seeks ar.d obtains a situation as govern <^ss . . .188 CHAPTER X Second experience of governess life— ProitiCt of a school revived, and plans for its realisation — Miss ^ 's offer of her school declined— Arrangements for lea^' ing England 206 CHAPTER XI Mr. Bronte accompanies his daughters to Brussels— The Pension- nat of Madame Heg^^-^r, and its inmates— M. Heger's account of Charlotte and Jlimily Bronte — Charlotte's account of the school — Her exercises in French composition— Her impres- sions of the Belgians — Arrangements of the pensionnat — Char- lotte's conduct as^ English teacher — Loss of a young friend — Death 6r Mitjs Branwell, and return to Haworth — M. Heger's letters to ^t. Bronte 223 CHAPTER XII Charlotte i^'^'irne to Brussels — Her account of Carnival and Lent — Solit^/ness of the English teacher in the pensionnat — Her devoir ar Ir' Mort de Napoleon ' — Depression, loneliness, and home> ! kness — Estrangement from Madame Heger, and re- turn i, t Haworth — Traits of kindness — Emily and her dog •K/iepe' 258 i CHAPTER XIII t' Plan gof scliool-keeping revived and abandoned — Deplorable con- d\>ict of Branwell Bronte, and its consequences 283 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE CHAPTER XIV PAGK Publication of the poems of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell— Coire- spondence with the publishers — Letters to Miss W find other friends— Letter of advice to a young friend 298 CHAPTER XV Mr. Bronte aflSicted with blindness, and relieved by a successful <)peration for cataract— Charlotte Bronte's first work of fiction, * The Professor ' — She commences ' Jane Eyre ' — Circum- stauops attending its composition — Her ideas of a heroine — Her attachmout to home— Ha worth in December — A letter of confession and r;ounsel 316 CHAPTER XVI State of Charlotte Bronte's heaJth at the commencement of 1847— Family trials—' Wuthering Heights ' and * Agnes Grey ' accept- ed by a publisher — 'The Professor' rejected — Completion of * Jane Eyre,' its reception and publication — The reviews of * Jane Eyre,' and the author's comments on them— Her father's reception of the book — Public interest excited by ' Jane Eyre ' — Dedication of the second edition to Mr. Thackeray — Corre- spondence of Currer Bell with Mr. LewesN^n ' Jane Eyre ' — Publication of * Wuthering Heights' and ' A^nes Grey ' — Miss Bronte's account of the authoress of * Wuthering Heights '—Do- mestic anxieties of the Bronte sisters — Currer ^Bell's corre- spondence with Mr. Lewes — Unhealthy state of IJaVorth— , Charlotte Bronte on the revolutions of 1848 — IJer i-^pudiation of authorship— Anne Bronte's second tale, ' The Tenant of Wildfell Hall '—Misunderstanding as to the individuality of the three Bells, and its results — Currer and Acfton J ^11 visit London — Charlotte Bronte's account of her visit— The ^apter Coffee-House — The Clergy Daughters' School at Cast -^on^ — Death of Branwell Bronte — Illness and deatl > of nily Bronte * . . 330 CHAPTER XVII i The * Quarterly Review * on * Jane Eyre * — Severe illness o, Ani^ie Bronte — Her letter and last verses — She is removed t( Scai - borough — Her last hours, and death and burial there— Ghai - lotte's return to Haworth, and her loneliness 395 CONTENTS CHAPTER XVIII PAGE Commencement and completion of * Shirley ' — Originals of the characters, and circumstances under which it was written — Loss on railway shares— Letters to Mr. Lewes and other friends on * Shirley,' and the reviews of it — Miss Bronte visits London, meets Mr. Thackeray, and makes the acquaintance of Miss Mar- tineau — Her impressions of literary men 423 CHAPTER XIX * Currer Bell ' identified as Miss Bronte at Ha worth and the vi- cinity — Her letter to Mr. Lewes on his review of * Shirley ' — Sol- itude, heavy mental sadness and anxiety — She visits Sir J. and Lady Kay-Shuttleworth — Her comments on critics, and re- marks on Thackeray*s * Pendennis ' and Scott's ' Suggestions on Female Education * — Opinions of * Shirley ' by Yorkshire readers 446 CHAPTER XX An unhealthy spring at Haworth — Miss Bronte's proposed visit to London— Her remarks on *The Leader' — Associations of her walks on the moors — Letter to an unknown admirer of her works — Incidents of her visit to London — Letter to her servant Martha — Impressions of a visit to Scotland — Portrait of Miss Bronte, by Richmond— Anxiety about her father . . . . . 463 CHAPTER XXI Visit to Sir J. and Lady Kay-Shuttleworth — The biographer's im- pressions of Miss Bronte— Miss Bronte's account of her visit to the lakes of Westmoreland — Her disinclination for acquaint- ance and visiting — Remarks on 'Woman's Mission,' Tenny- son's 'In Memoriam,' &c. — Impressions of her visit to Scot- land—Remarks on a review in the * Palladium ' 480 CHAPTER XXII Intended republication of ' Wuthering Heights' and * Agnes Grey' —Reaction after her visit to Scotland — Her first meeting with Mr. Lewes — Her opinion of Balzac and George Sand — A char- acteristic incident — Account of a friendly visit to Haworth Parsonage— Remarks on 'The Roman,' by Sydney Dobell, and on the character of Dr. Arnold— Letter to Mr. Dobell . . . 492 xii LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi CHAPTER XXIII PAGB Miss Bronte's visit to Miss Martineau, and estimate of her hostess — Miss Martineau's anecdotes of her guest — Remarks on Miss Martineau's new worlt and Mr. Ruskin's ' Stones of Venice ' — Preparations for another visit to London — Letter to Mr. Sydney Dobell : the moors in autumn — Mr. Thackeray's second lecture at Willis's Rooms, and sensation produced by Currer Bell's appearance there — Her account of her visit to London — She breakfasts with Mr. Rogers, visits the Great Exhibition, and sees Lord Westminster's pictures — Return to Haworth, and letter thence — Her comment on Mr. Thackeray's lecture — Counsel on development of character 508 CHAPTER XXIV Remarks on friendship — Letter to Mrs. Gaskell on her and Miss Martineau's views of the Great Exhibition and Mr. Thack- eray's lecture, and on the * Saint's Tragedy ' — Miss Bronte's feeling towards children — Her comments on an article in the * Westminster Review ' on the Emancipation of Women — More illness at Haworth Parsonage — Letter on emigration — Periodi- cal returns of illness— Miss Bronte's impressions of her visit to London — Progress of 'Villette' — Her increasing illness and sulferings during winter — Her letter on Mr. Thackeray's ' Esmond ' — Revival of sorrows and accession of low spirits — Remarks on some recent books — Retrospect of the winter of 1851-2— Letter to Mrs. Gaskell on ' Ruth ' 545 CHAPTER XXV Miss Bronte revisits Scarborough— Serious illness of her father— Her own illness—' Villette ' nearly completed— Further remarks on 'Esmond' and 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' — Letter respecting 'Villette ' — Another letter about 'Villette' — More remarks on 'Esmond' — Completion of 'Villette' — Instance of extreme sensibility 586 CHAPTER XXVI The biographer's difficulty — Deep and enduring attachment of Mr. Nicholls for Miss Bronte — Instance of her self-abnegation — She again visits London — Impressions of this visit — Letter to Mrs. Gaskell — Reception of the critiques on ' Villette '—Cor- CONTENTS xiii PAGB respondence with Miss Martineau — Letter on Mr. Thackeray's portrait— Visit of the Bishop of Ripon to Haworth Parsonage — Miss Bronte's wish to see the unfavourable critiques on her works — Her nervous shyness of strangers, and its cause— Let- Letters to Mrs. Gaskell— The biographer's account of her visit to Haworth, and reminiscences of conversations with Miss Bronte — Letters from Miss Bronte to her friends — Her engagement to Mr. Nicholls, and preparations for the marriage — The marriage ceremony and wedding tour — Her happiness in the marriage state — New symptoms of illness, and their cause — The two last letters written by Mrs. Nicholls — An alarming change — Her death 625 ter on Mr. Thackeray's lectures 602 CHAPTER XXVII CHAPTER XXVIII Mourners at the funeral— Conclusion 654 INDEX 657 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Portrait of Mrs. Gaskell Frontispiece Facsimile of the Title-page of the First Edition p- xxxvii Haworth Old Church as the Brokte Family knew It To face p. 8 The Parsonage at Haworth .... 48 Facsimile Page of MS. of 'The Secret' 84 The Heger 'Pensionnat/ Kue dTsa- belle, Brussels : Central Avenue of the Garden . 228 The Forbidden Alley 248 Facsimile of a Letter from Charlotte Bronte to Mrs. Smith „ 452 Portrait of the Eev. Patrick Bronte . 496 Portrait of the Kev. A. B. Nicholls . . „ 642 The following Illustrations are reproduced from photographs taken hy Mr, W, R. Bland, of Duffield, Derby, in con- junction with Mr, C, Barrow Keene, of Derby : Distant View of Haworth To face p. 4 Haworth Village, Main Street ... „ 30 xvi LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE House wheke the Rev. Patrick Bronte resided, at hightown, when curate OF Hartshead-cum-Olifton . ... To face p. 38 Roe Head „ 98 Haworth Moor — The Bronte Bridge . „ 126 Haworth Moor — Showing Charlotte Bronte's Chair „ 336 Haworth Old Hall 456 INTRODUCTION By universal acclamation the biographies of Johnson by Boswell and of Scott by Lockhart are accepted as the foremost achievements in English literary biography. Between these books and all other literary biographies in our language there is a great gulf fixed. Johnson's biographer had a subject peculiarly imposing. The king of later eighteenth-century literature, the oracle of his age, the friend of Burke and of Goldsmith must of necessity have made a fascinating topic for succeeding times. In his biographer also he was fortunate. A literary expert, a friend of years, of boundless zeal and enthusiasm, and well-nigh limitless indiscretion, Boswell alone in his era had the qualifications, as he had also the subject-matter for a perfect biography. Scarcely less fortunate are we in the ' Life of Scott.' The greatest figure in our nineteenth - century litera- ture — with the possible exception of Byron — Sir Walter Scott was not only its most successful novelist and one of its most popular poets, but he had surveyed many fields of learning with amazing skill and industry. He had been brought into contact with all the notable men of his age. The biographer of Napoleon Bonaparte, the historian of Scotland, the editor of Swift and of Dryden — scarcely one of his ninety volumes but still survives xviii LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE to charm and instruct. Lockhart, the biographer and son-in-law of Scott, had also every qualification for the task of biographer. His ' Life of Burns ' still remains the most readable book on that poet — at least to the Southron. His novels, his criticisms, his many forms of literary activity had provided the precise equipment for an adequate estimate of Sir Walter Scott. Of Byron and of Shelley, of Cowper and of Wordsworth we have had many biographies, and shall probably have many more as new material concerning one or other of these writers is brought together by the enthusiast ; but over the biographies of Johnson and of Scott the word ^finality' is written exceeding large. With equal confidence may it be asserted that that word ' finality ' is applicable to Mrs. Gaskell's ' Life of Charlotte Bronte.' There are those among the critical writers of to-day to whom the name of Charlotte Bronte conveys no magical significance, who have not been thrilled, as Thackeray was thrilled in one generation and Mr. Swinburne in another, by the extraordinary power and genius of the writer, the pathetically dramatic career of the woman. With these it may provoke a smile that any comparison should be instituted between the biography of Charlotte Bronte and the biographies of Johnson and of Scott. Her range of ideas was so much more limited, her influence so trivial in comparison, her work, in quantity at least, so far less significant. When this is admitted the fact remains that Charlotte Bronte wrote novels which more than forty years after her death are eagerly read; novels which have now taken an indisputable place as classics, and classics not of a type that is limited to a handful of readers, but INTRODUCTION xix which still sell in countless thousands and in edition after edition. Whatever may have been the sorrows ot her life Charlotte Bronte was so far fortunate in death in that her biography was Avritten by the one woman among her contemporaries who had the most genuine fitness for the task. The result was to solidify the reputation of both. Mrs. Gaskell will live not only by a number of interesting novels but also by this memoir of her friend. Charlotte Bronte would have lived in any case by her four powerful stories ; but her fame has been made thrice secure through the ever popular biography of her from the pen of Mrs. Gaskell, of which we have here a new edition. If it be granted that Mrs. GaskelPs ' Life of Charlotte Bronte ' is a classic, it may be urged with pertinence that the rough hand of editor or annotator should never be placed upon a classic without apology. J ustification may, however, be found, it is hoped, in the addition of new material unknown to the original author. If an apology is due it must be rendered first of all to the memory of Mrs. Gaskell and afterwards to her surviv- intr friends and relatives. The editor has so far recoo:- nised this in that he has aimed at adding no single note or line that Mrs. Gaskell, were she still alive, would not, he believes, have cordially approved. He would urge further that BoswelFs 'Johnson- was edited within a few years of its author's death, with the result that no edition is now published that lacks the notes of Edmund Malone.' Malone added new letters and new facts, and ^ Full recognition has never been rendered to Maloue's services. XX LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE thereby justified himself. Within a less lengthy period than has elapsed since the ' Life of Charlotte Bronte ' Avas first published Boswell was edited — and, as Ma- caulay thought, too much edited — -by Croker. It is an interesting fact, indeed — although it can have no analogy in the present case — that BoswelPs ' Johnson ' never sold in any considerable numbers until Croker had taken it in hand. The first editor thought it matter for congratu- lation that ' nearly four thousand copies ' had been sold in thirteen years from the date of original publication. Mrs. GaskelFs book has not failed of a large sale, and, it may be admitted, does very well as it stands. A jus- tification for an annotated edition is not, however, diffi- cult. Mrs. Gaskell, writing Avithin a year or two of Miss Bronte's death, Avas compelled to reticences many of which have long ceased to have weight. Documents were withheld in many quarters which have since been handed to the present writer, and a number of Miss Bronte's admirers have written books in Avhich they have supplemented in one form or another Mrs. Gas- kelFs narrative. Here is a list of the books to Avhich I Avish to acknowledge some indebtedness : — 1. Charlotte Bronte : a Monograph. By T. Wemyss Reid. Macmillan & Co., 1877. 2. A Note on Charlotte Bronte. By Algernon Charles Swinburne. Chatto & Windus, 1877. 3. Haworth, Past and Pi^esent. By J. Horsfall Turner. Brighouse Jowett, 1879. Within a few pages he throws light on Johnson's brother, corrects BoswelFs carelessly picturesque remark that Johnson married a wife double his age, and moderates the biographer's disposition to toady to Lady Macclesfield. INTRODUCTION xxi 4. Pictures of the Past. By Francis H. Grund3^ Griffith & Farran, 1879. 5. Emily Bronte. By A. Mary F. Robinson. W. H. Allen & Co. , 1883. 6. The Birtliptace of Charlotte Bronte. By William Scruton. Leeds: Fletcher, 1884. 7. An Hour with Charlotte Bronte. By Laura C. Holloway. Funk & Wagnalls, 1884. 8. The Bronte Family, icith special reference to Patrick Branwell Bronte. By Francis A. Leyland. Hurst & Blackett, 1880. 9. The Life of Charlotte Bronte. By Augustine Birrell, Q.C., M.P. Walter Scott, 1887. 10. The Bronte Country : its Topography, Antiquities, and History. By J. A. Erskine Stuart. Longmans, Green, & Co., 1888. 11. The Literary Shrines of Yorkshire. By J. A. Erskine Stuart. Longmans, Green, & Co., 1892. 12. The Brontes in Ireland. By William Wright, D.D. Hodder & Stoughton, 1893. 13. The Father of the Brontes. By W. W. Yates. Leeds: F. R. Spark & Son, 1897. 14. Brontiana: the Bev. Patrick Bronte, A.B., His Collected Works and Life. Edited, &c., by J. Horsfall Turner. Bingley : T. Harrison & Sons, 1898. 15. The Bronte Homeland. By J. Ramsden. The Roxburghe Press, 1898. 16. Thornton and the Brontes. By William Scruton. Bradford: John Dale, 1898, 17. Ihe Bronte Society Publications. Edited by Butler Wood. Brad- ford : xM. Field & Sons, 1895-99. To each of the above works I am indebted for certain facts incorporated in the notes, and I thank their authors accordingly. I have also to thank Mr. George Smith, of Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co., for kindly plac- ing at my disposal a number of hitherto unpublished letters by Miss Bronte addressed either to him or to his fli:m. These new letters should alone, I think, give special interest to this new edition. Certain brief ex- tracts from my own book' on the Brontes will also ^ Charlotte Bronte and her CirclCy by Clement K. Shorter (Hodder & Stoughton). xxii LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi serve, I trust, to fill in sundry gaps in Mrs. Gaskell's, singularly fascinating story. The life of Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell, Charlotte Bronte's biographer, has never been written, and the world is the poorer by a pleasing picture of womanliness and sympathetic charm in the literary life. A brief sketch by Professor A. W. Ward in the ' Dictionary of National Biography,' an occasional article by an admirer in this or that magazine, and now and again some more or less biographical ' Introduction ' to one or other of her novels— these sources furnish the few items of information that the world has been permitted to learn of one who must have been a singularly upright and noble-minded woman. Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell was the daughter of William Stevenson. She was born in Chelsea on September 29, 1812, and died at Holybourne, near Alton, in Hampshire, November 12, 1865. In 18*32 she married the Rev. William Gaskell, a Unitarian minister of Manchester, and she had several children. This, in as few words as possible, is all that need be said here of her private life, apart from its relation to Charlotte Bronte. Of her books the first, 'Mary J>arton,' was published anonymously in 1848, and 'Wives and Daughters' was published in book form after her death in 1866. In the interval she had writ- ten 'Ruth' (1853), 'Cranford' (1853), 'North and South' (1855), 'Lizzie Leigh ' (1855), ' Sylvia's Lovers' (1863), and 'Cousin Phillis' (1865). It is, however, with the ' Life of Charlotte Bronte,' written in 1856 and published in 1857, that we have here mainly to do. Much of the correspondence which gave rise to Mrs. INTRODUCTION xxiii GaskelPs biography has already been published,' and it is therefore scarcely necessary to recapitulate. The letter in which Mr. Bronte definitely requested Mrs. Gaskell to undertake a biography of his daughter has, however, but just been unearthed.^ It is an interesting contribution to the bibliography of the subject. Charlotte Bronte had died on the 3rd of the previous March : — TO MRS. GASKELL, MANCHESTER. Haworth, near Keighley : June 16, 1855. My dear Madam, — Finding that a great many scribblers, as well as some clever and truthful writers, have published articles in newspapers and tracts respecting my dear daughter Charlotte since her death, and seeing that, many things that have been stated are untrue, but more false (sic) ; and having reason to think that some may venture to write her life who will be ill-qualified for the undertaking, I can see no better plan under the circumstances than to apply to some established author to write a brief account of her life and to make some remarks on her works. You seem to me to be the best qualified for doing what I wish should be done. If, therefore, you will be so kind as to publish a long or short account of her life and works, just as you may deem expedient and proper, Mr. Nicholls and I will give you such information as you may require. I should expect and request that you would affix your name, so that the work might obtain a wide circulation and be handed down to the latest times. Whatever profits might arise from the sale would, of course, belong to you. You are the first to whom I have applied. Mr. Nicholls approves of the step I have taken, and could my daughter ^ In Charlotte Bronte and her Circle. * The original is in the possession of Mr. George Smith, of Messrs* Smith, Elder, & Co. xxiv LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi speak from the tomb I feel certain she would land onr choice. Give my respectfnl regards to Mr. Gaskell and yonr family, and Believe me, my dear Madam, Yours very respectfully and truly, P. Bronte. Mrs. Gaskell, it is clear, accepted with zest. She had admired Charlotte Bronte as a woman as well as a novelist. Miss Bronte had been encouraged by her letters before the two had met. Here, for example, are extracts from letters by Charlotte to her friend Mr. Williams : — The letter you forwarded this morning was from Mrs. Gaskell, authoress of ^ Mary Barton she said I was not to answer it, but I cannot help doing so. The note brought the tears to my eyes. She is a good, she is a great woman. Proud am I that I can touch a chord of sympathy in souls so noble. In Mrs. GaskelFs nature it mournfully pleases me to fancy a remote affinity to my sister Emily. In Miss Mar- tineau^s mind I have always felt the same, though there are wide differences. Both these ladies are above me — certainly far my superiors in attainments and experience. I think I could look up to them if I knew them.^ The note you sent yesterday was from Harriet Martineau ; its contents were more than gratifying. I ought to be thankful, and I trust I am, for such testimonies of sym- pathy from the first order of minds. When Mrs. Gaskell tells me she shall keep my works as a treasure for her daughters, and when Harriet Martineau testifies affectionate approbation, I feel the sting taken from the strictures of another class of critics. My resolution of seclusion with- holds me from communicating further with these ladies at ' Letter to W. S. Williams dated November 20, 1849. INTRODUCTION XXV present, but I now know how tliey are inclined to me — I know how my writings have affected their wise and pure minds. The knowledge is present support and, perhaps, may be future armour.^ Miss Bronte and Mrs. Gaskell first met at the house of a common friend. Sir James Kay-Shuttleworth, the Briery, Windermere, on August 10, 1850. The friend- ship then formed was cemented by an exchange of visits. Miss Bronte visited Mrs. Gaskell in her Man- chester home first in 1851, and afterwards in 1853, and in the autumn of 1853 Mrs. Gaskell stayed at the Par- sonage at Haworth. Other aspects of their friendship are pleasantly treated of in the ' Life.' To trace the growth, bibliographically, of Mrs. Gas- kell's famous book is an easy task. From the moment that she received Mr. Bronte's request the author of ' Mary Barton ' set to work with enthusiasm. She wrote letter after letter to every friend connected with the Bronte story — to Mr. George Smith, the publisher, to Mr. Smith Williams, that publisher's literary adviser, to Ellen Nussey and Mary Taylor, Charlotte Bronte's old schoolfellows at Eoe Head, to Margaret Wooler, her old schoolmistress, and to Laetitia Wheelwright, the friend of her Brussels life. All the correspondence has been preserved, and copies of it are in my hands. It relates with delightful enthusiasm the writer's experience in biography-making. Her visits to Miss ISTussey and Miss Wooler secured to her a number of Miss Bronte's letters. She thus acknowledges — on Sept. 6, 1856 — those that Miss Nussey lent to her : — » Letter to W. S. Williams dated Noverrber 29, 1849. xxvi LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE I have read once over all the letters you so kindly en- trusted me with, and I donH think even you, her most cherished friend, could wish the impression on me to be different from what it is, that she was one to study the path of duty well, and, having ascertained what it was right to do, to follow out her idea strictly. They gave me a very beautiful idea of her character. I like the one you sent to-day much. I shall be glad to see any others you will allow me to see. I am sure the more fully she — Char- lotte Bronte — the friend, the daughter , the sister, the wife, is known, and known where need be in her own words, the more highly will she be appreciated. There are many sentences of this character in the cor- respondence. She is particularly pleased with the letters to Mr. W. Smith Williams ; ' They are very fine and genial.' ' Miss Bronte seems heartily at her ease with him,' she says to another friend. ' I like the series of letters which you have sent better than any others that I have seen,' she writes to Mr. Williams, ' the subjects, too, are very interesting. How beautifully she speaks, for in- stance, of her wanderings on the moors after her sister's death.' But Mrs. Gaskell's energy did not confine itself to obtaining correspondence. She went to Ha worth again and again, staying at the ' Black Bull ' with, her hus- band. She visited the Chapter Coffee -House in Pater- noster Eow, ' where Charlotte and Anne Bronte took up their abode on that first hurried rush to London.' ' She went to Brussels and had a prolonged conversation with M. Heger ' and very much indeed I both like and respect him.' Never surely was a more conscientious » The Chapter Coffee-House was destroyed a few months after Mrs. Gaskell's visit. INTRODUCTION xxvii effort to produce a biography in which thoroughness f and accuracy should have a part with good writing and sympathetic interpretation. At first, indeed, it seemed as if a perfect success '] crowned Mrs. Gaskell's efforts. The book was published • in two volumes, under the title of the ' Life of Charlotte Bronte,' in the spring of 1857. It went into a second edition immediately, the addition of a single foot note concerning ' Tabby ' being the only variation between the two issues. Not only the public but the intimate relations and friends appeared to be satisfied. Mr. Bronte wrote the following letter to Mr. George Smith, of Smith, Elder, & Co. :— TO GEORGE SMITH, ESQ., CORNHILL, LONDON. Ha worth, near Keighley : March 30, 1857. Dear Sir, — I thank you and Mrs. Gaskell for the bio- graphical books you have sent me. I have read them with a high degree of melancholy interest, and consider them amongst the ablest, most interesting, and best works of the ? kind. Mrs. Gaskell, though moving in what was to her a V new line — a somewhat critical matter— has done herself gi'eat credit by this biographical work, which I doubt not will place her higher in literary fame even than she stood before. Notwithstanding that I have formed my own opinion, from which the critics cannot shake me, I am cu- rious to know what they may say. I will thank you, there- fore, to send me two or three newspapers containing criti- cisms on the biography, and I will remit the price of them to you in letter stamps. I remain, dear Sir, yours respectfully and truly, P. Bronte. And to the author of the book he wrote with even stronger expressions of satisfaction — • xxviii LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE TO MRS. GASKELL, MANCHESTER. Ha worth, near Keighley : April 2, 1857. My dear Madam, — I thank yon for the books you have sent me containing the Memoir of my daughter. I have perused them with a degree of pleasure and pain which can be known only to myself. As you will have the opin- ion of abler critics than myself I shall not say much in the way of criticism. I shall only make a few remarks in uni- son with the feelings of my heart. With a tenacity of purpose usual with me, in all cases of importance, I was fully determined that the biography of my daughter should, if possible, be written by one not unworthy of the undertaking. My mind first turned to you, and you kind- ly acceded to my wishes. Had you refused I would have applied to the next best, and so on ; and had all applica- tions failed, as the last resource, though above eighty years of age and feeble, and unfit for the task, I would myself have written a short though inadequate memoir, rather than have left all to selfish, hostile, or ignorant scribblers. But the work is now done, and done rightly, as I wished it to be, and in its completion has afforded me more satis- faction than I have felt during many years of a life in which has been exemplified the saying that ' man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upwards.^ You have not only given a picture of my dear daughter Charlotte, but of my dear wife, and all my dear children, and such a picture, too, as is full of truth and life. The picture of my brilliant and unhappy son is a masterpiece. Indeed, all the pictures in the work have vigorous, truthful, and delicate touches in them, which could have been executed only by a skilful fe- male hand. There are a few trifling mistakes, which, should it be deemed necessary, may be corrected in the second edition. Mr. Nicholls joins me in kind and respect- ful regards to you, Mr. Gaskell, and your family, wishing your greatest good in both the words. I remain, my dear Madam, Yours respectfully and truly, P. Brokte. INTRODUCTION xxix Miss Mary Taylor acknowledged the book from her home in New Zealand as follows : — TO MES. GASKELL, MANCHESTER. Wellington : July 30, 1857. My dear Mrs. Gaskell, — I am unaccountably in receipt by post of two volumes containing the Life of C. Bronte. I have pleasure in attributing this compliment to you ; I beg, therefore, to thank you for them. The book is a per- fect success, in giving a true picture of a melancholy life, and you have practically answered my puzzle as to how you would give an account of her, not being at liberty to give a true description of those around. Though not so gloomy as the truth, it is perhaps as much so as people will accept without calling it exaggerated, and feeling the desire to doubt and contradict it. I have seen two reviews of it. One of them sums it up as ^ a life of poverty and self-suppres- sion,^ the other has nothing to the purpose at all. Neither of them seems to think it a strange or wrong state of things that a woman of first-rate talents, industry, and integrity should live all her life in a walking nightmare of ^poverty and self-suppression.' I doubt whether any of them will. It must upset most people's notions of beauty to be told that the portrait at the beginning is that of an ugly woman. I do not altogether like the idea of publishing a flattered likeness. I had rather the mouth and eyes had been nearer together, and shown the veritable square face and large, disproportionate nose. I had the impression that Cartwright's mill was burnt in 1820, not in 1812. You give much too favourable an account of the black-coated and Tory savages that kept the people down and provoked excesses in those days. Old Koberson said he ^ would wade to the knees in blood rather than the then state of things should be altered ' — a state including Corn law. Test law, and a host of other oppressions. Once more I thank you for the book — the first copy, I believe, that arrived in New Zealand. Sincerely yours, Mary Taylok. XXX LIFE OP CHARLOTTE BRONTfi 'AH the notices that I have seen have been favour- able,' wrote Mrs. Gaskell to a friend on April 15, 1857, 'and some of the last exceedingly so. I have had a con- siderable number of letters, too, from distinguished men, expressing high approval.' Mr. Bronte, too, I am happy to say, is pleased.' But within a few weeks Mrs. Gaskell found herself in a veritable ' hornets' nest ' — as she expressed it. She visited Italy the moment her task was completed, and during April and May of the year 1857 her publishers had to bear the brunt of a considerable number of law- yers' letters. Mr. Carus "Wilson commenced an action about the Cowan Bridge School ; Miss Martineau wrote sheet after sheet regarding the misunderstanding be- ^ A letter from Charles Kingsley to Mrs. Gaskell is published in his Life by Mrs. Kingsley ' Let me renew our long interrupted acquaintance/ he writes from St. Leonards, under date May 14, 1857, 'by complimenting you on poor Miss Bronte's Life. You have had a delicate and a great work to do, and you have done it admirably. Be sure that the book will do good. It will shame literary people into some stronger belief that a simple, virtuous, practical home life is consistent with high imagina- tive genius ; and it will shame, too, the prudery of a not over cleanly though carefully white-washed age, into believing that purity is now (as in all ages till now) quite compatible with the knowledge of evil. I confess that the book has made me ashamed of myself. Jane Eyre I hardly looked into, very seldom reading a work of fiction — yours, indeed, and Thackeray's are the only ones I care to open. Shirley dis- gusted me at the opening, and I gave up the writer and her books with a notion that she was a person who liked coarseness. How I mis- judged her ! and how thankful I am that I never put a word of my misconceptions into print, or recorded my misjudgments of one who is a whole heaven above me. ' Well have you done your work, and given us the picture of a valiant woman made perfect by suffering. I shall now read carefully and lovingly every word she has written, especially those poems, which ought not to have fallen dead as they did, and which seem to be (from a review in the current Fraser) of remarkable strength and purity. INTRODUCTION xxxi tween her and Miss Bronte. A Lady Scott (Mrs. Kob- inson, of Thorp Green), whose name had been unpleas- antly associated with Branwell Bronte on the strength of statements in his sisters' letters, wrote through her lawyer demanding an apology. The last scandal is dis- cussed at length in Miss Mary F. Kobinson's ' Emily Bronte,' Mr. Leyland's ' Bronte Family,' and in ' Char- lotte Bronte and Her Circle.' It need not be further referred to here, as the modification that its correction necessitated in the third edition of the ' Memoir ' in no way impaired, but indeed materially improved, the artis- tic value of the book. A comparison of the third edition with its predecessors, while it reveals on the one side omissions amounting to a couple of pages, shows also the addition of new letters and of much fresh informa- tion. The present publishers have felt, in any case, that having once withdrawn the earlier issues of the book as containing statements considered to be libellous, they could not be responsible for a republication of those state- ments. This edition is, therefore, an exact reproduction of the third edition, the only changes being the substi- tution of the name Ellen for the initial ' E.,' and of ' Miss Wooler' for 'Miss W.,' changes which, although trifling, will, it is believed, save the reader some irritation. In the few cases of necessary verification in which a name has been added in the text it is placed in brackets. The notes, which the Editor has endeavoured to make as few as possible, are so printed that they can be completely ignored when desired. Two hitherto unpublished letters of Mr. Bronte's fittingly close the correspondence to which Mrs. Gas- kell's ' Memoir ' gave rise. xxxii LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE TO GEORGE SMITH, ESQ., 65 CORKHILL, LONDON. Haworth, near Keighley : Sept. 4, 1857. My dear Sir, — I thank yon for the books which I have just received ; Mr. Nicholls also sends his thanks for those you have given to him. As far as I have gone through the third edition of the ' Memoir^ I am much pleased with it. I hope it will give general satisfaction. Should you see any reviews worth notice be so kind as to let me have them, as I am rather anxious to know what the sage critics may deem it expedient in their wisdom to say. I hope that by this time Mrs. Smith has fully recovered her health. Your anxiety on her account must be very great. Mr. Nicholls joins me in kind and respectful regards. Yours very respectfully and truly, P. Bronte. TO GEORGE SMITH, ESQ., 65 CORNHILL, LONDON. Haworth, near Keighley : March 26, 1860. My dear Sir, — Though writing is to me now something of a task I cannot avoid sending you a few lines to thank you for sending me the magazines, and for your gentle- manly conduct towards my daughter Charlotte in all your transactions with her, from first to last. All the numbers of the magazines were good ; the last especially attracted my attention and excited my admiration. The ^Last Sketch ' took full possession of my mind. Mr. Thackeray in his remarks in it has excelled even himself. He has written, Mulhim in parvo, dignissuna cedro. And what he has written does honour both to his head and heart. Thank him kindly both in Mr. Nicholls^s name and mine. Amongst the various articles that have been written in ref- erence to my family and me it has pleased some of the writers, for want of more important matter, to set up an ideal target for me as a mark to shoot at. In their prac- tice a few have drawn the long bow with a vengeance, and INTRODUCTION xxxiii made declensions very ridicalonsly wide ; others have used the surer rifle and come nearer the mark ; but all have proved that there is still space left for improvement^ both in theory and practice. Had I but half Mr. Thackeray^s talents in giving a photograph likeness of human nature I might have selected and might yet select a choice number of these practising volunteers, and, whether they liked it or not, give their portraits to the curious public. If organ- less spirits see as we see, and feel as we feel, in this ma- terial clogging world, my daughter Charlotte^s spirit will receive additional happiness on scanning the remarks of her Ancient Favourite. In the last letter I received from you you mentioned that Mrs. Smith was in delicate health ; I hope that she is now well. I need scarcely request you to excuse all faults in this hasty scrawl, since a man in his eighty - fourth year generally lets his age plead his apology. I remain, my dear Sir, Yours very respectfully and truly, P. Brokte. ^ ' I did so long to tell the truth,' writes Mrs. Gaskell to a friend on her return from Eome, ' and I believe now that I hit as near the truth as any one could, I weighed every line with my whole power and heart, so that every line should go to its great purpose of making her known and valued as one who had gone through such a terrible life with a brave and faithful heart. One comfort is that God knows the truth.' Clement K. Shorter. March 19, 1900. I have to thank Mr. J. J. Stead, of Heckmondwike, Yorkshire, and Mr. Butler Wood, of the Free Library, xxxiv LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE Bradford, for valuable suggestions. I am grateful to Mr. EoGER Ingpen for giving the book an index for the first time, and thereby saving me from the anathema which has been passed upon unindexed books. I have, above all, to express my obligations to the Rev. A. B. Nicholls, Charlotte Bronte's husband, for kind and generous as- sistance in this as in my previous attempt to throw new light upon his wife's career. A BRONTE CHRONOLOGY Patrick Bronte born March 17, 1777 Maria Bronte born 1'^^^ Patrick leaves Ireland for Cambridge 1^02 Degree of A.B ^^^^ Curacy at Wethersfield, Essex 1806 Wellington, Salop 1809 " Dewsbury, Yorks 1809 " Hartshead-cum- Clifton 1811 Publishes ' Cottage Poems' (Halifax) 1811 Married to Maria Branwell December 29, 1812 First Child, Maria, born , 1813 Publishes ' The Rural Minstrel ' 1813 Elizabeth born 1814 Publishes the ' Cottage in the Wood ' 1815 Curacy at Thornton 1816 Charlotte Bronte born at Thornton .... April 21, 1816 Patrick Branwell Bronte born 1817 Emily Jane Bronte born July 30, 1818 ' The Maid of Killarney ' published 1818 Anne Bronte born January 17, 1820 Removal to Incumbency of Haworth . . . February 1820 Mrs. Bronte died September 15, 1821 Maria and Elizabeth Bronte at Cowan Bridge . . . July 1824 Charlotte and Emily . . September 1824 Leave Cowan Bridge 1825 Maria Bronte died May 6, 1825 Elizabeth Bronte died June 15, 1825 Charlotte Bronte at School, Roe Head. . . . January 1831 Leaves Roe Head School 1832 First Visit to Ellen Nussey at The Rydings . . September 1832 Returns to Roe Head as governess .... July 29, 1835 Branwell visits London . 1835 Emily spends three months at Roe Head, when Anne takes her place and she returns home 1835 xxxvi LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE Miss Wooler's School removed to Dewsbury Moor . . . 1836 Emily at a School at Halifax for six months (Miss Patchett of Law Hill) 1836 First Proposal of Marriage (Henry Nussey) . . March 1839 Anne Bronte becomes governess at Blake Hall, Mrs. Ing- ham's April 1839 Charlotte governess at Mrs. Sidgwick's at Stonegappe, and at Swarcliffe, Harrogate 1839 Second Proposal of Marriage (Mr. Bryce) 1839 Charlotte and Emily at Haworth, Anne at Blake Hall . . 1840 Charlotte's second situation as governess with Mrs. White, Upperwood House, Rawdon .... March 1841 Charlotte and Emily go to School at Brussels . . February 1842 I Miss Branwell died at Haworth .... October 29, 1842 I Charlotte and Emily return to Haworth . . . November 1842 Charlotte returns to Brussels . . . . . January 1843 ! Returns to Haworth January 1844 | Anne and Branwell at Thorp Green 1845 Charlotte visits Mary Taylor at Hunsworth .... 1845 Visits Ellen Nussey at Brookroyd 1845 Publication of Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell . . 1846 \ Charlotte Bronte visits Manchester with her Father for him to ' see an Oculist August 1846 * Jane Eyre ' published (Smith, Elder & Co.) . . October 1847 * Wuthering Heights ' and ' Agnes Grey * (Newby) . December 1847 Charlotte and Anne visit London June 1848 ' Tenant of Wildfell Hall ' 1848 Branwell died September 24, 1848 Emily died December 19, 1848 Anne Bronte died at Scarborough .... May 28, 1849 'Shirley' published 1849 Visit to London, first meeting with Thackeray. . November 1849 Visit to London, sits for Portrait to Richmond .... 1850 Third Proposal of Marriage (James Taylor) .... 1851 Visit to London for Exhibition 1851 ' Villette ' published 1853 Visit to London 1853 Visit to Manchester to Mrs. Gaskell 1853 Marriage June 29, 1854 Death March 31, 1855 Patrick Bronte died June 7, 1861 Facsimile of tTie Title-page of the First Edition THE LIFE CHAELOTTE BRONTE, AUTHOK OP -JANE EYRE," "SHIRLEY," « VnXETTE," &C E- C. GASKELL, 4UtH0B OF " MABY BARTON,*' ** EUTH," ♦* Oh xny God, ' Thou hast knowledge, only Thou, How dreary tis-fbr women to sit still On wmter nights by solitary Area Asd hear the nations praising them fbr off.'* AVB(HU LSZQH. IN TWO VOLUMEa VOL. L LONDON: SMITH, ELDER & CO., 65, CORNHILL. 1857. lTh0 right of Tranolation is remved,} LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE CHAPTER I The Leeds and Skipton railway runs along a deep valley of the Aire ; a slow and sluggish stream, compared with the neighbouring river of Wharfe. Keighley station is on this line of railway, about a quarter of a mile from the town of the same name. The number of inhabitants and the importance of Keighley have been very greatly in- creased during the last twenty years, owing to the rapidly extended market for worsted manufactures, a branch of industry that mainly employs the factory population of this part of Yorkshire, which has Bradford for its centre and metropolis. Keighley ^ is in process of transformation from a popu- lous old-fashioned village into a still more populous and ^The population of Keighley was 13,378 in 1841, 21,859 in 1861, and 30,810 in 1.891. Keigliley is now a borough and is growing very rapidly. The old narrow streets have disappeared to a far greater ex- tent than at the time when Mrs. Gaskell visited the town. Keighley at present boasts many wide and handsome thoroughfares. There are several extensive machine works and two public parks. A large educational institute has grown out of the old Mechanics' Institute, from which the Brontes were accustomed to borrow books. The sta- tion is no longer ' about a quarter of a mile from the town,' the inter- vening space being now covered with houses. 1 2 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE flourishing town. It is evident to the stranger that, as the gable-ended houses, which obtrude themselves corner-wise on the widening streets, fall vacant, they are pulled down to allow of greater space for traffic and a more modern style of architecture. The quaint and narrow shop-windows of fifty years ago are giving way to large panes and plate-glass. Nearly every dwelling seems devoted to some branch of commerce. In passing hastily through the town, one hard- ly perceives where the necessary lawy^ and doctor can live, so little appearance is there of any dwellings of the pro- fessional middle-class, such as abound in our old cathedral towns. In fact, nothing can be more opposed than the state of society, the modes of thinking, the standards of reference on all points of morality, manners, and even poli- tics and religion, in such a new manufacturing place as Keighley in the north, and any stately, sleepy, picturesque cathedral town in the south. Yet the aspect of Keighley promises well for future stateliness, if not picturesqueness. Grey stone abounds, and the rows of houses built of it have a kind of solid grandeur connected with their uniform and enduring lines. The framework of the doors and the lin- tels of the windows, even in the smallest dwellings, are made of blocks of stone. There is no painted wood to re- quire continual beautifying, or else present a shabby aspect ; and the stone is kept scrupulously clean by the notable Yorkshire housewives. Such glimpses into the interior as a passer-by obtains reveal a rough abundance of the means of living, and diligent and active habits in the women. But the voices of the people are hard, and their tones discordant, promising little of the musical taste that distinguishes the district, and which has already furnished a Carrodus ^ to the musical world. The names over the shops (of which the one just given is a sample) seem strange even to an inhab- itant of the neighbouring county, and have a peculiar smack and flavour of the place. *Jobii Tiplady Carrodus (1836-95), a famous violinist, born at Braithwaite, near Keighley. KEIGHLEY AND HAWORTH 3 The town of Keighley never quite melts into country on the road to Haworth, although the houses become more sparse as the traveller journeys upwards to the grey round hills that seem to bound his journey in a westerly direction. First come some villas, just sufficiently retired from the road to show that they can scarcely belong to any one liable to be summoned in a hurry, at the call of suffering or dan- ger, from his comfortable fireside ; the lawyer, the doctor, and the clergyman live at hand, and hardly in the suburbs, with a screen of shrubs for concealment. In a town one does not look for vivid colouring ; what there may be of this is furnished by the wares in the shops, not by foliage or atmospheric effects ; but in the country some brilliancy and vividness seems to be instinctively ex- pected, and there is consequently a slight feeling of disap- pointment at the grey natural tint of every object, near or far off, on the way from Keighley to Ha worth. The distance is about four miles ; and, as I have said, what with villas, great worsted factories, rows of workmen^s houses, with here and there an old-fashioned farmhouse and outbuild- ings, it can hardly be called ^ country^ any part of the way. For two miles the road passes over tolerably level ground ; distant hills on the left, a ' beck' flowing through meadows on the right, and furnishing water power, at certain points, to the factories built on its banks. The air is dim and liglitless with the smoke from all these habitations and places of business. The soil in the valley (or ^bottom,' to use the local term) is rich ; but as the road begins to ascend the vegetation becomes poorer ; it does not flourish, it merely exists ; and instead of trees there are only bushes and shrubs about the dwellings. Stone dykes are every- where used^in place of hedges ; and what crops there are, on the patches of arable land, consist of pale, hungrjMook- ing, grey -green oats. Right before the traveller on this road rises Haworth village ; ^ he can see it for two miles be- * Haworth had a population of 6,303 in 1841. It liad declined to 5,896 in 1861, but contained a population of 8,023 in 1891. 4 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE fore he arrives, for it is situated on the side of a pretty steep hill, with a background of dun and purple moors, rising and sweeping away yet higher than the church, which is built at the very summit of the long narrow street. All round the horizon there is this same line of sinuous wave-like hills, the scoops into which they fall only revealing other hills beyond, of similar colour and shape, crowned with wild bleak moors — grand from the ideas of solitude and loneli- ness which they suggest, or oppressive from the feeling which they give of being pent up by some monotonous and illimitable barrier, according to the mood of mind in which the spectator may be. For a short distance the road appears to turn away from Haworth, as it winds round the base of the shoulder of a hill ; but then it crosses a bridge over the ^ beck,^ and the . ascent through the village begins. The flagstones with which it is paved are placed endways, in order to give a better hold to the horses^ feet ; and even with this help they \ seem to be in constant danger of slipping backwards. The old stone houses are high compared with the width of the street, which makes an abrupt turn before reaching the ' more level ground at the head of the village, so that the steep aspect of the place, in one part, is almost like that of a wall. But this surmounted, the church lies a little off the main road on the left ; a hundred yards or so and the driver relaxes his care, and the horse breathes more easily, ^ as they pass into the quiet little by-street that leads to Ha- I worth Parsonage. The churchyard is on one side of this ; lane, the schoolhouse and the sexton^s dwelling (where the curates formerly lodged) on the other. ' The parsonage stands at right angles to the road, facing down upon the church ; so that, in fact, parsonage, church, and belfried schoolhouse form three sides of an irregular oblong, of which the fourth is open to the fields and moors that lie beyond. The area of this oblong is filled up by a crowded churchyard, and a small garden or court in front of the clergyman^s house. As th(i entrance to this from the HAWORTH PARSONAGE AND CHURCH 5 road is at the side, the path goes round the corner into the little plot of ground. Underneath the windows is a narrow flower-border, carefully tended in days of yore, although only the most hardy plants could be made to grow there. Within the stone wall, which keeps out the surrounding churchyard, are bushes of elder and lilac ; the rest of the ground is occupied by a square grass - plot and a gravel walk. The house is of grey stone, two stories high^ heav- ily roofed with flags, in order to resist the winds that might strip off a lighter covering. It appears to have been built about a hundred years ago, and to consist of four rooms on each story ; the two windows on the right (as the visitor stands with his back to the church, ready to enter in at the front door) belonging to Mr. Bronte^s study, the two on the left to the family sitting-room. Everything about the place tells of the most dainty order, the most exquisite cleanli- ness. The doorsteps are spotless ; the small old-fashioned window-panes glitter like looking-glass. Inside and outside of that house cleanliness goes up into its essence, purity.* The church lies, as I mentioned, above most of the houses in the village ; and the graveyard rises above the church, and is terribly full of upright tombstones. The chapel or church claims greater antiquity than any other in that part of the kingdom ; but there is no appearance of this in the external aspect of the present edifice, unless it 'An entirely different aspect is afforded to-day. Trees have been planted, much money has been spent in careful gardening, and a large dining-room, extending from back to front, has been built in the side of the house nearest the road. There was a gateway, now bricked up, but tracefs\^e at the end of the garden, from which the churchyard could be entercYl, but this gateway was only opened for the carrying out of the dead. It was opened for Mrs. Bronte, Miss Branwell, Patrick, Emily, Charlotte, and their father successively. The incumbency of Haworth, after Mr. Bronte's death in 1861, passed to the Rev. John Wade, who occupied the parsonage until 1898, when he resigned and was succeeded by the Rev. T. W. Storey, who up to that time had been senior curate of the Bradford Parish Churc)i. 6 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE be in the two eastern windows, which remain unmodern- ised, and in the lower part of the steeple. Inside, the character of the pillars shows that they were constructed before the reign of Henry VIL It is probable that there existed on this ground a ' field-kirk/ or oratory, in the ear- liest times; and, from the Archbishop's registry at York, it is ascertained that there was a chapel at Haworth in 1317. The inhabitants refer inquirers concerning the date to the following inscription on a stone in the church tower: — * Hie fecit Cgeaobium Monachorum Auteste fundator. A.D. sexcen- tissimo. ' That is to say, before the preaching of Christianity in Northumbria. Whitaker says that this mistake originated in the illiterate copying out, by some modern stonecutter, of an inscription in the character of Henry VIII.'s time on an adjoining stone : — * Orate pro bono statu Eutest Tod.' * Now every antiquary knows that tlie formula of prayer *'bono statu " always refers to the living. I suspect this singular Christian name has been mistaken by the stone-cutter for Austet, a contraction of Eustatius, but the word Tod, which has been mis - read for the Arabic figures 600, is perfectly fair and legible. On the presumption of this foolish claim to antiquity, the people wouid needs set up for independence, and contest the right of the Vicar of Bradford to nomi- nate a curate at Haworth.' I have given this extract in order to explain the imagi- nary groundwork of a commotion which toojc place in Haworth about five-and-thirty years ago, to which I shall have occasion to allude again more particularly,- The interior of the church is commonplace ; ' 'it is neither ir ' The church as the Brontes knew it dated only frot^ 1755, when it was built by the Rev. William Grimshaw, who also built a now de- molished Wesleyan chapel at Haworth. In 1879 a certain Michael Merrell offered five thousand pounds towards the rebuilding of the church, it having been urged that the accommodation was insufficient for the would-be w()rshipi)ers. The offer was too tempting for the then incumbent, Mr. Wade, to resist. Bronte enthusiasts were volu- TABLETS OF THE BRONTE FAMILY 7 old enongh nor modern enough to compel notice. The pews are of black oak, with high divisions ; and the names of those to whom they belong are painted in white letters on. the doors. There are neither brasses, nor altar-tombs, nor monuments, but there is a mural tablet ^ on the right- hand side of the Communion table, bearing the following inscription : — HERE LIE THE REMAINS OF MARIA BRONTE, WIFE OF THE REV. P. BRONTE, A.B., MINISTER OF HA WORTH. HER SOUL DEPARTED TO THE SAVIOUR, SEPT. 15TH, 1821, IN THE 39TH YEAR OF HER AGE. * Be ye also ready: for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of Man Cometh/ — Matthew xxiv. 44. ble, but they did not answer the incumbent's challenge that they should first raise money and then make a counter-proposal. Articles and letters of protest appeared in the London Standard (throughout April 1879) and in the Leeds Jnercury (April 3, April 30, June 20, 1879); and a public meeting was held at Hawortli, at which a resolution condemning the proposed destruction of the church was carried by a large majority. The advocates of demolition triumphed, however. The Consistory Court for the Diocese of Ripon, with which the ulti- mate decision lay, decided for rebuilding, and what might have been to-day a pathetic memorial of a remarkable family was doomed to de- struction. It would have been easy to find a fresh site for a new church, and to retain the old one, as has been done at Shaftesbury and in many other English towns, but the church in which Mr. Bronte preached and his daughters worshipped for so many years has been entirely destroyed. Tiie tower — the only genuinely old portion of the structure — was preserved. The closing services at Haworth Old Church took place on September 14, 1879, and the new church was consecrated on February 22, 1881. ^ The mural tablet here referred to was probably broken up at the time of the destruction of the old church. Sundry pew doors, lamp brackets, and other mementos of the old church, after having been long in the possession of a dealer, were disposed of by auction at Sotheby's sale rooms in London on July 2, 1898. 8 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ALSO HERE LIE THE KEMAINS OF MARIA BRONTE, DAUGHTER OF THE AFORESAID; SHE DIED ON THE 6TH OF MAY, 1825, IN THE 12TH YEAR OF HER AGE ; AND OF ELIZABETH BRONTE, HER SISTER, WHO DIED JUNE 15TH, 1825, IN THE IITH YEAR OF HER AGE. * Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as lit- tle children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.— Mat- thew xviii. 3. HERE ALSO LIE THE REMAINS OF PATRICK BRANWELL BRONTE, WHO DIED SEPT. 24TH, 1848, AGED 30 YEARS ; AND OF EMILY JANE BRONTE, WHO DIED DEC. 19TH, 1848, AGED 29 YEARS, SON AND DAUGHTER OF THE REV. P. BRONTE, INCUMBENT. THIS STONE IS ALSO DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF ANNE BRONTE, ^ YOUNGEST DAUGHTER OF THE REV. P. BRONTE, A.B. SHE DIED, AGED 27 YEARS, MAY 28TH, 1849, AND WAS BURIED AT' THE OLD CHURCH, SCARBORO'. * A reviewer pointed out the discrepancy between the age (twenty- seven years) assigned, on the mural tablet, to Anne Bronte at the time of her death in 1849, and the alleged fact that she was born at Thornton, from which place Mr. Bronte removed on February 25, 1820. I was aware of the discrepancy, but I did not think it of sufficient conse- quence to be rectified by an examination of the register of births. Mr. Bronte's own words, on which I grounded my statement as to the time of Anne Bronte's birth, are as follows : — * In Thornton Charlotte, Patrick Branwell, Emily Jane, and Anne were born.' And such of the inhabitants of Haworth as have spoken on the subject say that all the children of Mr. and Mrs. Bronte were born before they removed to Haworth. There is probably some mis- take in the inscription on the tablet. — J!iote by Mrs. Gaskell. LIBRARY ' OF I HE UNlVtKSn y ut ILLINOi;> TABLETS OF THE BRONTE FAMILY There are two interesting reminiscences of Mrs. Bronte extant ; one is a copy of 'Thomas d Kern pis, 'John Wesley's abridgment. It is inscribed ' M. Branwell, July 1807.' This book was evidently brought by Mrs. Bronte from Penzance. On the fly-leaf Charlotte Bronte has written as follows : — * C. Bronte's book. This book was given to me in July 1826. It is not certainly known who is the author, but it is generally supposed that Thomas si Kempis is. I saw a reward of 10,000Z. offered in the Leeds Mercury to any one who could find out for a certainty who is the author.* The other relic is a sampler containing the usual alphabet that chil- dren work or worked, and the text, ' Flee from sin as from a serpent, for if thou comest too near to it it will bite thee : the teeth thereof are as the teeth of a lion to slay the souls of men,' followed by the name :— Maria Branwell ended her sampler April 15, 1791. i THE HA WORTH SERVANTS 57 clerical f rienais did not accompany their husbands ; and the danghtersi grew up out of childhood into girlhood be- reft^ in a singular manner, of all such society as would hav^i been natub'al to their age, sex, and station. But the child.ren did not want society. To small infan- tine gaieties they w^ere unaccustomed. They were all in all to each otherl I do not suppose that there ever was a fai^mily more tenderly bound to each other. Maria read the ^ newspapers, and reported intelligence to her younger sistfc^.rs which it is- wonderful they could take an interest in. But . I suspect that they had no ^ children's books,' and that l^heir eag^^r minds browsed undisturbed among the wholesome pr-sturage of English literature,' as Charles Lamib expres^^es it. The servants of the household appear to bvi ave been much impressed with the little Brontes' ex- traoruft^ng j cleverness. In a letter which I had from him on this g ^^bject their father writes, ^ The servants of ten said that thejr had never seen such a clever little child ' (as Charlotte), ' 'and that they were obliged to be on their • what they said and did before her. Yet she rvants always lived on good terms with each se guard ^ tc and thj other.' Thes. ser Bradfo.l^ *The irvai Tabitha. J^a^ of a shoehi by Mrb. Charlotte, J to HawortJ taking her ] married and Malone, a W( in her eight Mrs. Newsorr disliked alldij kinder mastei Haworth and went to assist vants are yet alive ; elderly women residing in They retain a faithful and fond recollection of its were Sarah and Nancy Garrs, Martha Brown, and icy Malone, born Garrs, or de Garrs, was the daughter • of Bradford. At twelve years of age she was engaged tc, then at Thornton, as nurse -girl, and she nursed ily, Branwell, and Anne. She accompanied the family aid remained there as cook, her younger sister, Sarah, ,ce as nurse. She remained with the Brontes until she ecame Mrs. Wainwright. At a later date she married John ^rkingman. She died in 1886 in the Bradford workhouse y- second year. Her sister Sarah also married, and, as ic, is still alive in Iowa City, U.S.A. Nancy Malone sparaging references to Mr. Bronte, and declared that *a ' never drew breath.' Martha Brown was a native of servant with the Brontes from her tenth year, when she 'Tabby.' She became housekeeper at the parsonage ^^narioLie, una speaK oi ner unvarying Kinapiess from the 'time when she was ever such a little child/ wher. she would not rest till she had got the old disalsed cradle sent f rotn the parsonage to the house where thcfe parents oft one of them lived, to serve for a little infant Siister. Theyi tell of one long series of kind and thoughtful! actions from lathis early period to the last weeks of Oharlo tte Bronte's 1 ife ; and, though she had left her place many years ago, orje of these former servants went over from Bradford to Haw^orth on purpose to see Mr. Bronte, and offer him her true,- sym- pathy, when his last child died. I may add a little anec- dote as a testimony to the admirable charac^ter of the^ like- ness of Miss Bronte prefixed to this volume.' AgentlJfeman who had kindly interested himself in the ^^reparati(P)n of this memoir took the first volume, shortly afoer the pikibli- cation, to the house of this old servant, in or^" Vi^;0''show her the portrait. The moment she caught a gl se of the frontispiece, ^ There she is,' she exclaimed. ^ ( John, look !' (to her husband) ; and her daughter equally struck by the resemblance. There might no tany to regard the Brontes with affection; but the lo once loved them loved them long and well. I return to the father's letter. He says : — ^ When mere children, as soon as they co write, Charlotte and her brother and sisters u and act little plays of their own, in which Wellington, my daughter Charlotte's hero, come off conqueror ; when a dispute wouh quently arise amongst them regarding the 3ad and ) invent Duke of sure to .ifre- parative from Charlotte's death in 1855 until the death of Mr. She died at Haworth, January 19, 1880, and is burie< Churchyard. For *Ta^hy/or Tabitha Aykroyd, see e and 169. — «^-^ ^ The portrait of Charlotte Bronte which has hithert Mrs. Gaskell's biography, and is prefixed to the * Jar present edition, is that by George Richmond — the likeness extant. The original is in the possessioc Nicholls, and is destined by him for the National Port ite in 1861. . Haworth 1 on pp. 61 xompauied .yre' of the ly authentic f Mr. A. B. t Gallery. MR. BRONTE'S ACCOUNT OF HIS CHILDREN 59 menl^s of him^ Buonaparte, Hannibal, and Caesar. When the argirment got warm, and rose to its height, as their mother was J-hen dead, I had sometimes to come in as ar- bitrator, and SL^ttle the dispute according to the best of my judgment. Generally, in the management of these con- cerns, I frequently thought that I discovered signs of ris- ing talent, which I had sexMom or never before seen in any of their age. ... A circumsit^ince now occurs to my mind which I may as well mention/^ When my children were very young, when, as far as I can rein\ember, the oldest was about ten years of age, and the youngest tc^bout four, think- ing that they knew more than I had yet dliscovered, in order to make them speak with less timidity, T deemed that if they were put under a sort of cover I migfl^t gain my end ; and happening to have a mask in the hou^j^e, I told them all to stand back and speak boldly from uncilQr cover of the mask. ' I began with the youngest (Anne, afterwards Acton Bell), and asked what a child like her most wanted ; she answered, Age and experience." I asked the next (Emily, \ afterwards Ellis Bell) what I had best do with her brother, Branwell, who was sometimes a naughty boy ; she answered, " Reason with him, and when he won^'t listen to reason whip him."' I asked Branwell what was the best way of knowing the difference between the intellects of man and woman; he answered, By considering the dif- ference between them as to their bodies."^ I then asked Charlotte what was the best book in the world ; she an- swered, The Bible."' And what was the next best; she answered, The Book of Nature." I then asked the next what was the best mode of education for a woman ; she an- swered, ^^That which would make her rule her house well." Lastly, I asked the oldest what was the best mode of spend- ing time ; she answered, By laying it out in preparation for a happy eternity." I may not have given precisely their words, but I have nearly done so, as they made a deep and lasting impression on my memory. The substance, how- ever, was exactly what I have stated.^ 60 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE The strange and quaint simplicity of the mode tak'on by the father to ascertain the hidden characters of 'his chil- dren, and the tone and character of these (yuestions and answers, show the curious education whicJn was made by the circumstances surrounding the Brontes. They knew no other children. They knew no Other modes of thought than what were suggested to tJnem by the fragments of clerical conversation which t^iey overheard in the parlour, or the subjects of villa^'^^ and local interest which they heard discussed in tb:\; 'kitchen. Each had its own strong characteristic fl^wv^our. They tooV. a vivid interest in the public characters, and the locaJi and foreign as well as home politics discussed in the ne^wspapers. Long before Maria Bronte died, at the age p/f eleven, her father used to say he could converse with hrc3'r on any of the leading topics of the day with as much freedom and pleasure as with any grown-up person. CHAPTER IV About a year after Mrs. Bronte's death an elder sister, as I have before mentioned, came from Penzance to superintend her brother-in-law^s household and look after his children. Miss BranwelP was, I believe, a kindly and conscientious ' Elizabeth Branwell, by many supposed — although altogether wrongly— to have been the original in some aspects of Mrs. Reed in JaTie Eyre, would seem to have been genuinely devoted to her nieces. Among relics of her that survive are the work-boxes that she left in her will to Charlotte and Anne, and a sampler doubtless brought among her modest treasures from Penzance to Haworth. Miss Ellen Nussey's descriptions of the aunt and of 'Tabby' the servant are the best that I have seen : — * Miss Branwell was a very small, antiquated little lady ; she wore caps large enough for half a dozen of the present fashion, and a front of light auburn curls over her forehead. She always dressed in silk. She talked a great deal of her younger days, the gaieties of her native town, Penzance, in Cornwall, the soft warm climate, &c. She very probably had been a belle among her acquaintances ; the social life of her younger days she appeared to recall with regret. She took snuff out of a very pretty little gold snuff-box, which she sometimes pre- sented with a little laugh, as if she enjoyed the slight shock and aston- ishment visible in your countenance. In summer she spent most of her afternoons in reading aloud to Mr. Bronte, and in the winter even- ings she must have enjoyed this, for she and Mr. Bronte had some- times to finish their discussions on what she had read when we all met for tea ; she would be very lively and intelligent in her talk, and tilted argument without fear against Mr. Bronte. * "Tabby," the faithful, trustworthy old servant, was very quaint in appearance, very active, and in those days was the general servant and factotum. We were all *' children " and " bairns " in her estima- tion. She still kept to her duty of walking out with the ''children " if they went any distance from home, unless Branwell were sent by his father as protector. In later days, after she had been attacked with 62 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi woman, with a good deal of character, but with the some- what narrow ideas natural to one who had spent nearly all her life in the same place. She had strong prejudices, and soon took a distaste to Yorkshire. From Penzance, where plants which we in the north call greenhouse flowers grow in great profusion, and without any shelter even in the winter, and where the soft warm climate allows the inhab- itants, if so disposed, to live pretty constantly in the open air, it was a great change for a lady considerably past forty to come and take up her abode in a place where neither flowers nor vegetables would flourish, and where a tree of even moderate dimensions might be hunted for far and wide ; where the snow lay long and late on the moors, stretching bleakly and barely far up from the dwelling which was henceforward to be her home ; and where often, on autumnal or winter nights, the four winds of heaven seemed to meet and rage together, tearing round the house as if they were wild beasts striving to find an en- trance. She missed the small round of cheerful social vis- iting perpetually going on in a country town ; she missed the friends she had known from her childhood, some of whom had been her parents^ friend^; before they were hers; she disliked many of the customs of the place, and partic- ularly dreaded the cold damp arising from the flag floors in the passages and parlours of Haworth Parsonage. The stairs, too, I believe, are made of stone ; and no wonder, when stone quarries are near and trees are far to seek. I have heard that Miss Branwell always went about the house on pattens, clicking up and down the stairs, from her dread of catching cold. For the same reason, in the latter years of her life, she passed nearly all her time, and paralysis, she would anxiously look out for such duties as she was still capable of. The postman was her special point of attention ; she did not approve of the inspections which the younger eyes of her fellow servant bestowed on his deliveries ; she jealously seized them (when she could), and carried them off with hobbling step and shaking head and hand to the safe custody of Charlotte/ COWAN BRIDGE SCHOOL 63 took most of her meals, in her bedroom. The children re- spected her, and had that sort of affection for her which is generated by esteem ; but I do not think they ever freely loved her. It was a severe trial for any one at her time of life to change neighbourhood and habitation so entirely as she did ; and the greater her merit. I do not know whether Miss Branwell taught her nieces anything besides sewing^ and the household arts in which Charlotte afterwards was such an adept. Their regular lessons were said to their father ; and they were always in the habit of picking up an immense amount of miscella- neous information for themselves. But a year or so before this time a school had been begun in the North of England for the daughters of clergymen. The place was Cowan Bridge, a small hamlet on the coach road between Leeds and Kendal, and thus easy of access from Haworth, as the coach ran daily, and one of its stages was at Keighley. The yearly expense for each pupil (according to the en- trance rules given in the Keport for 1842, and I believe they had not been increased since the establishment of the school in 1823) was as follows: — ' Rule IL The terms for clothing, lodging, boarding, and educating are 14Z. a year ; half to be paid in advance, when the pupils are sent ; and also 11. entrance money, for the use of books, &c. The system of education comprehends history, geography, the use of the globes, grammar, writ- ing and arithmetic, all kinds of needle work, and the nicer kinds of household work, such as getting up fine linen, ironing, &c. If accomplishments are required an addi- tional charge of 3Z. a year is made for music or drawing, each.^ Rule III. requests that the friends will state the line of ^ Charlotte's gifts of sewing were marked. Her friend Miss Lae- titia Wheelwright possesses a beautifully worked bag which Miss Bronte made for Mrs. Wheelwright when on a visit to London. A. neatly worked bead purse, also the outcome of her skill, was sold at Sotheby's in 1898. 64 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi education desired in the case of every pupil, having a re- gard to her future prospects. Rule IV. states the clothing and toilette articles which a girl is expected to bring with her ; and thus concludes : ' The pupils all appear in the same dress. They wear plain straw cottage bonnets ; in summer white frocks on Sun- days, and nankeen on other days ; in winter, purple stuff frocks, and purple cloth cloaks. For the sake of uniform- ity, therefore, they are required to bring 3Z. in lieu of frocks, pelisse, bonnet, tippet, and frills, making the whole sum which each pupil brings with her to the school — 7^. half-year in advance. 11. entrance for books. 11. entrance for clothes.' The 8tli rule is, ^All letters and parcels are inspected by the superintendent \' but this is a very prevalent regu- lation in all young ladies' schools, where I think it is gen- erally understood that the schoolmistress may exercise this privilege, although it is certainly unwise in her to insist too frequently upon it. There is nothing at all remarkable in any of the other regulations, a copy of which was doubtless in Mr. Bronte's hands when' he formed the determination to send his daughters to Cowan Bridge School ; and he accordingly took Maria and Elizabeth thither in July 1824.^ ^ The Journal of Education ior January 1900 contained the following extracts from the school register of the Clergy Daughters' School at Casterton : — * Charlotte Bronte. Entered August 10, 1824. Writes indifferently. Ciphers a little, and works neatly. Knows nothing of grammar, geography, history, or accomplishments. Altogether clever of her age, but knows nothing systematically (at eight years old !). Left school June 1, 1825. — Governess.' The following entries may also be of interest: — ' Marie Bronte, aged 10 (daughter of Patrick Bronte, Haworth, near Keighley, Yorks). July 1, 1824. Reads tolerably. Writes pretty well. Ciphers a little. Works badly. Very little of geography or COWAN BRIDGE SCHOOL 65 I now come to a part of my subject which I find great difficulty in treating, because the evidence relating to it on each side is so conflicting that it seems almost impossible to arrive at the truth. Miss Bronte more than once said to me that she should not have written what she did of Lowood in ^ Jane Eyre/ if she had thought the place would have been so immediately identified with Cowan Bridge, although there was not a word in her account of the insti- tution but what was true at the time when she knew it ; she also said that she had not considered it necessary, in a work of fiction, to state every particular with the impar- tiality that might be required in a court of justice, nor to seek out motives, and make allowances for human failings, as she might have done, if dispassionately analysing the conduct of those who had the superintendence of the in- stitution. I believe she herself would have been glad of an opportunity to correct the over-strong impression which was made upon the public mind by her vivid picture, though even she, suffering her whole life long, both in heart and body, from the consequences of what happened there, might have been apt, to the last, to take her deep belief in facts for the facts themselves — her conception of truth for the absolute truth. In some of the notices of the previous editions of his work it is assumed that I derived the greater part of my in- history. Has made some progress in reading French, but knows nothing of the language grammatically. Left February 14, 1825, in ill-health, and died May 16, 1825/ (Her father's account of her is : — ' She exhibited during her illness many symptoms of a heart under Divine influence. Died of decline.') 'Elizabeth Bronte, age 9. (Vaccinated. Scarlet fever, whooping cough.) Reads little. Writes pretty well. Ciphers none (sic). Works very badly. Knows nothing of grammar, geography, history, or ac- complishments. Left in ill-health. May 31, 1825. Died June 13, 1825, in decline.' 'Emily Bronte. Entered November 25, 1824, aged 5|. Reads very prettily, and works a little. Left June 1, 1825. Subsequent career.— Governess/ 5 GG LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE formation with regard to her sojourn at Cowan Bridge from Charlotte Bronte herself. I never heard her speak of the place but once, and that was on the second day of my acquaintance with her. A little child on that occasion ex- pressed some reluctance to finish eating his piece of bread at dinner; and she, stooping down, and addressing him in a low voice, told him how thankful she would have been at his age for a piece of bread ; and when we — though I am not sure if I myself spoke — asked her some question as to the occasion she alluded to, she replied with reserve and hesitation, evidently shying away from what she imagined might lead to too much conversation on one of her books. She spoke of the oat cake at Cowan Bridge (the clap-bread of Westmoreland) as being different from the leaven-raised oat cake of Yorkshire, and of her childish distaste for it. Some one present made an allusion to a similar childish dislike in the true tale of ^ the terrible knitters o' Dent,' given in Southey's ^Commonplace Book;^ and she smiled faintly, but said that the mere difference in food was not all : that the food itself was spoilt by the dirty careless- ness of the cook, so that she and her sisters disliked their meals exceedingly ; and she mentioned her relief and glad- ness when the doctor condemned the meat, and spoke of having seen him spit it out. These are all the details I ever heard from her. She so avoided particularising that I think Mr. Carus Wilson's name never passed between us. I do not doubt the general accuracy of my informants — of those who have given, and solemnly repeated, the de- tails that follow — but it is only just to Miss Bronte to say that I have stated above pretty nearly all that I ever heard on the subject from her. A clergyman, living near Kirby Lonsdale, the Reverend William Carus Wilson,^ was the prime mover in the estab- J William Carus Wilson (1792-1859) lived at Casterton Hall, near Kirby Lousdale. Wrote Sermons, 1825 ; Life of Mrs. Dawson, 1828 ; Youthful Memoirs, 1828 ; Plan for Building Churches and Schools, 1842 ; Sermons, 1842 ; Christ Revealed, 1849 ; Child's First Tales, 1849 ; COWAN BRIDGE SCHOOL 67 lishnient of this school. He was an energetic man, spar- ing no labour for the accomplishment of his ends. He saw that it was an extremely difficult task for clergymen with limited incomes to provide for the education of their chil- dren ; and he devised a scheme, by which a certain sum was raised annually by subscription, to complete the amount required to furnish a solid and sufficient English education, for which the parents' payment of a year would not have been sufficient. Indeed, that made by the parents was considered to be exclusively appropriated to the expenses of lodging and boarding, and the education provided for by the subscriptions. Twelve trustees were appointed; Mr. Wilson being not only a trustee, but the treasurer and secretary; in fact, taking most of tlie busi- ness arrangements upon himself; a responsibility which appropriately fell to him, as he lived nearer the school than any one else who was interested in it. So his char- acter for prudence and judgment was to a certain degree implicated in the success or failure of Cowan Bridge School; and the working of it was for many years the great object and interest of his life. But he was appar- ently unacquainted with the prime element in good admin- istration — seeking out thoroughly competent persons to fill each department, and then making them responsible for, and judging them by, the result, without perpetual inter- ference with the details. So great was the amount of good which Mr. Wilson did, by his constant, unwearied superintendence, that I cannot help feeling sorry that, in his old age and declining health, the errors which he was believed to have committed should have been brought up against him in a form which received such wonderful force from the touch of Miss Bronte's great genius. No doubt whatever can be entertained of the deep interest which he felt in the success of the school. Soldier's Cry from India, 1858. He also issued two serials, the Friend- ly Visitor and the Children's Friend. He was buried iu Casterton Church. 68 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi As I write I have before me his last words on giving np the secretaryship in 1850: he speaks of the ^withdrawal, from declining health, of an eye, which, at all events, has loved to watch over the school with an honest and anxious interest;^ — and again he adds ^that he resigns, therefore, with a desire to be thankful for all that God has been pleased to accomplish through his instrumentality (the in- firmities and unworthiness of which he deeply feels and deplores). Cowan Bridge is a cluster of somse six or seven cottages, gathered together at both ends of a bridge, over which the highroad from Leeds to Kendal crosses a little stream, called the Leek. This highroad is nearly disused now; but formerly, when the buyers from the West Riding man- ufacturing districts had frequent occasion to go up into the North to purchase the wool of the Westmoreland and Cumberland farmers, it was doubtless much travelled ; and perhaps the hamlet of Cowan Bridge had a more prosperous look than it bears at present. It is prettily situated ; just where the Leek fells swoop into the plain ; and by the course of the beck alder trees and willows and hazel bushes grow. The current of the stream is interrupted by broken pieces of grey rock ; and the waters flow over a bed of large round white pebbles, which a flood heaves up and moves on either side out of its impetuous way till in some parts they almost form a wall. By the side of the little, shallow, sparkling, vigorous Leek run long pasture fields, of the fine short grass common in high land ; for though Cowan Bridge is situated on a plain, it is a plain from which there is many a fall and long descent before you and the Leek reach the valley of the Lune. I can hardly understand how the school there came to be so unhealthy ; the air all round about was so sweet and thyme-scented when I visited it last summer. But at this day every one knows that the site of a building intended for numbers should be chosen with far greater care than that of a private dwelling, from the tendency to illness, both infectious and otherwise, COWAN BRIDGE SCHOOL 69 produced by the congregation of people in close prox- imity. The house is still remaining that formed part of that occupied by the school. It is a long bow-windowed cottage, now divided into two dwellings. It stands facing the Leek, between which and it intervenes a space, about seventy yards deep, that was once the school garden. This original house was an old dwelling of the Picard family, which they had inhabited for two generations. They sold it for school purposes, and an additional building was erected, running at right angles from the older part. This new part was devoted expressly to schoolrooms, dormitories, &c. ; and after the school was removed to Oasterton it was used for a bobbin mill connected with the stream, where wooden reels were made out of the alders which grow profusely in such ground as that surrounding Cowan Bridge. This mill is. now de- stroyed. The present cottage was, at the time of which I write, occupied by the teachers^ rooms, the dining-room and kitchens, and some smaller bedrooms. On going into this building I found one part, that nearest to the highroad, converted into a poor kind of public-house, then to let, and having all the squalid appearance of a deserted place, which rendered it difficult to judge what it would look like when neatly kept up, the broken panes replaced in the windows, and the rough-cast (now cracked and discoloured) made white and whole. The other end forms a cottage, with the low ceilings and stone floors of a hundred years ago ; the windows do not open freely and widely ; and the passage upstairs, leading to the bedrooms, is narrow and tortuous : altogether, smells would linger about the house, and damp cling to it. But sanitary matters were little understood thirty years ago ; and it was a great thing to get a roomy building close to the highroad, and not too far from the habitation of Mr. Wilson, the originator of the educational scheme. There was much need of such an institution ; numbers of ill-paid clergymen hailed the prospect with joy, and eagerly put down the names of their children as pupils 70 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi when the establishment should be ready to receive them. Mr. Wilson was^ no doubt, pleased by the impatience with which the realisation of his idea was anticipated, and opened the school with less than a hundred pounds in hand, and with pupils the number of whom varies according to different accounts, Mr. W. W. Oarus Wilson, the son of the founder, giving it as seventy, while Mr. Shepheard, the son-in-law, states it to have been only sixteen. Mr. Wilson felt, most probably, that the responsibility of the whole plan rested upon him. The payment made by the parents was barely enough for food and lodging; the subscriptions did not flow very freely into an untried scheme; and great economy was necessary in all the domestic ar- rangements. He determined to enforce this by frequent personal inspection, carried, perhaps, to an unnecessary extent, and leading occasionally to a meddling with little matters, which had sometimes the effect of producing ir- ritation of feeling. Yet, although there was economy in providing for the household, there does not appear to have been any parsimony. The meat, flour, milk, &c., were contracted for, but were of very fair quality ; and the di- etary, which has been shown to me in manuscript, was neither bad nor unwholesome ; nor, on the whole, was it wanting in variety. Oatmeal porridge for breakfast; a piece of oat cake for those who required luncheon; baked and boiled beef, and mutton, potato pie, and plain homely puddings of different kinds for dinner. At five o^clock, bread and milk for the younger ones ; and one piece of bread (this was the only time at which the food was lim- ited) for the elder pupils, who sat up till a later meal of the same description. Mr. Wilson himself ordered in the food, and was anxious that it should be of good quality. But the cook, who had much of his confidence, and against whom for a long time no one durst utter a complaint, was careless, dirty, and wasteful. To some children oatmeal porridge is distaste- ful, and consequently unwholesome, even when properly COWAN BRIDGE SCHOOL 71 made ; at Cowan Bridge School it was too often sent up, not merely burnt, but with offensive fragments of other substances discoverable in it. The beef, that should have been carefully salted before it was dressed, had often be- come tainted from neglect; and girls, who were school- fellows with the Brontes during the reign of the cook of whom I am speaking, tell me that the house seemed to be pervaded, morning, noon, g,nd night, by the odour of ran- cid fat that steamed out of the oven in which much of their food was prepared. There was the same carelessness in making the puddings; one of those ordered was rice boiled in water, and eaten with a sauce of treacle or sugar ; but it was often uneatable, because the water had been taken out of the rain tub, and was strongly impregnated with the dust lodging on the roof, -whence it had trickled down into the old wooden cask, which also added its own flavour to that of the original rain water. The milk, too, was often ^ bingy,^ to use a country expression for a kind of taint that is far worse than sourness, and suggests the idea that is caused by w^ant of cleanliness about the milk pans, rather than by the heat of the weather. On Satur- days a kind of pie, or mixture of potatoes and meat, was served up, which was made of all the fragments accumu- lated during the week. Scraps of meat, from a dirty and disorderly larder, could never be very appetising; and I believe that this dinner was more loathed than any in the early days of Cowan Bridge School. One may fancy how repulsive such fare would be to children whose appetites were small, and who had been accustomed to food, far sim- pler perhaps, but prepared with a delicate cleanliness that made it both tempting and wholesome. At many a meal the little Brontes went without food, although craving with hunger. They were not strong when they came, hav- ing only just recovered from a complication of measles and hooping-cough. Indeed, I suspect they had scarcely recovered ; for there was some consultation on the part of the school authorities whether Maria and Elizabeth should 72 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE be received or not, in July 1824. Mr. Bronte came again in the September of that year, bringing with him Charlotte and Emily to be admitted as pupils. It appears strange that Mr. Wilson should not have been informed by the teachers of the way in which the food was served up ; but we must remember that the cook had been known for some time to the Wilson family, while the teachers were brought together for an entirely different work — that of education. They were expressly given to understand that such was their department ; the buying in and management of the provisions rested with Mr. Wil- son and the cook. The teachers would, of course, be un- willing to lay any complaints on the subject before him. There was another trial of health common to all the girls. The path from Cowan Bridge to Tunstall Church, where Mr. Wilson preached, and where they all attended on the Sunday, is more than two miles in length, and goes sweep- ing along the rise and fall of the unsheltered country, in a way to make it a fresh and exhilarating walk in summer, but a bitterly cold one in winter, especially to children like the delicate little Brontes, whose thin blood flowed languid- ly in consequence of their feeble appetites rejecting the food prepared for them, and thus inducing a half-starved condition. The church was not warmed, there being no means for this purpose. It stands in the midst of fields, and the damp mist must have gathered round the walls, and crept in at the windows. The girls took their cold dinner with them, and ate it between the services, in a chamber over the entrance, opening out of the former galleries. The arrangements for this day were peculiarly trying to delicate children, particularly to those who were spiritless and long- ing for home, as poor Maria Bronte must have been ; for her ill health was increasing, and the old cough, the remains of the hooping-cough, lingered about her. She was far superior in mind to any of her playfellows and companions, and was lonely amongst them from that very cause ; and yet she had faults so annoying that she COWAN BRIDGE SCHOOL 73 was in constant disgrace with her teachers, and an object of merciless dislike to one of them, who is depicted as ^Miss Scatcherd ^ in ^ Jane Eyre/ and whose real name I will be merciful enough not to disclose. I need hardly say that Helen Burns is as exact a transcript of Maria Bronte as Charlotte's wonderful power of reproducing character could give. Her heart, to the latest day on which we met, still beat with unavailing indignation at the worrying and the cruelty to which her gentle, patient, dying sister had been subjected by this v^oman. Not a word of that part of ^ Jane Eyre ' but is a literal repetition of scenes between the pupil and the teacher. Those who had been pupils at the same time knew who must have written the book from the force with which Helen Burns's sufferings are described. They had, before that, recognised the description of the sweet dignity and benevolence of Miss Temple as only a just tribute to the merits of one whom all that knew her appear to hold in honour ; but when Miss Scatcherd was held up to opprobrium they also recognised in the writer of ^ Jane Eyre' an unconsciously avenging sister of the sufferer. One of their fellow pupils, among other statements even worse, gives me the following : The dormitory in which Maria slept was a long room, holding a row of narrow little beds on each side, occupied by the pupils; and at the end of this dormitory there was a small bedchamber opening out of it, appropriated to the use of Miss Scatcherd. Maria's bed stood nearest to the door of this room. One morning, after she had become so seriously unwell as to have had a blister applied to her side (the sore from which was not perfectly healed), when the getting-up bell was heard, poor Maria moaned out that she was so ill, so very ill, she wished she might stop in bed ; and some of the girls urged her to do so, and said they would explain it all to Miss Temple, the superintendent. But Miss Scatcherd was close at hand, and her anger would have to be faced before Miss Temple's kind thoughtfulness could interfere ; so the sick child be- gan to dress, shivering with cold, as, without leaving her LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE bed^ she slowly put on her black worsted stockings over her thin white legs (my informant spoke as if she saw it yet, and her whole face flushed out undying indignation). Just then Miss Scatcherd issued from her room, and, without asking for a word of explanation from the sick and fright- ened girl, she took her by the arm, on the side to which the blister had been applied, and by one vigorous movement whirled her out into the middle of the floor, abusing her all the time for dirty and untidy habits. There she left her. My informant says Maria hardly spoke, except to beg some of the more indignant girls to be calm ; but, in slow, trembling movements, with many a pause, she went down- stairs at last — and was punished for being late. Any one may fancy how such an event as this would rankle in Charlotte's mind. I only wonder that she did not remonstrate against her father's decision to send her and Emily back to Cowan Bridge after Maria's and Elizabeth's deaths. But frequently children are unconscious of the effect which some of their simple revelations would have in altering the opinions entertained by their friends of the persons placed around them. Besides, Charlotte's ear- nest, vigorous mind saw, at an unusually early age, the immense importance of education, as furnishing her with tools which she had the strength and the will to wield, and she would be aware that the Cowan Bridge education was, in many points, the best that her father could provide for her. Before Maria Bronte's death that low fever broke out, in the spring of 1825, which is spoken of in ^ Jane Eyre.' Mr. Wilson was extremely alarmed at the first symptoms of this. He went to a kind motherly woman, who had had some connection with the school — as laundress, I believe — and asked her to come and tell him what was the matter with them. She made herself ready, and drove with him in his gig. When she entered the schoolroom she saw from twelve to fifteen girls lying about ; some resting their ach-J ing heads on the table, others on the ground ; all heavyJ COWAN BRIDGE SCHOOL 75 eyed, flushed, indifferent, and weary, with pains in every limb. Some peculiar odour, she says, made her recognise that they were sickening for ^ the fever and she told Mr. Wilson so, and that she could not stay there for fear of conveying the infection to her own children ; but he half commanded and half entreated her to remain and nurse them ; and finally mounted his gig and drove away, while she was still urging that she must return to her own house, and to her domestic duties, for which she had provided no substitute. However, when she was left in this uncere- monious manner, she determined to make the best of it ; and a most efficient nurse she proved : although, as she says, it was a dreary time. Mr. Wilson supplied everything ordered by the doctors, of the best quality and in the most liberal manner ; the in- valids were attended by Dr. Batty, a very clever surgeon in Kirby, who had had the medical superintendence of the establishment from the beginning, and who afterwards be- came Mr. Wilson^s brother-in-law. I have heard from two witnesses besides Charlotte Bronte that Dr. Batty con- demned the preparation of the food by the expressive ac- tion of spitting out a portion of it. He himself, it is but fair to say, does not remember this circumstance, nor does he speak of the fever itself as either alarming or danger- ous. About forty of the girls suffered from this, but none of them died at Cowan Bridge ; though one died at her own home, sinking under the state of health which fol- lowed it. None of the Brontes had the fever. But the same causes, which affected the health of the other pupils through typhus, told more slowly, but not less surely, upon their constitutions. The principal of these causes was the food. The bad management of the cook was chiefly to be blamed for this ; she was dismissed, and the woman who had been forced against her will to serve as head nurse took the place of housekeeper ; and henceforward the food was so well prepared that no one could ever reasonably 76 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi complain of it. Of course it cannot be expected that a new institution, comprising domestic and educational ar- rangements for nearly a hundred persons, should work quite smoothly at the beginning. All this occurred during the first two years of the es- tablishment, and in estimating its effect upon the charac- ter of Charlotte Bronte we must remember that she was a sensitive, thoughtful child, capable of reflecting deeply, if not of analysing truly ; and peculiarly susceptible, as are all delicate and sickly children, to painful impressions. What the healthy suffer from but momentarily, and then forget, those who are ailing brood over involuntarily and remember long — perhaps with no resentment, but simply as a piece of suffering that has been stamped into their very life. The pictures, ideas, and conceptions of character received into the mind of the child of eight years old, were destined to be reproduced in fiery words a quarter of a century afterwards. She saw but one side of Mr. Wilson^s character; and many of those who knew him at that time assure me of the fidel- ity with which this is represented, while at the same time they regret that the delineation should have obliterated, as it were, nearly all that was noble or conscientious. And that there were grand and fine qualities in Mr. Wilson I have received abundant evidence. Indeed, for several weeks past I have received letters almost daily, bearing on the sub- ject of this chapter ; some vague, some definite ; many full of love and admiration for Mr. Wilson, some as full of dislike and indignation ; few containing positive facts. After giving careful consideration to this mass of conflict- ing evidence, I have made such alterations and omissions in this chapter as seem to me to be required. It is but just to state that the major part of the testimony with which I have been favoured from old pupils is in high praise of Mr. Wilson. Among the letters that I have read there is one whose evidence ought to be highly respected. It is from the husband of ' Miss Temple.' She died in 1856, but he, a clergyman, thus wrote in reply to a letter addressed to THE BRONTE SISTERS 77 him on the subject by one of Mr. Wilson^s friends : ^ Often have I heard my late dear wife speak of her sojourn at Cowan Bridge ; always in terms of admiration of Mr. Carus Wilson, his parental love to his pupils, and their love for him ; of the food and general treatment, in terms of ap- proval. I have heard her allude to an unfortunate cook, who used at times to spoil the porridge, but who, she said, was soon dismissed.^ The recollections left of the four Bronte sisters at this period of their lives, on the minds of those who associated with them, are not very distinct. Wild, strong hearts and powerful minds were hidden under an enforced propriety and regularity of demeanour and expression, just as their faces had been concealed by their father under his stiff, un- changing mask. Maria was delicate, unusually clever and thoughtful for her age, gentle, and untidy. Of her fre- quent disgrace from this last fault — of her sufferings, so patiently borne — I have already spoken. The only glimpse we get of Elizabeth, through the few years of her short life, is contained in a letter which I have received from ' Miss Temple.^ ^The second, Elizabeth, is the only one of the family of whom I have a vivid recollection, from her meet- ing with a somewhat alarming accident, in consequence of which I had her for some days and nights in my bedroom, not only for the sake of greater quiet, but that I might watch over her myself. Her head was severely cut, but she bore all the consequent suffering with exemplary patience, and by it won much upon my esteem. Of the two younger ones (if two there were) I have very slight recollections, save that one, a darling child, under five years of age, was quite the pet nurseling of the school.^ This last would be Emily. Charlotte was considered the most talkative of the sisters — a ^ bright, clever little child. ^ Her great friend was a certain ^Mellany Hane^ (so Mr. Bronte spells the name), whose brother paid for her schooling, and who had no re- markable talent except for music, which her brother^s cir- cumstances forbade her to cultivate. She was ^ a hungry. 78 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE good-natured, ordinary girl older than Charlotte, and ever ready to protect her from any petty tyranny or en- croachments on the part of the elder girls. Charlotte al- ways remembered her with affection and gratitude. I have quoted the word ^bright' in the account of Cliar- lotte. I suspect that this year of 1825 was the last time it could ever be applied to her.^ In the spring of it Maria became so rapidly worse that Mr. Bronte was sent for. He had not previously been aware of her illness, and the condition in which he found her was a terrible shock to him. He took her home in the Leeds coach, the girls crowding out into the road to follow her with their eyes over the bridge, past the cottages, and then out of sight for ever. She died a very few days after her arrival at home. Perhaps the news of her death falling suddenly into the life of which her patient existence had formed a part, only a little week or so before, made those who re- mained at Cowan Bridge look with more anxiety on Eliza- Tliis suggestion that all * brightness ' went out of Charlotte Bronte's life thus early is one that has been vigorously disputed. Mr. (now Sir) Weinyss Reid (Charlotte Bronte : a Monograph) brought together, in .1877 — twenty years after Mrs. Gaskell had written — a number of de- tails and fragments of at that rime unpublished correspondence, in order to demonstrate that Mrs. Gaskell had pitched her work in too sombre a key. * If the truth must be told,' said Mr. Reid, * the life of the author of Jane Eyre was by no means so joyless as the world now believes it to have been. . . . On the contrary, her letters show that, at any rate up to the time of her leaving for Brussels, she was a happy and high-spirited girl, that even to the very last she had the faculty of overcoming her sorrows by means of that steadfast courage which was her most precious possession.' Sir Wemyss Reid, by judiciously quoting certain passages omitted by Mrs. Gaskell from the correspon- dence, may be said to have proved his case, or rather to have effectively presented the other side of the shield. To understand Charlotte Bronte on that side is to understand her inheritance from her father of a dis- tinctly Celtic temperament — the temperament of alternate high spirits and boundless exhilaration followed by long periods of depression and melancholy. Charlotte Broute5 was a woman of moods that many a placid Englishwoman would have found unaccountable. THE BRONTE SISTERS 79 beth's symptoms, which also turned out to be consumptive. She was sent home in charge of a confidential servant of the establishment ; and she, too, died in the early sum- mer of that year. Charlotte was thus suddenly called into the responsibilities of eldest sister in a motherless family. She remembered how anxiously her dear sister Maria had striven, in her grave, earnest way, to be a tender helper and a counsellor to them all; and the duties that now fell upon her seemed almost like a legacy from the gentle little suflEerer so lately dead. Both Charlotte and Emily returned to school after the midsummer holidays in this fatal year. But before the next winter it was thought desirable to advise their re- moval, as it was evident that the damp situation of the house at Cowan Bridge did not suit their health.^ ^ With regard to my own opinion of the present school, I can only give it as formed after what was merely a cursory and superficial in- spection, as I do not believe that I was in the house above half an hour; but it was and is this: that the house at Casterton seemed thoroughly healthy and well kept, and is situated in a lovely spot; that I he pupils looked bright, happy, and well, and that the lady su- perintendent was a most prepossessing-looking person, who, on my making some inquiry as to the accomplishments taught to the pupils, said that the scheme of education was materially changed since the school had been opened. 1 would have inserted this testimony in the first edition, had I believed that any weight could be attached to an opinion formed on such slight and superficial grounds. — Note hy Mrs. Gdskell. There was much controversy respecting Mrs. Gaskell's identification of Cowan Bridge with the Lowood of Jane Eyre. The matter was discussed at infinite length in the Yorkshire papers, even Mr. A. B. Nicholls, Charlotte Bronte's husband, contributing two letters to the Halifax Guardian in defence of his wife's general accuracy. A pamphlet was also published with the following title-page: — A Vindication of the Clergy Daughters' School and the Rev. W. Garus Wilson from the Remarks in * The Life of Charlotte Bronte,'^ hy the Rev. n. S hepheard, M. A. London : 8eeley, Jackson, and Halliday, 1857. This pamphlet contained the following letter from 'A. H.,' who was a teacher at Cowan Bridge during the time of the residence of the little Brontes there : — 80 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ' In July 1824 the Rev. Mr. Bronte arrived at Cowan Bridge with two of his daughters, Maria and Elizabeth, 12 and 10 years of age. The children were delicate ; both had but recently recovered from the measles and hooping-cough — so recently, indeed, that doubts were en- tertained whether they could be admitted with safety to the other pupils. They were received, however, and went on so well that in September their father returned, bringing with him two more of his children— Charlotte, 9 [she was really but 8], and Emily, 6 years of age. During both these visits Mr. Bronte lodged at the school, sat at the same table with the children, saw the whole routine of the estab- lishment, and, so far as I have ever known, was satisfied with every- thing that came under his observation. * " TJw two younger children enjoyed uniformly good health.'' Char- lotte was a general favourite. To the best of my recollection she was never under disgrace, however slight ; punishment she certainly did not experience while she was at Cowan Bridge. *In size Charlotte was remarkably diminutive ; and if, as has been recently asserted, she never grew an inch after leaving the Clergy Daughters' School, she must have been a literal dwarf, and could not have obtained a situation as teacher in a school at Brussels, or any- where else ; the idea is absurd. In respect of the treatment of the pupils at Cowan Bridge, I will say that neither Mr. Bronte's daughters nor any other of the children were denied a sufficient quantity of food. Any statement to the contrary is entirely false. The daily dinner con- sisted of meat, vegetables, and pudding, in abundance ; the children were permitted, and expected, to ask for whatever they desired, and were never limited. ' It has been remarked that the food of the school was such that none but starving children could eat it ; and in support of this state- ment reference is made to a certain occasion when the medical attend- ant was consulted about it. In reply to this let me say that during the spring of 1825 a low fever, although not an alarming one, prevail- ed in the school, and the managers, naturally anxious to ascertain whether any local cause occasioned the epidemic, took an opportunity to ask the physician's opinion of the food that happened to be then on the table. I recollect that he spoke rather scornfully of a baked rice pudding; but as the ingredients of this dish were chiefly rice, sugar, and milk, its effects could hardly have been so serious as has been affirmed. I thus furnish you with the simple fact from which those statements have been manufactured. * I have not the least hesitation in saying that, upon the whole, the comforts were as many and the privations as few at Cowan Bridge as can well be found in so large an establishment. How far young or deli- cate children are able to contend with the necessary evils of a public COWAN BRIDGE SCHOOL 81 school is, in my opinion, a very grave question, and does not enter into the present discussion. * The younger children in all larger institutions are liable to be op- pressed ; but the exposure to this evil at Cowan Bridge was not more than in other schools, but, as I believe, far less. Then, again, thought- less servants will occasionally spoil food, even in private families ; and in public schools they are likely to be still less particular, unless they are well looked after. ' A book published by Mr. Carus Wilson in 1831, six years after the little Brontes had left the school, serves to throw an interesting light on the retentiveness of Charlotte Bronte's memory of the place and of her capacity for making every detail serve. The book is entitled :— Memoir of a Beloved and Long Afflicted Sister, by William Carus Wilson, M. A., Rector of Whittington and Chaplain to his Royal High- ness the Duke of Suffolk. Kirkhy Lonsdale : Printed and sold by A. Foster. Sold in London by L. B. Seeley and Sons. 1831. Here we have, day by day, the trivial diary of an invalid woman, and we learn, incidentally, that one of her brothers bore the name of Edward, and that in 1824, during the Bronte sojourn at Cowan Bridge, he became engaged and married to a * Jane As there are no Ed- wards and Janes mentioned in Charlotte Bronte's correspondence, it is fair to suppose that the hint for the Christian names of her hero and heroine in Jane Eyre was derived from this early memory. There is also a Mrs. Reade mentioned in the diary, probably a further sugges- tion. There are many prayerful references to the inquiry into the school management, and his sister hopes that *dear William' may • speak in such a manner as may confound his enemies and redound to the glory of God.' CHAPTER V For the reason just stated^ the little girls were sent home in the autumn of 1825^ when Charlotte was little more than nine years old. About this time an elderly woman of the village came to live as servant at the parsonage. She remained there, as a member of the household, for thirty years ; and from the length of her faithful service, and the attachment and re- spect which she inspired, is deserving of mention. Tabby was a thorough specimen of a Yorkshire woman of her class, in dialect, in appearance, and in character. She abounded in strong practical sense and shrewdness. Her words were far from flattery ; but she would spare no deeds in the cause of those whom she kindly regarded. She ruled the children pretty sharply; and yet never grudged a little extra trouble to provide them with such small treats as came within her power. In return, she claimed to be looked upon as a humble friend; and, many years later, Miss Bronte told me that she found it somewhat difficult to manage, as Tabby expected to be informed of all the family concerns, and yet had grown so deaf that what was repeated to her became known to whoever might be in or about the house. To obviate this publication of what it might be desirable to keep secret, Miss Bronte used to take her out for a walk on the solitary moors, where, when both were seated on a tuft of heather, in some high lonely place, she could acquaint the old woman, at leisure, with all that she wanted to hear. Tabby had lived in Haworth in the days when the pack- horses went through once a week, with their tinkling bells 1825 THE OLD SERVANT TABBY 83 and gay worsted adornment, carrying the produce of the country from Keighley over the hills to Colne and Burnley. What is more, she had known the ' bottom/ or valley, in those primitive days when the fairies frequented the margin of the 'beck' on moonlight nights, and had known folk who had seen them. But that was when there were no mills in the valleys, and when all the wool-spinning was done by hand in the farmhouses round. 'It wur the fac- tories as had driven 'em away,' she said. No doubt she had many a tale to tell of bygone days of the country-side ; old ways of living, former inhabitants, decayed gentry, who had melted away, and whose places knew them no more ; family tragedies and dark superstitious dooms ; and in tell- ing these things, without the least consciousness that there might ever be anything requiring to be softened down, would give at full length the bare and simple details. Miss Branwell instructed the children at regular hours in all she could teach, converting her bedchamber into their schoolroom. Their father was in the habit of relating to them any public news in which he felt an interest ; and from the opinions of his strong and independent mind they would gather much food for thought ; but I do not know whether he gave them any direct instruction. Charlotte's deep, thoughtful spirit appears to have felt almost painfully the tender responsibility which rested upon her with refer- ence to her remaining sisters. She was only eighteen months older than Emily ; but Emily and Anne were simply com- panions and playmates, while Charlotte was motherly friend and guardian to both ; and this loving assumption of duties beyond her years made her feel considerably older than she really was. Patrick Branwell, their only brother, was a boy of re- markable promise, and, in some ways, of extraordinary precocity of talent. Mr. Bronte's friends advised him to send his son to school ; but, remembering both the strength of will of his own youth and his mode of employing it, he believed that Patrick was better at home, and that he him- 84 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE self could teach him well, as he had tanght others before. So Patrick — or, as his family called him, Branwell — re- mained at Haworth, working hard for some hours a day with his father ; but, when the time of the latter was taken up with his parochial duties, the boy was thrown into chance companionship with the lads *of the village — for youth will to youth, and boys will to boys. Still, he was associated in many of his sisters^ plays and amusements. These were mostly of a sedentary and intel- lectual nature. I have had a curious packet confided to me, containing an immense amount of manuscript, in an inconceivably small space — tales, dramas, poems, romances, written principally by Charlotte, in a hand which it is al- most impossible to decipher without the aid of a magnify- ing glass. Among these papers there is a list of her works, which I copy, as a curious proof how early the rage for literary composition had seized upon her : — ^CATALOGUE OF MY BOOKS, WITH THE PERIOD OF THEIR COMPLETIOK, UP TO AUGUST 3, 1830. ^Two romantic tales in one volume, viz. The Twelve Adventurers and the Adventures in Ireland, April 2, 1829. ^ The Search after Happiness, a Tale, August 1, 1829. 'Leisure Hours, a Tale, and two Fragments, July 6, 1829. ' The Adventures of Edward de Crack, a Tale, Feb. 2, 1830. ' The Adventures of Ernest Alembert, a Tale, May 26, 1830. ' An interesting Incident in the Lives of some of the most Eminent Persons of the Age, a Tale, June 10, 1830. ^ Tales of the Islanders, in four volumes. Contents of the 1st Vol. : — 1. An Account of their Origin ; 2. A De- scription of Vision Island; 3. Ratten^s Attempt; 4. Lord Charles Wellesley and the Marquis of Douro's Adventure ; FAC SIMILE OF A PAGE OF M S UNlVthb.i > (ILINO/S JUVENILE WORKS IN MANUSCRIPT 85 completed June 31, 1829. 2nd Vol. :— 1. The School Rebel- lion ; 2. The Strange Incident in the Duke of Wellington's Life ; 3. Tale to his Sons ; 4. The Marquis of Douro and Lord Charles Wellesley's Tale t'.o his Little King and Queen; completed Dec. 2, 1829. 3rd Vol. :— 1. The Duke of Wellington's Adventure in the Cavern ; 2. The Duke of Wellington and the Little King's and Queen's Visit to the Horse Guards ; completed May 8, 1830. 4th Vol. :— 1. The Three Old Washerwomen of Strathfieldsaye ; 2. Lord C. Wellesley's Tale to his Brother; completed July 30, 1830. ^ Characters of Great Men of the Present Age, Dec. 17, 1829. ^ The Young Men's Magazines, in Six Numbers, from August to December, the latter months double number ; completed December 12, 1829. General Index to- their Contents : — 1. A True Story ; 2. Causes of the War; 3. A Song ; 4. Conversations ; 5. A True Story, continued ; 6. The Spirit of Cawdor ; 7. Interior of a Pothouse, a Poem ; 8. The Glass Town, a Song ; 9. The Silver Cup, a Tale ; 10. The Table and Vase in the Desert, a Song ; 11. Con- versations ; 12. Scene on the Great Bridge ; 13. Song of' the Ancient Britons ; 14. Scene in my Tun, a Tale ; 15. An American Tale ; 16. Lines written on seeing the Gar- den of a Genius; 17. The Lay of the Glass Town; 18. The Swiss Artist, a Tale; 19. Lines on the Transfer of this Magazine ; 20. On the Same, by a different hand ; 21. Chief Genii in Council ; 22. Harvest in Spain ; 23. The Swiss Artists, continued; 24. Conversations. ^ The Poetaster, a Drama, in 2 volumes, July 12, 1830. ^ A Book of Rhymes, finished December 17, 1829. Con- tents : — 1. The Beauty of Nature ; 2. A Short Poem ; 3. Meditations while Journeying in a Canadian Forest; 4. A Song of an Exile ; 5. On Seeing the Ruins of the Tower of Babel ; 6. A Thing of Fourteen Lines ; 7. Lines written on the Bank of a River one Fine Summer Evening ; 8. Spring, a Song ; 9. Autumn, a Song. 86 LIFE OF CHAPtLOTTE BRONTfi ^ Miscellaneous Poems, finished May 30, 1830. Con- tents : 1. The Chnrchyard; 2. Description of the Dake of Wellington's Palace on the Pleasant Banks of the Lusiva ; this article is a small prose tale or incident ; 3. Pleasure ; 4. Lines written on the Summit of a High Mountain of the North of England ; 5. Winter ; 6. Two Fragments, namely, 1st, The Vision ; 2nd, A Short untitled Poem ; The Evening Walk, a Poem, June 23, 1830. ^Making in the whole twenty-two volumes. 'C. Bronte, August 3, 1830.' As each volume contains from sixty to a hundred pages, the amount of the whole seems very great, if we remember that it was all written in about fifteen months. So much for the quantity ; the quality strikes me as of singular merit for a girl of thirteen or fourteen. Both as a speci- men of her prose style at this time, and also as revealing something of the quiet domestic life led by these children, I take an extract from the introduction to ^ Tales of the Islanders,' the title of one of their ^ Little Magazines :' — ' June the 31st, 1829. ^ The play of the Islanders was formed in December 1827, in the following manner: One night, about the time when the cold sleet and stormy fogs of November are sue ceeded by the snowstorms, and high, piercing night winds of confirmed winter, we were all sitting round the warm blazing kitchen fire, having just concluded a quarrel with Tabby concerning the propriety of lighting a candle, fro which she came off victorious, no candle having been pro duced. A long pause succeeded, which was at last broke by Branwell saying, in a lazy manner, I don't know wha to do." This was echoed by Emily and Anne. ' Tally, " Wha, ya may go t' bed." ' BramoelL I'd rather do anything than that." 'Charlotte, ^^Why are you so glum to-night. Tabby? Oh! suppose we had each an island of our own." I8o0 A WINTER EVENING CONVERSATION 87 ^ Branwelh *^If we had I would choose the Island of Man/^ ' Charlotte, ^^And I would choose the Isle of Wight/^ 'Emily. '^The Isle of Arran for me/^ 'Anne, ^^And mine shall be Guernsey/^ ' We then chose who should be chief men in our islands. Branwell chose John Bull, Astley Cooper, and Leigh Hunt ; Emily, Walter Scott, Mr. Lockhart, Johnny Lockhart ; Anne, Michael Sadler, Lord Bentinck, Sir Henry Halford. I chose the Duke of Wellington and two sons, Christopher North and Co., and Mr. Abernethy. Here our conversa- tion was interrupted by the, to us, dismal sound of the clock striking seven, and we were summoned off to bed. The next day we added many others to our list of men, till we got almost all the chief men of the kingdom. After this, for a long time, nothing worth noticing occurred. In June 1828 we erected a school on a fictitious island, which was to contain 1,000 children. The manner of the build- ing was as follows : The Island was fifty miles in circum- ference, and certainly appeared more like the work of enchantment than anything real/ &c. Two or three things strike me much in this fragment; one is the graphid vividness with which the time of the year, the hour of the evening, the feeling of cold and dark- ness outside, the sound of the night winds sweeping over the desolate snow-covered moors, coming nearer and nearer, and at last shaking the very door of the room where they were sitting — for it opened out directly on that bleak, wide expanse — is contrasted with the glow and busy bright- ness of the cheerful kitchen where these remarkable chil- dren are grouped. Tabby moves about in her quaint coun- try dress^. frugal, peremptory, prone to find fault pretty sharply, yet allowing no one else to blame her children, we may feel sure. Another noticeable fact is the intelligent partisanship with which they choose their great men, who are almost all staunch Tories of the time. Moreover they do not confine themselves to local heroes ; their range of 88 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE choice has been widened by hearing much of what is not usually considered to interest children. Little Anne, aged scarcely eight, picks out the politicians of the day for her chief men. There is another scrap of paper, in this all but illegible handwriting, written about this time, and w^iich gives some idea of the sources of their opinions. *THE HISTORY OF THE YEAR 1829.* * Once papa lent my sister Maria a book. It was an old geography book ; she wrote on its blank leaf, Papa lent me this book.^^ This book is a hundred and twenty years old ; it is at this moment lying before me. While I write this I am in the kitchen of the Parsonage, Haworth ; Tabby, the servant, is washing up the breakfast things, and Anne, my younger sister (Maria was my eldest), is kneeling on a chair, looking at some cakes which Tabby had been baking for us. Emily is in the parlour, brushing the carpet. Papa and Branwell are gone to Keighley. Aunt is upstairs in her room, and I am sitting by the table writing this in the kitchen. Keighley is a small town four miles from here. Papa and Branwell are gone for the newspaper, the Leeds Intelligencer,'^ a most excellent Tory newspaper, edited by Mr. Wood, and the proprietor, Mr. Henneman. We take two and see three newspapers a week. We take the Leeds In- telligencer/' Tory, and the Leeds Mercury,^' Whig, edited by Mr. Baines, and his brother, son-in-law, and his two sons, Edward and Talbot. We see the John Bull ; " it is a high Tory, very violent. Dr. Driver lends us it, as likewise " Blackwood's Magazine," the most able periodical there is. The editor is Mr. Christopher North, an old man seventy - four years of age ; the 1st of April is his birthday ; his com- pany are Timothy Tickler, Morgan O'Doherty, Macrabin Mordecai, Mullion, Warnell, and J ames Hogg, a man of most extraordinary genius, a Scottish shepherd. Our plays were established : Young Men," June 1826 ; Our Fellows," July 1827; ^^slanders," December 1827. These are our 1830 HER * HISTORY OF THE YEAR 1829' 89 three great plays that are not kept secret. Emily's and my best plays were established December 1, 1827 ; the others March 1828. Best plays mean secret plays ; they are very nice ones. All our plays are very strange ones. Their nature I need not write on paper, for I think I shall al- ways remember them. The " Young Men's '" play took its rise from some wooden soldiers Branwell had ; Our Fel- lows '' from ^sop's Fables ; " and the Islanders '' from several events which happened. I will sketch out the ori- gin of our plays more explicitly if I can. First, Young Men.'' Papa bought Branwell some wooden soldiers at Leeds; when papa came home it was night, and we were in bed, so next morning Branwell came to our door with a box of soldiers. Emily and I jumped out of bed, and I snatched up one and exclaimed, " This is the Duke of Wellington ! This shall be the Duke !" When I had said this Emily likewise took up one and said it should be hers ; when Anne came down she said one should be hers. Mine was the prettiest of the whole, and the tallest, and the most perfect in every part. Emily's was a grave-looking fellow, and we called him Gravey." Anne's was a queer little thing, much like herself, and we called him Wait- ing-boy." Branwell chose his and called him Buona- parte.'"' The foregoing extract shows something of the kind of reading in which the little Brontes were interested ; but their desire for knowledge must have been excited in many directions, for I find a ^ list of painters whose works I wish to see' drawn up by Charlotte when she was scarcely thirteen — ' Guide Reni, Julio Romano, Titian, Raphael, Michael Angelo, Correggio, Annibal Caracci, Leonardo da Vinci, Fra Bartolomeo, Carlo Cignani, Vandyke, Rubens, Barto- lomeo Ramerghi.' * Dated on the original ' March 12, 1829.' Mrs. Gaskell copied the manuscript with two trivial variations. LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE Here is this little girl, in a remote Yorkshire parson- age, who has probably never seen anything worthy of the name of a painting in her life, studying the names and char- acteristics of the great old Italian and Flemish masters, whose works she longs to see some time, in the dim future that lies before her ! There is a paper remaining which contains minute studies of, and criticisms upon, the en- gravings in ^ Friendship's Offering for 1829/ showing how she had early formed those habits of close observation, and patient analysis of cause and effect, which served so well in after-life as handmaids to her genius. The way in which Mr. Bronte made his children sym- pathise with him in his great interest in politics must have done much to lift them above the chances of their minds being limited or tainted by petty local gossip. I take the only other remaining personal fragment out of * Tales of the Islanders;' it is a sort of apology, contained in the in- troduction to the second volume, for their not having been continued before ; the writers had been for a long time too busy, and latterly too much absorbed in politics. ' Parliament was opened, and the great Catholic question was brought forward, and the Duke's measures were dis- closed, and all was slander, violence, party spirit, and con- fusion. Oh, those six months, from the time of the King's Speech to the end ! Nobody could write, think, or speak on any subject but the Catholic question, and the Duke of Wellington, and Mr. Peel. I remember the day when the Intelligence Extraordinary came with Mr. Peel's speech in it, containing the terms on which the Catholics were to be let in ! With what eagerness papa tore off the cover, and how we all gathered round him, and with what breathless anxiety we listened, as one by one they were disclosed, and explained, and argued upon so ably, and so well ! and then when it was all out, how aunt said that she thought it was excellent, and that the Catholics could do no harm with such good security ! I remember also the doubts as to whether it would pass the House of Lords, and the proph- I 1830 FIRST IMAGINATIVE WRITING 91 ecies that it would not; and when the paper came which was to decide the question^ the anxiety was almost dreadful with which we listened to the whole affair : the opening of the doors ; the hush ; the royal dukes in their robes, and the great Duke in green sash and waistcoat; the rising of all the peeresses when he rose ; the reading of his speech — papa saying that his words were like precious gold ; and lastly, the majority of one to four {sic) in favour of the Bill. But this is a digression/ &c. &c. This must have been written when she was between thir- teen and fourteen. It will be interesting to some of my readers to know what was the character of her purely imaginative writing at this period. While her description of any real occurrence is, as we have seen, homely, graphic, and forcible, when she gives way to her powers of creation her fancy and her language alike run riot, sometimes to the very borders of apparent delirium. Of this wild, weird writing a single ex- ample will suffice. It is a letter to the editor of one of the 'Little Magazines.^ * Sir, — It is well known that the Genii have declared that unless they perform certain arduous duties every year, of a mysterious nature, all the worlds in the firmament will be burnt up, and gathered together in one mighty globe, which will roll in solitary grandeur through the vast wilder- ness of space, inhabited only by the four high princes of the Genii, till time shall be succeeded by Eternity; and the impudence of this is only to be paralleled by another of their assertions, namely, that by their magic might they can re- duce the world to a desert, the purest waters to streams of livid poison, and the clearest lakes to stagnant waters, the pestilential vapours of which shall slay all living creatures, except the bloodthirsty beast of the forest, and the raven- ous bird of the rock. But that in the midst of this desola- tion the palace of the Chief Genii shall rise sparkling in the wilderness, and the horrible howl of their war cry shall 92 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE spread over the land at morning, at noontide and night ; but that they shall have their annual feast over the bones of the dead, and shall yearly rejoice with the joy of victors. I think, sir, that the horrible wickedness of this needs no remark, and therefore I haste to subscribe myself, &c. 'July 14, 1829/ It is not unlikely that the foregoing letter may have had some allegorical or political reference, invisible to our eyes, but very clear to the bright little minds for whom it was intended. Politics were evidently their grand interest; the Duke of Wellington their demigod. All that related to him belonged to the heroic age. Did Charlotte want a knight-errant, or a devoted lover, the Marquis of Douro, or Lord Charles AVelleslej'', came ready to her hand. There is hardly one of her prose writings at this time in which they are not the principal personages, and in which their ^august father' does not appear as a sort of Jupiter Tonans, or Deus ex Machina. As one evidence how Wellesley haunted her imagination I copy out a few of the titles to her papers in the various magazines. ' ^^Liffey Castle,'' a Tale by Lord C. Wellesley. ^ Lines to the River Aragua,'' by the Marquis of Douro. ^ An Extraordinary Dream,'' by Lord C. Wellesley. ^'^The Green Dwarf, a Tale of the Perfect Tense," by the Lord Charles Albert Plorian Wellesley. Strange Events," by Lord C. A. F. Wellesley.'^ * The packet in which Mrs. Gaskell found these numerous treasures of childhood was returned by her to Mr. Bronie. It was carried by Mr. Nicholls to Ireland after Mr. Bronte's death, and was opened forty years afterwards in response to my inquiry for new material concern- ing the Bronte children. In Charlotte Bronte and Tier Circle 1 have printed a list, for the benefit of the curious, of these little books more complete than that given here ; but Mrs. Gaskell, with an artist's eye for essentials, has seized upon suflSciently representative material. She does not, however, note the fact that a considerable number of these little books are in the handwriting of Branwell Bronte, and scarcely 1830 YEARS OF CHILDHOOD 93 Life in an isolated village, or a lonely country house, presents many little occurrences which sink into the mind of childhood, there to be brooded over. No other event may have happened, or be likely to happen, for days, to push one of these aside, before it has assumed a vague and mysterious importance. Thus children leading a secluded life are often thoughtful and dreamy : the impressions made upon them by the world without — the unusual sights of earth and sky — the accidental meetings with strange faces and figures (rare occurrences in those out-of-the-way places) — are sometimes magnified by them into things so deeply significant as to be almost supernatural. This pe- culiarity I perceive -very strongly in Charlotte's writings at this time. Indeed, under the circumstances, it is no peculiarity. It has been common to all, from the Chal- dean shepherds — ^the lonely herdsman stretched on the soft grass through half a summer's day' — the solitary monk ■ — to all whose impressions from without have had time to grow and vivify in the imagination, till they have been re- ceived as actual personifications, or supernatural visions, to doubt which would be blasphemy. To counterbalance this tendency in Charlotte was the strong common sense natural to her, and daily called into exercise by the requirements of her practical life. Her duties were not merely to learn her lessons, to read a cer- tain quantity, to gain certain ideas ; she had, besides, to brush rooms, to run errands up and down stairs, to help in the simpler forms of cooking, to be by turns playfellow and monitress to her younger sisters and brother, to make and to mend, and to study economy under her careful aunt. Thus we see that, while her imagination received vivid im- pressions, her excellent understanding had full power to rectify them before her fancies became realities. On a any of them in the handwriting of Emily and Anne. Charlotte Bronte had doubtless destroyed the similar booklets belonging to her sisters after their death, probably in response to some explicit request on their part that all their private papers should be burnt. 94 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE scrap of paper she has written down the following re- lation: * June 22, 1830, 6 o'clock p.m. * Haworth, near Bradford. ^The following strange occurrence happened on June 22, 1830 : — At the time papa was very ill, confined to his bed, and so weak that he could not rise without assist- ance. Tabby and I were alone in the kitchen, about half- past nine ante-meridian (sic). Suddenly we heard a knock at the door ; Tabby rose and opened it. An old man ap- peared, standing without, who accosted her thus : ^ Old Man. '^Does the parson live here 'Tally, ^^Yes.'' ' Old Man. " I wish to see him." ' Tally. He is poorly in bed.'^ ^ Old Man. I have a message for him."^ ' Tally. " Who from ?" ' Old Man. From the Lord." 'Tally. ''Whor ' Old Man. '' The Lord. He desires me to say that the Bridegroom is coming, and that we must prepare to meet Him ; that the cords are about to be loosed, and the golden bowl broken ; the pitcher broken at the fountain." ' Here he concluded his discourse, and abruptly went his way. As Tabby closed the door I asked her if she knew him. Her reply was that she had never seen him before, nor any one like him. Though I am fully persuaded that he was some fanatical enthusiast, well-meaning perhaps, but utterly ignorant of true piety, yet I could not forbear weeping at his words, spoken so unexpectedly at that par- ticular period.^ Though the date of the following poem is a little uncer- tain, it may be most convenient to introduce it here. It must have been written before 1833, but how much earlier there are no means of determining. I give it as a specimen of the remarkable poetical talent shown in the various 1S31 HER POETICAL TALENT diminutive writings of this time, at least in all of them which I have been able to read: THE WOUNDED STAG. Passing amid the deepest shade Of the wood's sombre heart, Last night I saw a wounded deer Laid lonely and apart. Such light as pierced the crowded boughs (Light scattered, scant, and dim) Passed through the fern that formed his couch, And centred full on him. Pain trembled in his weary limbs, Pain filled his patient eye ; Pain-crushed amid the shadowy fern His branchy crown did lie. Where were his comrades ? where his mate ? All from his death bed gone ! And he, thus struck and desolate, Suffered and bled alone. Did he feel what a man might feel, Friend-left and sore distrest ? Did Pain's keen dart, and Grief's sharp sting Strive in his mangled breast ? Did longing for affection lost Barb every deadly dart ; Love unrepaid, and Faith betrayed, Did these torment his heart ? No ! leave to man his proper doom I These are the pangs that rise Around the bed of state and gloom, Where Adam's offspring dies ! CHAPTER VI This is perhaps a fitting time to give some personal de- scription of Miss Bronte. In 1831 she was a quiet, thought- ful girl, of nearly fifteen years of age, very small in figure — ^ stunted^ was the word she applied to herself — but, as her limbs and head were in just proportion to the slight, fragile body, no word in ever so slight a degree suggestive of deformity could properly be applied to her ; with soft, thick brown hair, and peculiar eyes, of which I find it dif- ficult to give a description, as they appeared to me in her later life. They were large and well shaped ; their colour a reddish brown ; but if the iris was closely examined it appeared to be composed of a great variety of tints. The usual expression was of quiet, listening intelligence ; but now and then, on some just occasion for vivid interest or wholesome indignation, a light would shine out, as if some spiritual lamp had been kindled, which glowed behind those expressive orbs. I never saw the like in any other human creature. As for the rest of her features, they were plain, large, and ill set ; but, unless you began to catalogue them, i you were hardly aware of the fact, for the eyes and power j of the countenance overbalanced every physical defect ; the crooked mouth and the large nose were forgotten, and the ■ whole face arrested the attention, and presently attracted all those whom she herself would have cared to attract. Her hands and feet were the smallest I ever saw ; when one of the former was placed in mine, it was like the soft touch of a bird in the middle of my palm. The delicate long fingers had a peculiar fineness of sensation, which was one reason why all her handiwork, of whatever kind — writing, sewing, 1831 PERSONAL DESCRIPTION OF MISS BRONTE 97 knitting — was so clear in its minuteness. She was remark- ably neat in her whole personal attire ; but she was dainty as to the fit of her shoes and gloves. I can well imagine that the grave, serious composure which, when I knew her, gave her face the dignity of an old Venetian portrait, was no acquisition of later years, but dated from that early age when she found herself in the position of an elder sister to motherless children. But in a girl only just entered on her teens such an expression would be called (to use a country phrase) ^old-fashioned;' and in 1831, the period of which I now write, we must think of her as a little, set, antiquated girl, very quiet in manners, and very quaint in dress ; for besides the influence exerted by her father's ideas concerning the simplicity of attire befitting the wife and daughters of a country clergyman, her aunt, on whom the duty of dress- ing her nieces principally devolved, had never been in society since she left Penzance, eight or nine years before, and the Penzance fashions of that day were still dear to her heart. In January 1831 Charlotte was sent to school again. This time she went as a pupil to Miss W ,^ who lived ^ In the first and second editions Mrs. Gaskell printed the name in full, 'Miss Wooler.' But it would seem clear that Miss Wooler had disliked the introduction of herself by name into the biography, and it became * Miss W ' in later editions. As, however, she after- wards handed her letters from Charlotte to a friend for publication, she must have outlived this feeling of reticence. Margaret Wooler (1792-1885) was the eldest of a large family. She was assisted at dif- ferent times by her three sisters, Susan, Katherine, and Eliza, in her schools at Roe Head and Dewsbury Moor. Susan W^ooler became the wife of the Rev. E. N. Carter, vicar of Heckmondwike, who pre- pared Charlotte Bronte for confirmation when he was a curate at Mirfield Parish Church. After Margaret Wooler had given up school- keeping she lived first at Heckmondwike with her sister Susan (Mrs, Carter), and afterwards at Gomersal, near Leeds, where she died at the age of ninety-two. She was described by a pupil as * short and stout, but graceful in her movements, very fluent in conversation, and with a very sweet voice.' She was buried in Birstall churchyard, 98 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTK at Roe Head, a cheerful, roomy country house, standing a little apart in a field, on the right of the road from Leeds to Huddersfield. Three tiers of old-fashioned semicircular bow windows run from basement to roof ; and look down upon a long green slope of pasture land, ending in the pleasant woods of Kirkle^s, Sir George Armitage^s park. Although Roe Head and Haworth are not twenty miles apart, the aspect of the country is as totally dissimilar as if they enjoyed a different climate. The soft, curving and heaving landscape round the former gives a stranger the idea of cheerful airiness on the heights, and of sunny warmth in the broad green valleys below. It is just such a neighbourhood as the monks loved, and traces of the old Plantagenet times are to be met with everywhere, side by side with the manufacturing interests of the West Riding of to-day. There is the park of Kirklees, full of sunny glades, speckled with black shadows of immemorial yew trees ; the grey pile of building, formerly a ^ House of pro- ' fessed Ladies;' the mouldering stone in the depth of the • wood, under which Robin Hood is said to lie ; close outside ; the park, an old stone -gabled house, now a roadside inn, but which bears the name of the ^ Three Nuns,^ and has a picture sign to correspond. And this quaint old inn is fre- ^ quented by fustian-dressed mill-hands from the neighbour- ing worsted factories, which strew the highroad from Leeds j to Huddersfield, and form the centres round which future i villages gather. Such are the contrasts of modes of living, and of times and seasons, brought before the traveller on the great roads that traverse the West Riding. In no other part of England, I fancy, are the centuries brought into such close, strange contact as in the district in which Roe Head is situated. Within six miles of Miss Wooler's house — on the left of the road, coming from Leeds — lie the remains of Howley Hall, now the property of Lord where her epitaph runs as follows : — ' Margaret Wooler. Born June 10, 1792. Died June 3, 1885. ''By Thy Gross and Passion, good Loi^d, deliver us.'' * LIBRARY Of ■>HE 1831 NEIGHBOURHOOD OF ROE HEAD 99 Cardigan, but formerly belonging to a branch of the Sav- iles. Near to it is Lady Anne^s Well; ^Lady Anne/ ac- cording to tradition, having been worried and eaten by wolves as she sat at the well, to which the indigo-dyed fac- tory people from Birstall and Batley woollen mills would formerly repair on Palm Sunday, when the waters possess remarkable medicinal eflBcacy ; and it is still believed by some that they assume a strange variety of colours at six o^clock on the morning of that day. All round the lands held by the farmer who lives in the remains of Howley Hall are stone houses of to-day, occu- pied by the people who are making their living and their fortunes by the woollen mills that encroach upon and shoulder out the proprietors of the ancient halls. These are to be seen in every direction, picturesque, many- gabled, with heavy stone carvings of coats of arms for he- raldic ornament ; belonging to decayed families, from whose ancestral lands field after field has been shorn away, by the urgency of rich manufacturers pressing hard upon neces- sity. A smoky atmosphere surrounds these old dwellings of former Yorkshire squires, and blights and blackens the ancient trees that overshadow them ; cinder paths lead up to them; the ground round about is sold for building upon; but still the neighbours, though they subsist by a different state of things, remember that their forefathers lived in agricultural dependence upon the owners of these halls, and treasure up the traditions connected with the stately households that existed centuries ago. Take Oak- well Hall, for instance. It stands in a pasture field, about a quarter of a mile from the highroad. It is but that dis- tance from the busy whirr of steam engines employed in the woollen mills at Birstall ; and if you walk to it from Birstall Station about meal-time you encounter strings of mill hands, blue with woollen dye, and cranching in hun- gry haste over the cinder paths bordering the highroad. Turning off from this to the right, you ascend through an 100 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE old pasture field, and enter a short by-road, called the ^Bloody Lane^ — a walk haunted by the ghost of a certain Captain Batt, the reprobate proprietor of an old hall close by, in the days of the Stuarts. From the ^ Bloody Lane/ overshadowed by trees, you come into the field in which Oakwell Hall is situated. It is known in the neighbour- hood to be the place described as ^ Field Head,^ Shirley^s residence. The enclosure in front, half court, half gar- den ; the panelled hall, with the gallery opening into the bedchambers running round ; the barbarous peach-coloured drawing-room ; the bright look-out through the garden door upon the grassy lawns and terraces behind, where the soft- hued pigeons still love to coo and strut in the sun — are described in ^Shirley.'' The scenery of that fiction lies close around ; the real events which suggested it took place in the immediate neighbourhood. They show a bloody footprint in a bedchamber of Oak- well Hall, and tell a story connected with it, and with the lane by which the house is approached. Captain Batt was believed to be far away ; his family was at Oakwell ; when in the dusk, one winter evening, he came stalking along the land, and through the hall, and up the stairs, into his own room, where he vanished. He had been killed in a duel in London that very same afternoon of December 9, 1684.' The stones of the Hall formed part of the more ancient vicarage, which an ancestor of Captain Batt had seized in the troublous times for property which succeeded the Refor- mation. This Henry Batt possessed himself of houses and money without scruple, and at last stole the great bell of Birstall Church, for which sacrilegious theft a fine was im- posed on the land, and has to be paid by the owner of the Hall to this day. But the Oakwell property passed out of the hands of the Batts at the beginning of the last century; collateral de- * Oliver Heywood in his Northowram Register has this entry : 1684, *Mr. Bat of Okewell, a young man, slain by Mr, Gream at Barne(t), near London ; buried at Birstall, Dec. 30/ 1831 SCHOOL AT ROE HEAD 101 scendants succeeded, and left this picturesque trace of their having been. In the great hall hangs a mighty pair of stage's horns, and dependent from them a printed card, re- cording the fact that on September 1, 1763, there was a great hunting match, when this stag was slain; and that fourteen gentlemen shared in the chase, and dined on the spoil in that hall, along with Fairfax Fearneley, Esq., the owner. The fourteen names are given, doubtless ^mighty men of yore;^ but, among them all. Sir Fletcher Norton, Attorney-General, and Major-General Birch were the only ones with which I had any association in 1855. Passing on from Oakwell there lie houses right and left, which were well known to Miss Bronte, when she lived at Roe Head, as the hospitable homes of some of her schoolfellows. Lanes branch off for three or four miles to heaths and commons on the higher ground, which formed pleasant walks on hol- idays, and then comes the white gate into the field path, lead- ing to Roe Head itself. One of the bow-windowed rooms on the ground floor, with the pleasant look-out I have described, was the draw- ing-room ; the other was the schoolroom. The dining-room was on one side of the door, and faced the road. The number of pupils, during the year and a half Miss Bronte was there, ranged from seven to ten ; and as they did not require the whole of the house for their accommo- dation, the third story was unoccupied, except by the ghost- ly idea of a lady, whose rustling silk gown was sometimes heard by the listeners at the foot of the second flight of stairs. The kind, motherly nature of Miss Wooler and the small number of the girls made the establishment more like a private family than a school. Moreover she was a native of the district immediately surrounding Roe Head, as were the majority of her pupils. Most likely Charlotte Bronte, in coming from Haworth, came the greatest distance of all. home ^ was flve miles away ; two other dear friends ' 'E.' was EUen Nussey (1817-97), a girl of fourteen when she first met Charlotte Bronte. Her home was at this time and until 1837 at 102 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi (the Rose and Jessie Yorke of ^ Shirley^) lived still nearer ; two or three came from Huddersfield ; one or two from Leeds. I shall now quote from a valuable letter which I have received from ^ Mary/ ^ one of these early friends ; distinct and graphic in expression, as becomes a cherished associ- ate of Charlotte Bronte. The time referred to is her first appearance at Roe Head, on January 19, 1831. ■ v first saw her coming out of a covered cart, in very The Rydings. Birstall, Yorks. From 1837 until long after Charlotte Bronte's death she lived at Brookroyd, in the same district. The Rydings served in part for * Thornfield ' in Jane Eyre. Charlotte Bronte's friendship for Miss Nussey was enthusiastic and based upon gratitude for many kindnesses. Miss Nussey was probably from the first an ardent hero-worshipper of her more gifted friend — her senior by a year. In the period that succeeded Charlotte Bronte's death thi§ hero-worship became little less than idolatry, and Miss Nussey in her later years received numerous visitors who were anxious to learn something of the Bronte sisters. To these visitors she was always ready to give courteous consideration, although she was able taadd but little to the information which in the days when memory was most acute she had imparted to Mrs. Gaskell. She, however, inspired Sir Wemyss Reid, as has been stated, to write twenty years later his Charlotte Bronte : a Monograph. Miss Bronte denied, however — to her husband, Mr. Nicholls — that she had intended Caroline Helstone as a presentation of her friend. The whole collection of Charlotte Bronte's letters to Ellen Nussey was privately printed by Mr. J. Horsfall Turner, of Idle, Yorks, apparently under the misapprehension that the letters written to a person are the owner's property for publica- tion, which legally they are not. These letters were reprinted, in almost complete form, by permission of Mr. Nicholls, Miss Bronte's husband and executor, in Charlotte Bronte and her Circle. Mrs. Gas- kell had seen the correspondence, and made her selection with abso- lute discernment of essentials. The original letters, most of which are now the property of Mr. Thomas Wise, of London, are valuable for the identification of names, which were necessarily omitted by Mrs. Gaskell at a time when many of the people referred to were still alive. Miss Nussey died at Birstall, Yorkshire, and was buried in Birstall churchyard, where her tomb is inscribed, 'Ellen Nussey, youngest daughter of the above-named John Nussey, who died November 26, 1897, aged 80 years.' ^ Mary Taylor, the Rose Yorke of Shirley. See p. 108. 1831 IMPRESSION^c> OF A SCHOOLFELLOW 103 old-fashioned clo'h'es, and looking very cold and misera- ble. She was coming to school at Miss Wooler's. When she appeared in the schoolroom her dress was changed, but just as old. She looked a little old woman, so short- sighted that she always appeared to be seeking something, and moving her head from side to side to catch a sight of it. She was very shy and nervous, and spoke with a strong Irish accent. When a book was given her she dropped her head over it till her nose nearly touched it, and when she was told to hold her head up, up went the book after it, still close to her nose, so that it was not pos- sible to help laughing.^ This was the first impression she made upon one of those whose dear and valued friend she was to become in after-life. Another of the girls recalls her first sight of Charlotte, on the day she came, standing by the school- room window, looking out on the snowy landscape, and crying, while all the rest were at play. ^E.^ was younger than she, and her tender heart was touched by the appar- ently desolate condition in which she found the oddly dressed, old - looking little girl that winter morning, as ^sick for home she stood in tears,' in a new strange place, among new strange people. Any over-demonstrative kind- ness would have scared the wild little maiden from Haworth; but ^ E.' (who is shadowed forth in the Caroline Helstone of ^ Shirley managed to win confidence, and was allowed to give sympathy. To quote again from ^ Mary's ' letter — ^ We thought her very ignorant, for she had never learnt grammar at all, and very little geography.' This account of her partial ignorance is confirmed by her other schoolfellows. But Miss Wooler was a lady of remarkable intelligence and of delicate, tender sympathy. She gave a proof of this in her first treatment of Charlotte. The little girl was well read, but not well grounded. Miss Wooler took her aside and told her she was afraid that she must place her in the second class for some time, till she could overtake the girls of her own ag€vin the knowledge of grammar, &c.; but poor Charlotte received this an- nouncement with so sad a fit of crying that Miss Wooler's kind heart was softened, and she wisely perceived that, with such a girl, it would be better to place her'in the first class, and allow her to make up by private study in those branches where she was deficient. - ^She would confound us by knowing tilings that were out of our range altogether. She was acquainted with most of the short pieces of poetry that we had to learn by heart; would tell us the authors, the poems they were taken from, and sometimes repeat a page or two, and tell us the plot. She had a habit of writing in italics (print- ing characters), and said she had learnt it by writing in their magazine. They brought out a magazine once a month, and wished it to look as like print as possible. She told us a tale out of it. No one wrote in it, and no one read it, but herself, her brother, and two sisters. She promised to show me some of these magazines, but re- tracted it afterwards, and would never be persuaded to do so. In our play hours she sat or stood still, with a book, if possible. Some of us once urged her to be on our side in a game of ball. She said she had never played, and could not play. We made her try, but soon found that she could not see the ball, so we put her out. She took all our proceedings with pliable indifference, and always seemed to need a previous resolution to say No to any- thing. She used to go and stand under the trees in the playground, and say it was pleasanter. She endeavored to explain this, pointing out the shadows, the peeps of sky, &c. We understood but little of it. She said that at Cowan Bridge she used to stand in the burn, on a stone, to watch the water flow by. I told her she should have gone fishing; she said she never wanted. She always showed physical feebleness in everything. She ate no animal food at school. It was about this time I told her she was very ugly. Some years afterwards I told her I thought I had 1832 IMPRESSIONS OF A SCHOOLFELLOW 105 been very impertinent. She replied, You did me a great deal of good, Polly, so don't repent of it/' She used to draw much better, and more quickly, than anything we had seen before, and knew much about celebrated pictures and paint- ers. Whenever an opportunity offered of examining a pict- ure or cut of any kind, she went over it piecemeal, with her eyes close to the paper, looking so long that we used to ask her what she saw in it.'' She could always see plenty, and explained it very well. She made poetry and drawing at least exceedingly interesting to me ; and then I got the habit, which I have yet, of referring mentally to her opin- ion on all matters of* that kind, along with many more, re- solving to describe such and such things to her, until I start at the recollection that I never shall.' To feel the full force of this last sentence — to show how steady and vivid was the impression which Miss Bronte made on those fitted to appreciate her — I must mention that the writer of this letter, dated January 18, 1856, in which she thus speaks of constantly referring to Charlotte's opinion, has never seen her for eleven years, nearly all of which have been passed among strange scenes, in a new continent, at the antipodes. ' We used to be furious politicians, as one could hardly help being in 1832. She knew the names of the two Min- istries ; the one that resigned, and the one that succeeded and passed the Reform Bill. She worshipped the Duke of Wellington, but said that Sir Robert Peel was not to be trusted ; he did not act from principle, like the rest, but from expediency. I, being of the furious Radical party, told her, How could any of them trust one another ? they were all of them rascals !" Then she would launch out into praises of the Duke of Wellington, referring to his actions ; which I could not contradict, as 1 knew nothing about him. She said she had taken interest in politics ever since she was five years old. She did not get her opinions from her father — that is, not directly — but from the papers, &c., he preferred.' 106 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE In illustration of the truth of this I may give an extract from a letter to her brother, written from Roe Head, May 17, 1832 : — ' Lately I had begun to think that I had lost all the interest which I used formerly to take in politics ; but the extreme pleasure I felt at the news of the Reform BilFs being thrown out by the House of Lords, and of the ex- pulsion, or resignation, of Earl Grey, &c., convinced me that I have not as yet lost all my penchmit for politics. I am extremely glad that aunt has consented to take in Eraser's Magazine;" for, though I know, from your de- scription of its general contents, it will be rather uninter- esting when compared with Blackwood," still it will be better than remaining the whole year without being able to obtain a sight of any periodical whatever ; and such would assuredly be our case, as, in the little wild moorland vil- lage where we reside, there would be no possibility of bor- rowing a work of that description from a circulating li- brary. I hope with you that the present delightful weather may contribute to the perfect restoration of our dear papa^'s health ; and that it may give aunt pleasant reminiscences of the salubrious climate of her native place," &c.^ To return to ^ Mary's ' letter — ' She used to speak of her two elder sisters, Maria and Elizabeth, who died at Cowan Bridge. I used to believe them to have been wonders of talent and kindness. She 1 This letter commenced as follows :— * Dear Bran well, — As usual I address my weekly letter to you, be- cause to you I find the most to say. I feel exceedingly anxious to know how and in what state you arrived at home after your long and (I should think) very fatiguing journey. I could perceive when you arrived at Roe Head that you were very much tired, though you re- fused to acknowledge it. After you were gone many questions and subjects of conversation recurred to me which I had intended to men- tion to you, but quite forgot them in the agitation which I felt at the totally unexpected pleasure of seeing you.' And it ended, * With love to all, believe me, dear Branwell, to remain your affectionate sister, 'Charlotte.' HER SCHOOL DAYS AT ROE HEAD 107 told me, early one morning, tliat she had just been dream- ing : she had been told that she was wanted in the drawing- room, and it was Maria and Elizabeth. I was eager for her to go on, and when she said there was no more, I said/^ But go on ! Mahe it out ! I know you can.'^ She said she would not ; she wished she had not dreamed, for it did not go on nicely ; they were changed ; they had forgotten what they used to care for. They were very fashionably dressed, and began criticising the room, &c. ^ This habit of making out-^^ interests for themselves, that most children get who have none in jactual life, was very strong in her. The whole family used to make out" histories, and invent characters and events. I told her sometimes they were like growing potatoes in a cellar. She said, sadly, Yes ! I know we are !" ^Some one at school said she ^^was always talking about clever'people — Johnson, Sheridan,'^ &c. She said, ^^Now you don't know the meaning of clever. Sheridan might be clever ; yes, Sheridan was clever — scamps often are — but Johnson hadn't a spark of cleverality in him." No one appreciated the opinion ; they made some trivial remark about cleverality,^' and she said no more. ^This is the epitome of her life. At our house she had just as little chance of a patient hearing, for though not school-girlish we were more intolerant. We had a rage for practicality, and laughed all poetry to scorn. Neither she nor we had any idea but that our opinions were the opinions of all ih^ sensible people in the world, and we used to astonish each other at every sentence. . . . Charlotte, at school, had no plan of life beyond what circumstances made for her. She knew that she must provide for herself, and chose her trade ; at least chose to begin it once. Her idea of self-improvement ruled her even at school. It was to cultivate her tastes. She always said there was enough of hard practicality and useful knowledge forced on us by necessity, and that the thing most needed was to soften and refine our minds. She picked up every scrap of infor- 108 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BR0NT£ mation concerning painting, sculpture, poetry, music, &c., as if it were gold/ What I have heard of her school days from other sources confirms the accuracy of the details in this remarkable let- ter/ She was an indefatigable student: constantly reading and learning ; with a strong conviction of the necessity and value of education, very unusual in a girl of fifteen. She never lost a moment of time, and seemed almost to grudge the necessary leisure for relaxation and play hours, which might be partly accounted for by the awkwardness in all games occasioned by her shortness of sight. Yet, in spite of these unsociable habits, she was a great favourite with her schoolfellows. She was always ready to try and do what they wished, though not sorry when they called her awkward and left her out of their sports. Then, at * This letter, which Mrs. Gaskell calls ' remarkable/ was written by a remarkable woman. Mary Taylor (1817-1893), the Rose Yorke of Shirley, who is referred to by Mrs. Gaskell as 'Mary,' was with her sister Martha — the Jessie Yorke of Shirley — at Roe Head with Charlotte Bronte. She received much additional education at Brus- sels, where Martha died and was buried in the Protestant cemetery. Reverses coming to her family — whose characteristics ran much upon the same lines as those of the Yorkes of Shirley — Mary Taylor emi- grated to Wellington, New Zealand, where she started a small drapery store. This and other letters to Mrs. .Gaskell are written from Wel- lington. All her letters show remarkable intellectual powers, and in- deed it would not be too much to say that until Miss Bronte attained to literary fame Mary Taylor was the only human being of a high or- der of intelligence with whom she had come in contact apart from her own family circle. Miss Taylor's two books, however, published upon her return to England, had no special significance. One of them. Miss Miles : a Tale of Yorkshire Life Sixty Years Ago, was published so late as 1890, while The First Duty of Women : a Series of Articles reprinted from the * Victorian Magazine, 1865 to 1870,' was published in 1870. The last thirty years of her life were passed in a house built for her by a brother at High Royd, near Gomersal, Yorks, and here she died in March 1893, aged seventy-six. Her tomb in Gomersal churchyard is inscribed, 'In affectionate remembrance of Mary Tay- lor of High Royd, Gomersal. Born February 26, 1817. Died March 1, 1893.' 1832 HER SCHOOL DAYS AT ROE HEAD 109 night, she was an invaluable story-teller, frightening them almost out of their wits as they lay in bed. On one occa- sion the effect was such that she was led to scream out aloud, and Miss Wooler, coming upstairs, found that one of the listeners had been seized with violent palpitations in consequence of the excitement produced by Charlotte^s story. Her indefatigable craving for knowledge tempted Miss Wooler on into setting her longer and longer tasks of read- ing for examination ; and towards the end of the year and a half that she remained as a pupil at Roe Head she received her first bad mark for an imperfect lesson. She had had a great quantity of Blair's ' Lectures on Belles-Lettres ' to read, and she could not answer some of the questions upon it; Charlotte Bronte had a bad mark. Miss Wooler was sorry, and regretted that she had set Charlotte so long a task. Charlotte cried bitterly. But her schoolfellows were more than sorry — they were indignant. They declared that the infliction of ever so slight a punishment on Charlotte Bronte was unjust — for who had tried to do her duty like her? — and testified their feeling in a variety of ways, until Miss Wooler, who was in reality only too willing to pass over her good pupil's first fault, withdrew the bad mark ; and the girls all returned to their allegiance except ^ Mary,' who took her own way during the week or two that re- mained of the half-year, choosing to consider that Miss Wooler, in giving Charlotte Bronte so long a task, had forfeited her claim to obedience of the school regulations. The number of pupils was so small that the attendance to certain subjects at particular hours, common in larger schools, was not rigidly enforced. When the girls were ready with their lessons they came to Miss Wooler to say them. She had a remarkable knack of making them feel interested in whatever they had to learn. They set to their studies, not as to tasks or duties to be got through, but with a healthy desire and thirst for knowledge, of which she had managed to make them perceive the relishing 110 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE savour. They did not leave off reading and learning as soon as the compulsory pressure of school was taken away. They had been taught to think, to analyse, to reject, to appreciate. Charlotte Bronte was happy in the choice made for her of the second school to which she was sent. There was a robust freedom in the out-of-doors life of her companions. They played at merry games in the fields round the house : on Saturday half-holidays they went long scrambling walks down mysterious shady lanes, then climb- ing the uplands, and thus gaining extensive views over the country, about which so much had to be told, both of its past and present history. Miss Wooler must have had in great perfection the French art ^center,' to judge from her pupil's recollections of the tales she related during these long walks, of this old house, or that new mill, and of the states of society conse- quent on the changes involved by the suggestive dates of either building. She remembered the times when watchers or wakeners in the night heard the distant word of com- mand and the measured tramp of thousands of sad, desperate men receiving a surreptitious military training, in prepara- tion for some great day which they saw in their visions, when right should struggle with might and come off victo- rious ; when the people of England, represented by the workers of Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Nottinghamshire, should make their voice heard in a terrible slogan, since their true and pitiful complaints could find no hearing in Parliament. We forget nowadays, so rapid have been the changes for the better, how cruel was the condition of num- bers of labourers at the close of the great Peninsular war. The half-ludicrous nature of some of their grievances has lingered on in tradition ; the real intensity of their suffer- ings has become forgotten. They were maddened and des- perate ; and the country, in the opinion of many, seemed to be on the verge of a precipice,from which it was only saved by the prompt and resolute decision of a few in authority. Miss Wooler spoke of those times ; of the mysterious nightly 1833 MR. CARTWRIGHT AND THE LUDDITES 111 drillings ; of thousands on lonely moors ; of the muttered threats of individuals too closely pressed upon by necessity to be prudent ; of the overt acts, in which the burning of Cartwright^s mill took a prominent place ; and these things sank deep into the mind of one, at least, among her hearers. Mr. Cartwright was the owner of a factory called Raw- folds, in Liversedge, not beyond the distance of a walk from Roe Head. He had dared to employ machinery for the dressing of wollen cloth, which was an unpopular measure in 1812, when many other circumstances conspired to make the condition of the mill-hands unbearable from the press- ure of starvation and misery. Mr. Cartwright was a very remarkable man, having, as I have been told, some foreign blood in him, the traces of which were very apparent in his tall figure, dark eyes and complexion, and singular though gentlemanly bearing. At any rate he had been much abroad, and spoke French well, of itself a suspicious circum- stance to the bigoted nationality of those days. Altogether he was an unpopular man, even before he took the last step of employing shears,' instead of hands, to dress his wool. He was quite aware of his unpopularity, and of the probable consequences. He had his mill prepared for an assault. He took up his lodgings in it; and the doors were strongly barricaded at night. On every step of the stairs there was placed a roller, spiked with barbed points all round, so as to impede the ascent of the rioters, if they succeeded in forcing the doors. On the night of Saturday, April 11, 1812, the assault was made. Some hundreds of starving cloth-dressers assembled in the very field near Kirklees that sloped down from the house which Miss Wooler afterwards inhabited, and were armed by their leaders with pistols, hatchets, and bludgeons, many of which had been extorted, by the nightly bands that ^ This should have been * cropping machines;' shears were em- ployed in dressing cloth by hand. Nor was it unspun wool, but cloth, over which the Luddites rioted. 112 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE prowled about the country, from such inhabitants of lonely houses as had provided themselves with these means of self-defence. The silent^ sullen multitude marched in the dead of that spring night to Rawfolds, and, giving tongue with a great shout, roused Mr. Cartwright up to the knowledge that the long-expected attack was come. He was within walls, it is true ; but against the fury of hun- dreds he had only four of his own workmen and five sol- diers to assist him. These ten men, however, managed to keep up such a vigorous and well-directed fire of musketry that they defeated all the desperate attempts of the multi- tude outside to break down the doors, and force a way into the mill ; and, after a conflict of twenty minutes, during which two of the assailants were killed and several wound- ed, they withdrew in confusion, leaving Mr. Cartwright master of the field, but so dizzy and exhausted, now the peril was past, that he forgot the nature of his defences, and injured his leg rather seriously by one of the spiked rollers, in attempting to go up his own staircase. His dwelling was near the factory. Some of the rioters vowed that, if he did not give in, they would leave this, and go to his house, and murder his wife and children. This was a terrible threat, for he had been obliged to leave his family with only one or two soldiers to defend them. Mrs. Cart- wright knew what they had threatened ; and on that dreadful night, hearing, as she thought, steps approach- ing, she snatched up her two infant children, and put them in a basket up the great chimn^ey, common in old-fashioned Yorkshire houses. One of the two children who had been thus stowed away used to point out with pride, after she had grown up to woman^s estate, the marks of musket shot and the traces of gunpowder on the walls of her father's mill. He was the first that had offered any resistance to the progress of the ^ Luddites,' who had become by this time so numerous as almost to assume the character of an insurrectionary army. Mr. Cartwright's conduct was so much admired by the neighbouring mill-owners that they 1832 MR. ROBERSON OF HEALD'S HALL 113 entered into a subscription for his benefit, which amounted in the end to 3,000Z.i Not much more than a fortnight after this attack on Eawfolds, another manufacturer who employed the ob- noxious machinery was shot down in broad daylight, as he was passing over Ciossland Moor, which was skirted by a small plantation in which the murderers lay hidden. The readers of ^ Shirley^ will recognise these circumstances, which were related to Miss Bronte years after they oc- curred, but on the very spots where they took place, and by persons who remembered full well those terrible times of insecurity to life and property on the one hand, and of bitter starvation and blind, ignorant despair on the other. Mr. Bronte himself had been living amongst these very people in 1812, as he was then clergyman at Hartshead, not three miles from Rawfolds ; and, as I have mentioned, it was in these perilous times that he began his custom of carrying a loaded pistol continually about with him. For not only his Tory politics, but his love and regard for the authority of the law made him despise the cowardice of the surrounding magistrates, who, in their dread of the Luddites, refused to interfere so as to prevent the destruc- tion of property. The clergy of the district were the bravest men by far. There was a Mr. Roberson, of Heald's Hall, a friend of Mr. Bronte, who has left a deep impression of himself on the public mind. He lived near Heckmondwike, a large, straggling, dirty village, not two miles from Roe Head. It was principally inhabited by blanket weavers, who worked in their own cottages ; and Heald's Hall is the largest house in the village, of which Mr. Roberson was the vicar. At his own cost he built a handsome church at Liversedge, on a hill opposite the one on which his house stood, which was the first attempt in the West Riding to meet the wants ^ Cartwright was buried in Liversedge churchyard. The inscrip- tion on his tomb runs, * Wm. Cartwright, of Rawfolds^ died April 15, 1839, aged 64 years.* 8 114 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE of the overgrown population, and made many personal sac- rifices for his opinions, both religious and political, which were of the true old-fashioned Tory stamp. He hated everything which he fancied had a tendency towards anarchy. He was loyal in every fibre to Church and King ; and would have proudly laid down his life, any day, for what he believed to be right and true. But he was a man of an imperial will, and by it he bore down op- position, till tradition represents him as having something grimly demoniac about him. He was intimate with Cart- wright, and aware of the attack likely to be made on his mill ; accordingly, it is said, he armed himself and his household, and was prepared to come to the rescue, in the event of a signal being given that aid was needed. Thus far is likely enough. Mr. Roberson had plenty of warlike spirit in him, man of peace though he was. But, in consequence of his having taken the unpopular side, exaggerations of his character linger as truth in the minds of the people ; and a fabulous story is told of his forbidding any one to give water to the wounded Luddites, left in the mill yard, when he rode in the next morning to congratulate his friend Cartwright on his successful de- fence. Moreover, this stern, fearless clergyman had the soldiers that were sent to defend the neighbourhood bil- leted at his house ; and this deeply displeased the work- people, who were to be intimidated by the red-coats. Al- though not a magistrate, he spared no pains to track out the Luddites concerned in the assassination I have men- tioned ; and was so successful in his acute, unflinching energy that it was believed he had been supernaturally aided ; and the country people, stealing into the fields sur- rounding Heald's Hall on dusky winter evenings, years after this time, declared that through the windows they saw Par- son Roberson dancing, in a strange red light, with black demons all whirling and eddying round him. He kept a large boys' school, and made himself both respected and dreaded by his pupils. He added a grim kind of humour to 1833 MR. ROBERSON OF HEALD'S HALL 115 his strength of will ; and the former qnality suggested to his fancy strange^ out-of-the-way kinds of punishment for any refractory pupils : for instance, he made them stand on one leg in a corner of the schoolroom, holding a heavy book in each hand ; and once, when a boy had run away home, he followed him on horseback, reclaimed him from his parents, and, tying him by a rope to the stirrup of his saddle, made him run alongside of his horse for the many miles they had to traverse before reaching Heald's Hall. One other illustration of his character may be given. He discovered that his servant Betty had ^a follower;^ and, watching his time till Richard was found in the kitchen, he ordered him into the dining-room, where the pupils were all assembled. He then questioned Richard whether he had come after Betty ; and on his confessing the truth, Mr. Roberson gave the word, ^ OS. with him, lads, to the pump V The poor lover was dragged to the courtyard, and the pump set to play upon him ; and, between every drenching, the question was put to him, ^ Will you promise not to come after Betty again ?' For a long time Richard bravely re- fused to give in, when * Pump again, lads V was the order. But, at last, the poor soaked ^follower ^ was forced to yield, and renounce his Betty.* The Yorkshire character of Mr. Roberson would be in- complete if I did not mention his fondness for horses. He lived to be a very old man, dying some time nearer to 1840 than 1830 ; and even after he was eighty years of age he took great delight in breaking refractory steeds ; if neces- sary, he would sit motionless on their backs for half an hour or more to bring them to. There is a story current that once, in a passion, he shot his wife^s favourite horse, and * There is another side to this story, if a tradition, thus recorded by Mr. Erskine Stuart, is to be relied on : — * Two can play at practical jokes, and the half-drowned swain and a few kindred spirits paid a midnight visit to Roberson's yard, de- stroyed all the milk pans, and poured their precious contents on the ground as a libation to their god, Revenge/ 116 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE buried it near a quarry, where the ground, some years after, miraculously opened and displayed the skeleton ; but the real fact is, that it was an act of humanity to put a poor old horse out of misery ; and that, to spare it pain, he shot it with his own hand, and buried it where, the ground sink- ing afterwards by the working of a coal-pit, the bones came to light. The traditional colouring shows the animus with which his memory is regarded by one set of people. By another, the neighbouring clergy, who remember him rid- ing, in his old age, down the hill on which his house stood, upon his strong white horse— his bearing proud and digni- fied, his shovel hat bent over and shadowing his keen eagle eyes — going to his Sunday duty, like a faithful soldier that dies in harness — who can appreciate his loyalty to con- science, his sacrifices to duty, and his stand by his religion — his memory is venerated. In his extreme old age a ru- bric meeting was held, at which his clerical brethren gladly subscribed to present him with a testimonial of their deep respect and regard.^ This is a specimen of the strong character not seldom manifested by the Yorkshire clergy of the Established ^ Hammond Roberson (1757-1841), bora at Cawston, Norfolk, was a student of Magdalen College, Cambridge. He was curate of Dews- bury, Yorks, for nine years from 1779. In 1788 he resigned his curacy and took up his residence at Squirrel Hall, Dewsbury Moor. Here he remained and began a successful career as a teacher. In 1795 he pur- chased Heald's Hall, Liversedge, and shortly afterwards became in- cumbent of Hartshead-cum-Clifton, resigning in 1800. In 1813 he delivered a sermon — afterwards published — at the laying of the founda- tion stone of a church at Liversedge, which he was largely instrumental in building. It was completed in 1816. A memorial window to him in Liversedge Church bears the inscription — * To the glory of God, and in memory of the Bev. Hammond Roberson, M.A., Founder of this Church in 1816, and its first Incumbent^ who died 9th August, 1841, aged 84 years;* and his tombstone in the churchyard bears the following inscrip- tion : — * The Bev. Hammond Roberson, Founder of this Church in 1816, died August 9th, 1841, aged 84.' 1833 SCENES AT HECKMONDWIKE CHAPELS 117 Church. Mr. Roberson was a friend of Charlotte Bronte's father ; lived within a couple of miles of Roe Head while she was at school there ; and was deeply engaged in trans- actions, the memory of which was yet recent when she heard of them, and of the part which he had had in them. I may now say a little on the character of the Dissenting population immediately surrounding Roe Head; for the ^ Tory and clergyman^s daughter/ ^ taking interest in pol- itics ever since she was five years old/ and holding frequent discussions with such of the girls as were Dissenters and Radicals, was sure to have made herself as much acquainted as she could with the condition of those to whom she was opposed in opinion. The bulk of the population were Dissenters, principally Independents. In the village of Heckmondwike, at one end of which Roe Head is situated,* there were two large chapels belonging to that denomination, and one to the Methodists, all of which were well filled two or three times on a Sun- day, besides having various prayer meetings, fully attended on weekdays. The inhabitants were a chapel-going peo- ple, very critical about the doctrine of their sermons, tyran- nical to their ministers, and violent Radicals in politics. A friend, well acquainted with the place when Charlotte Bronte was at school, has described some events which oc- curred then among them : — ^A scene, which took place at the Lower Chapel, at Heckmondwike, will give you some idea of the people at that time. When a newly married couple made their ap- pearance at chapel, it was the custom to sing the Wedding Anthem, just after the last prayer, and as the congregation was quitting the chapel. The band of singers who per- formed this ceremony expected to have money given them, and often passed the following night in drinking; at least so said the minister of the place ; and he determined to put an end to this custom. In this he was supported by ' Roe Head is more than two miles from Heckmondwike. 118 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE many members of the chapel and congregation ; but so strong was the democratic element, that he met with the most violent opposition and was often insulted when he went into the street. A bride was expected to make her first appearance, and the minister told the singers not to perform the anthem. On their declaring they would he had the large pew which they usually occupied locked ; they broke it open. From the pulpit he told the congrega- tion that, instead of their singing a hymn, he would read a chapter ; hardly had he uttered the first word, before up rose the singers, headed by a tall, fierce - looking weaver, who gave out a hymn, and all sang it at the very top of their voices, aided by those of their friends who were in the chapel. Those who disapproved of the conduct of the singers, and sided with the minister, remained seated till the hymn was finished. Then he gave out the chapter again, read it, and preached. He was just about to conclude with prayer, when up started the singers and screamed forth another hymn. These disgraceful scenes were continued for many weeks, and so violent was the feeling that the different parties could hardly keep from blows as they came through the chapel - yard. The minister, at last, left the place, and along with him went many of the most tem- perate and respectable part of the congregation, and the singers remained triumphant. believe that there was such a violent contest respect- ing the choice of a pastor, about this time, in the Upper Chapel at Heckmondwike, that the Riot Act had to be read at a church meeting.^ ^ Certainly, the soi-disant Christians who forcibly ejected Mr. Redhead at Haworth ten or twelve years before, held a very heathen brotherhood with the soi-disant Christians of Heckmondwike, though the one set might be called * This story was very much resented by the Heckmondwike Non- conformists. Mr. J. J. Stead, of Heckmondwike, informs me that the pastor of the Upper Chapel was elected in 1828 by an unanimous vote, and he remained there until his death in 1862. 1832 THE HECKMONDWIKE LECTURE' 119 ( members of the Church of England and the other Dis- senters. The letter from which I have taken the above extract relates throughout to the immediate neighbourhood of the place where Charlotte Bronte wpent her school-days, and describes things as they existed -at that very time. The writer says, ^Having been accustomed to the respectful manners of the lower orders in the agricultural districts, I was, at first, much disgusted and somewhat alarmed at the great freedom displayed by the working classes of Heck- mondwike and Gomersal to those in a station above them. The term ^^lass^^ was as freely applied to any young lady as the word wench is in Lancashire. The extremely untidy appearance of the villagers shocked me not a little, though I must do the housewives the justice to say that the cottages themselves were not dirty, and had an air of rough plenty about them (except when trade was bad), that I had not been accustomed to see in the farming districts. The heap of coals on one side of the house door, and the brewing tubs on the other, and the frequent perfume of malt and hops as you walked along, proved that fire and home- brewed were to be found at almost every man's hearth. Nor was hospitality, one of the main virtues of Yorkshire, wanting. Oat cake, cheese, and beer were freely pressed upon the visitor. ^ There used to be a yearly festival, half religious, half social, held at Heckmondwike, called The Lecture.^' » I * This * Lecture ' is still contiaued, and is held on the Tuesday and Wednesday after the second Sunday in June. It was started in 1761 by the Rev. James Scott, then Congregational minister at Heckmond- wike, who had inaugurated an Academy for the training of ministers, which was the nucleus of the Airedale and the Rotherham Colleges, now the United Independent College, Bradford. Finding himself an- noyed by the interruptions caused by the frequent visits of the friends and relatives of the students, he decided to appoint one day in the year, and provided a plain dinner for them ; and, in order that they might be profitably entertained, he secured some noted preacher to give a lecture or conduct a service, which institution has continued /20 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE fancy it had come down from the times of the Nonconform- ists. A sermon was preached b)'' some stranger at the Lower Chapel on a week-day evening, and the next day two sermons in succession were delivered at the Upper Chapel. Of course the service was a very long one, and as the time was June, and the weather often hot, it used to be regarded by myself and my companions as no pleasura- ble way of passing the morning. The rest of the day was spent in social enjoyment; great numbers of strangers flocked to the place ; booths were erected for the sale of toys and gingerbread (a sort of Holy Fair ; and the cot- tages, having had a little extra paint and whitewashing, as- sumed quite a holiday look. ^The village of GomersaP (where Charlotte Bronte's friend ^Mary' lived with her family), ^ which was a much prettier place than Heckmondwike, contained a strange- looking cottage, built of rough unhewn stones, many of them projecting considerably, with uncouth heads and grinning faces carved upon them ; and upon a stone above the door was cut, in large letters, Spite Hall."' It was erected by a man in the village, opposite to the house of his enemy, who had just finished for himself a good house, commanding a beautiful view down the valley, which this hideous building quite shut out.' Fearless — because this people were quite familiar to all of them — amidst such a population, lived and walked the gentle Miss Wooler's eight or nine pupils. She herself was born and bred among this rough, strong, fierce set, and knew the depth of goodness and loyalty that lay beneath unto this day. Now there are services at the three large Congrega- tional chapels in the town. On the Tuesday evening two sermons are preached at Westgate (formerly Lower) Chapel ; next morning two at the Upper Chapel, and in the evening one at George Street Chapel, the services being attended by ministers and people of all denomina- tions, who come from miles around; and the chapels are packed to their utmost capacity, for the preachers are generally the leading men of the day. 1832 THE HECKMONDWIKE * LECTURE' 121 their wild manners and insubordinate ways. And the girls talked of the little world around them, as if it were the only world that was ; and had their opinions and their parties, and their fierce discussions like their elders — pos- sibly their betters. And amon>g them, beloved and re- spected by all, laughed at occasioilally by a few, but always to her face, lived, for a year and a half, the plain, short- sighted, oddly dressed, studious little girl they called Charlotte Bronte. CHAPTER VII Miss Bkokte left Roe Head in 1832, having won the af- fectionate regard both of her teacher and her schoolfellows, and having formed there the two fast friendships which lasted her whole life long ; the one with ^ Mary/ who has not kept her letters ; the other with ^ E./ ^ who has kindly intrusted me with a large portion of Miss Bronte's corre- ' spondence with her. This she has been induced to do by her knowledge of the urgent desire on the part of Mr. Bronte that the life of his daughter should be written, and in compliance with a request from her husband that I should be permitted to have the use of these letters, with- out which such a task could be but very imperfectly exe- cuted. In order to shield this friend, however, from any blame Or misconstruction, it is only right to state that, be- fore granting me this privilege, she throughout most care- fully and completely effaced the names of the persons and places which occurred in them ; and also that such infor- mation as I have obtained from her bears reference solely to Miss Bronte and her sisters, and not to any other in- dividuals whom I may find it necessary to allude to in connection with them. In looking over the earlier portion of this correspond- ence I am struck afresh by the absence of hope, which formed such a strong characteristic in Charlotte. At an age when girls, in general, look forward to an eternal * *E.' as has been said, was Ellen Nussey, whom it will be more convenient henceforth to refer to as * Ellen.' She received altogether about five hundred letters from Charlotte BrontS and two from Emily. See p. 101. 1832 LIFE AT THE PARSONAGE 123 duration of such feelings as they or their friends enter- tain^ and can therefore see no hindrance to the fulfilment of any engagements dependent on the future state of the affections, she is surprised that Ellen keeps her promise to write. In after-life I was painfully impressed with the fact, that Miss Bronte never dared to allow herself to look forward with hope ; that she had no confidence in the future ; and I thought, when I heard of the sorrowful years she had passed through, that it had been this press- ure of grief which had crushed all buoyancy of expecta- tion out of her. But it appears from the letters that it must have been, so to speak, constitutional ; or, perhaps, the deep pang of losing her two elder sisters combined with a permanent state of bodily weakness in producing her hope- lessness. If her trust in God had been less strong, she would have given way to unbounded anxiety at many a period of her life. As it was, we shall see, she made a great and successful effort to leave ^her times in His hands.^ After her return home she employed herself in teach- ing her sisters, over whom she had had superior advan- tages. She writes thus, July 21, 1832, of her course of life at the parsonage : — ^ An account of one day is an account of all. In the morning, from nine o'clock till half-past twelve, I instruct my sisters, and draw; then we walk till dinner time. After dinner I sew till tea time, and after tea I either write, read, or do a little fancy work, or draw, as I please. Thus, in one delightful, though somewhat monotonous course my life is passed. I have been out only twice to tea since I came home. We are expecting company this afternoon, and on Tuesday next we shall have all the fe- male teachers of the Sunday school to tea.^^ * This letter concludes : — * I do hope, my dearest Ellen, that you will return to school again for your own sake, though for mine I would rather that you would remain at home, as we shall then have more frequent opportunities for correspond- 124 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE I may here introduce a quotation from a letter which I have received from *Mary^ since the publication of the previous editions of this memoir. ' Soon after leaving school she admitted reading some- thing of OobbettV. She did not like him," she said ; ^^but all was fish that came to her net." At this time she wrote to me that reading and drawing were the only amusements she had, and that her supply of books was very small in proportion to her wants. She never spoke of her aunt. When I saw Miss Branwell she was a very precise person, and looked very odd, because her dress, &c., was so ut- terly out of fashion. She corrected one of us once for using the word '^spit" for spitting." She made a great favourite of Branwell. She made her nieces sew, with purpose or without, and as far as possible discouraged any other culture. She used to keep the girls sewing charity clothing, and maintained to me that it was not for the good of the recipients, but of the sewers. ^* It was proper for them to do it," she said. Charlotte never was ^^in wild excitement" that I know of. When in health she used to talk better, and indeed when in low spirits never spoke at all. She needed her best spirits euce with each other. Should your friends decide against your returning to school, I know you have too much good sense and right feeling not to strive earnestly for your own improvement. Your natural abilities are excellent, and under the direction of a judicious and able friend (and I know you have many such) you might acquire a decided taste for elegant literature, and even poetry, which, indeed, is included un- der that general term. I was very much disappointed by your not sending the hair ; you may be sure, my dearest Ellen, that I would not grudge double postage to obtain it, but I must offer the same excuse for not sending you any. My aunt and sisters desire their love to you. Remember me kindly to your mother and sisters, and accept all the fondest expressions of genuine attachment from your real friend, Chaklotte Bronte. ' P.S.—- Remember the mutual promise we made of a regular corre- spondence with each other. Excuse all faults in this wretched scrawl. Give my love to the Miss Taylors when you see them. Farewell, my deaVy dea/r, dear EUeiL,' 1832 LIFE AT THE PARSONAGE 125 to say what was in her heart, for at other times she had not courage. She never gave decided opinions at such times. . . . ' Charlotte said she could get on with any one who had a bump at the top of their heads (meaning conscientious- ness). I found that I seldom differed from her, except that she was far too tolerant of stupid people, if they had a grain of kindness in them.' It was about this time that Mr. Bronte provided his children with a teacher in drawing, who turned out to be a man of considerable talent, but very little principle.* Although they never attained to anything like proficiency, they took great interest in acquiring this art ; evidently, from an instinctive desire to express powerful imagina- tions in visible forms.' Charlotte told me that, at this pe- riod of her life, drawing, and walking out with her sisters, formed the two great pleasures and relaxations of her day. The three girls used to walk upwards toward the ^ purple- black ' moors, the sweeping surface of which was broken by here and there a stone quarry ; and if they had strength and time to go far enough they reached a waterfall, where the beck fell over some rocks into the * bottom.' They seldom went downwards through the village. They were shy of meeting even familiar faces, and were scrupulous about entering the house of the very poorest uninvited. They were steady teachers at the Sunday school, a habit * This was William Robinson, a native of Leeds, who had attained to some success as a portrait painter. According to Leyland {The Bronte Family) Robinson painted four portraits for the United Ser- vice Club. He was for a short time a pupil of Sir Thomas Lawrence, and afterwards of Fuseli. He died in Leeds in 1839. His friends re- sented the statement in the text as to his lack of principle, * Charlotte BrontS materially injured her eyesight, necessitating the wearing of spectacles, by her laborious efforts at copying old line engravings. Many of these minute copies are still extant. Branwell told George Searle Phillips (the Mirror^ 1872) that his sister had spent six months over one of these copies. 126 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi which Charlotte kept np very faithfully, even after she was left alone ; but they never faced their kind voluntarily, and always preferred the solitude and freedom of the moors. In the September of this year Charlotte went to- pay her first visit to her friend Ellen. It took her into the neigh- bourhood of Roe Head, and brought her into pleasant con- tact with many of her old schoolfellows.^ After this visit she and her friend seem to have agreed to correspond in French, for the sake of improvement in the language. But this improvement could not be great, when it could only amount to a greater familiarity with dictionary words, and when there was no one to explain to- them that a verbal translation of English idioms hardly constituted French composition ; but the effort was laudable, and of itself shows how willing they both were to carry on the educa- tion which they had begun^ under Miss Wooler. I will give an extract which, whatever may be thought of the language, is graphic enough, and presents us with a happy little family picture ; the eldest sister returning home to the two younger, after a fortnight's absence. ^ J^arrivait a Haworth en parfaite sauvete sans le moin- dre accident ou malheur. Mes petites soeurs couraient hors de la maison pour me rencontrer aussitot que la voiture se fit voir, et elles m^embrassaient avec autant d^empressement et de plaisir comme si j^avais 6te absente pour plus d^an. Mon Papa, ma Tante, et le monsieur dont mon frere avoit parle, furent tons assembles dans le Salon, et en pen de temps je m'y rendis aussi. C'est souvent Fordre du Ciel que quand on a perdu un plaisir il y en a un autre pret h prendre sa place. Ainsi je venois de partir de tr^s chers amis, mais tout a Fheure je revins a des parens aussi chers et bon dans le moment. Meme que vous me perdiez (ose-je croire que mon depart vous 6tait un chagrin ?) vous atten- dites I'arrivee de votre frdre, et de votre soeur. J'ai donn6 * This was at The R3^dings, where Ellen Nussey was staying with an elder brother. LIBRARY OF IHE iNlVtRSlTY of ILLINOIS 1832 BOOKS AT THE PARSONAGE 127 a mes soeurs les pommes que vons leur envoyiez avec tant de bonte ; elles disent qu^elles sont stir que Mademoiselle E. est tres aimable et bonne ; Tune et Tautre sont extreme- ment impatientes de vous voir; j^espere qu'en pen de mois elles auront ce plaisir/ But it was some time yet before the friends could meet, and meanwhile they agreed to correspond once a month. There were no events to chronicle in the Haworth let- ters. Quiet days, occupied in teaching, and feminine occupations in the house, did not present much to write about ; and Charlotte was naturally driven to criticise books. Of these there were many in different plights, and, ac- cording to their plight, kept in different places. The well- bound were ranged in the sanctuary of Mr. Bronte's study ; but the purchase of books was a necessary luxury to him, but as it was often a choice between binding an old one and buying a new one, the familiar volume, which had been hungrily read by all the members of the family, was some- times in such a condition that the bedroom shelf was con- sidered its fitting place. Up and down the house were to be found many standard works of a solid kind. Sir Walter Scott^s writing, Wordsworth^s and Southey^s poems were among the lighter literature ; while, as having a character of their own — earnest, wild, and occasionally fanatical — may be named some of the books which came from the Branwell side of the family — from the Cornish followers of the saintly John Wesley — and which are touched on in the account of the works to which Caroline Helstone had access in ^Shirley — ^Some venerable Lady's Magazines, that had once performed a voyage with their owner, and undergone a storm ' (possibly part of the relics of Mrs. Bronte's possessions, contained in the ship wrecked on the coast of Cornwall), ^and whose pages were stained with salt water ; some mad Methodist Magazines full of mira- cles and apparitions and preternatural warnings, ominous dreams, and frenzied fanaticisms ; and the equally mad 128 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE letters of Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe from the Dead to the Living/* Mr. Bronte encouraged a taste for reading in his girls ; and though Miss Branwell kept it in due bounds, by the variety of household occupations, in which she expected them not merely to take a part, but to become proficients, thereby occupying regularly a good portion of every day, they were allowed to get books from the circulating library at Keighley ; and many a happy walk up those long four miles must they have had, burdened with some new book, into which they peeped as they hurried home. Not that the books were what would generally be called new ; in the beginning of 1833 the two friends seem almost simulta- neously to have fallen upon ' Kenilworth," and Charlotte writes as follows about it : — ' I am glad you like Kenilworth it is certainly more resembling a romance than a novel : in my opinion, one of the most interesting works that ever emanated from the great Sir Walter's pen. Varney is certainly the personifi- cation of consummate villany ; and in the delineation of his dark and profoundly artful mind Scott exhibits a won- derful knowledge of human nature, as well as a surprising skill in embodying his perceptions, so as to enable other to become participators in that knowledge.' ^ Four books that are extant beloDging to an earlier period than this are — I. The Imitation of Christ, inscribed *M. Branwell,* to which refer- ence has already been made. See p. 56, note. IL ScotVs Tales of a Qrandfather, 1828, 3 vols., and inscribed i Miss Branwell's handwriting — * These 'oolumes were written by Sir Walter Scott, and the Hugh Liti John mentioned in them is Master Lockhart, grandson to Sir Walter. * A New Year*s Gift by Miss E. B. to her dear little nepJcew and ni Patrick, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte, 1828.* III. Goldsmith's Essays and Poems, 1824, 1 vol., inscribed — * French Prize, adjudged to Miss Bronte, and presented with the Mi Wooler's kind love.* IV. The Book of Common Prayer, 1823, inscribed — 'Miss Outhwaiie to her goddaughter Anne Bronte, Feb. 13, 1827.' 1833 * ELLEN'S' VISIT AT THE PARSONAGE 129 Commonplace as this extract may seem, it is noteworthy on two or three accounts : in the first place, instead of discussing the plot or story, she analyses the character of Varney; and next, she, knowing nothing of the world, both from her youth and her isolated position, has yet been so ac- customed to hear ^ human nature^ distrusted as to receive the notion of intense and artful villainy without surprise. What was formal and set in her way of writing to ' El- len^ diminished as their personal acquaintance increased, and as each came to know the home of the other ; so that small details concerning people and places had their interest and their significance. In the summer of 1833 she wrote to invite her friend to come and pay her a visit. ^Aunt thought it would be better,^ she says, Ho defer it until about the middle of summer, as the winter, and even the spring sea- sons, are remarkably cold and bleak among our mountains.'' The first impression made on the visitor by the sisters of her school friend was, that Emily was a tall, long-armed girl, more fully grown than her elder sister ; extremely reserved in manner. I distinguish reserve from shyness, because I imagine shyness would please, if it knew how ; whereas reserve is indifferent whether it pleases or not. Anne, like her eldest sister, was shy ; Emily was reserved. Branwell was rather a handsome boy, with ' tawny ' hair, to use Miss Bronte's phrase for a more obnoxious colour. All were very clever, original, and utterly different from any people or family ^ Ellen' had ever seen before. But, on the whole, it was a happy visit to all parties. Charlotte says, in writing to ^ Ellen' just after her return home, ^ Were I to tell you of the impression you have made on every one here, you would accuse me of flattery. Papa and aunt are continually adducing you as an example for me to shape my actions and behaviour by. Emily and Anne say they never saw any one they liked so well as you." And Tabby, whom you have absolutely fascinated, talks a great deal more nonsense about your ladyship than I care to repeat. It is now so dark that, notwithstanding 9 130 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE the singular property of seeing in the night-time^ which the young ladies at Roe Head used to attribute to me, I can scribble no longer.' To a visitor at the parsonage it was a great thing to have Tabby's good word. She had a Yorkshire keenness of per- ception into character, and it was not everybody she liked. Haworth is built with an utter disregard of all sanitary conditions : the great old churchyard lies above all the houses, and it is terrible to think how the very water- springs of the pumps below must be poisoned. But this winter of 1833-4 was particularly wet and rainy, and there were an unusual number of deaths in the village. A dreary season it was to the family in the parsonage : their usual walks obstructed by the spongy state of the moors — the passing and funeral bells so frequently tolling, and filling the heavy air with their mournful sound — and, when they were still, the ^ chip, chip ' of the mason, as he cut the grave-stones in a shed close by. In many, living, as it were, in a churchyard, and with all the sights and sounds con- nected with the last offices to the dead things of everyday occurrence, the very familiarity would have bred indiffer- ence. But it was otherwise with Charlotte Bronte. One of her friends says, ^ I have seen her turn pale and feel faint when, in Hartshead church, some one accidentally remarked that we were walking over graves. Charlotte was certainly afraid of death. Not only of dead bodies, or dying people. She dreaded it as something horrible. She thought we did not know how long the moment of dissolution" might really be, or how terrible. This was just such a terror as only hypochondriacs can provide for themselves. She told me long ago that a misfortune was often preceded by the dream frequently repeated which she gives to Jane Eyre/' of carrying a little wailing child, and being unable to still it. She described herself as having the most painful sense of pity for the little thing, lying inert, as sick children do, while she walked about in some gloomy place with it, such as the aisle of Haworth church. The misfortunes she men- 1834 ON A VISIT TO LONDON 131 tioned were not always to herself. She thought such sensi- tiveness to omens was like the cholera^ present to susceptible people — some feeling more^ some less/ About the beginning of 1834 ^ Ellen ^ went to London for the first time. The idea of her friend^s visit seems to have stirred Charlotte strangely. She appears to have formed her notions of its probable consequences from some of the papers in the ^ British Essayists/ the ^ Rambler/ the ^ Mir- ror/ or the ^ Lounger/ which may have been among the English classics on the parsonage book-shelves ; for she evi- dently imagines that an entire change of character for the worse is the usual effect of a visit to ^ the great metropolis/ and is delighted to find that ' Ellen ' is ' Ellen ' still. And, as her faith in her friend's stability is restored, her own imagination is deeply moved by the idea of what great won- ders are to be seen in that vast and famous city. 'Haworth: February 20, 1834. 'Your letter gave me real and heartfelt pleasure, min- gled with no small share of astonishment. Mary had pre- viously informed me of your departure for London, and I had not ventured to calculate on any communication from you while surrounded by the splendours and novelties of that great city, which has been called the mercantile metropolis of Europe. Judging from human nature, I thought that a little country girl, for the first time in a situa- tion so well calculated to excite curiosity and to distract attention, would lose all remembrance, for a time at least, of distant and familiar objects, and give herself up entirely to the fascination of those scenes which were then pre- sented to her view. Your kind, interesting, and most welcome epistle showed me, however, that I had been both mistaken and uncharitable in these suppositions. I was greatly amused at the tone of nonchalance which you assumed while treating of London and its wonders. Did you not feel awed while gazing at St. Paul's and Westmin- ster Abbey ? Had you no feeling of intense and ardent in- 132 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE terest when in St. James's you saw the palace where so many of England's kings have held their courts, and beheld the representations of their persons on the walls ? You should not be too much afraid of appearing country-lred; the magnificence of London has drawn exclamations of astonishment from travelled men, experienced in the world, its wonders and beauties. Have you yet seen anything of the great personages whom the sitting of Parliament now detains in London — the Duke of Wellington, Sir Robert Peel, Earl Grey, Mr. Stanley, Mr. O'Connell ? If I were you, I would not be too anxious to spend my time in read- ing whilst in town. Make use of your own eyes for the purposes of observation now, and, for a time at least, lay aside the spectacles with which authors would furnish us.' In a postscript she adds — ^ Will you be kind enough to inform me of the number of performers in the King's military band T And in something of the same strain she writes on * June 19. ^ My own dear Ellen, — I may rightfully and truly call you so now. You have returned or are returning from London — from the great city which is to me as apocryphal as Babylon, or Nineveh, or ancient Rome. You are with- drawing from the world (as it is called), and bringing with you — if your letters enable me to form a correct judgment — a heart as unsophisticated, as natural, as true, as that you carried there. I am slow, very slow, to believe the protestations of another ; I know my own sentiments, I can read my own mind, but the minds of the rest of man and woman kind are to me sealed volumes, hieroglyphical scrolls, which I cannot easily either unseal or decipher. Yet time, careful study, long acquaintance, overcome most difficul- ties ; and, in your case, I think they have succeeded well in bringing to light and construing that hidden language, whose turnings, windings, inconsistencies, and obscurities so frequently baffle the researches of the honest observer 1834 ON A VISIT TO LONDON 133 of human nature. ... I am truly grateful for your mind- fulness of so obscure a person as myself, and I hope the pleasure is not altogether selfish ; I trust it is partly de- rived from the consciousness that my friend's character is of a higher, a more steadfast order than I was once perfectly aware of. Few girls would have done as you have done — would have beheld the glare, and glitter, and dazzling dis- play of London with dispositions so unchanged, hearts so uncontaminated. I see no affectation in your letters, no trifling, no frivolous contempt of plain and weak admira- tion of showy persons and things.' In these days of cheap railway trips, we may smile at the idea of a short visit to London having any great effect upon the character, whatever it may have upon the intel- lect. But her London — her great apocryphal city — was the ' town" of a century before, to which giddy daughters dragged unwilling papas, or went with injudicious friends, to the detriment of all their better qualities, and some- times to the ruin of their fortunes ; it was the Vanity Fair of the ^ Pilgrim's Progress ' to her. But see the just and admirable sense with which she can treat a subject of which she is able to overlook all the bearings. *Haworth : July 4, 1834. ^ In your last you request me to tell you of your faults. Now, really, how can you be so foolish ? I wonH tell you of your faults, because I don't know them. What a creat- ure would that be who, after receiving an affectionate and kind letter from a beloved friend, should sit down and write a catalogue of defects by way of answer ! Imagine me doing so, and then consider what epithets you would bestow on me. Conceited, dogmatical, hypocritical little humbug, I should think, would be the mildest. Why, child ! I've neither time nor inclination to reflect on your faults when you are so far from me, and when, besides, kind letters and presents, and so forth, are con- tinually bringing forth your goodness in the most promi- 134 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE nent light. Then^ too, there are judicious relations al- ways round you, who can much better discharge that unpleasant office. I have no doubt their advice is com- pletely at your service ; why then should I intrude mine ? If you will not hear them, it will be vain though one should rise from the dead to instruct you. Let us have no more nonsense, if you love me. Mr. is going to be married, is he ? Well, his wife elect appeared to me to be a clever and amiable lady, as far as I could judge from the little I saw of her, and from your account. Now to that flattering sentence must I tack on a list of her faults ? You say it is in contemplation for you to leave Rydings. I am sorry for it. Rydings is a pleasant spot, one of the old family halls of England, surrounded by lawn and wood- land, speaking of past times, and suggesting (to me at least) happy feelings. Mary thought you grown less, did she ? I am not grown a bit, but as short and dumpy as ever. You ask me to recommend you some books for your perusal. I will do so in as few words as I can. If you like poetry, let it be first-rate ; Milton, Shakespeare, Thomson, Goldsmith, Pope (if you will, though I don^t admire him), Scott, Byron, Campbell, Wordsworth, and Southey. Now don't be startled at the names of Shake- speare and Byron. Both these were great men, and their works are like themselves. You will know how to choose the good, and to avoid the evil ; the finest passages are always the purest, the bad are invariably revolting ; you will never wish to read them over twice. Omit the come- dies of Shakespeare, and the ^^Don Juan,'^ perhaps the " Cain " of Byron, though the latter is a magnificent poem, and read the rest fearlessly; that must indeed be a de- praved mind which can gather evil from Henry VIII.,'' from Richard IIL," from Macbeth," and ^^Lamlet," and Julius Caesar." Scott's sweet, wild, romantic poetry can do you no harm. Nor can Wordsworth's, nor Camp- bell's, nor Southey's — the greatest part at least of his ; some is certainly objectionable. For history, read Hume, 1834 CHOICE OF BOOKS 135 Kollin, and the ^'Universal History/^ if you can ; I never did. For fiction, read Scott alone ; all novels after his are worthless. For biography, read Johnson's ''Lives of the Poets/' BoswelFs ''Life of Johnson/' Southey's *'Life of Nelson/' Lockhart's "Life of Burns/' Moore's "Life of Sheridan/' Moore's "Life of Byron/' Wolfe's " Remains.''' For natural history, read Bewick and Audubon, and Gold- smith, and "White's History of Selborne." For divinity, your brother i will advise you there. I can only say, ad- here to standard authors, and avoid novelty.' From this list, we see that she must have had a good range of books from which to choose her own reading. It is evident that the womanly consciences of these two cor- respondents were anxiously alive to many questions dis- cussed among the stricter religionists. The morality of Shakespeare needed the confirmation of Charlotte's opin- ion to the sensitive 'Ellen;' and, a little later, she in- quired whether dancing was objectionable when indulged in for an hour or two in parties of boys and girls. Char- lotte replies, 'I should hesitate to express a difference of opinion from Mr. Atkinson, or from your excellent sister, but really the matter seems to me to stand thus : It is allowed on all hands that the sin of dancing consists not in the mere action of shaking the shanks ' (as the Scotch say), ' but in the consequences that usually attend it ; namely, frivolity and waste of time ; when it is used only, as in the case you state, for the exercise and amusement of an hour among young people (who surely may without any breach of God's commandments be allowed a little light-hearted- ness), these consequences cannot follow. Ergo (according to my manner of arguing), the amusement is at such times perfectly innocent.' Although the distance between Haworth and Birstall was but seventeen miles, it was difficult to go straight from the one to the other without hiring a gig or vehicle * Henry Nussey, then in training for the Church. 136 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE of some kind for the journey. Hence a visit from Char- lotte required a good deal of prearrangement. The Ha- worth gig was not always to be had ; and Mr. Bronte was often unwilling to fall into any arrangement for meeting at Bradford or other places which would occasion trouble to others. The whole family had an ample share of that sen- sitive pride which led them to dread incurring obligations, and to fear ^outstaying their welcome^ when on any visit. I am not sure whether Mr. Bronte did not consider distrust of others as a part of that knowledge of human nature on which he piqued himself. His precepts to this effect, combined with Charlotte^s lack of hope, made her always fearful of loving too much ; of wearying the objects of her affection; and thus she was often trying to restrain her warm feelings, and was ever chary of that presence so in- variably welcome to her true friends. According to this mode of acting, when she was invited for a month she stayed but a fortnight amidst ^EUen^s^ family, to whom every visit only endeared her the more, and by whom she was received with kind of quiet gladness with which they v/ould have greeted a sister. She still kept up her childish interest in politics. In March 1835 she writes, ^ What do you think of the course politics are taking? I make this inquiry bec:.use I now think you take a wholesome interest in the matter ; for- merly you did not care greatly about it. B.,^ you see, is triumphant. Wretch ! I am a hearty hater, and if there is any one I thoroughly abhor, it is that man. But the Op- position is divided. Red-hots and Luke -warms; and the Duke (par excellence the Duke) and Sir Robert Peel show no signs of insecurity, though they have been twice beat ; so '^courage, mon amie,^^ as the old chevaliers used to say before they joined battle.^ 1 Henry, Lord Brougham (17'78-1868). He was Lord Chancellor in Earl Grey's Ministry of 1830. He was not, however, contrary to ex- pectation, offered the seals in Lord Melbourne's Ministry when it took office in 1835. 1835 A GREAT FAMILY PLAN 137 In the middle of the summer of 1835 a great family plan was mooted at the parsonage. The question was, to what trade or profession should Branwell be brought up ? He was now nearly eighteen ; it was time to decide. He was very clever, no doubt ; perhaps, to begin with, the greatest genius in this rare family. The sisters hardly recognised their own or each other's powers, but they knew Ms, The father, ignorant of many failings in moral conduct, did proud homage to the great gifts of his son ; for BranwelFs talents were readily and willingly brought out for the en- tertainment of others. Popular admiration was sweet to him. And this led to his presence being sought at ^arvills^ and all the great village gatherings, for the Yorkshiremen have a keen relish for intellect ; and it likewise procured him the undesirable distinction of having his company rec- ommended by the landlord of the ^ Black Bull ' to any chance traveller who might happen to feel solitary or dull over his liquor. ^ Do you want some one to help you with your bottle, sir ? If you do I'll send for Patrick' (so the villagers called him till the day of his death, though in his own family he was always ^Branweir). And while the messenger went the landlord entertained his guest with accounts of the wonderful talents of the boy, whose pre- cocious cleverness, and great conversational powers, were the pride of the village. The attacks of ill health to which Mr. Bronte had been subject of late years rendered it not only necessary that he should take his dinner alone (for the sake of avoiding temptations to unwholesome diet), but made it also desirable that he should pass the time directly succeeding his meals in perfect quiet. And this necessity, combined with due attention to his parochial duties, made him partially ignorant how his son employed himself out of lesson time. His own youth had been spent among people of the same conventional rank as those into whose companionship Branwell was now thrown; but he had had a strong will, and an earnest and persevering ambition, and a resoluteness of purpose which his weaker son wanted. 138 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi It is singular how strong a yearning the whole family had towards the art of drr.wing. Mr. Bronte had been very solicitous to get them good instruction ; the girls them- selves loved everything connected with it — all descriptions or engravings of great pictures ; and, in default of good ones, they would take and analyse any print or drawing which came in their way, and find out how much thought had gone to its composition, what ideas it was intended to suggest, and what it did suggest. In the same spirit they laboured to design imaginations of their own ; they lacked the power of execution, not of conception. At one time Charlotte had the notion of making her living as an artist, and wearied her eyes in drawing with pre-Raphaelifce mi- nuteness, but not with pre-Raphaelite accuracy, for she drew from fancy rather than from nature. But they all thought there could be no doubt about Bran- welFs talent for drawing. I have seen an oil painting of his, done I know not when, but probably about this time. It was a group of his sisters, life size, three-quarters length ; not much better than sign-painting, as to manipulation ; but the likenesses were, I should think, admirable. I could only judge of the fidelity with which the other two were depicted from the striking resemblance which Charlotte, upholding the great 'frame of canvas, and consequently standing right behind it, bore to her own representation, though it must have been ten years and more since the portraits were taken. The picture was divided, almost in the middle, by a great pillar. On the side of the column which was lighted by the sun stood Charlotte in the womanly dress of that day of gigot sleeves and large collars. On the deeply shadowed side was Emily, with Anne's gentle face resting on her shoulder. Emily's countenance struck me as full of power ; Charlotte's of solicitude ; Anne's of tenderness. The two younger seemed hardly to have attained their full growth, though Emily was taller than Charlotte ; they had cropped hair, and a more girlish dress. I remember looking on those two sad, earnest, shadowed faces, and wondering 1835 PORTRAITS OF THE SISTERS 139 whether I could trace the mysterious expression which is said to foretell an early death. I had some f ond^ superstitions hope that the column divided their fates from hers, who stood apart in the canvas, as in life she survived. I liked to see that the bright side of the pillar was towards her — that the light in the picture fell on lier: I might more truly have sought in her presentment — nay, in her living face — for the sign of death in her prime. They were good likenesses, however badly executed.* From thence I should guess his family argued truly that, if Branwell had but the oppor- tunity, and, alas ! had but the moral qualities, he might turn out a great painter. The best way of preparing him to become so appeared to be to send him as a pupil to the Royal Academy.^ I dare ^ This portrait group, which for some years stood at the top of the staircase at the Haworth parsonage, exactl}^ facing the door of the lit- tle room that had been the children's nursery, was removed by Mr. A. B. Nicholls to his home in Ireland when he left Haworth. He thought so poorly of the portraits of his wife and of Anne Bronte that he cut them out of the canvas and destroyed them. He retained, however, the portrait of Emily, and this he gave to Martha Brown, the Brontes' servant, on one of her several visits to him in Ireland. Martha Brown took it back with her to Haworth, but it has long since disappeared. Fortunately, however, a photograph of the family group was made from another picture by Branwell at Haworth, and this photograph has been identified by Mr. A. B. Nicholls as containing a good portrait of Emily. The volume of Wuthering HeigJits in this series of the Bronte novels contains a beautiful reproduction of this portrait — the only at- tempt at a presentation of Emily BrontG's appearance that we shall ever know. 2 Branwell wrote as follows to the Secretary of the Royal Academy (only this fragment of his letter remains) : — * Sir, — Having an earnest desire to enter as probationary student in the Royal Academy, but not being possessed of information as to the means of obtaining my desire, I presume to request from you, as Sec- tary to the Institution, an answer to the questions — * Where am I to present my drawings ? * At what time ? and especially, * Can I do it in August or September 140 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi say he longed and yearned to follow this path, principally because it would lead him to that mysterious London — that Babylon the great — which seems to have filled the im- aginations and haunted the minds of all the younger mem- bers of this recluse family. To Branwell it was more than a vivid imagination, it was an impressed reality. By dint of studying maps he was as well acquainted with it, even down to its byways, as if he had lived there. Poor misguided fellow ! this craving to see and know London, and that stronger craving after fame were never to be satisfied. He was to die at the end of a short and blighted life. But in this year of 1835 all his home kindred were thinking how they could best forward his views, and how help him up to the pinnacle where he desired to be. What their plans were let Charlotte explain. These are not the first sisters who have laid their lives as a sacrifice before their brother's idolised wish. Would to God they might be the last who met with such a miserable return ! *Haworth: July 6, 1835. had hoped to have had the extreme pleasure of seeing you at Haworth this summer, but human affairs are muta- ble, and human resolutions must bend to the course of events. We are all about to divide, break up, separate. Emily is going to school, Branwell is going to London, and I am going to be a governess. This last determination I formed myself, knowing that I should have to take the step some time, ^^and better sune as syne,'' to use the Scotch proverb; and knowing well that papa would have enough to do with his limited income, should Branwell be placed at the Royal Academy, and Emily at Roe Head. Where am I going to reside ? you will ask. Within four miles of you, at a place neither of us is unacquainted with, being no other than the identical Roe Head men- tioned above. Yes ! I am going to teach in the very school where I was myself taught. Miss Wooler made me the offer, and I preferred it to one or two proposals of private governess-ship, which I had before received. I am sad — 1835 PROSPECT OF SEPARATION 141 very sad — at the thoughts of leaving home ; but duty — necessity — these are stern mistresses, who will not be dis- obeyed. Did I not once say you ought to be thankful for your independence ? I felt what I said at the time, and I repeat it now with double earnestness; if anything would cheer me, it is the idea of being so near you. Surely you and Polly ^ will come and see me ; it would be wrong in me to doubt it ; you were never unkind yet. Emily and I leave home on the 27th of this month ; the idea of being together consoles us both somewhat, and, truth, since I must enter a situation, " my lines have fallen in pleasant places.'^ I both love and respect Miss Wooler/ * Mary Taylor. CHAPTER VIII On July 29, 1835, Charlotte, now a little more than nine- teen years old, went as teacher to Miss Wooler^s. Emily accompanied her as a pupil ; but she became literally ill from home-sickness, and could not settle to anything, and after passing only three months at Roe Head returned to the parsonage and the beloved moors. Miss Bronte gives the following reasons as those which prevented Emily^s remaining at school, and caused the substitution of her younger sister in her place at Miss Wooler's : — ^My sister Emily loved the moors. Flowers brighter than the rose bloomed in the blackest of the heath for her ; out of a sullen hollow in a livid hillside her mind could make an Eden. She found in the bleak solitude many and dear delights ; and not the least and best loved was — liberty. Liberty was the breath of Emily^s nostrils; without it she perished. The change from her own home to a school, and from her own very noiseless, very secluded, but unrestricted and unartificial mode of life, to one of disciplined routine (though under the kindest auspices) was what she failed in enduring. Her nature proved here too strong for her for- t.Hude. Every morning, when she woke, the vision of home and the moors rushed on her, and darkened and sad- dened the day that lay before her. Nobody knew what ailed her but me. I knew only too well. In this struggle her health was quickly broken : her white face, attenuated form, and failing strength threatened rapid decline. I felt in my heart she would die if she did not go home, and with this conviction obtained her recall. , She had only been three months at school ; and it was some years before 1835 FROM HOME 143 the experiment of sending her from home was again vent- ured on/ This physical suffering on Emily's part when absent from Haworth, after recurring several times under similar circumstances, became at length so much an acknowledged fact, that whichever was obliged to leave home, the sisters decided that Emily must remain there, where alone she could enjoy anything like good health. She left it twice again in her life ; once going as teacher to a school in Hali- fax for six months, and afterwards accompanying Charlotte to Brussels for ten. When at home she took the principal part of the cooking upon herself, and did all the household ironing ; and after Tabby grew old and infirm it was Emily who made all the bread for the family ; and any one pass- ing by the kitchen door might have seen her studying German out of an open book, propped up before her, as she kneaded the dough ; but no study, however interesting, interfered with the goodness of the bread, which was always light and excellent. Books were, indeed, a very common sight in that kitchen ; the girls were taught by their father theoretically, and by their aunt practically, that to take an active part in all household work was, in their position, woman's simple duty ; but in their careful employment of time they found many an odd five minutes for reading while watching the cakes, and managed the union of two kinds of employment better than King Alfred. Charlotte's life at Miss Wooler's was a very happy one, until her health failed. She sincerely loved and respected the former schoolmistress, to whom she was now become both companion and friend. The girls were hardly stran- gers to her, some of them being younger sisters of those who had been her own playmates. Though the duties of the day might be tedious and monotonous, there were al- ways two or three happy hours to look forward to in the evening, when she and Miss Wooler sat together — some- times late into the night — and had quiet, pleasant conver- sations, or pauses of silence as agreeable, because each felt 144 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE that as fcjoon as a thought or remark occurred which they wished to express there was an intelligent companion ready to sympathise, and yet they were not compelled to ^make talk/ Miss Wooler was always anxious to afford Miss Bronte every opportunity of recreation in her power ; but the diffi- culty often was to persuade her to avail herself of the invi- tations which came, urging her to spend Saturday and Sunday with ^ Ellen ' and ^ Mary ' in their respective homes, that lay within the distance of a walk. She was too apt to consider that allowing herself a holiday was a dereliction of duty, and to refuse herself the necessary change, from something of an over-ascetic spirit, betokening a loss of healthy balance in either body or mind. Indeed, it is clear that such was the case, from a passage, referring to this time, in the letter of ^ Mary ^ from which I have before given extracts. ^ Three years after' (the period when they were at school together) ^ I heard that she had gone as teacher to Miss Wooler^s. I went to see her, and asked how she could give so much for so little money, when she could live with- out it. She owned that, after clothing herself and Anne, there was nothing left, though she had hoped to be able to save something. She confessed it was not brilliant, b«t what could she do ? I had nothing to answer. She seemed to have no interest or pleasure beyond the feeling of duty, and, when she could get the opportunity, used to sit alone, and ^^make out.^^ She told me afterwards that one evening she had sat in the dressing-room until it was quite dark, and then observing it all at once had taken sudden fright.^ No doubt she remembered this well when she described a similar terror getting hold upon Jane Eyre. She says in the story, ' I sat looking at the white bed and overshadowed walls — occasionally turning a fascinated eye towards the gleaming mirror — I began to recall what I had heard of dead men troubled in their graves. ... I endeavoured to be firm ; shaking my hair from my eyes, I lifted my head 1835 DESPONDENCY 145 and tried to look boldly through the dark room ; at this moment, a ray from the moon penetrated some aperture in the blind. No ! moonlight was still, and this stirred . . . prepared as my mind was for horror, shaken as my nerves were by agitation, I thought the swift-darting beam was a herald of some coming vision from another world. My heart beat thick, my head grew hot ; a sound filled my ears which I deemed the rustling of wings ; something seemed near me/^ ^ From that time,^ Mary adds, ^her imaginations became gloomy or frightful ; she could not help it, nor help think- ing. She could not forget the gloom, could not sleep at night, nor attend in the day. ' She told me that one night, sitting alone, about this time, she heard a voice repeat these lines : *Come, thou high and holy feeling, Shine o'er mountain, flit o'er wave, Gleam like light o'er dome and shieling. There were eight or ten more lines which I forget. She insisted that she had not made them, that she had heard a voice repeat them. It is possible that she had read them, and unconsciously recalled them. They are not in the volume of poems which the sisters published. She re- peated a verse of Isaiah, which she said had inspired them, and which I have forgotten. Whether the lines were recol- lected or invented, the tale proves such habits of sedentary, monotonous solitude of thought as would have shaken a feebler mind.^ Of course the state of health thus described came on gradually, and is not to be taken as a picture of her con- dition in 1836. Yet even then there is a despondency in some of her expressions, that too sadly reminds one of some of Cowper's letters. And it is remarkable how deep- ly his poems impressed her. His words, in verses, came more frequently to her memory, I imagine, than tliose of any other poet. > Jane Eyre, 146 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE 'Mary^ says, ^Oowper^s poem, The Castaway/^ was known to them all, and they all at times appreciated, or almost appropriated it. Charlotte told me once that Branwell had done so ; and though his depression was the result of his faults, it was in no other respect differ- ent from hers. Both were not mental but physical ill- nesses. She was well aware of this, and would ask how that mended matters, as the feeling was there all the same, and was not removed by knowing the cause. She had a larger religious toleration than a person would have who had never questioned, 9,nd the manner of recommending religion was always that of offering comfort, not fiercely enforcing a duty. One time I mentioned that some one had asked me what religion I was of (with the view of get- ting me for a partisan), and that I had said that that was between God and me. Emily (who was lying on the hearth- rug), exclaimed, That^s right.^' This was all I ever heard Emily say on religious subjects. Charlotte was free from religious depression when in tolerable health ; when that failed her depression returned. You have probably seen such instances. They don^t get over their difficulties ; they forget them, when their stomach (or whatever organ it is that inflicts such misery on sedentary people) will let them. I have heard her condemn Socinianism, Calvinism, and many other isms inconsistent with Church of Eng- landism. I used to wonder at her acquaintance with such subjects.'' * May 10, 1836. ^ I was struck with the note you sent me with the um- brella ; it showed a degree of interest in my concerns which I have no right to expect from any earthly creature. I won^t play the hypocrite ; I won't answer your kind, gen- tle, friendly questions in the way you wish me to. Don't deceive yourself by imagining I have a bit of real goodness about me. My darling, if I were like you, I should have my face Zionward, though prejudice and error might occa- sionally fling a mist over the glorious vision before me — 1836 RELIGIOUS DEPRESSION 147 but / am not like you. If you knew my thoughts, the dreams that absorb i ie, and the fiery imagination that at times eats me up, and makes me feel society, as it is, wretchedly insipid, you would pity and I dare say despise me. But I know the treasures of the Bible; I love and adore them. I can see the Well of Life in all its clear- ness and brightness ; but when I stoop down to drink of the pure waters they fly from my lips as if I were Tan- talus. * You are far too kind and frequent in your invitations. You puzzle me. I hardly know how to refuse, and it is still more embarrassing to accept. At any rate I cannot come this week, for we are in the very thickest 77ielee of the Repetitions. I was hearing the terrible fifth section when your note arrived. But Miss Wooler says I must go to Mary next Friday, as she promised for me on Whit Sun- day; and on Sunday morning I will join you at church, if it be convenient, and stay till Monday. There^'s a free and easy proposal ! Miss Wooler has driven me to it. She says her character is implicated.^ Good, kind Miss Wooler ! however monotonous and try- ing were the duties Charlotte had to perform under her roof, there was always a genial and thoughtful friend watching over her, and urging her to partake of any little piece of innocent recreation that might come in her way. And in those midsummer holidays of 1836 her friend ^ El- len ^ came to stay with her at Haworth, so there was one happy time secured. Here follows a series of letters, not dated, but belonging to the latter portion of this year; and again we think of the gentle and melancholy Cowper. * My dear dear Ellen, — I am at this moment trembling all over with excitement, after reading your note ; it is what I never received before — it is the unrestrained pouring out of a warm, gentle, generous heart. ... I thank you with 148 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE energy for this kindness. I will no longer shrink from an- swering your questions. I do wish tcr be better than I am. I pray fervently sometimes to be made so. I have stings of conscience, visitings of remorse, glimpses of holy, of inex- pressible things, which formerly I used to be a stranger to ; it may all die away, and I may be in utter midnight, but I implore a merciful Redeemer that, if this be the dawn of the gospel, it may still brighten to perfect day. Do not mistake me — do not think I am good ; I only wish to be so. I only hate my former flippancy and forwardness. Oh ! I am no better than ever I was. I am in that state of horrid, gloomy uncertainty that, at this moment, I would submit to be old, grey-haired, to have passed all my youthful days of enjoyment, and to be settling on the verge of the grave, if I could only thereby ensure the prospect of reconcilia- tion to God, and redemption through His Son^s merits. I never was exactly careless of these matters, but I have al- ways taken a clouded and repulsive view of them ; and now, if possible, the clouds are gathering darker, and a more oppressive despondency weighs on my spirits. You have cheered me, my darling ; for one moment, for an atom of time, I thought I might call you my own sister in the spirit; but the excitement is past, and I am now as wretch- ed and hopeless as ever. This very night I will pray as you wish me. May the Almighty hear me compassionate- ly ! and I humbly hope He will, for you will strengthen my polluted petitions with your own pure requests. All is bustle and confusion round me, the ladies pressing with their sums and their lessons. ... If you love me, do, do, do come on Friday : I shall watch and wait for you, and if you disappoint me I shall weep. I wish you could know the thrill of delight which I experienced when, as I stood at the dining-room window, I saw ,^ as he whirled past, toss your little packet over the wall.^ Huddersfield market day was still the great period for * *your brother George.* I 1836 CORRESPONDENCE WITH ^ ELLEN' 149 events at Roe Head. Then girls^ running round the corner of the house and peeping between tree sterns^ and up a shadowy lane, could catch a glimpse of a father or brother driving to market in his gig ; might, perhaps, exchange a wave of the hand ; or see, as Charlotte Bronte did from the window, a white packet tossed over the wall by some swift, strong motion of an arm, the rest of the traveller's body unseen. ^ Weary with a day^s hard work ... I am sitting down to write a few lines to my dear Ellen. Excuse me if I say nothing but nonsense, for my mind is exhausted and dis- pirited. It is a stormy evening, and the wind is uttering a continual moaning sound, that makes me feel very melan- choly. At such times — in such moods as these — it is my nature to seek repose in some calm, tranquil idea, and I have now summoned up your image to give me rest. There you sit, upright and still in your black dress, and white scarf, and pale, marble-like face — just like reality. I wish you would speak to me. If we should be separated — if it should be our lot to live at a great distance, and never to see each other again — in old age, how I should conjure up the memory of my youthful days, and what a melancholy pleasure I should feel in dwelling on the recollection of my early friend ! . . . I have some qualities that make me very miserable, some feelings that you can have no participation in — that few, very few people in the world can at all un- derstand. I don't pride myself on these peculiarities. I strive to conceal and suppress them as much as I can ; but they burst out sometimes, and then those who see the ex- plosion despise me, and I hate myself for days afterwards. . . . I have just received your epistle and what accom- panied it. I can't tell what should induce you and your sisters to waste your kindness on such a one as me. I'm obliged to them, and I hope you'll tell them so. I'm obliged to you also, more for your note than for your present. The first gave me pleasure, the last something like pain.' 150 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi The nervous disturbance, which is stated to have troubled her while she was at Miss Wooler^s, seems to have begun to distress her about this time; at least, she herself speaks of her irritable condition, which was certainly only a tem- porary ailment. ^ You have been very kind to me of late, and have spared me all those little sallies of ridicule which, owing to my miserable and wretched touchiness of character, used for- merly to make me wince, as if I had been touched with a hot iron ; things that nobody else cares for enter into my mind and rankle there like venom. I know these feelings are absurd, and therefore I try to hide them, but they only sting the deeper for concealment.^ Compare this state of mind with the gentle resignation with which she had submitted to be put aside as useless, or told of her ugliness by her schoolfellows, only three years before. ^ My life since I saw you has passed as monotonously and unbroken as ever ; nothing but teach, teach, teach, from morning till night. The greatest variety I ever have is afforded by a letter from you, or by meeting with a pleasant new book. The ^' Life of Oberlin,^" ^ and Legh Richmond's Domestic Portraiture," ^ are the last of this description. The latter work strongly attracted and strangely fascinated my attention. Beg, borrow, or steal it without delay; and read the Memoir of Wilberf orce — that short record of a brief, uneventful life ; I shall never forget it ; it is beau- tiful, not on account of the language in which it is written, not on account of the incidents it details, but because of the simple narrative it gives of a young talented, sincere Christian.' * The Life of Oherlin was entitled Brief Memorials of Oherlin. Sims was the name of the autl)or, and it was published in 1830. Johann Friedricb Oberlin, an Alsatian pastor, was a pioneer of education. He was born at Strasburg in 1740, and died in 1826. * Legh Richmond (1772-1827) was one of the most popular authors of his day. His Dairyman's Daughter is still read. Domestic Por- traiture was published in 1833. 1836 GOVERNESS LIFE 151 AboTit this time Miss Wooler removed her school from the fine, open, breezy situation at Roe Head to Dewsbury Moor, only two or three miles distant J Her new residence was on a lower site, and the air was less exhilarating to one bred in the wild hill village of Haworth. Emily had gone as teacher to a school at Halifax, where there were nearly forty pupils. 'I have had one letter from her since her departure,"* writes Charlotte on October 2, 1836 : ^it gives an appalling account of her duties ; hard labour from six in the morn- ing to eleven at night, with only one half-hour of exercise between. This is slavery. I fear she can never stand it.''* When the sisters met at home in the Christmas holi- days they talked over their lives, and the prospect which ^ It must have been after the holidays of Christmas 1836 that the removal to Dewsbury took place, as there is a memento of that date in the form of a copy of Watts on the Improvement of the Mind and Educa- tion of Youth (Dove's English Classics, 1826). It is inscribed in Miss Wooler's handwriting, * Prize for good conduct. Presented to Miss A. Bronte with Miss Wooler's kind love. Roe Head, December 14, 1836.' 'Singularly little is known of Emily's stay at Miss Patchett's school, Law Hill, Southowram, near Halifax. She was a teaciier there from September 1836 to March or April 1837. The house still stands, but it was larger than at present in Emily's time. Mr. Thomas Keyworth, writing in the Bookman (March 1893), informs us on the authority of a resident in the neighbourhood that : — * It was a famous school. The Miss Patchetts kept it as far back as I can remember anything, and I was born in 1818. There were two sisters, Elizabeth and Maria. Miss Maria was very gentle, but Miss Elizabeth was stately and austere. We alw^ays understood she knew how to keep things in order. Miss Maria got married, and went to live at Dewsbury. I think that would be previous to 1836. Then Miss Elizabeth kept on the school for a few years, but not for long. She married Parson Hope, the vicar of St. Anne's, at Southowram, and the school was given up.* Mr. Keyworth contends that Law Hill was the original Wuthering Heights of Emily's novel. It is clear, however, that Ponden Hous?e, near Haworth, did duty for at least the interior of Wuthering Heights, and that Oldfield, in the same district, was Thrushcross Grange. 152 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE they afforded of employment and remuneration. They felt that it was a duty to relieve their father of the burden of their support, if not entirely of that of all three, at least that of one or two ; and, naturally, the lot devolved upon the elder ones to find some occupation which would enable them to do this. They knew that they were never likely to inherit much money. Mr. Bronte had but a small stipend, and was both charitable and liberal. Their aunt had an annuity of 50?., but it reverted to others at her death, and her nieces had no right, and were the last persons in the world to reckon upon her savings. What could they do ? Charlotte and Emily were trying teaching, and, as it seemed, without much success. The former, it is true, had the happiness of having a friend for her em- ployer, and of being surrounded by those who knew her and loved her ; but her salary was too small for her to save out of it ; and her education did not entitle her to a larger. The sedentary and monotonous nature of the life, too, was preying upon her health and spirits, although, with necessity ^as her mistress,^ she might hardly like to acknowledge this even to herself. But Emily — that free, wild, untameable spirit, never happy nor well but on the sweeping moors that gathered round her home — that hater of strangers, doomed to live amongst them, and not mere- ly to live but to slave in their service — what Charlotte could have borne patiently for herself she could not bear for her sister. And yet what to do ? She had once hoped that she herself might become an artist, and so earn her livelihood ; but her eyes had failed her in the minute and useless labour which she had imposed upon herself with a view to this end. It was the household custom among these girls to sew till nine o^clock at night. At that hour Miss Branwell generally went to bed, and her nieces^ duties for the day were accounted done. They put away their work, and be- gan to pace the room backwards and forwards, up and down — as often with the candles extinguished, for econ- 1836 LETTER TO SOUTHEY 153 omy's sake, as not, — their figures glancing into the fire- light, and out into the shadow, perpetually. At this time they talked over past cares a time for one dream of the imagination. In the evenings, ' 1 confess, I do think, but I never trouble any one else with my thoughts. I carefully avoid any appearance of preoc- cupation and eccentricity, which might lead those I live amongst to suspect the nature of my pursuits. Following- my father's advice— who from my childhood has conj seiled me, just in the wise and friendly tone of yoii^ijMl —I have endeavoured not only attentively to ob^^HL the duties a woman ought to fulfil, but to feel deS! in- terested in them. I don't always succeed, for sometimes 1837 LETTER FROM SOUTHEY 163 when Fm teaching or sewing I would rather be reading or. writing ; but I try to deny myself; and my father's appr bation amply rewarded me for the privation. Once r allow me to thank you with sincere gratitude. 1 } shall never more feel ambitious to see my name i;p^ the wish should rise, I'll look at Southey's lettei press it. It is honour enough for me that I hav- him, and received an answer. That letter ir-onsec. no one shall ever see it but papa and my ^c>ther and ^ ters. Again I thank you. This incid'^^^ ^ suppose, wilij be renewed no more; if I Y to be - woman, I shallj remember it thirty years hence ^ ^ bright dream. The! signature which you suspected ^ being fictitious is my real name. Again, therefore, I m^st sign myself 'C. Bronte.* ^p.S.— Pray, sir, excu^e me for writing to you a seconc time ; I could not he^J writing, partly to tell you ho\^ thankful I am for yrar kindness, and partly to let yoi know that your advioe shall not be wasted, however sor rowfully and reluctantly it may at first be followed. I cannot deny myself the gratification of insertinj Southey's reiAv : — ^ Keswick : March 22, 1837. ! ' Dear Madam,— Your letter has given me great pleasure and I should not forgive myself if I did not tell you so You have r^aceived admonition as considerately and a kindly as it was given. Let me now request that, if yo ever should come to these Lakes while I am living here you will let me see you. You would then think of m afterwards ^with the more good - will, because you woul perceive tb at there is neither severity nor moroseness i the Stat of mind to which years and observation haV brougl li^ le. 'It it oy God's meroy, in our power to attain a degrej of self- government, which is essential to our own happ: 164 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ness, and contributes greatly to that of those around us. Take care of over - excitement, and endeavour to keep a quiet mind (even for your health it is the best advice that n be given you): your moral and spiritual improvement ' then keep pace with the culture of your intellectual _-^|^^^^^nadam, God bless you! * J^arewell, }qq\[qyq nie to be your sincere friend, 'Robert Southey/ Of this second lette.:^iso^ she spoke, and told me that It contained an invitation ^-^r her to go and see the poet if ever she visited the Lakt;. ^ But there was no money to spare,' said she, 'nor any ii^bspect of my ever earning money enough to have the chaii^e of so great a pleasure, so I gave up thinking of it/ At the time we conversed together on the subject we were at Ue Lakes. But Southey was dead. This ' stringent Metter made her pU aside, for a time, all idea of literary enterprise. She beat her whole energy towards the fulfilment of the duties \n hand; but her occupation was not sufficient food for hor great forces of intellect, and they cried out perpetuallj, 'Give, give,' while the comparatively less breezy air of Dewsbury Moor told upon her health and spirits more and more. On August 27, 1837, she writes :— ' I am again at Dewsbury/ engaged in th less— teach, teach, teach. . . . When will you co Make haste ! You have been at Bath long enoi pur- ^ Miss Wooler's school was called Heald's House, Vribt It' was near Squirrel Hall, where Hammond Robe first residence and school. The house is rather a notewc iving been used by the followers of George Fox as a mee tid it was the birthplace of the Rev. W. M. Heald, who i his son some of the characteristics of the Rev. Cyril Hal. [The Bronte Country, by J. A. Erskine Stuart). 1837 HOME-SICKNESS 165 poses ; by this time you have acquired polish enough^ I am sure ; if the varnish is laid on much thicker, I am afraid the good wood underneath will be quite concealed, and your Yorkshire friends won^t stand that. Come, come. I am getting really tired of your absence. Saturday after Saturday comes round, and I can have no hope of hearing your knock at the door, and then being told that Miss Ellen is come.^^ Oh, dear ! in this monotonous life of mine that was a pleasant event. I wish it would recur again ; but it will take two or three interviews before the stiffness - — the estrangement of this long separation — will wear away/ ^ About this time she forgot to return a work-bag she had borrowed, by a messenger, and in repairing her error she says, ^ These aberrations of memory warn me pretty intel- ligibly that I am getting past my prime.^ ^Etat. 21 ! And the same tone of despondency runs through the following letter : — ^ I wish exceedingly that I could come to you before Christmas, but it is impossible ; another three weeks must elapse before I shall again have my comforter beside me, under the roof of my own dear quiet home. If I could always live with you, and daily read the Bible with you — if your lips and mine could at the same time drink the same draught, from the same pure fountain of mercy — I hope, I trust, I might one day become better, far better than my evil, wandering thoughts, my corrupt heart, cold to the spirit and warm to the flesh, will now permit me to be. I often plan the pleasant life which we might lead together, strengthening each other in that power of self- denial, that hallowed and glowing devotion, which the first ^ Another extract from the same letter was as follows : — * Miss Eliza Wooler and Mrs. Wooler are coming here next Christ- mas. Miss Wooler will then relinquish the school in favour of her sis- ter Eliza, but I am happy to say worthy Miss Wooler will continue to reside in the house. I should be sorry indeed to part with her.' 166 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE saints of God often attained to. My eyes fill with tears when I contrast the bliss of such a state, brightened by hopes of the future, with the melancholy state I now live in, uncertain that I ever felt true contrition, wandering in thought and deed, longing for holiness, which I shall never, never obtain, smitten at times to the heart with the convic- tion that* ghastly Calvinistic doctrines are true — darkened, in short, by the very shadows of spiritual death. If Chris- tian perfection be necessary to salvation, I shall never be saved ; my heart is a very hotbed for sinful thoughts, and when I decide on an action I scarcely remember to look to my Redeemer for direction. I know not how to pray ; I cannot bend my life to the grand end of doing good ; I go on constantly seeking my own pleasure, pursuing the grat- ification of my own desires. I forget God, and will not God forget me ? And, meantime, I know the greatness of Jehovah ; I acknowledge the perfection of His word ; I adore the purity of the Christian faith; my theory is right, my practice horribly wrong.' The Christmas holidays came, and she and Anne re- turned to the parsonage, and to that happy home circle in which alone their natures expanded ; amongst all other people they shrivelled up more or less. Indeed, there were only one or two strangers who could be admitted among the sisters without producing the same result. Emily and Anne were bound up in their lives and inter- ests like twins. The former from reserve, the latter from timidity, avoided all friendships and intimacies beyond their family. Emily was impervious to influence ; she never came in contact with public opinion, and her own decision of what was right and fitting was a law for her conduct and appearance, with which she allowed no one to interfere. Her love was poured out on Anne, as Char- * In the original letter the name is erased, but it stands * 's ghastly Calvinistic doctrines.' 1837 TABBY'S ILLNESS 167 lotte's was on her. But the affection among all the three was stronger than either death or life. ^ Ellen ^ was eagerly welcomed by Charlotte, freely ad- mitted by Emily, and kindly received by Anne, whenever she could visit them ; and this Christmas she had prom- ised to do so, but her coming had to be delayed on account of a little domestic accident detailed in the following let- ter : — 'December 29,1837. ' I am sure you will have thought me very remiss in not sending my promised letter long before now ; but I have a sufficient and very melancholy excuse in an acci- dent that befell our old faithful Tabby, a few days after my return home. She was gone out into the village on some errand, when, as she was descending the steep street, her foot slipped on the ice, and she fell : it was dark, and no one saw her mischance, till after a time her groans at- tracted the attention of a passer-by. She was lifted up and carried into the druggist's near ; and, after the exam- ination, it was discovered that she had completely shatter- ed and dislocated one leg. Unfortunately, the fracture could not be set till six o'clock the next morning, as no surgeon was to be had before that time, and she now lies at our house in a very doubtful and dangerous state. Of course we are all exceedingly distressed at the circum- stance, for she was like one of our own family. Since the event we have been almost without assistance — a person has dropped in now and then to do the drudgery, but we have as yet been able to procure no regular servant ; and consequently the whole work of the house, as well as the additional duty of nursing Tabby, falls on ourselves. Under these circumstances I dare not press your visit here, at least until she is pronounced out of danger ; it would be too selfish of me. Aunt wished me to give you this information before, but papa and all the rest were anxious I should delay until we saw whether matters took a more settled aspect, and I myself kept putting it off from day to 168 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE day, most bitterly relnctant to give up all the pleasure I had anticipated so long. However, remembering what you told me, namely, that you had commended the matter to a higher decision than ours, and that you were resolved to submit with resignation to that decision, whatever it might be, I hold it my duty to yield also, and to be silent ; it may be all for the best. I fear, if you had been here during this severe weather, your visit would have been of no ad- vantage to you, for the moors are blockaded with snow, and you would never have been able to get out. After this disappointment I never dare reckon with certainty on the enjoyment of a pleasur eagain ; it seems as if some fatal- ity stood between you and me. I am not good enough for you, and you must be kept from the contamination of too intimate society. I would urge your visit yet — I would entreat and press it — but the thought comes across me, should Tabby die while you are in the house, I should never forgive myself. No ! it must not be, and in a thou- sand ways the consciousness of that mortifies and disap- points me most keenly, and I am not the only one who is disappointed. All in the house were looking to your visit with eagerness. Papa says he highly approves of my friendship with you, and he wishes me to continue it through life.^ A good neighbour of the Brontes — a clever, intelligent Yorkshire woman, who keeps a druggist's shop in Ha- worth,^ and, from her occupation, her experience, and ex- cellent sense, holds the position of village doctoress and nurse, and, as such, has been a friend, in many a time of trial, and sickness, and death in the households round — told me a characteristic little incident connected with Tabby's fractured leg. Mr. Bronte is truly generous and * This was Elizabeth Hardaker, who was always known in Haworth as 'Betty.' Her brother, Ben Hardaker, went to live in Bradford, and published a volume of verse there in 1874. * Betty ' was called in to see Charlotte during her last illness. She died in 1888. 183? AN ILLIBERAL PROPOSAL regardful of all deserving claims. Tabby had lived with them for ten or twelve years, and was, as Charlotte ex- pressed it, ^one of the family/ But, on the other hand, she was past the age for any very active service, being nearer seventy than sixty at the time of the accident ; she had a sister living in the village, and the savings she had accumulated, during many years^ service, formed a com- petency for one in her rank of life. Or if, in this time of sickness, she fell short of any comforts which her state rendered necessary, the parsonage could supply them. So reasoned Miss Branwell, the prudent, not to say anxious aunt, looking to the limited contents of Mr. Bronte's purse, and the unprovided -for future of her nieces, who were, moreover, losing the relaxation of the holidays, in close attendance upon Tabby.* Miss Branwell urged her views upon Mr. Bronte as soon as the immediate danger to the old servant's life was over. He refused at first to listen to the careful advice ; it was repugnant to his liberal nature. But Miss Branwell per- severed ; urged economical motives ; pressed on his love for his daughters. He gave way. Tabby was to be re- moved to her sister's, and there nursed and cared for, Mr. Bronte coming in with his aid when her own re- sources fell short. This decision was communicated to the girls. There were symptoms of a quiet but sturdy rebellion, that winter afternoon, in the small precincts of Haworth Parsonage. They made one unanimous and stiff remonstrance. Tabby had tended them in their child- hood ; they, and none other, should tend her in her in- firmity and age. At tea-time they were sad and silent, and the meal went away untouched by any of the three. So it was at breakfast ; they did not waste many words ^ Tabby died only a month before her young mistress. Her grave, which is very near to the wall that separates the parsonage from the churchyard, is inscribed — * Tdbitha Aykroyd, of Haworth, who died Feb, 17 thy 1855, in the 86th year of her age.'* 170 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE on the subject, but each word they did utter was weighty. They ^ struck^ eating till the resolution was rescinded, and Tabby was allowed to remain a helpless invalid en- tirely dependent upon them. Herein was the strong feel- ing of Duty being paramount to pleasure, which lay at the foundation of Oharlotte^s character, made most appa- rent ; for we have seen how she yearned for her friend's company : but it was to be obtained only by shrinking from what she esteemed right, and that she never did, whatever might be the sacrifice. She had another weight on her mind this Christmas. I have said that the air of Dewsbury Moor did not agree with her, though she herself was hardly aware how much her life there was affecting her health. But Anne had begun to suffer just before the holidays, and Charlotte watched over her younger sisters with the jealous vigilance of some wild creature, that changes her very nature if danger threatens her young. Anne had a slight cough, a pain at her side, a diflBculty of breathing. Miss Wooler considered it as little more than a common cold ; but Char- lotte felt every indication of incipient consumption as a stab at her heart, remembering Maria and Elizabeth, whose places once knew them, and should know them no more. Stung by anxiety for this little sister, she upbraided Miss Wooler for her fancied indifference to Anne's state of health. Miss Wooler felt these reproaches keenly, and wrote to Mr. Bronte about them. He immediately replied most kindly, expressing his fear that Charlotte's appre- hensions and anxieties respecting her sister had led her to give utterance to over -excited expressions of alarm. Through Miss Wooler's kind consideration Anne was a year longer at school than her friends intended. At the close of the half year Miss Wooler sought for the opportunity of an explanation of each other's words, and the issue proved that ^ the falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.' And so ended the first, last, and only difference Charlotte ever had with good, kind Miss Wooler. 1838 RETURN TO HAWORTH 171 Still her heart had received a shock in the perception of Anne^s delicacy ; and all these holidays she watched over her with the longing, fond anxiety which is so full of sud- den pangs of fear. Emily had given up her situation in the Halifax school at the expiration of six months of arduous trial, on ac- count of her health, which could only be re-established by the bracing moorland air and free life of home. Tab- by^s illness had preyed on the family resources. I doubt whether Branwell was maintaining himself at this time. For some unexplained reason he had given up the idea of becoming a student of painting at the Royal Acade- my, and his prospects in life were uncertain, and had yet to be settled. So Charlotte had quietly to take up her burden of teaching again, and return to her previous mo- notonous life. Brave heart, ready to die in harness ! She went back to her work, and made no complaint, hoping to subdue the weakness that was gaining ground upon her. About this time she would turn sick and trembling at any sudden noise, and could hardly repress her screams when startled. This showed a fearful degree of physical weakness in one who was generally so self - controlled ; and the medical man, whom at length, through Miss Wooler's entreaty, she was led to consult, insisted on her return to the parsonage. She had led too sedentary a life, he said ; and the soft sum- mer air, blowing round her home, the sweet company of those she loved, the release, the freedom of life in her own family, were needed to save either reason or life. So, as One higher than she had overruled that for a time she might relax her strain, she returned to Haworth ; and, after a season of utter quiet, her father sought for her the enlivening society of her two friends Mary and Martha (Taylor). At the conclusion of the following letter, writ- ten to the then absent ' Ellen,^ there is, I think, as pretty a glimpse of a merry group of young people as need be; and, like all descriptions of doing, as distinct from think- 172 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi ing or feeling, in letters, it saddens one in proportion to the vivacity of the picture of what was once, and is now utterly swept away. * Haworth : June 9, 1838. received your packet of despatches on Wednesday; it was brought me by Mary and Martha, who have been staying at Haworth for a few days ; they leave us to-day. You will be surprised at the date of this letter. I ought to be at Dewsbury Moor, you know; but I stayed as long as I was able, and at length I neither could nor dared stay any longer. My health and spirits had utterly failed me, and the medical man whom I consulted enjoined me, as I valued my life, to go home. So home I went, and the change has at once roused and soothed me ; and I am now, I trust, fairly in the way to be myself again. ^ A calm and even mind like yours cannot conceive the feelings of the shattered wretch who is now writing to you, when, after weeks of mental and bodily anguish not to be described, something like peace began to dawn again. Mary Taylor is far from well. She breathes short, has a pain in her chest, and frequent flushings of fever. I can- not tell you what agony these symptoms give me ; they remind me too strongly of my two sisters, whom no pow- er of medicine could save. Martha is now very well ; she has kept in a continual flow of good humour during her stay here, and has consequently been very fascinat- ing. . . . ^They are making such a noise about me I cannot write any more. Mary is playing on the piano ; Martha is chat- tering as fast as her little tongue can run ; and Branwell is standing before her, laughing at her vivacity.^ Charlotte grew much stronger in this quiet, happy period at home. She paid occasional visits to her two great friends, and they in return came to Haworth. At one of their houses, I suspect, she met with the person to whom the following letter refers — some one having a slight resemblance to the 1839 FIRST OFFER OF MARRIAGE 173 character of ^St. John^ in the last volume of ^ Jane Eyre/ and, like him, in holy orders/ * March 12, 1839. ^. . . I had a kindly leaning towards him, becanse he is an amiable and well-disposed man. Yet I had not, and could not have, that intense attachment which would make me willing to die for him ; and if ever I marry it must be in that light of adoration that I will regard my husband. Ten to one I shall never have the chance again ; but n'im- porte. Moreover, I was aware that he knew so little of me he could hardly be conscious to whom he was writing. Why ! it would startle him to see me in my natural home character ; he would think I was a wild, romantic enthu- siast indeed. I could not sit all day long making a grave ^ This was the Rev. Henry Nussey, the brother of her friend. Miss Bronte's letter to Ellen Nussey from which Mrs. Gaskell extracted the above passage contained also the following : — ' You ask me, my dear Ellen, whether I have received a letter from Henry. I have, about a week since. The contents, I confess, did a little surprise me, but I kept them to myself, and unless you had questioned me on the subject I would never have adverted to it. Henry says he is comfortably settled at Donnington, that his health is much improved, and that it is his iotention to take pupils after Easter. He then intimates that in due time he should want a wife to take care of his pupils, and frankly asks me to be that wife. Alto- gether the letter is written without cant or flattery, and in a common- sense style, which does credit to his judgment. * Now, my dear Ellen, there were in this proposal some things which might have proved a strong temptation. I thought if I were to marry Henry Nussey his sister could live with me, and how happy I should be. But again I asked myself two questions : Do I love him as much as a woman ought to love the man she marries ? Am I the person best qualified to make him happy ? Alas ! Ellen, my con- science answered no to both these questions.* Henry Nussey was at this time a curate at Donnington, in Sussex. He afterwards became rector of Earnley, near Chichester, and later of Hathersage, in Derbyshire. Miss Bronte, in refusing the proposed offer of marriage, suggested certain characteristics which she declared were desirable in the wife of a clergyman. Six months later Mr. Nussey wrote to inform her of his engagement to another, and Charlotte BrontQ replied in a letter of considerable length. 174 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE face before my husband. I would laugh, and satirise, and say whatever came into my head first. And if he were a clever man, and loved me, the whole world, weighed in the balance against his smallest wish, should be light as air.' So that — her first proposal of marriage — was quietly de- clined and put on one side. Matrimony did not enter into the scheme of her life, but good, sound, earnest labour did; the question, however, was as yet undecided in what direction she should employ her forces. She had been dis- couraged in literature ; her eyes failed her in the minute kind of drawing which she practised when she wanted to express an idea ; teaching seemed to her at this time, as it does to most women at all times, the only way of earning an independent livelihood. But neither she nor her sis- ters were naturally fond of children. The hieroglyphics of childhood were an unknown language to them, for they had never been much with those younger than themselves. I am inclined to think, too, that they had not the happy knack of imparting information, which seems to be a sep- arate gift from the faculty of acquiring it ; a kind of sym- pathetic tact, which instinctively perceives the difficulties that impede comprehension in a child's mind, and that yet are too vague and unformed for it, with its half-developed powers of expression, to explain by words. Consequently, teaching very young children was anything but a ^ delight- ful task' to the three Bronte sisters. With older girls, verging on womanhood, they might have done better, es- pecially if these had any desire for improvement. But the education which the village clergyman's daughters had re- ceived, did not as yet qualify them to undertake the charge of advanced pupils. They knew but little French, and were not proficients in music ; I doubt whether Charlotte could play at all. But they were all strong again, and, at any rate, Charlotte and Anne must put their shoulders to the wheel. One daughter was needed at home, to stay with Mr. Bronte and Miss Bran well ; to be the young and 1839 HER EXPERIENCE OF ^GOVERNESS' LIFE 175 active member in a household of four, whereof three — the father, the aunt, and faithful Tabby — were "^past middle age. And Emily, who suffered and drooped more than her sisters when away from Haworth, was the one appointed to remain. Anne was the first to meet with a situation. 'April 15, 1839. ^ I could not write to you in the week you requested, as about that time we were very busy in preparing for Anne^s departure.^ Poor child ! she left us last Monday ; no one went with .her ; it was her own wish that she might be al- lowed to go alone, as she thought she could manage better and summon more courage if thrown entirely upon her own resources. We have had one letter from her since she went. She expresses herself very well satisfied, and says that Mrs. Ingham is extremely kind ; the two eldest chil- dren alone are under her care, the rest are confined to the nursery, with which and its occupants she has nothing to do. ... I hope she^ll do. You would be astonished what a sensible, clever letter she writes ; it is only the talking part that I fear. But I do seriously apprehend that Mrs. Ingham will sometimes conclude that she has a natural impediment in her speech. For my own part, I am as yet wanting a situation," like a housemaid out of place. By the way, I have lately discovered I have quite a talent for cleaning, sweeping up hearths, dusting rooms, making beds, &c. ; so, if everything else fails, I can turn my hand to that, if anybody will give me good wages for little labour. I won^t be a cook ; I hate cooking. I won^t be a nursery- maid, nor a lady^s maid, far less a lady^s companion, or a mantua-maker, or a straw-bonnet maker, or a taker-in of plain work. I won^t be anything but a housemaid. . . . With regard to my visit to Gomersal, I have as yet received no invitation ; but if I should be asked, though I should * Anne went to Mrs. Ingham at Blake Hall, Mirfield, some three miles from Heckmondwike, Yorks. A branch of the family still oc- cupies the place, a pleasant mansion situated in a park. 176 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi feel it a great act of self-denial to refuse, yet I have almost made up my mind to do so, though the society of the Tay- lors is one of the most rousing pleasures I have ever known. Good-bye, my darling Ellen, &c. ^P.S. — Strike out that word ^^darling;" it is humbug. Whereas the use of protestations ? We've known each other, and liked each other, a good while; that^s enough/ Not many weeks after this was written Charlotte also became engaged as a governess. I intend carefully to ab- stain from introducing the names of any living people, re- specting whom I may have to tell unpleasant truths, or to quote severe remarks from Miss Bronte's letters ; but it is necessary that the difficulties she had to encounter in her various phases of life should be fairly and frankly made known, before the force ^ of what was resisted ^ can be at all understood. I was once speaking to her about ^Agnes Grey ^ — the novel in which her sister Anne pretty literally describes her own experience as a governess, and alluding more particularly to the account of the stoning of the lit- tle nestlings in the presence of the parent birds. She said that none but those who had been in the position of a gov- erness could ever realise the dark side of ^respectable' hu- man nature ; under no great temptation to crime, but daily giving way to selfishness and ill-temper, till its conduct tow- ards those dependent on it sometimes amounts to a tyr- anny of which one would rather be the victim than the in- flictor. We can only trust in such cases that the employers err rather from a density of perception, and an absence of sympathy, than from any natural cruelty of disposition. Among several things of the same kind, which I well re- member, she told me what had once occurred to herself. She had been entrusted with the care of a little boy, three or four years old, during the absence of his parents on a day's excursion, and particularly enjoined to keep him out of the stable yard. His elder brother, a lad of eight or 1839 HER EXPERIENCE OF ^GOVERNESS' LIFE 177 nine^ and not a pupil of Miss Bronte, tempted the little fellow into the forbidden place. She followed, and tried to induce him to come away ; but, instigated by his brother, he began throwing stones at her, and one of them hit her so severe a blow on the temple that the lads were alarmed into obedience. The next day, in full family conclave, the mother asked Miss Bronte what occasioned the mark on her forehead. She simply replied, ^An accident, ma^am," and no further inquiry was made ; but the children (both broth- ers and sisters) had been present, and honoured her for not ^telling tales. ^ From that time she began to obtain influ- ence over all, more or less, according to their different characters; and, as she insensibly gained their affection, her own interest in them was increasing. But one day, at the children^'s dinner, the small truant of the stable yard, in a little demonstrative gush, said, putting his hand in hers, ' I love ^ou. Miss Bronte whereupon the mother exclaimed, before all the children, ^ Love the governess, my dear !' The family into which she first entered was, I believe, that of a wealthy Yorkshire manufacturer.^ The following extracts from her correspondence at this time will show how painfully the restraint of her new mode of life pressed upon her. The first is from a letter to Emily, beginning with one of the tender expressions in which, in spite of ' Mr. John Sidgwick. Mr. A. C. Benson says {The Life of Edward White Benson, sometime Archbishop of Canterbury): — ' Charlotte Bronte acted as governess to my cousins at Stonegappe for a few months in 1839. Few traditions of her connection with the Sidgwicks survive. She was, according to her own account, very unldndly treated, but it is clear that she had no gifts for the management of children, and was also in a very morbid condition the whole time. My cousin Benson Sidgwick, now vicar of Ashby Parva, certainly on one occasion threw a Bible at Miss Bronte ! and all that another cousin can recollect of her is that if she was invited to walk to church with them, she thought she was being ordered about like a slave ; if she was not invited, she imagined she was excluded from the family circle. Both Mr. and Mrs. John Sidgwick were extraordinarily benevolent people, much beloved, and would not wittingly have given pain to any one connected with them.' 12 178 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi ^humbug/ she indulged herself. ^Mine dear love/ ' Mine bonnie love ^ are her terms of address to this beloved sister. * June 8, 1839. ^ I have striven hard to be pleased with my new situation. The country, the house, and the grounds are, as I have said, divine ; but, alack-a-day ! there is such a thing as seeing all beautiful around you — pleasant woods, white paths, green lawns, and blue sunshiny sky — and not having a free mo- ment or a free thought left to enjoy them. The children are constantly with me. As for correcting them, I quickly found that was out of the question ; they are to do as they like. A complaint to the mother only brings black looks on myself, and unjust partial excuses to screen the children. I have tried that plan once, and succeeded so notably I shall try no more. I said in my last letter that Mrs. (Sidgwick) did not know me. I now begin to find she does not intend to know me ; that she cares nothing about me, except to contrive how the greatest possible quantity of labour may be got out of me ; and to that end she overwhelms me with oceans of needle-work; yards of cambric to hem, muslin nightcaps to make, and, above all things, dolls to dress. I do not think she likes me at all, because I can^t help being shy in such an entirely novel scene, surrounded as I have hithertobeenby strange and constantly changing faces. . . . I used to think I should like to be in the stir of grand folks' society ; but I have had enough of it — it is dreary work to look on and listen. I see more clearly than I have ever done before that a private governess has no existence, is not considered as a living rational being, except as connected with the wearisome duties she has to fulfil. . . . One of the pleasantest afternoons I have spent here— indeed, the only one at all pleasant — was when Mr. (Sidgwick) walked out with his children, and I had orders to follow a little be- hind. As he strolled on through his fields, with his mag- nificent Newfoundland dog at his side, he looked very like what a frank, wealthy Conservative gentleman ought to be. 1839 HER EXPERIENCE AS A GOVERNESS 179 He spoke freely and unaffectedly to the people he met, and, though he indulged his children and allowed them to tease himself far too much, he would not suffer them grossly to insult others/ (written m PEITCIL TO A FRIEIS'D/) *July 1839. ^ I cannot procure ink without going into the drawing- room, where I do not wish to go. ... I should have writ- ten to you long since, and told you every detail of the utter- ly new scene into which I have lately been cast, had I not been daily expecting a letter from yourself, and wondering and lamenting that you did not write ; for you will remem- ber it was your turn. I must not bother you too much with my sorrows, of which, I fear, you heard an exaggerated ac- count. If you were near me, perhaps I might be tempted to tell you all, to grow egotistical, and pour out the long history of a private governesses trials and crosses in her first situation. As it is I will only ask you to imagine the miseries of a reserved wretch like me, thrown at once into the midst of a large family, at a time when they were par- ticularly gay — when the house was filled with company — all strangers — people whose faces I had never seen before. In this state I had charge given me of a set of pampered, spoilt, turbulent children, whom I was expected constantly to amuse as well as to instruct. I soon found that the constant demand on my stock of animal spirits reduced them to the lowest state of exhaustion ; at times I felt — and, I suppose, seemed — depressed. To my astonishment I was taken to task on the subject by Mrs. (Sidgwick) with a sternness of manner and a harshness of language scarcely credible ; like a fool, I cried most bitterly. I could not help it ; my spirits quite failed me at first. I thought I had done my best — strained every nerve to please her ; and to be treated in that way, merely because I was shy ' Ellen Nussey. 180 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE and sometimes melancholy, was too bad. At first I was for giving all np and going home. Bnt, after a little re- flection, I determined to summon what energy I had and to weather the storm. I said to myself, I have never yet quitted a place without gaining a friend; adversity is a good school ; the poor are born to labour, and the depend- ent to endure." I resolved to be patient, to command my feelings, and to take what came; the ordeal, I reflected, would not last many weeks, and I trusted it would do me good. I recollected the fable of the willow and the oak ; I bent quietly, and now, I trust, the storm is blowing over me. Mrs. (Sidgwick) is generally considered an agreeable woman ; so she is, I doubt not, in general society. She behaves somewhat more civilly to me now than she did at first, and the children are a little more manageable ; but she does not know my character, and she does not wish to know it. I have never had five minutes' conversation with her since I came, except while she was scolding me. I have no wish to be pitied, except by yourself ; if I were talking to you I could tell you much more.^ (to EMILY, ABOUT THIS TIME.) ^ Mine bonnie love, I was as glad of your letter as tongue can express : it is a real, genuine pleasure to hear from home ; a thing to be saved till bedtime, when one has a moment's quiet and rest to enjoy it thoroughly. Write whenever you can. I could like to be at home. I could like to work in a mill. I could like to feel some mental liberty. I could like this weight of restraint to be taken off. But the holidays will come. Ooraggio.' Her temporary engagement in this uncongenial family ended in the July of this year; not before the constant strain upon her spirits and strength had again affected her health; but when this delicacy became apparent in palpita- tions and shortness of breathing it was treated as affecta- tion — as a phase of imaginary indisposition, which could 1 1839 A PROJECTED EXCURSION 181 be dissipated by a good scolding. She had been brouglit up rather in a school of Spartan endurance than in one of maudlin self-indulgence, and could bear many a pain and relinquish many a hope in silence. After she had been at home about a week, her friend proposed that she should accompany her in some little ex- cursion, having pleasure alone for its object. She caught at the idea most eagerly at first ; but her hope stood still, waned, and had almost disappeared before, after many delays, it was realised. In its fulfilment at last it was a favourable 'specimen of many a similar air-bubble dancing before her eyes in her brief career, in which stern realities, rather than pleasures, formed the leading incidents. * July 26, 1839. ^ Your proposal has almost driven me clean daft."" If you don^t understand that ladylike expression you must ask me what it means when I see you. The fact is, an excursion with you anywhere, whether to Cleathorpe or Canada, just by ourselves, would be to me most delightful. I should indeed like to go ; but I can't get leave of absence for longer than a week, and Fm afraid that would not suit you. Must I, then, give it up entirely ? I feel as if I could not, I never had such a chance of enjoyment before ; I do want to see you and talk to you, and be with you. When do you wish to go ? Could I meet you at Leeds ? To take a gig from Haworth to B(irstall) would be to me a very serious increase of expense, and I happen to be very low in cash. Oh ! rich people seem to have many pleasures at their command which we are debarred from ! However, no repining. ' Say when you go, and I shall be able in my answer to say decidedly whether I can accompany you or not. I must — I will — Fm set upon it — I'll be obstinate and bear down all opposition. ^ P. S. — Since writing the above I find that aunt and papa have determined to go to Liverpool for a fortnight, and take 182 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE us all with them. It is stipulated, however, that I should give up the Cleathorpe scheme. I yield reluctantly.^^ 1 fancy that, about this time, Mr. Bronte found it neces- sary, either from failing health or the increased populous- ness of the parish, to engage the assistance of a curate.^ At least it is in a letter written this summer that I find mention of the first of a succession of curates, who hence- forward revolved round Haworth Parsonage, and made an impression on the mind of one of its inmates which she has conveyed pretty distinctly to the world. The Haworth curate brought his clerical friends and neighbours about the place, and for a time the incursions of these, near the parsonage tea-time, formed occurrences by which the quiet- ness of the life thore was varied, sometimes pleasantly, sometimes disagreeably. The little adventure recorded at the end of the letter on page 183 is uncommon in the lot of most women, and is a testimony in this case to the un- usual power of attraction — though so plain in feature — which Charlotte possessed, when she let herself go in the happiness and freedom of home. ^ ' But ' — the letter continues—' aunt suggests that you may be able to join us at Liverpool. What do you say? We shall not go for a fortnight or three weeks, because till that time papa's expected assist, ant will not be ready to undertake his duties/ The * expected assist- ant ' was Mr; William Weightman. 2 Mr. Bronte's curates were five in number — 1. Mr. William Hodgson, 1837-8. 2. Mr. William Weightman, 1839-42. 3. Mr. Peter Augustus Smith, 1842-4. 4. Mr. Arthur Bell Nicholls, 1844-53. 5. Mr. De Renzi, 1853-4. 6. Mr. Arthur Bell Nicholls, 1854-61. Mr. Hodgson's position must have been somewhat different from that of his successors, as Mr. Bronte, in a funeral sermon on Mr. Weightman, which he preached in Haworth Parish Church on Octo- ber 2, 1842, referred to permanent assistance having first been given to bim by bis Bishop in the person of Mr. Weightman. Mr. Hodg- son probably volunteered for a few months before obtaining a more important charge. 1839 SECOND OFFER OF MARRIAGE 183 ' August 4, 1839. ^ The Liverpool journey is yet a matter of talk, a sort of castle in the air; bnt, between you and me, I fancy it is very doubtful whether it will ever assume a more solid shape. Aunt — like many other elderly people — likes to talk of such things ; but when it comes to putting them into actual execution she rather falls off. Such being the case, I think you and I had better adhere to our first plan of going somewhere together independently of other peo- ple. I have got leave to accompany you for a week — at the utmost a fortnight — but no more. Where do you wish to go ? Burlington, I should think, from what Mary says, would be as eligible a place as any. When do you set off ? Arrange all these things according to your con- venience ; I shall start no objections. The idea of seeing the sea — of being near it — watching its changes by sunrise, sunset, moonlight, and noonday — in calm, perhaps in storm — fills and satisfies my mind. I shall be discontented at nothing. And then I am not to be with a set of people with whom I have nothing in common — who would be nuisances and bores ; but with you, whom I like and know, and who knows me. have an odd circumstance to relate to you: prepare for a hearty laugh ! The other day Mr. ,i a vicar, came to spend the day with us, bringing with him his own cu- rate. The latter gentleman, by name Mr. B., is a young Irish clergyman, fresh from Dublin University. It was the first time we had any of us seen him, but, however, after the manner of his countrymen, he soon made himself at ^ • Mr. * was Mr. Hodgson, who had been Mr. Bronte's first cu- rate in 1837-8, and was at this time incumbent of Christchurch, Colne, Lancashire, a position he held until his death in 1874. Mr. Hodgson's first curate at Colne was Mr. David Bryce— the ' Mr. B ' of this letter— who died at Colne, January 17. 1840, aged 29. Mr. Hodgson was in the habit of telling his family that it was his impression that matters between Mr. Bryce and Miss Bronte had gone beyond the casual stage here described, but this is scarcely probable by the light of Charlotte Bronte's explicit statement. 184 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE home. His character quickly appeared in his conversa- tion ; witty, lively, ardent, clever too ; but deficient in the dignity and discretion of an Englishman. At home, you know, I talk with ease, and am never shy — never weighed down and oppressed by that miserable mauvaise honte which torments and constrains me elsewhere. So I conversed with the Irishman, and laughed at his jests ; and, though I saw faults in his character, excused them because of the amusement his originality afforded. I cooled a little, in- deed, and drew in towards the latter part of the evening, because he began to season his conversation with something of Hibernian flattery, which I did not quite relish. How- ever they went away, and no more was thought about them. A few days after I got a letter, the direction of which puz- zled me, it being in a hand I was not accustomed to see. Evidently it was neither from you nor Mary, my only cor- respondents. Having opened and read it, it proved to be a declaration of attachment and proposal of matrimony, expressed in the ardent language of the sapient young Irishman I I hope you are laughing heartily. This is not like one of my adventures, is it ? It more nearly resem- bles Martha^s. I am certainly doomed to be an old maid. Never mind. I made up my mind to that fate ever since I was twelve years old. ^ Well ! thought I, I have heard of love at first sight, but this beats all ! I leave you to guess what my answer would be, convinced that you will not do me the injustice of guessing wrong.' On August 14 she still writes from Haworth : — ^I have in vain packed my box, and prepared everything for our anticipated journey. It so happens that I can get no conveyance this week or the next. The only gig let out on hire in Haworth is at Harrogate, and likely to re- main there for aught I can hear. Papa decidedly objects to my going by the coach, and walking to B(irstall), though I am sure I could manage it. Aunt exclaims 1839 PLEASURE EXCURSION 185 against the weather, and the roads, and the four winds of heaven ; so I am in a fix, and, what is worse, so are you. On reading over, for the second or third time, your last letter (which, by-the-bye, was written in such hiero- glyphics that, at the first hasty perusal, I could hardly make out two consecutive words), I find you intimate that if I leave this journey till Thursday I shall be too late. I grieve that I should have so inconvenienced you ; but I need not talk of either Friday or Saturday now, for I rather imagine there is small chance of my ever going at all. The elders of the house have never cordially acqui- esced in the measure ; and now that impediments seem to start up at every step opposition grows more open. Papa, indeed, would willingly indulge me, but this very kindness of his makes me doubt whether I ought to draw upon it; so, though I could battle out aunt^s discontent, I yield to papa's indulgence.^ He does not say so, but I know he would rather I stayed at home ; and aunt meant well too, I dare say, but I am provoked that she reserved the expression of her decided disapproval till all was set- tled between you and myself. Reckon on me no more ; leave me out in your calculations : perhaps I ought, in the beginning, to have had prudence sufficient to shut my eyes against such a prospect of pleasure, so as to deny myself the hope of it. Be as angry as you please with me for dis- appointing you. I did not intend it, and have only one thing more to say — if you do not go immediately to the sea, will you come to see us at Haworth ? This invitation is not mine only, but papa's and aunVs." However, a little more patience, a little more delay, and she enjoyed the pleasure she had wished for so much. She and her friend went to Easton for a fortnight in the ^ It is perhaps pertinent to hazard the suggestion that this testi- mony by Charlotte Bronte to her father's kindness is worth a great deal more than the unverifiable gossip concerning Mr. Bronte's incon- siderate selfishness that has passed current for many years. 186 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE latter part of September. It was here she received her first impressions of the sea. 'October 24.1 ^ Have yon forgotten the sea by this time, Ellen ? Is it grown dim in your mind ? Or can you still see it, dark, blue, and green, and foam-white, and hear it roaring roughly when the wind is high, or rushing softly when it is calm ? . . . I am as well as need be, and very fat. I think of Easton very often, and of worthy Mr. H.,' and his kind- hearted helpmate, and of our pleasant walks to Harlequin Wood, and to Boynton, our merry evenings, our roirips with little Hanchcon, &c. &c. If we both live, this period of our lives will long be a theme for pleasant recollection. Did you chance, in your letter to Mr. H., to mention my spec- tacles ? I am sadly inconvenienced by the want of them. I can neither read, write, nor draw with comfort in their absence. I hope Madame won^t refuse to give them up. . . . Excuse the brevity of this letter, for I have been drawl- ing all day, and my eyes are so tired it is quite a labour to write.' But, as the vivid remembrance of this pleasure died away, * This letter, dated Haworth, October 24, 1839, commences — * You will have concluded by this time that I never got home at all, but evaporated by the way; however, I did get home, and very well too, by the aid of the Dewsbury coachman, though if I had not con- trived to make friends with him I don't know how I should have managed. He showed me the way to the inn where the Keighley coach stopped, carried my box, took my place, and saw my luggage put in, and helped me to mount on to the top. I assure you I feel exceedingly obliged to him. I had a long letter from your brother Henry giving an account of his bride elect.' ^ Mr. Hudson, of Easton, near Bridlington or Burlington, York- shire, is here referred to, and we are brought into relation with a lit- tle-known friendship of Charlotte Bronte's. Mr. John Hudson was a farmer and a friend of the Nussey family. Charlotte Bronte and Ellen Nussey lodged with him on their excursion to the sea. ' Little Hancheon's ' real name was Fanny Whipp, then about seven years of age. She married a Mr. North, and died in 1866, aged thirty-five. 1839 TABBY DISABLED 187 an accident occiirred to make the actual duties of life press somewhat heavily for a time. ' December 21, 1839. ' We are at present, and have been during the last month, rather busy, as, for that space of time, we have been without a servant, except a little girl to run errands. Poor Tabby became so lame that she was at length obliged to leave us. She is residing with her sister, in a little house of her own, which she bought with her savings a year or two since. She is very comfortable, and wants nothing ; as she is near we see her very often. In the meantime Emily and I are sufficiently busy, as you may suppose : I manage the iron- ing, and keep the rooms clean; Emily does the baking, and attends to the kitchen. We are such odd animals that we prefer this mode of contrivance to having a new face amongst us. Besides, we do not despair of Tabby's return, and she shall not be supplanted by a stranger in her ab- sence. I excited aunt's wrath very much by burning the clothes, the first time I attempted to iron ; but I do better now. Human feelings are queer things; I am much hap- pier black-leading the stoves, making the beds, and sweep- ing the floors at home than I should be living like a fine lady anywhere else. I must indeed drop my subscription to the Jews, because I have no money to keep it up. I ought to have announced this intention to you before, but I quite forgot I was a subscriber. I intend to force myself to take another situation when I can get one, though I hate and ahhor the very thoughts of governess-ship. But I must do it ; and therefore I heartily wish I could hear of a family where they need such a commodity as a governess.^ CHAPTER IX The year 1840 found all the Brontes living at home, ex- cept Anne. As I have already intimated, for some reason with which I am unacquainted, the plan of sending Bran- well to study at the Eoyal Academy had been relinquished; probably it was found, on inquiry, that the expenses of such a life were greater than his father's slender finances could afford, even with the help which Charlotte's labours at Miss Wooler's gave, by providing for Anne's board and education. I gather from what I have heard that Bran- well must have been severely disappointed when the plan fell through. His talents were certainly very brilliant, and of this he was fully conscious, and fervently desired, by their use, either in writing or drawing, to make himself a name. At the same time he would probably have found his strong love of pleasure and irregular habits a great im- pediment in his path to fame ; but these blemishes in his character were only additional reasons why he yearned after a London life, in which he imagined he could obtain every stimulant to his already vigorous intellect, while at the same time he would have a license of action to be found only in crowded cities. Thus his whole nature was attracted towards the metropolis ; and many an hour must he have spent pouring over the map of London, to judge from an anecdote which has been told me. Some traveller for a London house of business came to Haworth for a night, and, according to the unfortunate habit of the place, the brilliant ^Patrick' was sent for to the inn, to beguile the evening by his intellectual conversation and his flashes of wit. They began to talk of London ; of the habits and 1840 BRAN WELL BRONTE 189 ways of life there ; of the places of amusement ; and Branwell informed the Londoner of one or two short cuts from point to point, up narrow lanes or back streets ; and it was only towards the end of the evening that the traveller discovered, from his companion's volun- tary confession, that he had never set foot in London at all. At this time the young man seemed to have his fate in his own hands. He was full of noble impulses, as well as of extraordinary gifts ; not accustomed to resist temp- tation, it is true, from any higher motive than strong family affection, but showing so much power of attach- ment to all about him that they took pleasure in believ- ing that, after a time, he would ^ right himself, and that they should have pride and delight in the use he would then make of his splendid talents. His aunt es- pecially made him her great favourite. There are al- ways peculiar trials in the life of an only boy in a family of girls. He is expected to act a part in life; to do^ while they are only to be ; and the necessity of their giving way to him in some things is too often exaggerated into their giving way to him in all, and thus rendering him utterly selfish. In the family about whom I am writing, while the rest were almost ascetic in their habits, Branwell was allowed to grow up self-indulgent ; but, in early youth, his power of attracting and attaching people was so great that few came in contact with him who were not so much daz- zled by him as to be desirous of gratifying whatever wishes he expressed. Of course he was careful enough not to reveal anything before his father and sisters of the pleas- ures he indulged in ; but his tone of thought and conver- sation became gradually coarser, and, for a time, his sisters tried to persuade themselves that such coarseness was a part of manliness, and to blind themselves by love to the fact that Branwell was worse than other young men. At present, though he had, they were aware, fallen into some errors, the exact nature of which they avoided knowing, 190 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE still he was their hope and their darling ; their pride, who should some time bring great glory to the name of Bronte. He and his sister Charlotte were both slight and small of stature, while the other two were of taller and larger make. I have seen BranwelFs profile ; it is what would be generally esteemed very handsome ; the forehead is mas- sive, the eye well set, and the expression of it fine and intellectual ; the nose too is good ; but there are coarse lines about the mouth, and the lips, though of handsome shape, are loose and thick, indicating self-indulgence, while the slightly retreating chin conveys an idea of weak- ness of will. His hair and complexion were sandy. He had enough Irish blood in him to make his manners frank and genial, with a kind of natural gallantry about them. In a fragment of one of his manuscripts which I have read there is a justness and felicity of expression which is very striking. It is the beginning of a tale, and the actors in it are drawn with much of the grace of characteristic portrait- painting, in perfectly pure and simple language which dis- tinguishes so many of Addison^s papers in the ^ Spectator.' The fragment is too short to afford the means of judging whether he had much dramatic talent, as the persons of the story are not thrown into conversation. But altogether the elegance and composure of style are such an one would Xiot have expected from this vehement and ill-fated young man. He had a stronger desire for literary fame burning in his heart than even that which occasionally flashed up in his sisters^ He tried various outlets for his talents. He wrote and sent poems to Wordsworth and Coleridge, who both expressed kind and laudatory opinions, and he fre- quently contributed verses to the ^ Leeds Mercury.' In 1840 he was living at home, employing himself in occasional composition of various kinds, and waiting till some occu- pation, for which he might be fitted without any expensive course of preliminary training, should turn up ; waiting, not impatiently ; for he saw society of one kind (probably 1840 HOUSEHOLD REGULARITY 191 what he called ^ life ') at the ^ Black Bull and at home he was as yet the cherished favourite. Miss Branwell was unaware of the fermentation of un- occupied talent going on around her. She was not her nieces" confidante — perhaps no one so much older could have been — but their father, from whom they derived not a little of their adventurous spirit, was silently cognisant of much of which she took no note. Next to her nephew the docile, pensive Anne was her favourite. Of her she had taken charge from her infancy ; she was always patient and tractable, and would submit quietly to occasional op- pression, even when she felt it keenly. Not so her two elder sisters ; they made their opinions known, when roused by any injustice. At such times Emily would express her- self as strongly as Charlotte, although perhaps less fre- quently. But, in general, notwithstanding that Miss Bran- well might be occasionally unreasonable, she and her nieces went on smoothly enough ; and though they might now and than be annoyed by petty tyranny, she still inspired them with sincere respect, and not a little affection. They were, moreover, grateful to her for many habits she had enforced upon them, and which in time had become a sec- ond nature : order, method, neatness in everything ; a per- fect knowledge of all kinds of household work ; an exact punctuality, and obedience to the laws of time and place, of which no one but themselves, I have heard Charlotte say, could tell the value in after life. With their impul- sive natures it was positive repose to have learnt implicit obedience to external laws. People in Haworth have as- sured me that, according to the hour of day — nay, the very minute — could they have told what the inhabitants of the parsonage were about. At certain times the girls would be sewing in their aunt's bedroom — the chamber which, in former days, before they had outstripped her in their learning, had served them as a schoolroom ; at certain (early) hours they had their meals ; from six to eight Miss Branwell read aloud to Mr. Bronte ; at punctual 192 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE eight the household assembled to evening prayers in his study ; and by nine he, the aunt, and Tabby were all in bed— the girls free to pace up and down (like restless wild animals) in the parlour, talking over plans and projects, and thoughts of what was to be their future life. At the time of which I write the favourite idea was that of keeping a school. They thought that, by a little con- trivance, and a very little additional building, a small num- ber of pupils, four or six, might be accommodated in the parsonage. As teaching seemed the only profession open to them, and as it appeared that Emily at least could not live away from home, while the others also suffered much from the same cause, this plan of school-keeping presented itself as most desirable. But it involved some outlay ; and to this their aunt was averse. Yet there was no one to whom they could apply for a loan of the requisite means except Miss Branwell, who had made a small store out of her savings, which she intended for her nephew and nieces eventually, but which she did not like to risk. Still this plan of school-keeping remained uppermost ; and in the evenings of this winter of 1839-40 the alterations that would be necessary in the house, and the best way of con- vincing their aunt of the wisdom of their project, formed the principal subject of their conversation. This anxiety weighed upon their minds rather heavily during the months of dark and dreary weather. Kor were external events, among the circle of their friends, of a cheer- ful character. In January 1840 Charlotte heard of the death of a young girl who had been a pupil of hers, and a schoolfellow of Anne^s, at the time when the sisters were together at Roe Head ; and had attached herself very strongly to the latter, who, in return, bestowed upon her much quiet affection. It was a sad day when the intelli- gence of this young creature^s death arrived. Charlotte wrote thus on January 12, 1840 : — ^ Your letter, which I received this morning, was one of DEATH OF A YOUNG FRIEND 193 painful interest. Anne C./ it seems, is dead; when I saw her last she was a young, beautiful, and happy girl ; and now ''lifers fitful fever'" is over with her, and she ''sleeps well/" I shall never see her again. It is a sorrowful thought; for she was a warm-hearted, affectionate being, and I cared for her. Wherever I seek for her now in this world she cannot be found, no more than a flower or a leaf which withered twenty years ago. A bereavement of this kind gives one a glimpse of the feeling those must have who have seen all drop round them, friend after friend, and are left to end their pilgrimage alone. But tears are fruit- less, and I try not to repine."* ^ Anne Carter, who had also a brief experience as a governess. 2 On January 24, 1840, she wrote to Miss Niissey : — 'My dear Ellen, — I have given Mrs. E. H. her coup de grace — that is to say, I have relinquished the idea of becoming an inmate of her family. I have no doubt she will be very cross with me, especially as when I first declined going she pressed me to take a trial of a month. I am now, therefore, again adrif o without an object. I am sorry for this, but something may turn up ere long. I know not whether to encourage you in your plan of going out or not. Your health seems to me the greatest obstacle ; if you could obtain a situation like M. B., you might do very well. But you could never live in an unruly, violent family of modern children, such, for instance, as those at Blake Hall. Anne is not to return. Mrs. Ingham is a placid, mild woman ; but as for the children, it was one struggle of life- wearing exertion to keep them in anything like decent order. 1 am miserable when I allow myself to dwell on the necessity of spending my life as a governess. The chief requisite for that station seems to me to be the power of taking things easily as they come, and of making one- self comfortable and at home w^herever we may chance to be— quali- ties in which all our family are singularly deficient. I know I can- not live with a person like Mrs. Sidgwick, but I hope all women are not like her, and my motto is ** Try again." Mary Taylor, I am sorry to hear, is ill. Have you seen her or heard anything of her lately? Sickness seems very general, and death too, at least in this neighbour- hood. Mr. Bryce is dead. He had fallen into a state of delicate health for some time, and the rupture of a blood-vessel carried him off. He was a strong, athletic-looking man when I saw him, and that is scarcely six months ago. Though I knew so little of him, and of course could not be deeply or permanently interested in what con- 13 194 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE During this winter Charlotte employed her leisure hours in writing a story. Some fragments of the manuscript yet remain, but it is in too small a hand to be read without great fatigue to the eyes; and one cares the less to read it as she herself condemned it, in the preface to ^ The Pro- fessor/ by saying that in this story she had got over such taste as she might once have had for the ^ ornamental and redundant in composition/^ The beginning, too, as she acknowledges, was on a scale commensurate with one of Richardson^s novels, of seven or eight volumes. I gather some of these particulars from a copy of a letter apparently in reply to one from Wordsworth, to whom she had sent the commencement of the story, some time in the summer of .1840. ^Authors are generally very tenacious of their produc- tions, but I am not so much attached to this but that I can give it up without much distress. No doubt, if I had gone on, I should have made quite a Richardsonian concern of it. . . . I had materials in my head for half a dozen volumes. ... Of course it is with considerable regret I relinquish any scheme so charming as the one I have sketched. It is very edifying and profitable to create a world out of your own brains, and people it with inhabitants, who are so many. Melchisedecs, and have no father nor mother but your own ( imagination. ... I am sorry I did not exist fifty or sixty J cerned him, I confess, when I suddenly heard he was dead, I felt both • shocked and saddened : it was no shame to feel so, was it ? I scold i, you, Ellen, for writing illegibly and badly, but I think you may re- pay the compliment with cent, per cent, interest. I am not in the humour for writing a long letter, so good-bye. God bless you. 'C. B.' ^ This manuscript is not now traceable. The only fragments known of later date than the childish booklets which end in 1837 do not an- swer to the description. One of these, * Emma,* was published in the Cornliill Magazine in 1860, with a brief introduction by Thackeray, and has since always been reprinted in the volume containing The Professor, 1840 HER FIRST STORY 195 years ago, when the Ladies' Magazine '' was flourishing like a green bay tree. In that case, I make no doubt, my aspira- tions after literary fame would have met with due encourage- ment, and I should have had the pleasure of introducing Messrs. Percy and West into the very best society, and recording all their sayings and doings in double-columned, close-printed pages. ... I recollect, when I was a child, getting hold of some antiquated volumes, and reading them by stealth with the most exquisite pleasure. You give a correct description of the patient Grisels of those days. My aunt was one of them ; and to this day she thinks the tales of the ^' Ladies' Magazine " infinitely superior to any trash of modern literature. So do I ; for I read them in child- hood, and childhood has a very strong faculty of admira- tion, but a very weak one of criticism. ... I am pleased that you cannot quite decide whether I am an attorney's clerk or a novel-reading dressmaker. I will not help you at all in the discovery ; and as to my handwriting, or the lady- like touches in my style and imagery, you must not draw any conclusion from that — I may employ an amanuensis. Seriously, sir, I am very much obliged to you for your kind and candid letter. I almost wonder you took the trouble to read and notice the novelette of an anonymous scribe, who had not even the manners to tell you whether he was a man or a woman, or whether his ^^0. T." meant Charles Timms or Charlotte Tomkins.' There are two or three things noticeable in the letter from which these extracts are taken. The first is the initials with which she had evidently signed the former one to which she alludes. About this time, to her more familiar correspondents, she occasionally calls herself ^ Charles Thunder,' making a kind of pseudonym for her- self out of her Christian name and the meaning of her Greek surname. In the next place, there is a touch of as- sumed smartness, very different from the simple, womanly, dignified letter which she had written to Southey, under 196 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE nearly similar circumstances, three years before. I imagine the cause of this difference to be twofold. Southey, in his reply to her first letter, had appealed to the higher parts of her nature, in calling her to consider whether literature was, or was not, the best course for a woman to pursue. But the person to whom she addressed this one had evidently confined himself to purely literary criticisms, besides which her sense of humour was tickled by the perplexity which her correspondent felt as to whether he was addressing a man or a woman. She rather wished to encourage the former idea; and, in consequence, possibly, assumed some- thing of the flippancy which very probably existed in her brother^s style of conversation, from whom she would de- rive her notions of young manhood, not likely, as far as refinement was concerned, to be improved by the other specimens she ]k5 " seen, such as the curates whom she afterwards represented in ^ Shirley.^ These curates were full of strong High-Church feeling. Belligerent by nature, it was well for their professional char- acter that they had, as clergymen, sufficient scope for the exercise of these warlike propensities. Mr. Bronte, with all his warm regard for Church and State, had a great respect for mental freedom ; and, though he was the last man in the world to conceal his opinions, he lived in perfect amity with all the respectable part of those who differed from him. Not so the curates. Dissent was schism, and schism was condemned in the Bible. In default of turbaned Saracens they entered on a crusade against Methodists in broadcloth ; and the consequence was that the Methodists and Baptists refused to pay the church rates. Miss Bronte thus describes the state of things at this time : — ^Little Haworth.has been all in a bustle about church rates since you were here. We had a stirring meeting in the schoolroom. Papa took the chair, and Mr. C(ollins) and Mr. W(eightman) acted as his supporters, one on each side. There was violent opposition, which set Mr. C(ollins)'s im THE CURATES AND THE DISSENTERS 197 Irish blood in a ferment, and if papa had not kept him quiet, partly by persuasion and partly by compulsion, he would have given the Dissenters their kale through the reek — a Scotch proverb, which I will explain to you another time. He and Mr. W(eightman) both bottled up their wrath for that time, but it was only to explode with redoubled force at a future period. We had two sermons on dissent, and its consequences, preached last Sunday — one in the after- noon by Mr. W(eightman), and one in the evening by Mr. C(ollins). All the Dissenters were invited to come and hear, and they actually shut up their chapels and came in a body; of course the church was crowded. Mr. W.^ de- livered a noble, eloquent, High-Church, Apostolical-Succes- sion discourse, in which he banged the Dissenters most fear- lessly and unflinchingly. I thought they had got enough for one while, but it was nothing to the dose that was thrust down their throats in the evening. A keener, cleverer, bolder, and more heart-stirring harangue than that which Mr. C(ollins) delivered from Haworth pulpit, last Sunday evening, I never heard. He did not rant ; he did not cant ; he did not whine ; he did not sniggle ; he just got up and spoke with the boldness of a man who was impressed with the truth of what he was saying, who has no fear of his en- emies and no dread of consequences. His sermon lasted an hour, yet I was sorry when it was done. I do not say that I agree either with him or with Mr. W(eightman), either in all or in half their opinions. I consider them bigoted, in- tolerant, and wholly unjustifiable on the ground of common sense. My conscience will not let me be either a Puseyite or a Hookist ; 77iais, if I were a Dissenter, I would have taken the first opportunity of kicking or of horsewhipping both the gentlemen for their stern, bitter attack on my re- ligion and its teachers. But, in spite of all this, I admired ^ In the original letter 'Mr. W.* of this sentence is here called 'Miss Celia Amelia,' the nickname that the Bronte girls gave to Mr. Weight man. 198 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE the noble integrity which could dictate so fearless an op- position against so strong an antagonist.^ ^ P.S. —Mr. W. has given another lecture at the Keighley Mechanics^ Institution, and papa has also given a lecture ; both are spoken of very highly in the newspapers, and it is mentioned as a matter of wonder that such displays of intel- lect should emanate from the village of Haworth, situated among the bogs and mountains, and, until very lately, sup- posed to be in a state of semi-barbarism.^^ Such are the words of the newspaper.^ To fill up the account of this outwardly eventless year I may add a few more extracts from the letters entrusted to me. *May 15, 1840. ^ Do not be over-persuaded to marry a man you can never respect — I do ilot say love, because, I think, if you can respect a person before marriage, moderate love at least will come after ; and as to intense passion, I am con- vinced that that is no desirable feeling. In the first place, it seldom or never meets with a requital ; and, in the second place, if it did, the feeling would be only temporary : it would last the honeymoon, and then, per- haps, give place to disgust, or indifference, worse perhaps than disgust. Certainly this would be the case on the man's part ; and on the woman's — God help her, if she is left to love passionately and alone. ^ I am tolerably well convinced that I shall never marry at all. Reason tells me so, and I am not so utterly the slave of feeling but that I can occasionally hear her voice.' * The letter continues : — * I have been painting a portrait of Agnes Walton for our friend Miss Celia Amelia. You would laugh to see how his eyes sparkle with delight when he looks at it, like a pretty child pleased with a new play- thing. Good-bye to you ; let me have no more of your humbug about Cupid, &c. You know as well as I do it is all groundless trash/ 1840 LETTER TO A FRIEND 199 ' June 2, 1840. ' Mary is not yet come to Haworth ; but she is to come on the condition that I first go and stay a few days there. If all be well I shall go next Wednesday. I may stay at Gomersal until Friday or Saturday, and the early part of the following week I shall pass with you, if you will have me — which last sentence indeed is nonsense, for as I shall be glad to see you, so I know you will be glad to see me. This arrangement will not allow much time, but it is the only practicable one which, considering all the cir- cumstances, I can effect. Do not urge mo to stay more than two or three days, because I shall be obliged to refuse you. I intend to walk to Keighley, there to take the coach as far as B(irstall), then to get some one to carry my box, and to walk the rest of the way to G(omersal). If I man- age this I think I shall contrive very well. I shall reach B(irstall) by about five o'clock, and then I shall have the cool of the evening for the walk. I have communicated the whole arrangement to Mary. I desire exceedingly to see both her and you. Good-bye. ^C. B. ' C. B. *C. B. 'C. B. *If you have any better plan to suggest I am open to conviction, provided your plan is practicable.' ' August 20, 1840. * Have you seen anything of Miss H. lately?^ I wish they, or somebody else, would get me a situation. I have ^ In the original letter * Miss H.* reads as * the Miss Woolers.' This letter opened as follows ; Mrs. Gaskell printed only its concluding sentences :— * Dear Miss Ellen, — I was very well pleased with your capital long letter. A better farce than the whole affair of that letter-opening (ducks and Mr. Weightman included) was never imagined.* By-the- * Referring to a present of birds which the curate had sent to Miss Nussey. 200 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE answered advertisements without number, but my applica- tions have met with no success. ' I have got another bale of French books from Gomersal, containing upwards of forty volumes. I have read about half. They are like the rest, clever, sophistical, and im- moral. The best of it is, they give one a thorough idea of France and Paris, and are the best substitute for French conversation that I have met with. positively have nothing more to say to you, for I am in a stupid humour. You must excuse this letter not being quite as long as your own. I have written to you soon, that you might not look after the postman in vain. Preserve this writing as a curiosity in caligraphy — I think it is ex- quisite — all brilliant black blots and utterly illegible letters. 'Calibajst.^ ^ The wind bloweth where it listeth. Thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, nor whither it goeth.^^ That, I believe, is Scripture, though in bye, speaking of Mr. W., I told you he was gone to pass his exami- nation at Ripon six weeks ago. He is not come back yet, and what has become of him we don't know. Branwell has received one letter since he went, speaking rapturously of Agnes Walton, describing cer- tain balls at which he had figured, and announcing that he had been twice over head and ears desperately in love. It is my devout belief that his reverence left Haworth with the fixed intention of never return- ing. If he does return, it will be because he has not been able to get a " living." Haworth is not the place for him. He requires novelty, a change of faces, difficulties to be overcome. He pleases so easily that he soon gets weary of pleasing at all. He ought not to have been a parson ; certainly he ought not. I told Branwell all you said in your last. He said little, but laughed. I am glad you have not broken your heart because John Branwell is married. Our august relations, as you choose to call them, are gone back to London. They never stayed with us, they only spent one day at our house. Have you seen anything of the Miss Woolers lately ? I wish they, or somebody else, would get me a situation. I have answered advertisements without number, but my applications have met with no success.' The reference to John Branwell and 'august relations Ms to a brief visit of some of the Penzance cousins at this time. 1840 LETTER TO A FRIEND 201 what chapter or book, or whether it be correctly quoted, I can't possibly say. However, it behoves me to write a letter to a young woman of the name of Ellen, with whom I was once acquainted, in life's morning march, when my spirit was young." This young woman wished me to write to her some time since, though I have nothing to say — I e'en put it off, day by day, till at last, fearing that she will curse me by her gods," I feel constrained to sit down and tack a few lines together, which she may call a letter or not as she pleases. Now if the young woman expects sense in this production she will find herself miserably disappointed. I shall dress her a dish of salmagundi — I shall cook a hash — compound a stew — toss up an omelette soiifflee a la frangaise, and send it her with my respects. The wind, which is very high up in our hills of Judea, though, I sujipose, down in the Philistine flats of Birstall parish it is nothing to speak of, has produced the same effects on the contents of my knowledge box that a quaigh of usquebaugh does upon those of most other bipeds. I see everything coitleiir de rose, and am strongly inclined to dance a jig, if I knew how. I think I must partake of the nature of a pig or an ass — both which animals are strongly affected by a high wind. From what quarter the wind blows I cannot tell, for I never could in my life; but I should very much like to know how the great brewing-tub of Bridlington Bay works, and what sort of yeasty froth rises just now on the waves. woman of the name of Mrs. B.,^ it seems, wants a teacher. I wish she would have me ; and I have written to Miss Wooler to tell her so. Verily, it is a delightful thing to live here at home, at full liberty to do just what one pleases. But I recollect some scrubby old fable about ^ Mrs. Thomas Brooke. Those who knew her declared that Mrs. Brooke would have proved the kindest of friends to the sensitive governess. She was the mother of Mr. William Brooke, of Northgate House, Huddersfield. * At Northgate House/ writes the Rev. T. W. Bardsley, Vicar of Huddersfield, in a paper read before the Bronte Society, ' Charlotte Bronte would have found a congenial home.* LIFE OF CHAULOTTE BRONTfi grasshoppers and ants, by a scrubby old knave yclept ^sop; the grasshoppers sang all the summer and starved all the winter. distant relation of mine, one Patrick Branwell,* has set off to seek his fortune in the wild, wandering, adventu- rous, romantic^ knight-errant-like capacity of clerk on the Leeds and Manchester Railroad.'^ Leeds and Manchester — where are they ? Cities in the wilderness, like Tadmor, alias Palmyra — are they not ? ^ There is one little trait respecting Mr. W(eightman),^ which lately came to my knowledge, which gives a glimpse ' ' One Patrick Boanerges ' in original letter. ' Branwell had been tutor in the family of a Mr. Postlethwaite, of Broiighton-in-Furness, from January to June 1840. He obtained his situation as clerk-in-charge at Sowerby Bridge on October 1, 1840, just before the opening of the line from Hebden Bridge to Normanton. He was here some months, being transferred in 1841 to Luddenden Foot, a place about a mile further up the valley. He was there for twelve months. (Leyland's Bronte Family.) 2 The following passages are omitted by Mrs. Gaskell : — • I know Mrs. Ellen is burning with eagerness to hear something about William Weightman. 1 think I'll plague her by not telling her a word. To speak heaven's truth, I have precious little to say, inas- much as I seldom see him, except on a Sunday, when he looks as handsome, cheery, and good-tempered as usual. I have indeed had the advantage of one long conversation since his return from West- moreland, when he poured out his whole warm, fickle soul in fond- ness and admiration of Agnes Walton. Whether he is in love with her or not I can't say ; I can only observe that it sounds very like it. He sent us a prodigious quantity of game while he was away — a brace of wild ducks, a brace of black grouse, a brace of partridges, ditto of snipes, ditto of curlews, and a large salmon. If you were to ask Mr. Weightman's opinion of my character just now, he would say that at first he thought me a cheerful, chatty kind of body, but that on further acquaintance he found me of a capricious, changeful temper, never to be reckoned on. He does not know that I have reg- ulated my manner by his — that I was cheerful and chatty so long as he was respectful, and that when he grew almost contemptuously familiar I found it necessary to adopt a degree of reserve which was not natural and therefore painful to me. I find this reserve ver}'' con- venient, and consequently I intend to keep it up.* 1840 LETTER TO A FRIEND 203 of the better side of his character. Last Saturday night he had been sitting an hour in the parlour with papa ; and, as he went away, I heard papa say to him, " What is the matter with you ? You seem in very low spirits to-night. Oh, I don^t know. I've been to see a poor young girl, who, I'm afraid, is dying. '^ Indeed ! what is her name Susan B(land), the daughter of John B(land), the super- intendent." Now Susan B(land) is my oldest and best scholar in the Sunday school; and, when I heard that, I thought I would go as soon as I could to see her. I did go on Monday afternoon, and found her on her way to that bourn whence no traveller returns.'' After sitting with her some time, I happened to ask her mother if she thought a little port wine would do her good. She replied that the doctor had recommended it, and that when Mr. W(eightman) was last there he had brought them a bottle of wine and a jar of preserves. She added, that he was always goodnatured to poor folks, and seemed to have a deal of feeling and kind-heartedness about him. No doubt there are defects in his character, but there are also good qualities. . . . God bless him ! I wonder who, with his advantages, would be without his faults. I know many of his faulty actions, many of his weak points ; yet, where I am, he shall always find rather a defender than an accuser. To be sure my opinion will go but a very little way to decide his character : what of that ? People should do right as far as their ability extends. You are not to suppose, from all this, that Mr. W(eighfcman) and I are on very amiable terms; we are not at all. We are distant, cold, and reserved. We seldom speak ; and when we do, it is only to exchange the most trivial and commonplace remarks.^ The Mrs. B(rooke) alluded to in this letter, as in want of a governess, entered into a correspondence with Miss Bronte, and expressed herself much pleased with the let- ters she received from her, with the ^ style and candour of 204 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE the application/ in which Charlotte had taken care to tell her, that if she wanted a showy, elegant, or fashionable person, her correspondent was not fitted for such a situa- tion. But Mrs. B(rooke) required her governess to give instructions in music and singing, for which Charlotte was not qualified ; and, accordingly, the negotiation fell through. But Miss Bronte was not one to sit down in despair after disappointment. Much as she disliked the life of a private governess, it was her duty to relieve her father of the burden of her support, and this was the only way open to her. So she set to advertising and inquiring with fresh vigour. In the meantime a little occurrence took place, described in one of her letters, which I shall give, as it shows her instinctive aversion to a particular class of men, whose vices some have supposed she looked upon with indulgence. The extract tells all that need be known, for the purpose I have in view, of the miserable pair to whom it relates.^ * This letter opens as follows :— 'November 12, 1840. * My dear Nell, — You will excuse this scrawled sheet of paper, in- asmuch as I happen to be out of that article, this being the only available sheet I can find in my desk. I have effaced one of the de- lectable portraitures, but have spared the others — lead-pencil sketches of horse's head, and man's head — being moved to that act of clemency by the recollection that they are not the work of my hand, but of the sacred fingers of his reverence William Weightman. You will dis- cern that the eye is a little too elevated in the horse's head, otherwise X can assure you it is no such bad attempt. It shows taste and some- thing of an artist's eye. The fellow had no copy for it. He sketched it, and one or two other little things, when he happened to be here one evening, but you should have seen the vanity with which he after- wards regarded his productions. One of them represented the flying figure of Fame inscribing his own name on the clouds. * Mrs. Brooke and I have interchanged letters. She expressed her- self pleased with the style of my application — with its candour, &c. (I took care to tell her that if she wanted a showy, elegant, fashionable personage, I was not the man for her), but she wants music and sing- ing. I can't give her music and singing, so of course the negotiation is null and void. Being once up, however, I don't mean to sit down 1840 A CASE OF MORAL UGLINESS 205 ^You remember Mr. and Mrs. ? Mrs. came here the other day^ with a most melancholy tale of her wretched husband^s drunken, extravagant, profligate hab- its. She asked papa^s advice; there was nothing, she said, but ruin before them. They owed debts which they could never pay. She expected Mr. 's instant dismissal from his curacy ; she knew, from bitter experience, that his vices were utterly hopeless. He treated her and her child savagely; with much more to the same effect. Papa advised her to leave him for ever, and go home, if she had a home to go to. She said this was what she had long re- solved to do ; and she would leave him directly, as soon as Mr. B. dismissed him. She expressed great disgust and contempt towards him, and did not affect to have the shadow of regard in any way. I do not wonder at this, but I do wonder she should ever marry a man towards whom her feelings must always have been pretty much the same as they are now, I am morally certain no decent woman could experience anything but aversion towards such a man as Mr. . Before I knew or suspected his character, and when I rather wondered at his versatile talents, I felt it in an uncontrollable degree. I hated to talk with him — hated to look at him; though, as I was not certain that there was substantial reason for such a dislike, and thought it absurd to trust to mere instinct, I both concealed and repressed the feeling as much as I could ; and, on all occa- sions, treated him with as much civility as I was mistress of. I was struck with Mary^s expression of a similar feel- ing at first sight ; she said, when we left him, That is a hideous man, Charlotte V' I thought, ^^He is indeed.^^' till I have got what I want ; but there is no sense in talking about unfinished projects, so we'll drop the subject. Consider this last sentence a hint from me to be applied practically. It seems Miss Eliza Wooler's school is in a consumptive state of health. I have been endeavouring to obtain a reinforcement of pupils for her, but I cannot succeed, because Mrs. Heap is opening a new school in Brad- ford.' CHAPTER X Early in March 1841 Miss Bronte obtained her second and last situation as a governess/ This time she esteemed herself fortunate in becoming a member of a kind-hearted and friendly household. The master of it she especially regarded as a valuable friend, whose advice helped to guide her in one very important step of her life. But as her definite acquirements were few, she had to eke them out by employing her leisure time in needlework ; and alto- gether her position was that of ^ bonne/ or nursery gov- erness, liable to repeated and never-ending calls upon her time. This description of uncertain yet perpetual employ- ment, subject to the exercise of another person's will at all hours of the day, was peculiarly trying to one whose life at home had been full of abundant leisure. Idle she never was in any place, but of the multitude of small talks, plans, duties, pleasures, &c., that make up most people^s days her home life was nearly destitute. This made it ^ With Mr, and Mrs. White at Upperwood House, Rawdon, Yorks, whence many of Miss Bronte's letters were written. In one of them she writes : — • This place looks exquisitely beautiful just now. The grounds are certainly lovely, and all is as green as an emerald. I wish you would just come and look at it. Mrs. White would be as proud as Punch to show it you. Mr. White has been writing an urgent invitation to papa, entreating him to come and spend a week here. I don't at all wish papa to come ; it would be like incurring an obligation. Some- how I have managed to get a good deal more control over the chil- dren lately; this makes my life a good deal easier. Also, by dint of nursing the fat baby, it has got to know me and be fond of me. I suspect myself of growing rather fond of it. Exertion of any kind is always beneficial.* 1841 NEW EXPERIENCES AS A GOVERNESS 207 possible for her to go through long and deep histories of feeling and imagination, for which others, odd as it sounds, have rarely time. This made it inevitable that — later on, in her too "^hort career — the intensity of her feel- ing should wear out her physical health. The habit of ' making out,' which had grown with her growth, and strengthened with her strength, had become a part of her nature. Yet all exercise of her strongest and most char- acteristic faculties was now out of the question. She could not (as while she was at Miss Wooler's) feel, amidst the occupations of the day, that when evening came she might employ herself in more congenial ways. No doubt all who enter upon the career of a governess have to relinquish much; no doubt it must ever be a life of sacrifice; but to Charlotte Bronte it was a perpetual attempt to force all her faculties into a direction for which the whole of her previous life had unfitted them. Moreover the little Brontes had been brought up motherless ; and from knowing nothing of the gaiety and the sportiveness of childhood — from never having experienced caresses or fond attentions themselves — they were ignorant of the very nature of infancy, or how to call out its engaging qualities. Children were to them the troublesome necessities of humanity ; they had never been drawn into contact with them in any other way. Years afterwards, when Miss Bronte came to stay with us, she watched our little girls perpetually ; and I could not persuade her that they were only average specimens of well- brought-up children. She was surprised and touched by any sign of thoughtfulness for others, of kindness to animals, or of unselfishness on their part ; and constantly maintained that she was in the right, and I in the wrong, when we dif- fered on the point of their unusual excellence. All this must be borne in mind- while reading the following letters. And it must likewise be borne in mind — by those who, surviving her, look back upon her life from their mount of observation — how no distaste, no suffering ever made her shrink from any course which she believed it to be her duty to engage in. 6 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE * March 3, 1841. ^ I told you some time since that I meant to get a situa- tion, and when I said so my resolution was quite fixed, I felt that, however often I was disappointed, I had no in- tention of relinquishing my efforts. After being severely baffled two or three times — after a world of trouble, in the way of correspondence and interviews — I have at length succeeded, and am fairly established in my new place. ' The house is not very large, but exceedingly comfort- able and well regulated ; the grounds are fine and exten- sive. In taking the place I have made a large sacrifice in the way of salary, in the hope of securing comfort — by which word I do not mean to express good eating and drinking, or warm fire, or a soft bed, but the society of cheerful faces, and minds and hearts not dug out of a lead mine, or cut from a marble quarry. My salary is not really more than 16 Z. per annum^ though it is nominally 201, but the expense of washing will be deducted there- from. My pupils are two in number, a girl of eight and a boy of six. As to my employers, you will not expect me to say much about their characters when I tell you that I only arrived here yesterdayo I have not the faculty of telling an individuals disposition at first sight. Before I can venture to pronounce on a character I must see it first •^under various lights and from various points of view. All I can say, therefore, is, both Mr. and Mrs (White) seem to me good sort of people. I have as yet had no cause to complain of want of considerateness or civility. My pupils are wild and unbroken, but apparently well disposed. I wish I may be able to say as much next time I write to you. My earnest wish and endeavour will be to please them. If I can but feel that I am giving satisfaction, and if at the same time I can keep my health, I shall, I hope, be moderately happy. But no one but myself can tell how hard a governesses work is to me — for no one but myself is aware how utterly averse my whole mind and nature are to 1841 NEW EXPERIENCES AS A GOVERNESS 209 the employment. Do not think that I fail to blame my- self for this, or that I leave any means unemployed to con- quer this feeling. Some of my greatest difficulties lie in things that would appear to 3^ou comparatively trivial. I find it so hard to repel the rude familiarity of children. I find it so difficult to ask either servants or mistress for anything I want, however much I want it. It is less pain for me to endure the greatest inconvenience than to go into the kitchen to request its removal. I am a fool. Heaven knows I cannot help it ! ^Now can you tell me whether it is considered improper for governesses to ask their friends to come and see them ? I do not mean, of course, to stay, but just for a call of an hour or two. If it is not absolutely treason, I do fervently request that you will contrive, in some way or other, to let me have a sight of your face. Yet I feel, at the same time, that I am making a very foolish and almost impracticable demand ; yet this is only four miles from Birstall V ^ 'March 21. ^You must excuse a very short answer to your most welcome letter ; for my time is entirely occupied. Mrs. (White) expected a good deal of sewing from me. I can- not sew much during the day, on account of the children, who require the utmost attention. I am obliged, there- fore, to devote the evenings to this business. Write to me often ; very long letters. It will do both of us good. This place is far better than Swarclifte, but God knows I have enough to do to keep a good heart in the matter. What you said has cheered me a little. I wish I could always act according to your advice. Home-sickness atlects me sorely. I like Mr. (White) extremely. The children are over-indulged, and consequently hard at times to man- age. Do, do, do come and see me ; if it be a breach of eti- quette, never mind. If you can only stop an hour, come. ^ This was a mistake. Birstall is ten miles from Rawdon. 210 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTIE Talk no more about my forsaking yon ; my darling, I could not afford to do it. I find it is not in my nature to get on in this weary world without sympathy and attach- ment in some quarter ; and seldom indeed do we find it. It is too great a treasure to be ever wantonly thrown away when once secured.' Miss Bronte had not been many weeks in her new situa- tion before she had a proof of the kind-hearted hospitality of her employers. Mr. (White) wrote to her father, and urgently invited him to come and make acquaintance with his daughter's new home, by spending a week with her in it; and Mrs. (White) expressed great regret when one of Miss Bronte's friends drove up to the house to leave a let- \er or parcel, without entering. So she found that all her friends might freely visit her, and that her father would be received with especial gladness. She thankfully acknowl- edged this kindness in writing to urge her friend afresh to come and see her, which she accordingly did. * June, 184L ^You can hardly fancy it possible, I dare say, that I cannot find a quarter of an hour to scribble a note in; but so it is; and when a note is written, it has to be carried a mile to the post, and that consumes nearly an hour, which is a large portion of the day. Mr. and Mrs. (White) have been gone a week. I heard from them this morning. No time is fixed for their return, but I hope it will not be de- layed long, or I shall miss the chance of seeing Anne this vacation. She came home, I understand, last Wednesday, and is only to be allowed three weeks' vacation, because the family she is with are going to Scarborough. / shoiild like to see her, to judge for myself of the state of her health. I dare not trust any other person's report ; no one seems minute enough in their observations. I should very much have liked you to have seen her. I have got on very well with the servants and children so far ; yet it is dreary, solitary work. You can tell as well as me the lonely feel- ing of being without a companion.' KIND EMPLOYERS 211 Soon after this was written Mr. and Mrs. (White) re- turned, in time to allow Charlotte to go and look after Annex's health, which, as she found to her intense anxiety, was far from strong. What could she do to nurse and cherish up this little sister, the youngest of them all ? Apprehension about her brought up once more the idea of keeping a school. If, by this means, they three could live together, and maintain themselves, all might go well. They would have some time of their own, in which to try again and yet again at that literary career which, in spite of all baffling difficulties, was never quite set aside as an ultimate object: but far the strongest motive with Char- lotte was the conviction that Anne's health was so delicate that it required a degree of tending which none but her sis- ter could give. Thus she wrote during those midsummer holidays : — 'Haworth: July 18, 1841. ^ We waited long and anxiously for you on the Thursday that you promised to come. I quite wearied my eyes with watching from the window, eye-glass in hand, and some- times spectacles on nose. However, you are not to blame . . . and as to disappointment, why, all must suffer disap- pointment at some period or other of their lives. But a hundred things I had to say to you will now be forgotten, and never said. There is a project hatching in this house, which both Emily and I anxiously wished to discuss with you. The project is yet in its infancy, hardly peeping from its shell ; and whether it will ever come out a full-fledged chicken, or will turn addle and die before it cheeps, is one of those considerations that are but dimly revealed by the oracles of futurity. Now, don't be nonplussed by all this metaphorical mystery. I talk of a plain and everyday oc- currence, though, in Delphic style, I wrap up the informa- tion in figures of speech concerning eggs, chickens, etcaetera, etcaeterorum. To come to the point : papa and aunt talk, by fits and starts, of our — id est, Emily, Anne, and myself — commencing a school! I have often, you know, said how 212 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE much I wished such a thing; but I never could conceive where the capital was to come from for making such a specu- lation. I was well aware, indeed, that aunt had money, but I always considered that she was the last person who would offer a loan for the purpose in question. A loan, however, she has offered, or rather intimates that she perhaps will offer in case pupils can be secured, an eligible situation ob- tained, &c. This sounds very fair, but still there are matters to be considered which throw something of a damp upon the scheme. I do not expect that aunt will sink more than 150Z. in such a venture ; and would it be possible to estab- lish a respectable (not by any means a showy) school, and to commence housekeeping with a capital of only that amount ? Propound the question to your sister, if you think she can answer it ; if not, don't say a word on the subject. As to getting into debt, that is a thing we could none of us reconcile our mind to for a moment. We do not care how modest, how humble our commencement be, so it be made on sure grounds, and have a safe foundation. In thinking of all possible and impossible places where we could establish a school, I have thought of Burlington, or rather of the neighbourhood of Burlington. Do you re- member whether there was any other school there besides that of Miss ? This is, of course, a perfectly crude and random idea. There are a hundred reasons why it should be an impracticable one. We have no connections, no acquaintances there ; it is far from home, &c. Still, I fancy the ground in the East Riding is less fully occupied than in the West. Much inquiry and consideration will be necessary, of course, before any place is decided on ; and I fear much time will elapse before any plan is executed. . . . Write as soon as you can. I shall not leave my present situation till my future prospects assume a more fixed and definite aspect.^ ^ A fortnight afterwards we see that the seed has been * In certain fragments of a diary kept by Emily and Anne we find 1841 PROJECT OF A SCHOOL 213 sown which was to grow up into a plan materially influ- encing her future life. * August 7, 1841. ^ This is Saturday evening ; I have put the children to bed ; now I am going to sit down and answer your letter. 1 the following memoranda written at this time— on Emily's birthday, July 30, 1841. Emily writes :— * It is Friday evening, near 9 o'clock — wild, rainy weather. I am seated in the dining-room, having just concluded tidying our desk boxes, writing this document. Papa is in the parlour — aunt upstairs in her room. She has been reading Blackwood's Magazine to papa. Victoria and Adelaide are ensconced in the peat-house. Keeper is in the kitchen — Hero in his cage. We are all stout and hearty, as I hope is the case with Charlotte, Branwell, and Anne, of whom the first is at John White, Esq., Upper wood House, Rawdon; the second is at Luddenden Foot ; and the third is, I believe, at Scarborough, indit- ing perhaps a paper corresponding to this. ' A scheme is at present in agitation for setting us up in a school of our own ; as yet nothing is determined, but I hope and trust it may go on and prosper and answer our highest expectations. This day four years I wonder whether we shall still be dragging on in our pres- ent condition or established to our hearts' content. Time will show. ' 1 guess that at the time appointed for the opening of this paper we — i.e. Charlotte, Anne, and I — shall be all merrily seated in our own sitting-room in some pleasant and flourishing seminary, having just gathered in for the midsummer Ladyday. Our debts will be paid off, and we shall have cash in hand to a considerable amount. Papa, aunt, and Branwell will either have been or be coming to visit us. It will be a fine warm summer evening, very different from this bleak look-out, and Anne and I will perchance slip out into the garden for a few minutes to peruse our papers. I hope either this or something better will be the case.' Anne writes : — 'July 30, A.D. 1841. This is Emily's birthday. She has now com- pleted her twenty-third year, and is, I believe, at home. Charlotte is a governess in the family of Mr. White. Branwell is a clerk in the railroad station at Luddenden Foot, and I am a governess in the fam- ily of Mr. Robinson. I dislike the situation and wish to change it for another. I am now at Scarborough. My pupils are gone to bed, and I am hastening to finish this before I follow them. * We are thinking of setting up a school of our own, but nothing- definite is settled about it yet, and we do not know whether we shall LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE am again by myself — housekeeper and governess — for Mr. and Mrs. (White) are staying near Tadcaster. To speak truth, though I am solitary while they are away, it is still by far the happiest part of my time. The children are un- der decent control, the servants are very observant and at- tentive to me, and the occasional absence of the master and mistress relieves me from the duty of always endeavouring to seem cheerful and conversable. Martha (Taylor), it ap- pears, is in the way of enjoying great advantage ; so is Mary, for you will be surprised to hear that she is return- ing immediately to the Continent with her brother ; not, however, to stay there, but to take a month's tour and recreation. I have had a long letter from Mary, and a be able to or not. I hope we shall. And I wonder what will be our condition and how or where we shall all be on this day four years hence ; at which time, if all be well, I shall be twenty-five years and six months old, Emily will be twenty -seven years old, Bran well twenty-eight years and one month, and Charlotte twenty-nine years and a quarter. We are now all separate and not likely to meet again for many a weary week, but we are none of us ill that I know of and all are doing something for our own livelihood except Emily, who, however, is as busy as any of us, and in reality earns her food and raiment as much as we do. How little know we what we are, How less what we may be 1 * Four years ago I was at school. Since then I have been a govern- ess at Blake Hall, left it, come to Thorp Green, and seen the sea and York Minster. Emily has been a teacher at Miss Patchett's school, and left it. Charlotte has left Miss Wooler's, been a governess at Mrs. Sidgwick's, left her, and gone to Mrs. White's. Branwell has given up painting, been a tutor in Cumberland, left it, and become a clerk on the railroad. Tabby has left us, Martha Brown has come in her place. We have got Keeper, got a sweet little cat and lost it, and also got a hawk. Got a wild goose, which has flown away, and three tame ones, one of which has been killed. All these diversities, with many others, are things we did not expect or foresee in the July of 1837. What will the next four years bring forth. Providence only knows. But we ourselves have sustained very little alteration since that time. I have the same faults that I had then, only I have more wisdom and experience, and a little more self-possession than I then enjoyed.' MARY Taylor at BRUSSELS 215 packet containing a present of a very handsome black silk scarf, and a pair of beautiful kid gloves, bought at Brus- sels. Of course I was in one sense pleased with the gift — pleased that they should think of me so far off, amidst the excitements of one of the most splendid capitals of Europe; and yet it felt irksome to accept it. I should think Mary and Martha have not more than sufficient pocket-money to supply themselves. I wish they had tes- tified their regard by a less expensive token. Mary's let- ters spoke of some of the pictures and cathedrals she had seen — pictures the most exquisite, cathedrals the most venerable. I hardly know what swelled to my throat as I read her letter : such a vehement impatience of restraint and steady work ; such a strong wish for wings — wings such as wealth can furnish ; such an urgent thirst to see, to know, to learn ; something internal seemed to expand bodily for a minute. I was tantalised by the consciousness of faculties unexercised — then all collapsed, and I despaired. My dear, I would hardly make that confession to any one but yourself ; and to you, rather in a letter than viva voce. These rebellious and absurd emotions were only momen- tary ; I quelled them in five minutes. I hope they will not revive, for they were acutely painful. No further steps have been taken about the project I mentioned to you, nor probably will be for the present ; but Emily, and Anne, and I keep it in view. It is our pole star, and we look to it in all circumstances of despondency, I begin to suspect I am writing in a strain which will make you think I am unhappy. This is far from being the case ; on the contrary, I know my place is a favourable one, for a governess. What dismays and haunts me some- times is a conviction that I have no natural knack for my vocation. If teaching only were requisite, it would be smooth and easy ; but it is the living in other peo- ple's houses — the estrangement from one's real character — the adoption of a cold, rigid, apathetic exterior, that is painful. . . . You will not mention our school project 216 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE at present. A project not actually commenced is always uncertain. Write to me often, my dear Nell ; you know your letters are valued. Your ^Hoving child" (as you choose to call me so), C. B. ^P.S. — I am well in health; don^t fancy I am not ; but I have one aching feeling at my heart (I must allude to it, though I had resolved not to). It is about Anne; she has so much to endure ; far, far more than I ever had. When my thoughts turn to her, they always see her as a patient, persecuted stranger. I know what concealed susceptibility is in her nature, when her feelings are wounded. I wish I could be with her, to administer a little balm. She is more lonely — less gifted with the power of making friends, even than I am. Drop the subject." ' She could bear much for herself ; but she could not pa- tiently bear the sorrows of others, especially of her sisters ; and again, of the two sisters, the idea of the little, gentle, youngest suffering in lonely patience was insupportable to her. Something must be done. No matter if the desired end were far away ; all time was lost in which she was not making progress, however slow, towards it. To have a school was to have some portion of daily leisure, uncon- trolled but by her own sense of duty ; it was for the three sisters, loving each other with so passionate an affection, to be together under one roof, and yet earning their own sub- sistence ; above all, it was to have the power of watching over those two whose life and happiness were ever to Char- lotte far more than her own. But no trembling impatience should lead her to take an unwise step in haste. She in- quired in every direction she could as to the chances which a new school might have of success. In all there seemed more establishments like the one which the sisters wished to set up than could be supported. What was to be done ? Superior advantages must be offered. But how ? They themselves abounded in thought, power, and information ; mi HER IDEA OF GOING TO BRUSSELS 21? but these are qualifications scarcely fit to be inserted in a prospectus. Of French they knew something : enough to read it fluently, but hardly enough to teach it in compe- tition with natives or professional masters. Emily and Anne had some knowledge of music ; but here again it was doubtful whether, without more instruction, they could en- gage to give lessons in it. Just about this time Miss Wooler was thinking of relin- quishing her school at Dewsbury Moor, and offered to give it up in favour of her old pupils the Brontes. A sister of hers had taken the active management since the time when Charlotte was a teacher ; but the number of pupils had di- minished ; and, if the Brontes undertook it, they would have to try and work it up to its former state of prosperity. This, again, would require advantages on their part which they did not at present possess, but which Charlotte caught a glimpse of. She resolved to follow the clue, and never to rest till she had reached a successful issue. With the forced calm of a suppressed eagerness, that sends a glow of desire through every word of the following letter, she wrote to her aunt thus : — ' September 29, 1841. ^Dear Aunt,— I have heard nothing of Miss Wooler yet since I wrote to her, intimating that I would accept her offer. I cannot conjecture the reason of this long silence, unless some unforeseen impediment has occurred in con- cluding the bargain. Meantime a plan has been suggested and approved by Mr. and Mrs. (White)' (the father and mother of her pupils) ^and others, which I wish now to impart to you. My friends recommend me, if I desire to secure permanent success, to delay commencing the school for six months longer, and by all means to contrive, by hook or by crook, to spend the intervening time in some school on the Continent. They say schools in England are so numerous, competition so great, that without some such step towards attaining superiority we shall probably have a very hard struggle, and may fail in the end. They say. 218 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE moreover, that the loan of lOOZ., which you have been so kind as to offer us, will, perhaps, not be all required now, as Miss Wooler will lend us the furniture ; and that, if the speculation is intended to be a good and successful one, half the sum, at least, ought to be laid out in the manner I have mentioned, thereby insuring a more speedy repay- ment both of interest and principal. ^ I would not go to France or to Paris. I would go to Brussels, in Belgium. The cost of the journey there, at the dearest rate of travelling, would be bl, ; living is there lit- tle more than half as dear as it is in England, and the fa- cilities for education are equal or superior to any other place in Europe. In half a year I could acquire a thorough fa- miliarity with French. I could improve greatly in Italian, and even get a dash of German, i.e, providing my health continued as good as it is now. Mary is now staying at Brussels, at a first-rate establishment there. I should not think of going to the Chateau de Kokleberg, where she is resident, as the terms are much too high ; but if I wrote to her, she, with the assistance of Mrs. Jenkins, the wife of the British Chaplain, would be able to secure me a cheap, decent residence and respectable protection. I should have the opportunity of seeing her frequently; she would make me acquainted with the city; and, with the assist- ance of her cousins, I should probably be introduced to connections far more improving, polished, and cultivated than any I have yet known. ^ These are advantages which would turn to real account, when we actually commenced a school; and, if Emily could share them with me, we could take a footing in the world afterwards which we could never do now. I say Emily in- stead of Anne ; for Anne might take her turn at some future period, if our school answered. I feel certain, while I am writing, that you will see the propriety of what I say. You always like to use your money to the best advantage. You are not fond of making shabby purchases; when you do confer a favour, it is often done in style ; and depend upon 1841 APPEAL TO MISS BRANWELL 219 it 50/., or lOOZ., thus laid out, would be well employed. Of course I know no other friend in the world to whom I could apply on this subject except yourself. I feel an ab- solute conviction that, if this advantage were allowed us, it would be the making of us for life. Papa will, perhaps, think it a wild and ambitious scheme ; but who ever rose in the world without ambition ? When he left Ireland to go to Cambridge University, he was as ambitious as I am now. I want us all to get on. I know we have talents, and I want them to be turned to account. I look to you, aunt, to help us. I think you will not refuse. I know, if you consent, it shall not be my fault if you ever repent your kindness.^ This letter was written from the house in which she was residing as governess. It was some little time before an answer came. Much had to be talked over between the father and aunt in Haworth Parsonage. At last consent was given. Then, and not till then, she confided her plan to an intimate friend. She was not one to talk overmuch about any project, while it remained uncertain — to speak about her labour, in any direction, while its result was doubtful. * November 2, 1841. ^Now let us begin to quarrel. In the first place, I must consider whether I will commence operations on the de- fensive or the offensive. The defensive, I think. You say, and I see plainly, that your feelings have been hurt by an apparent want of confidence on my part. You heard from others of Miss Wooler's overtures before I communicated them to you myself. This is true. I was deliberating on plans important to my future prospects. I never exchanged a letter with you on the subject. True again. This appears strange conduct to a friend, near and dear, long known, and never found wanting. Most true. I cannot give you my excuses for this behaviour; this word excuse implies confes- sion of a fault, and I do not feel that I have been in fault. The plain fact is, I was not, I am not now, certain of my destiny. On the contrary, I have been most uncertain. 220 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE perplexed with contradictory schemes and proposals. My time, as I have often told you, is fully occupied, yet I had many letters to write, which it was absolutely necessary should be written. I knew it would avail nothing to write to you then to say I was in doubt and uncertainty — hoping this, fearing that, anxious, eagerly desirous to do what seemed impossible to be done. When I thought of you in that busy interval, it was to resolve that you should know all when my way was clear, and my grand end attained. If I could I would always work in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their results. Miss Wooler did most kindly propose that I should come to Dewsbury Moor, and attempt to revive the school her sister had relinquished. She offered me the use of her furniture. At first I received the proposal cordially, and prepared to do my utmost to bring about success ; but a fire was kindled in my very heart, which I could not quench. I so longed to increase my at- tainments — to become something better than lam; a glimpse of what I felt I showed to you in one of my former letters — only a glimpse ; Mary cast oil upon the flames — encouraged me, and in her own strong, energetic language heartened me on. I longed to go to Brussels; but how could I get there ? I wished for one, at least, of my sisters to share the advantage with me. I fixed on Emily. She deserved the reward, I knew. How could the point be managed ? In extreme excitement I wrote a letter home, which carried the day. I made an appeal to my aunt for assistance, which was answered by consent. Things are not settled ; yet it is sufficient to say we have a chance of going for half a year. Dewsbury Moor is relinquished. Perhaps fortunately so. In my secret soul I believe there is no cause to regret it. My plans for the future are bounded to this intention : if I once get to Brussels, and if my health is spared I will do my best to make the utmost of every ad vantage that shall come within my reach. When the half-year is expired I will do what I can.^ * Here followed some advice to her friend on marriage, the latter i PLAN FOR GOING TO LILLE 221 ^ Believe me, though I was born in April, the month of cloud and sunshine, I am not changeful. My spirits are unequal, and sometimes I speak vehemently, and sometimes I say nothing at all ; but I have a steady regard for you, and if you will let the cloud and shower pass by, be sure the sun is always behind, obscured, but still existing/ At Christmas she left her situation, after a parting with her employers which seems to have affected and touched her greatly. ' They only made too much of me,^ was her remark, after leaving this family; did not deserve it.^ All four children hoped to meet together at their father^s house this December. Branwell expected to have a short leave of absence from his employment as a clerk on the Leeds and Manchester Railway, in which he had been en- gaged for five months. Anne arrived before Christmas Day. She had rendered herself so valuable in her difficult situation that her employers vehemently urged her to return, although she had announced her resolution to leave them ; partly on account of the harsh treatment she had received, and partly because her stay at home, during her sisters" absence in Belgium, seemed desirable, when the age of the three remaining inhabitants of the parsonage was taken into consideration. After some correspondence and much talking over plans at home, it seemed better, in consequence of letters which they received from Brussels giving a discouraging account of the schools there, that Charlotte and Emily should go to an institution at Lille, in the north of France, which was highly recommended by Baptist Noel and other clergymen. Indeed, at the end of January it was arranged that they were to set off for this place in three weeks, under the escort of a French lady, then visiting in London. The terms were 601, each pupil, for board and French alone ; but a separate room was to be allowed for this sum ; without this indul- gence it was lower. Charlotte writes — having at the moment a zealous wooer. The advice concluded, * I be- lieve it is better to marry to love than to marry for love.' 223 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE * January 20, 1842. » ^ I consider it kind in aunt to consent to an extra sum for a separate room. We shall find it a great privilege in many ways. I regret the change from Brussels to Lille on many accounts, chiefly that I shall not see Martha. Mary has been indefatigably kind in providing me with information. She has grudged no labour, and scarcely any expense, to that end. Mary's price is above rubies. I have, in fact, two friends — you and her — staunch and true, in whose faith and sincerity I have as strong a belief as I have in the Bible. I have bothered you both — you especially ; but you always get the tongs and heap coals of fire upon my head. I have had letters to write lately to Brussels, to Lille, and to London. I have lots of chemises, night-gowns, pocket- handkerchiefs, and pockets to make ; besides clothes to re- pair. I have been, every week since I came home, expect- ing to see Branwell, and he has never been able to get over yet. We fully expect him, however, next Saturday. Un- der these circumstances how can I go visiting ? You tan- talise me to death with talking of conversations by the fire- side. Depend upon it we are not to have any such for many a long month to come. I get an interesting impres- sion of old age upon my face ; and when you see me next I shall certainly wear caps and spectacles.^ ' This letter to Miss Ellen Nussey opened as follows : — *I cannot quite enter into your friends' reasons for not permitting you to come to Hawortb ; but, as it is at present, and in all human probability will be for an indefinite time to come, impossible for me to get to Brookroyd, the balance of accounts is not so unequal as it might otherwise be. We expect to leave England in less than three weeks, but we are not yet certain of the day, as it will depend upon the con- venience of a French lady now in London, Madame Marzials, under whose escort we are to sail. Our place of destination is changed. Papa received an unfavourable account from Mr. or rather Mrs. Jenkins of the French schools in Brussels, and on further inquiry an institution in Lille, in the north of France, was recommended by Bap- tist Noel and other clergymen, and to that place it is decided that we are to go. The terms are fifty pounds for each pupil for board and French alone.' CHAPTER XI I AM not aware of all the circamstances which led to the relinquishment of the Lille plan. Brussels had had from the first a strong attraction for Charlotte ; and the idea of going there, in preference to any other place, had only been given up in consequence of the information received of the sec- ond-rate character of its schools. In one of her letters refer- ence has been made to Mrs. Jenkins, the wife of the chaplain of the British Embassy. At the request of his brother — a clergyman, living not many miles from Haworth, and an acquaintance of Mr. Bronte's — she made much inquiry, and at length, after some discouragement in her search, heard of a school which seemed in every respect desirable. There was an English lady who had long lived in the Orleans family, amidst the various fluctuations of their fortunes, and who, when the Princess Louise was married to King Leopold, accompanied her to Brussels, in the capacity of reader. This lady's granddaughter was receiving her edu- cation at the pensionnat of Madame Heger ; and so satisfied was the grandmother with the kind of instruction given that she named the establishment, with high encomiums, to Mrs. Jenkins ; and, in consequence, it was decided that, if the terms suited. Miss Bronte and Emily should proceed thither. M. Heger informs me that, on receipt of a letter from Charlotte, making very particular inquiries as to the possible amount of what are usually termed ^ extras,^ he and his wife were so much struck by the simple, earnest tone of the letter that they said to each other, ^ These are the daughters of an English pastor, of moderate means, anxious to learn with an ulterior view of instructing others. 224 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE and to whom the risk of additional expense is of great con- sequence. Let us name a specific sum, within which all expenses shall be included/^ This was accordingly done ; the agreement was con- cluded, and the Brontes prepared to leave their native county for the first time, if we except the melancholy and * The circular issued by Madame Heger ran as follows : — MAISON D'EDUCATION Pour les jeunes Demoiselles. Sous LA DIRECTION DE MADAME H^JGER-PARENT, Rm cTIsabelle 3t, d Bruxelles. Get etablissement est situe dans I'endroit le plus salubre de la ville. Le cours d'instriiction, base sur la Religion, comprend essentielle- ment la Langue Fran^aise, I'Histoire, TArithmetique, la Geographie, TEcriture, ainsi que tons les ouvrages ^ Taiguille que doit connaitre une demoiselle bien elevee. La sante des el^ves est I'objet d'une surveillance active ; les parents peuvent se reposer avec securite sur les mesures qui ont ete prises h cet egard dans I'etablissement. Le prix de la pension est de 650 francs, celui de la demi-pensix)n est de 350 francs, payables par quartiers et d'avance. II n'y a d'autres frais accessoires que les etrennes des domestiques. II n'est fait aucune deduction pour le temps que les el^ves passent chez elles dans le courant de Tannee. Le nombre des eldves etant limite, les parents qui desireraient reprendre leurs enfants sont tenus d'en prevenir la directrice trois mois d'avance. Les lemons de musique, de langues etrang^res, etc. etc., sont au compte des parents. Le costume des pensionnaires est uniforme. La directrice s'engage t repondre ^ toutes les demandes qui pour- raient lui ^tre adressees par les parents relativement aux autres details de son institution. OBJETS 1 FOURNIR. Lit complet, bassin, aiguiere et draps de lit. Serviettes de table. Une malle fermant £i clef. Un convert d^argent. Un gobelet. Si les el^ves ne sont pas de Bruxelles, on leur fournira un lit garni moyennant 34 francs par an. 1842 BRUSSELS 325 memorable residence at Cowan Bridge. Mr. Bronte deter- mined to accompany his daughters. Mary and her brother, who were experienced in foreign travelling, were also of the party. Charlotte first saw London in the day or two they now stopped there ; and, from an expression in one of her snbseqaent letters, they all, I believe, stayed at the Chapter Coffee House, Paternoster Row — a strange, old-fashioned tavern, of which I shall have more to say hereafter. Mary^'s account of their journey is thus given : — ^In passing through London she seemed to think our business was, and ought to be, to see all the pictures and statues we could. She knew the artists, and knew where other productions of theirs were to be found. I don^t re- member what we saw except St. PauFs. Emily was like her in these habits of mind, but certainly never took her opinion, but always had one to offer. ... I don^t know what Charlotte thought of Brussels. We arrived in the dark, and went next morning to our respective schools to see them. We were, of course, much preoccupied, and our prospects gloomy. Charlotte used to like the country round Brussels. At the top of every hill you see something. She took long solitary walks on the occasional holidays.' Mr. Bronte took his daughters to the Rue d'Isabelle, Brussels ; remained one night at Mr. Jenkins's ; and straight returned to his wild Yorkshire village. What a contrast to that must the Belgian capital have presented to those two young women thus left behind ! Suffering acutely from every strange and unaccustomed contact — far away from their beloved home and the dear moors beyond — their indomitable will was their great sup- port. Charlotte's own words, with regard to Emily, are — 'After the age of twenty, having meantime studied alone with diligence and perseverance, she went with me to an establishment on the Continent. The same suffering and conflict ensued, heightened by the strong recoil of her up- right, heretic, and English spirit from the gentle Jesuitry of 15 226 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE the foreign and Romish system. Once more she seemed sinking, but this time she rallied through the mere force of resolution : with inward remorse and shame she looked back on her former failure, and resolved to conquer, but the victory cost her dear. She was never happy till she carried her hard-won knowledge back to the remote Eng- lish village, the old parsonage house, and desolate York- shire hills/* They wanted learning. They came for learning. They would learn. Where they had a distinct purpose to be achieved in intercourse with their fellows they forgot themselves ; at all other times they were miserably shy. Mrs. Jenkins told me that she used to ask them to spend Sundays and holidays with her, until she found that they felt more pain than pleasure from such visits. Emily hardly ever uttered more than a monosyllable. Charlotte was sometimes excited sufficiently to speak eloquently and well — on certain subjects — but, before her tongue was thus loosened, she had a habit of gradually wheeling round on her chair, so as almost to conceal her face from the person to whom she was speaking. And yet there was much in Brussels to strike a respon- sive chord in her powerful imagination. At length she was seeing somewhat of that grand old world of which she had dreamed. As the gay crowds passed by her so had gay crowds paced those streets for centuries, in all their varying costumes. Every spot told an historic tale, ex- tending back into the fabulous ages when Jan and Jan- nika, the aboriginal giant and giantess, looked over the wall, forty feet high, of what is now the Rue Villa Her- mosa, and peered down upon the new settlers who were to turn them out of the country in which they had lived since the Deluge. The great solemn Cathedral of St. Gudule, the religious paintings, the striking forms and * Introduction to Selections from Poems by Ellis Bell, 1842 THE RUE D'ISABELLE 227 ceremonies of the Eomish Church — all made a deep im- pression on the girls, fresh from the bare walls and sim- ple worship of Haworth Church. And then they were in- dignant with themselves for having been susceptible of this impression, and their stout Protestant hearts arrayed themselves against the false Duessa that had thus imposed upon them. The very building they occupied as pupils, in Madame Heger^s pensionnat, had its own ghostly train of splendid associations, marching for ever, in shadowy procession, through and through the ancient rooms and shaded alleys of the gardens. From the splendour of to-day in the Rue Royale, if you turn aside, near the statue of General Bel- iard, you look down four flights of broad stone steps upon the Rue dTsabelle. The chimneys of the houses in it are below your feet. Opposite to the lowest flight of steps there is a large old mansion facing you, with a spacious walled garden behind — and to the right of it. In front of this garden, on the same side as the mansion, and with great boughs of trees sweeping over their lowly roofs, is a row of small, picturesque, old-fashioned cottages, not un- like, in degree and uniformity, to the almshouses so often seen in an English country town. The Rue d^Isabelle looks as though it had been untouched by the innova- tions of the builder for the last three centuries ; and yet any one might drop a stone into it from the back windows of the grand modern hotels in the Rue Royale, built and furnished in the newest Parisian fashion.^ *The Rue d'Isabelle has been altered by the builder within the past year or two (1898-9), the Pensionnat Heger having been abandoned and replaced by municipal school buildings. The exterior is un- changed ; the interior is entirely altered. I visited the house in 1897, and found the place a desert ; the garden, wild and overgrown, yet containing the very pear trees that had pleased Charlotte and her sis- ter. Here also were the glass corridors with vines trailing over them, the empty dormitories, the oratory with the crucifix removed ; not the slightest structural alteration had taken place since the days wljeh Charlotte and Emily Bronte had been pupils ; and the same family, 228 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE In the thirteenth centnry the Rue d^Isabelle was called the Fosse-anx-Chiens; and the kennels for the ducal hounds occupied the place where Madame Ileger's pensionnat now stands. A hospital (in the ancient large meaning of the word) succeeded to the kennel. The houseless and the poor^ perhaps the leprous, were received, by the brethren of a religious order, in a building on this sheltered site; and what bad been a fosse for defence was filled up with herb gardens and orchards for upwards of a hundred years. Then came the aristocratic guild of the cross-bow men — that company the members whereof were required to prove their noble descent untainted for so many generations before they could be admitted into the guild ; and^ being admitted, were required to swear a solemn oath that no other pastime or exercise should take up any part of their leisure, the whole of which was to be devoted to the practice of the noble art of shooting with the cross-bow. Once a year a grand match was held, under the patronage of some saint, to whose church steeple was affixed the bird, or semblance of a bird, to be hit by the victor.^ The conqueror in the game was Roi des Arbalteriers for the coming year, and received a jewelled decoration accordingly, which he was entitled to wear for twelve months ; after which he restored it to the the daughters of Madame Heger, still engaged in school-keeping, had but just vacated the building at the instigation of the city author- ities. * Scott describes the sport, * Shooting at the Popinjay,' * as an an- cient game formerly practised with archery, but at this period (1679) with firearms. This was the figure of a bird decked with particoloured feathers, so as to resemble a popinjay or parrot. It was suspended to a pole, and served for a mark at which the competitors discharged their fusees and carbines in rotation, at the distance of seventy paces. He whose ball brought down the mark held the proud title of Captain of the Popinjay for the remainder of the day, and was usually escorted in triumph to the most respectable change-house in the neighbour- hood, where the evening was closed with conviviality, conducted under his auspices, and, if he was able to maintain it, at his expense.' — Old Mortality {Note by Mrs. Gaskell). LIBRARY OF 1HE UNIVERSITY oflLLINOii 1843 THE ^ARBALETRIERS DU GRAND SERMENT' 229 guild, to be again striven for. The family of him who died during the year that he was king were bound to present the decoration to the church of the patron saint of the guild, and to furnish a similar prize to be contended for afresh. These noble cross-bow men of the Middle Ages formed a sort of armed guard to the powers in existence, and almost invariably took the aristocratic in preference to the demo- cratic side, in the numerous civil dissensions of the Flem- ish towns. Hence they were protected by the authorities, and easily obtained favourable and sheltered sites for their exercise ground. And thus they came to occupy the old fosse, and took possession of the great orchard of the hos- pital, lying tranquil and sunny in the hollow below the rampart. But, in the seventeenth century, it became necessary to construct a street through the exercise ground of the ^ Ar- baletriers du Grand Serment,^ and, after much delay, the company were induced by the beloved Infanta Isabella to give up the requisite plot of ground. In recompense for this, Isabella — who herself was a member of the guild, and had even shot down the bird and been queen in 1615 — made many presents to the arbaletriers; and, in return, the grate- ful city, which had long wanted a nearer road to St. Gudule, but been baffled by the noble archers, called the street after her name. She, as a sort of indemnification to the arbale- triers, caused a ^ great mansion ^ to be built for their accom- modation in the new Rue dTsabelle. This mansion was placed in front of their exercise ground, and was of a square shape. On a remote part of the walls, may still be read — PHILLIPPO nil. HISPAN. REGE ISABKLLA-CLARA-EUGENIA HISPAN. INFANS MAGNiE GULD^ REGINA GULD^ FRATRIBUS POSUIT. In that mansion were held all the splendid feasts of the Grand Serment des Arbaletriers. The master archer lived there constantly, in order to be ever at hand to render his services to the guild. The great saloon was also used for the Court balls and festivals, when the archers were not 230 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE admitted. The Infanta caused other and smaller houses to be built in her new street, to serve as residences for her ^ garde noble ;^ and for her ^ garde bourgeoise' a small habitation each, some of which still remain, to remind us of English almshouses. The ^ great mansion,' with its quad- rangular form; the spacious saloon — once used for the archducal balls, where the dark, grave Spaniards mixed with the blond nobility of Brabant and Flanders — now a schoolroom for Belgian girls ; the cross-bow men's archery- ground — all are there — the 2^e7ision}iat of Madame Heger.^ This lady was assisted in the work of instruction by her husband — a kindly, wise, good, and religious man — whose acquaintance I am glad to have made, and who has fur- nished me with some interesting details, from his wife's recollections and his own, of the two Miss Brontes during their residence in Brussels. He had the better opportuni- ties of watching them from his giving lessons in the ^ A letter by Madame Heger which was addressed to Miss Lsetitia Wheelwright, one of the English pupils at the Pensionnat Heger, will be read with interest: — *Ma ch^re Lsetitia, — Je me proposals de faire visits ^ madame votre mamau hier matin. J'ai ete indisposee et obligee de garder la chambre ; aujoiird'hui je suis mieux, mais ne pouvant sortir je desire au moius savoir de vos nouvelles. Comment se porte votre maman ? Je Grains bien que les veilles, la fatigue et le chagrin n'alterent sa sante. Heureusement tous ses enfants sont si bons, si bien eleves, qu'elle trouvera dans leurs soins une compensation a la perte cruelle qu'elle a faite. 'Lorsque j'irai voir vos parents je leur dirai combien j'apprecie tout ce que la lettre de votre papa a d'obligeant. Je lui suis bien recou- naissante d'avoir pense ^ nous dans un moment aussi douloureux et qui laissera ici, comme chez vous, de longues traces. Le petit ange que nous pleurons merite tous nos regrets, cependant nous devons nous dire qu'il est a I'abri des mis^res et des chagrins que nous avous encore h supporter. ' Adieu, ma chere Lsetitia ; embrassez pour moi vos petites soeurs, et presentez a vos chers parents, que j'estime chaque jour davantage, ma respectueuse affection. * Votre devouee *Lundi, 21 9bre.' *Z. Heger. l^RIBUTE TO M. HEGER 231 French language and literature in the school. A short extract from a letter, written to me by a French lady resi- dent in Brussels, and well qualified to judge, will help to show the estimation in which he is held. ^ Je ne connais pas personnellement M. Heger, mais je sais qu^il est pen de caracteres aussi nobles, aussi admira- bles que le sien. II est un des membres les plus zeles de cette Societe de S. Vincent de Paul dont je Vai deja parle, et ne se contente pas de servir les pauvres et les malades, mais leur consacre encore les soirees. Apres des journees absorbees tout entieres par les devoirs que sa place lui impose, il reunit les pauvres, les ouvriers, leur donne des cours gratuits, et trouve encore le moyen de les amuser en les instruisant. Ce devouement te dira assez que M. Heger est profondement et ouvertement religieux. II a des manieres franches et avenantes ; il se fait aimer de tons ceux qui Tapprochent, et surtout des enfants. II a la parole facile, et possede a un haut degre Teloquence du bon sens et du coeur. II n'est point auteur. Homme de zele et de conscience, il vient de se demettre des fonctions elevees et lucratives qu'il exergait a TAthenee, celles de Prefet des Etudes, parce qu'il ne pent y realiser le bien qu'il avait espere, introduire Tenseignement religieux dans le programme des etudes. J'ai vu une fois Madame Heger, qui a quelque chose de froid et de compasse dans son maintien, et qui previent pen en sa faveur. Je la crois pourtant aimee et appreciee par ses eleves.^ There were from eighty to a hundred pupils in the pen- sionnat when Charlotte and Emily Bronte entered it in February 1842. M. Heger's account is that they knew nothing of French.^ ^ Charlotte Bronte hnd made a translation into English verse from Voltaire's Henriade wlien quite a child — in 1830 — and a simple and not very accurate letter in that language to her friend Ellen Nussey is given antCy p. 126 ; but to translate from the French, and even to write simple letters, is not to know the language as a professor would 232 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE I suspect they knew as much (or as little), for all conver- sational purposes, as any English girls do who have never been abroad, and have only learnt the idioms and pronun- ciation from an Englishwoman. The two sisters clung together, and kept apart from the herd of happy, boisterous well befriended Belgian girls, who, in their turn, thought the new English pupils wild and scared - looking, with strange, odd, insular ideas about dress ; for Emily had taken a fancy to the fashion, ugly and preposterous even during its reign, of gigot sleeves, and persisted in wearing them long after they were ^gone out/ Her petticoats, too, had not a curve or a wave in them, but hung down straight and long, clinging to her lank figure. The sisters spoke to no one but from necessity.^ They were too full of ear- nest thought, and of the exile's sick yearning, to be ready for careless conversation or merry game. M. Heger, who had done little but observe, during the first few weeks of their residence in the Rue d'Isabelle, perceived that with their unusual characters, and extraordinary talents, a dif- ferent mode must be adopted from that in which he gen- erally taught French to English girls. He seems to have rated Emily's genius as something even higher than Char- lotte's ; and her estimation of their relative powers was the same. Emily had a head for logic, and a capability of argument, unusual in a man, and rare indeed in a woman, according to M. Heger. Impairing the force of this gift was a stubborn tenacity of will, which rendered her obtuse to all reasoning where her own wishes or her own sense of right was concerned. ' She should have been a man — a great navigator,' said M. Heger in speaking of her. ^ Her define knowledge. Charlotte was probably too shy to attempt to speak a word. ^ Charlotte Bronte was thoroughly insular in her attitude towards her Belgian schoolfellows. Her friendship with Laetitia Wheelwright, one of the four English girls in the school, began when she observed Miss Wheelwright looking round contemptuously upon her compan- ions. ' It was so very English,' Miss Bronte remarked. THE BRONTE SISTERS AT BRUSSELS 233 powerful reason would have deduced new spheres of discovery from the knowledge of the old ; and her strong, imperious will would never have been daunted by oppo- sition or difficulty ; never have given way but with life.' And yet, moreover, her faculty of imagination was such that, if she had written a history, her view of scenes and characters would have been so vivid, and so powerfully expressed, and supported by such a show of argument, that it would have dominated over the reader, whatever might have been his previous opinions or his cooler per- ceptions of its truth. But she appeared egotistical and exacting compared with Charlotte, who was always un- selfish (this is M. Heger's testimony) ; and in the anx- iety of the elder to make her younger sister contented she allowed her to exercise a kind of unconscious tyranny over her. After consulting with his wife M. Heger told them that he meant to dispense with the old method of ground- ing in grammar, vocabulary, &c., and to proceed on a new plan — something similar to what he had occasion- ally adopted with the elder among his French and Bel- gian pupils. He proposed to read to them some of the masterpieces of the most celebrated French authors (such as Casimir de la Vigne's poem on the ^ Death of Joan of Arc,' parts of Bossuet, the admirable translation of the noble letter of St. Ignatius to the Roman Christians in the ' Bibliotheque Choisie des P^res de TEglise,' &c.), and, after having thus impressed the complete effect of the whole, to analyse the parts with them, pointing out in what such or such an author excelled, and where were the blemishes. He believed that he had to do with pu- pils capable, from their ready sympathy with the intel- lectual, the refined, the polished, or the noble, of catching the echo of a style, and so reproducing their own thoughts in a somewhat similar manner. After explaining his plan to them he awaited their reply. Emily spoke first, and said that she saw no good to be 234 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi derived from it ; and that, by adopting it, they would lose all originality of thought and expression. She would have entered into an argument on the subject, but for this M. Heger had no time. Charlotte then spoke ; she also doubted the success of the plan ; but she would follow out M. Heger^s advice, because she was bound to obey him while she was his pupil. Before speaking of the results it may be desira- ble to give an extract from one of her letters, which shows some of her first impressions of her new life. 'Brussels : 1842 (May ?) ^ I was twenty-six years old a week or two since ; and at this ripe time of life I am a schoolgirl, and, on the whole, very happy in that capacity. It felt very strange at first to submit to authority instead of exercising it — to obey orders instead of giving them ; but I like that state of things. I returned to it with the same avidity that a cow, that has long been kept on dry hay, returns to fresh grass. Don't laugh at my simile. It is natural to me to submit, and very unnatural to command. ^This is a large school, in which there are about forty externes, or day pupils, and twelve pensi07inaires, or board- ers. Madame Heger, the head, is a lady of precisely the same cast of mind, degree of cultivation, and quality of intellect as Miss (Catherine Wooler). I think the severe points are a little softened, because she has not been dis- appointed, and consequently soured. In a word, she is a married instead of a maiden lady. There are three teach- ers in the school — Mademoiselle Blanche, Mademoiselle Sophie, and Mademoiselle Marie. The two first have no particular character. One is an old maid, and the other will be one. Mademoiselle Marie is talented and original, but of repulsive and arbitrary manners, which have made the whole school, except myself and Emily, her bitter ene- mies. No less that seven masters attend, to teach the dif- ferent branches of education — French, Drawing, Music, Singing, Writing, Arithmetic, and German. All in the 1843 M. AND MADAME HEGER 235 house are Catholics except ourselves, one other girl, and the gouvemante of Madame^s children, an Englishwoman, in rank something between a lady^s maid and a nursery governess. The difference in country and religion makes a broad line of demarcation between us and all the rest. We are completely isolated in the midst of numbers. Yet I think I am never unhappy ; my present life is so delight- ful, so congenial to my own nature, compared with that of a governess. My time, constantly occupied, passes too rapidly. Hitherto both Emily and I have had good health, and therefore we have been able to work well. There is one individual of whom I have not yet spoken — M. Heger, the husband of Madame. He is professor of rhetoric, a man of power as to mind, but very choleric and irritable in temperament.^ He is very angry with me just at pres- ent, because I have written a translation which he chose to stigmatise as ^'peu correct.^^ He did not tell me so, but wrote the word on the margin of my book, and asked, in brief, stern phrase, how it happened that my compositions were always better than my translations, adding that the thing seemed to him inexplicable. The fact is, some weeks ago, in a high-flown humour, he forbade me to use either dictionary or grammar in translating the most difficult English compositions into French. This makes the task rather arduous, and compels me every now and then to introduce an English word, which nearly plucks the eyes out of his head when he sees it. Emily and he don^t draw well together at all. Emily works like a horse, and she has had great difficulties to contend with — far greater than I have had. Indeed, those who come to a French school for instruction ought previously to have acquired a consid- * This letter was to Ellen Niissey. A sentence omitted here runs, * A little black being, with a face that varies in expression. Sometimes he borrows the lineaments of an insane tom-cat, sometimes those of a delirious hyena ; occasionally, but very seldom, he discards these peril- ous attractions and assumes an air not above one hundred degrees removed from mild and gentleman-like/ 236 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfl erable knowledge of the French language, otherwise they will lose a great deal of time, for the course of instruction is adapted to natives and not to foreigners ; and in these large establishments they will not change their ordinary course for one or two strangers. The few private lessons that M. Heger has vouchsafed to give us are, I suppose, to be con- sidered a great favour; and I can perceive they have al- ready excited much spite and jealousy in the school. ^You will abuse this letter for being short and dreary, and there are a hundred things which I want to tell you, but I have not time.. Brussels is a beautiful city. The Belgians hate the English. Their external morality is more rigid than ours. To lace the stays without a hand- kerchief on the neck is considered a disgusting piece of in- delicacy.^ The passage in this letter where M. Heger is represented as prohibiting the use of dictionary or grammar refers, I imagine, to the time I have mentioned, when he deter- mined to adopt a new method of instruction in the French language, of which they were to catch the spirit and rhythm rather from the ear and the heart, as its noblest accents fell upon them, than by over-careful and anxious study of its grammatical rules. It seems to me a daring experiment on the part of their teacher ; but doubtless he knew his ground ; and that it answered is evident in the composition of some of Charlotte's devoirs, written about this time. I am tempted, in illustration of this season of mental cult- ure, to recur to a conversation which I had with M. Heger on the manner in which he formed his pupiFs style, and to give a proof of his success, by copying a devoir of Char- lotte's with his remarks upon it. He told me that one day this summer (when the Brontes had been for about four months receiving instruction from him) he read to them Victor Hugo's celebrated portrait of Mirabeau, ^mais dans ma legon je me bornais a ce qui con- cerne Mirabeau orateur, C'est apres Fanalyse de ce morceau, considere surtout du point de vue du fond, de la disposition. 1842 CHARLOTTE^S FIRST FRENCH THEME 237 de ce qa'on pourrait appeler la charpente, qu^ont ete faits les deux portraits que je vous donne/ He went on to say that he had pointed out to them the fault in Victor Hugo's style as being exaggeration in conception^ and, at the same time, he had made them notice the extreme beauty of his ' nuances ' of expression. They were then dismissed to choose the subject of a similar kind of portrait. The selection M. Heger always left to them ; for ^ it is necessary/ he ob- served, ^before sitting down to write on a subject, to have thoughts and feelings about it. I cannot tell on what sub- ject your heart and mind have been excited. I must leave that to you." The marginal comments, I need hardly say, are M. Heger's ; the words in italics are Charlotte's, for which he substitutes a better form of expression, which is placed between brackets. iMITATIOiT. * Le 31 juillet 1842. ^Portrait de Pierre l'Hermite. Charlotte Bronte. ^De temps en temps, il parait sur la terre des hommes destines a etre les instruments [predes- J^^^'J^'^g^^j^^ tines] de grands changements moraux ou politiques. pression^? Quelquefois c'est un conquerant, un Alexandre ou un Attila, qui passe comme un ouragan, et purifie I'atmosphere morale, comme Forage purifie Fatmos- phere physique ; quelquefois, c'est un revolution- naire, un Cromwell, ou un Robespierre, qui fait expier par un roi /\ les vices de toute une dynastie ; quelquefois c'est un enthousiaste religieux comme Mahomet, ou Pierre l'Hermite, qui, avec le seul levier de la pensee, souleve des nations entieres, les deracine et les transplante dans des climats ^® ^^^^'.^ nouveaux, peuplant VAsie avec les liabitants de qu'a V Europe, Pierre l'Hermite etait gentilhomme de J"^^"^^®^ Picardie, en France, pourquoi done n'a-t-il passe quL/Vous sa vie comme les autres gentilshommes, ses contem- ^^'''^ez en porains, ont pass6 la leur, a table, a la chasse, dans ^^^^^'^'^^ 238 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE son lit, sans s^inquieter de Saladin, on de ses Sarra- sins ? N'est-ce pas parce qn^il y a, dans certaines natnres, une ardeur [un foyer d'activite] indompt- vousavez permet pas de rester inactives, qui commence 7/- a j: i aparierde IBS JOT CB a 86 retuuer afiu d Bxevcer les faciiUes puis- vou^^tes ^^^^'^^ dormant sont prSfes, comme entree dans Samsofi, d hHsev Us uceuds qui les retiennefit? marihez au ' Pierre prit la profession des armes ; si son ar- but. deur avait cie de cette espece [s^il n'avait en que cette ardeur vulgaire] qui provient d^une robnste sante, il aurait [c'etit] ete un brave militaire, et rien de plus ; mais son ardeur etait celle de Tame, sa flamme etait pure et elle s^elevait vers le ciel. ' Sa7is doute [II est vrai que] la jeunesse de Pierre etait [fut] troublee par passions orageuses ; les natures puissantes sont extermes en tout, elles ne connaissent la tiedeur ni dans le bien, ni dans le mal ; Pierre done chercha d^abord avidement la gloire qui se fletrit et les plaisirs qui trompent, mais il Jit hientot la decouverte [bientot il s^apergut] que ce qu^il poursuivait n^etait qu^une illusion Inutile, ^ laquelle il ne pourrait iamais atteindre ; il re- quand vou3 ^ ^ ~ = — - avezdit touma douc sur ses pas, il recomnien9a le voyage illusion. \^ yi^^ mais cette fois il evita le chemin spacieux qui mene a la perdition et il prit le chemin etroit qui mene a la vie; puisque [comme] le trajet etait long et difficile il jeta la casque et les armes du soldat, et se vetit de Thabit simple du moine. A la vie militaire succeda la vie monastique, car les extremes se touchent, et cTiez Vhomme sincere la sincerite du repentir amene [necessairement a la suite] avec lui la rigueur de la penitence. [Voila done Pierre devenu moine !] ^Mais Pierre [il] avait en lui un principe qui Tempechait de rester longtemps inactif, ses idees, sur quel sujet qu'il soit [que ce ftit], ne pouvaient pas 6tre bornees ; il ne lui suffisait pas que lui- 1843 AN EXERCISE IN FRENCH COMPOSITION 239 meme Mt religieux, que Ini-meme ftit convaincn de la realite de Christianisme (sic), il fallait que toute TEurope, que toute TAsie, partageat sa conviction et professat la croyance de la Croix. La Piete [fervente] elevee par le Genie, nourrie par la Solitude, nattre line espece inspiration [exalta son ame jusqu^a Tinspiration] da?is son dme, et lorsqu^il quitta sa cellule et reparut dans le monde, il portait, comme Mo'ise, Tempreinte de la Divinite sur son front, et tout [tous] reconnurent en lui le veritable apotre de la Croix. 'Mahomet n^avait jamais remue les moUes nations de TOrient comme alors Pierre remua les peuples austeres de TOccident ; il fallait que cette eloquence ftit d'une force presque miraculeuse qui pouvait [puisqu^elle] persuader [ait] aux rois de vendre leurs royaumes afin de procurer [pour avoir] des armes et des ^ol^?^^^ pour aider [a ollrir] a Pierre dans la guerre sainte qu'il voulait livrer aux infideles. La puissance de Pierre [FHermite] n^etait nullement une puissance physique, car la nature, ou pour mieux dire, Dieu est impartial dans la distribu- tion de ses dons ; il accorde a Tun de ses enfants la grace, la beaute, les perfections corporelles, a I'autre Tesprit, la grandeur morale. Pierre done etait un homme petit, d^une physionomie peu agreable ; mais il avait ce courage, cette Constance, cet enthousiasme, cette energie de sentiment qui ecrase toute opposition, et qui fait que la volonte d^un seul homme devienne la loi de toute une nation. Pour se former une juste idee de Tinfluence qu^ex- erga cet homme sur les caracteres [choses] et les idees de son temps, il faut se le representer an milieu de Tarmee des croises dans son double role de prophete et de guerrier ; le pauvre hermite, vetu du pauvre [de Thumble] habit gris, est \h plus puissant qu'un roi ; il est entoure d'une [de la] 240 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi multitude [avide], une multitude qui ne voit quelui^ tandis que lui, il ne voit que le ciel ; ses yeux leves semblent dire : Je vols Dieu et les anges, et j'ai perdu de vue la terre V ' Dans ce 7mnmit le [Mais ce] pauvre habit [froc] gris est pour lui comme le manteau d'Eli jah ; il Ten- veloppe d^inspiration ; il [Pierre] lit dans Tavenir ; il voit Jerusalem delivree ; [il voit] le saint sepulcre libre; il voit le Croissant argent est arrache du Temple, et FOriflamme et la Croix rouge sont etablies a sa place ; non seulement Pierre voit ces merveilles, mais il les fait voir a tons ceux qui Tentourent; ilravive Tesperance et le courage dans [tous ces corps epuises de fatigues et de privations]. La bataille ne sera livree que demain, mais la victoire est decidee ce soir. Pierre a promis ; et les Croises se fient a sa parole, comme les Israelites se fiaient a celle de Moise et de Josue/^ 1 The original manuscript of this devoir is still extant. It fills seven pages of very neat writing. There are also a number of Miss Bronte's French exercise books with M. Heger's corrections, one a ' Lettre d'un Pauvre Peinlre a un Grand Seigneur,* another an essay on ' William Wallace/ The most curious, perhaps, is a letter in simple German, written obviously for practice during her second sojourn in Brussels. It is clear that Charlotte Bronte was not an enthusiast for the German language and literature after the manner of so many of her contempo- raries. There are no indications that she read any German books in the later years when selection was more practicable. Emily, on the other hand, must have become a good German scholar, and undoubt- edly read much of HoJffmann and other weird German writers. The reference in the letter to residence with ' a lady who is very good to me ' is interesting by the light of Charlotte Bronte's subsequent judg- ment of Madame Heger : — * Bruxel, 5 Juin. *Meine liebe Freundinn,— Du hast ohne Zweifel gehort dasz ich nach Belgium wieder gekehrt bin. Es machte mir Schmerz mein Vaterland zu verlassen, aber, wie du wolil weiszt, wenn man nicht reich iszt, kann man nicht immer zu Haus bleiben, man musz in die Welt gehen und trachten mit Arbeitsamkeit und Erwerbsamkeit zu verdienen diese Unabhangigkeit, die das Gluck ausgeschlagen hat. 1842 EMILY'S FRENCH EXERCISE 241 As a companion portrait to this Emily chose to depict Harold on the eve of the battle of Hastings. It appears to me that her devoir is superior to Charlotte's in power and in imagination, and fully equal to it in language ; and that this, in both cases, considering how little practical knowledge of French they had when they arrived at Brussels in Feb- ruary, and that they wrote without the aid of dictionary or grammar, is unusual and remarkable. We shall see the progress Charlotte had made, in ease and grace of style, a year later. In the choice of subjects left to her selection she fre- quently took characters and scenes from the Old Testa- ment, with which all her writings show that she was espe- cially familiar. The picturesqueness and colour (if I may so express it), the grandeur and breadth of. its narrations, impressed her deeply. To use M. Heger's expression, ^elle etait nourrie de la Bible.'' After he had read De la Vigne's poem on Joan of Arc, she chose the ^Vision and Death of Moses on Mount Nebo ^ to write about ; and, in looking over this devoir, I was much struck with one or two of M. Heger's remarks. After describing, in a quiet and simple manner, the circumstances under which Moses took leave of the Israelites, her imagination becomes warmed, and Oftmals, wenu man von seinen Aeltern entfernt iszt, bat man viel Kuramer uiid Leiden, well man nicht die selbe Gunst und das selbe Vergnligen iinter Fremden fioden kann, wie in der einzigen Faniilie ; allein ich habe das grosze Gliick, bei einer Dame die mir sehr gut iszt, zu wohnen. *Sonntag und Montag waren zwei Tage Ferien. An Sonntag bin ich spazieren geweseu, mit Fraulein Hauze und drei der Schlilerin- nen ; wir haben auf dem Lande gespeiszt, und des Abends sind wir durch die grune Allee nach Haus gegangen. Da sahen wir viele Wa- gen und eine Menge Herren und Damen, sehr geputz. Montag bin ich nicht ausgegangen, denn ich hatte den Schnupfen bekommen. Heute iszt es wieder Classe, und, weil wir alle unsere Beschaftiguugen anfangen mussen, so habe ich nicht viel Zeit dir zu schreibcn. ' Ich bin deine Freundinn, 242 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE she launches out into a noble strain, depicting the glorious futurity of the Chosen People, as, looking down upon the Promised Land, he sees their prosperity in prophetic vision. But, before reaching the middle of this glowing descrip- tion, she interrupts herself to discuss for a moment the doubts that have been thrown on the miraculous relations of the Old Testament. M. Heger remarks, ^ When you are writ- ing, place your argument first in cool, prosaic language ; but when you have thrown the reins on the neck of your imagination, do not pull her up to reason.^ Again, in the vision of Moses, he sees the maidens leading forth their flocks to the wells at eventide, and they are described as wearing flowery garlands. Here the writer is reminded of the necessity of preserving a certain verisimilitude : Moses might from his elevation see mountains and plains, groups of maidens and herds of cattle, but could hardly perceive the details of dress, or the ornaments of the head. When they had made further progress M. Heger took up a more advanced plan, that of synthetical teaching. He would read to them various accounts of the same person or event, and make them notice the points of agreement and disagreement. Where they were different, he would make them seek the origin of that difference by causing them to examine well into the character and position of each sepa- rate writer, and how they would be likely to affect his con- ception of truth. For instance, take Cromwell. He would read Bossuet's description of him in the ' Oraison Funebre de la Reine d^Angleterre,^ and show how in this he was con- sidered entirely from the religious point of view, as an in- strument in the hands of God, pre-ordained to His work. Then he would make them read Guizot, and see how, in this view, Cromwell was endowed with the utmost power of free-will, but governed by no higher motive than that of expediency, while Carlyle regarded him as a character regu- lated by a strong and conscientious desire to do the will of the Lord. Then he would desire them to remember that the Royalist and Commonwealth men had each their differ- 1842 M. HEGER'S PLAN OF INSTRUCTION 343 ent opinions of the great Protector. And from these con- flicting characters he would require them to sift and collect the elements of truths and try to unite them into a perfect whole. This kind of exercise delighted Charlotte. It called into play her powers of analysis, which were extraordinary, and she very soon excelled in it. Wherever the Brontes could be national they were so, with the same tenacity of attachment which made them suffer as they did whenever they left Haworth. They were Protestant to the backbone in other things beside their religion, but pre-eminently so in that. Touched as Char- lotte was by the letter of St. Ignatius before alluded to, she claimed equal self-devotion, and from as high a motive, for some of the missionaries of the English Church sent out to toil and to perish on the poisonous African coast, and wrote as an - imitation^ ^Lettre d'un Missionnaire, Sierra-Leone, Afrique.' Something of her feeling, too, appears in the following letter : 'Brussels: 1842. ^ I consider it doubtful whether I shall come home in September or not. Madame Ileger has made a proposal for both me and Emily to stay another half-year, offering to dismiss her English master, and take me as English teacher; also to employ Emily some part of each day in teaching music to a certain number of the pupils. For these services we are to be allowed to continue our studies in French and German, and to have board, &c., without paying for it; no salaries, however, are offered. The proposal is kind, and in a great selfish city like Brussels, and a great selfish school, containing nearly ninety pupils (boarders and day pupils included), implies a degree of interest which de- mands gratitude in return. I am inclined to accept it. What think you ? I don^t deny I sometimes wish to be in England, or that I have brief attacks of home-sickness; but, on the whole, I have borne a very valiant heart so far ; and it 244 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE I have been happy in Brussels^ because I have always been fully occupied with the employments that I like. Emily is making rapid progress in French, German, music, and drawing. Monsieur and Madame Heger begin to recognise the valuable parts of her character, under her singularities. ^If the national character of the Belgians is to be measured by the character of most of the girls in this school, it is a character singularly cold, selfish, animal, and inferior. They are very mutinous and difficult for the teachers to manage ; and their principles are rotten to the core. We avoid them, which is not difficult to do, as we have the brand of Protestantism and Anglicism upon us. People talk of the danger which Protestants expose themselves to in going to reside in Catholic countries, and thereby run- ning the chance of changing their faith. My advice to all Protestants who are tempted to do anything so besotted as to turn Catholics is, to walk over the sea on to the Conti- nent ; to attend Mass sedulously for a time ; to note well the mummeries thereof ; also the idiotic, mercenary aspect of all the priests ; and then, if they are still disposed to con- sider Papistry in any other light than a most feeble, childish piece of humbug, let them turn Papists at once — that's all. I consider Methodism, Quakerism, and the extremes of High and Low Churchism foolish, but Roman Catholicism beats them all. At the same time, allow me to* tell you that there are some Catholics who are as good as any Christians can be to whom the Bible is a sealed book, and much bet- ter than many Protestants.' ^ When the Brontes first went to Brussels, it was with the intention of remaining there for six months, or until the grandes vacances began in September. The duties of the school were then suspended for six weeks or two months, and it seemed a desirable period for their return. But the proposal mentioned in the foregoing letter altered their * This letter was written to Ellen Nussey. 1843 HER ENGLISH FRIENDS AT BRUSSELS 245 plans. Besides, they were happy in the feeling that they were making progress in all the knowledge they had so long been yearning to acquire. They were happy, too, in possessing friends whose society had been for years con- genial to them ; and in occasional meetings with these they could have the inexpressible solace to residents in a foreign country — and peculiarly such to the Brontes — of taking over the intelligence received from their respec- tive homes — referring to past, or planning for future days. ^Mary'' and her sister, the bright, dancing, laughing Mar- tha, were parlour boarders in an establishment just be- yond the barriers of Brussels. Again, the cousins of these friends were resident in the town ; and at their house Charlotte and Emily were always welcome, though their overpowering shyness prevented their more valuable quali- ties from being known, and generally kept them silent. They spent their weekly holiday with this family i for many months ; but at the end of the time Emily was as im- penetrable to friendly advances as at the begining ; while Charlotte was too physically weak (as ^ Mary ' has expressed it) to ^gather up her forces' sufficiently to express any difference or opposition of opinion, and had consequently an asserting and deferential manner, strangely at variance with what they knew of her remarkable talents and decided character. At this house the Taylors and the Brontes could look forward to meeting each other pretty frequent- ly. There was another English family where Charlotte soon became a welcome guest, and where, I suspect, she felt herself more at her ease than either at Mrs. Jenkins's or the friends whom I have first mentioned. An English physician, with a large family of daughters, went to reside at Brussels, for the sake of their education. He placed them at Madame Heger's school in July 1842, not a month before the beginning of the grandes vacances * The Dixons. Miss Mary Dixon, a sister of the late Mr. George Dixoii, M.P. for Birmingham, is still alive. She is frequently men- li(jned in Charlotte Bronte's letters. 246 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE on August 15. In order to make the most of their time, and become accustomed to the language, these English sis- ters went daily, through the holidays, to the pensionnat in the Rue d'Isabelle. Six or eight boarders remained, be- sides the Miss Brontes. They were there during the whole time, never even having the break to their monotonous life which passing an occasional day with a friend would have afforded them, but devoting themselves with indefatigable diligence to the different studies in which they were en- gaged. Their position in the school appeared, to these newcomers, analogous to what is often called that of a par- lour boarder. They prepared their French, drawing, Ger- man, and literature for their various masters ; and to these occupations Emily added that of music, in which she was somewhat of a proficient, so much so as to be qualified to give instruction in it to the three younger sisters of my informant. The school was divided into three classes. In the first were from fifteen to twenty pupils ; in the second sixty was about the average number, all foreigners, excepting the two Brontes and one other ;^ in the third there were from twenty ^ This was not quite the case. Miss Bronte had five Miss Wheel. Wrights as companions at the Heger pensionnat, and a Miss Maria Miller, who was probably the prototype of Ginevra Fanshawe in Villette. Dr. Wheelwright and his family lived at the Hotel Clusyenaar, in the Rue Royale. His daughter Lsetitia became a firm friend of Charlotte Bronte, and her younger sisters received instructions in music from Emily. Miss Lsetitia Wheelwright and three of her sisters are still living. Their names are Lsetitia, Elizabeth, Emily, Frances, and Sarah Anne. Another sister, Julia, died in Brussels during these school days. The Wheelwrights were Mrs. Gaskell's only guides to Charlotte Bronte's school-life in Brussels, apart from M. Heger. Mrs. Gaskell obtained much of the information contained in her record from Laetitia Wheel- wright, to whom she wrote several letters of inquiry, the latest bear- ing date February 7, 1857, and being written from Plymouth Grove, Manchester. This letter, which is in my possession, is interesting bibliographically. *I have to-day finished my Life of Miss Bronte,' she writes, 'and next week we set out for Rome.' She thanks Miss Wheelwright, while returning her the letters lent, ' not merely for the 1842 ARRANGEMENTS OF THE ^PENSIONNAT' 247 to thirty pupils. The first and second classes occupied a long room, divided by a wooden partition ; in each division were four long ranges of desks ; and at the end was the estrade, or platform, for the presiding instructor. On the last row, in the quietest corner, sat Charlotte and Emily, side by side, so deeply absorbed in their studies as to be insensible to any noise or movement around them. The school hours were from nine to twelve (the luncheon hour), when the boarders and half-boarders — perhaps two-and- thirty girls — went to the refectoire (a room with two long tables, having an oil lamp suspended over each), to partake of bread and fruit ; the externes, or morning pupils, who had brought their own refreshment with them, adjourning to eat it in the garden. From one to two there was fancy work — a pupil reading aloud some light literature in each room ; from two to four, lessons again. At four the ex- ternes left ; and the remaining girls dined in the refectoire, M. and Madame Heger presiding. From five to six there was recreation ; from six to seven, preparation for lessons ; and after that succeeded the lecture pieuse — Charlotte^s nightmare. On rare occasions M. Heger himself would come in, and substitute a book of a different and more in- teresting kind. At eight there was a slight meal of water and pistolets (the delicious little Brussels rolls), which was immediately followed by prayers, and then to bed. The principal bedroom was over the long classe, or school- room. There were six or eight narrow beds on each side of the apartment, every one enveloped in its white draping curtain ; a long drawer, beneath each, served for a ward- robe, and between each was a stand for ewer, basin, and looking-glass. The beds of the two Miss Brontes were at the extreme end of the room, almost as private and retired as if they had been in a separate apartment. During the hours of recreation, which were always spent loan of them, although their value has been great, but for the kind readiness with which you all (especially you and your mother) met my wishes about giving me information/ 248 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE in the garden, they invariably walked together, and gener- ally kept a profound silence ; Emily, though so much the taller, leaning on her sister. Charlotte would always an- swer when spoken to, taking the lead in replying to any re- mark addressed to both ; Emily rarely spoke to any one. Charlotte^s quiet, gentle manner never changed. She was never seen out of temper for a moment ; and occasionally, when she herself had assumed the post of English teacher, and the impertinence or inattention of her pupils was most irritating, a slight increase of colour, a momentary sparkling of the eye, and more decided energy of manner, were the only outward tokens she gave of being conscious of the annoyance to which she was subjected. But this dignified endurance of hers subdued her pupils, in the long run, far more than the voluble tirades of the other mistresses. My informant adds, ^ The effect of this man- ner was singular. I can speak from personal experience. I was at that time high-spirited and impetuous, not re- specting the French mistresses ; yet, to my own astonish- ment, at one word from her I was perfectly tractable ; so much so that, at length, M. and Madame Heger invariably preferred all their wishes to me through her ; the other pupils did not, perhaps, love her as I did, she was so quiet and silent ; but all respected her,^ AVith the exception of that part which describes Char- lotte^s manner as English teacher — an office which she did not assume for some months later — all this description of the school life of the two Brontes refers to the commence- ment of the new scholastic year in October 1842 ; and the extracts I have given convey the first impression which the life at a foreign school, and the position of the two Miss Brontes therein, made upon an intelligent English girl of sixteen. I will make a quotation from ' Mary's ' letter re- ferring to this time. ^The first part of her time at Brussels was not uninter- esting. She spoke of new people and characters, and for- eign ways of the pupils and teachers. She knew the hopes LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY of ILLINOIS 1842 EXTRACT FROM 'MARY'S' LETTER 249 and prospects of the teachers^ and mentioned one who was very anxious to marry, ^'^she was getting so old.'' She used to get her father or brother (I forget which) to be the bearer of letters to different single men, who she thought might be persuaded to do her the favour, saying that her only resource was to become a sister of charity if her present employment failed, and that she hated the idea. Charlotte naturally looked with curiosity to people of her own condition. This woman almost frightened her. She declares there is nothing she can turn to, and laughs at the idea of delicacy — and she is only ten years older than I am V I did not see the connection till she said, Well, Polly, I should hate being a sister of charity ; I suppose that would shock some people, but I should. I thought she would have as much feeling as a nurse as most people, and more than some. She said she did not know how peo- ple could bear the constant pressure of misery, and never to change except to a new form of it. It would be impos- sible to keep one's natural feelings. I promised her a bet- ter destiny than to go begging any one to marry her, or to lose her natural feelings as a sister of charity. She said, ^^My youth is leaving me; I can never do better than I have done, and I have done nothing yet." At such times she seemed to think that most human beings were destined by the pressure of worldly interests to lose one faculty and feeling after another ^^till they went dead altogether. I hope I shall be put in my grave as soon as Fm dead ; I don't want to walk about so." TIere we always differed. I thought the degradation of nature she feared was a con- sequence of poverty, and that she should give her attention to earning money. Sometimes she admitted this, but could find no means of earning money. At others she seemed afraid of letting her thoughts dwell on the subject, saying it brought on the worst palsy of all. Indeed, in her posi- tion, nothing less than entire constant absorption in petty money matters could have scraped together a provision. ^ Of course artists and authors stood high with Charlotte, 250 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE and the best thing after their works would have been their company. She used very inconsistently to rail at money and money-getting, and then wish she was able to visit all the large towns in Europe, see all the sights, and know all the celebrities. This was her notion of literary fame — a passport to the society of clever people. . . . When she had become acquainted with the people and ways at Brus- sels her life became monotonous, and she fell into the same hopeless state as at Miss Wooler's, though in a less degree. I wrote to her, urging her to go home or elsewhere ; she had got what she wanted (French), and there was at least novelty in a new place, if no improvement. That if she sank into deeper gloom she would soon not have energy to go, and she was too far from home for her friends to hear of her condition and order her home as they had done from Miss Wooler's. She wrote that I had done her a great ser- vice, that she would certainly follow my advice, and was much obliged to me. I have often wondered at this letter. Though she patiently tolerated advice she could always quietly put it aside, and do as she thought fit. More than once afterwards she mentioned the service " I had done her. She sent me lOZ. to New Zealand, on hearing some exaggerated accounts of my circumstances, and told me she hoped it would come in seasonably ; it was a debt she owed me ^^for the service I had done her.^^ I should think 101. was a quarter of her income. The service was mentioned as an apology, but kindness was the real motive.^ The first break in this life of regular duties and employ- ments came heavily and sadly. Martha — pretty, winning, mischievous, tricksome Martha — was taken ill suddenly at the Chateau de Koekelberg. Her sister tended her with devoted love; but it was all in vain; in a few days she died. Charlotte^s own short account of this event is as follows : — ^Martha Taylor^s illness was unknown to me till the day before she died. I hastened to Koekelberg the next morn- 1842 DEATH OF MARTHA TAYLOR 251 ing — unconscious that she was iv: great danger — and was told that it was finished. She had died in the night. Mary was taken away to Bruxelles. I have seen Mary frequently since. She is in no ways crushed by the event; but while Martha was ill she was to her more than a mother — more than a sister : watching, nursing, cherishing her so ten- derly, so unweariedly. She appears calm and serious now ; no bursts of violent emotion ; no exaggeration of distress. I have seen Martha's grave — the place where her ashes lie in a foreign country.'^ Who that has read ^ Shirley^ does not remember the few lines — perhaps half a page — of sad recollection ? ^ He has no idea that little Jessy will die young, she is so gay, and chattering, and arch — original even now ; pas- sionate when provoked, but most affectionate if caressed ; by turns gentle and rattling; exacting yet generous; fear- less . . yet reliant on any who will help her. Jessy, with her little piquant face, engaging prattle, and winning ways, is made to be a pet. . . . ' Do you know this place ? No, you never saw it ; but you recognise the nature of these trees, this foliage — the cypress, the willow, the yew. Stone crosses like these are not unfamiliar to you, nor are these dim garlands of ever- lasting flowers. Here is the place ; green sod and a grey marble head-stone — Jessy sleeps below. She lived through an April day; much loved was she, much loving. She often, in her brief life, shed tears — she had frequent sor- rows; she smiled between, gladdening whatever saw her. Her death was tranquil and happy in Rose's guardian arms, for Rose had been her stay and defence through many ^ This letter to Ellen Nussey, dated Haworth, Nov. 10, 1842, con- cludes, 'Aunt, Martha Taylor, and Mr. Weightman are now all gone ; how dreary and void everything seems ! Mr. Weightman's illness was exactly what Martha's was ; he was ill the same length of time and died in the same manner. Aunt's disease was internal obstruc- tion ; she also was ill a fortnight.' 252 LIFE OF QHARLOTTE BRONTE trials ; the dying and the watching English girls were at that hour alone in a foreign country, and the soil of that country gave J essy a grave. . . . ' But, Jessy, I will write about you no more. This is an autumn evening, wet and wild. There is only one cloud in the sky ; but it curtains it from pole to pole. The wind cannot rest; it hurries sobbing over hills of sullen outline, colourless with twilight and mist. Eain had beat all day on that church tower' (Haworth) : ^it rises dark from the stony enclosure of its graveyard : the nettles, the long grass, and the tombs all drip with wet. This evening reminds me too forcibly of another evening some years ago : a howl- ing, rainy autumn evening too — when certain who had that day performed a pilgrimage to a grave new made in a her- etic cemetery, sat^near a wood fire on the hearth of a for- eign dwelling. They were merry and social, but they each knew that a gap, never to be filled, had been made in their circle. They knew they had lost something whose absence could never be quite atoned for, so long as they lived ; and they knew that heavy falling rain was soaking into the wet earth which covered their lost darling; and that the sad, sighing gale was mourning above her buried head. The fire warmed them ; Life and Friendship yet blessed them : but Jessy lay cold, coffined, solitary — only the sod screen- ing her from the storm.' This was the first death that had occurred in the small circle of Charlotte's immediate and intimate friends since the loss of her two sisters long ago. She was still in the midst of her deep sympathy with ^ Mary,' when word came from home that her aunt. Miss Branwell, was ail- ing — was very ill. Emily and Charlotte immediately resolved to go home straight, and hastily packed up for England, doubtful whether they should ever return to Brnssels or not, leaving all their relations with M. and Madame Heger, and the pensioiinat, uprooted, and un- certain of any future existence. Even before their de- DEATH OF MISS BRANWELL 253 parture, on the morning after they received the first intel- ligence of illness — when they were on the very point of starting — came a second letter, telling them of their aunt^s death. It could not hasten their movements, for every arrangement had been made for speed. They sailed from Antwerp ; they travelled night and day, and got home on a Tuesday morning. The funeral and all was over, and Mr. Bronte and Anne were sitting together, in quiet grief for the loss of one who had done her part well in their house- hold for nearly twenty years, and earned the regard and respect of many who never knew how much they would miss her till she was gone. The small property which she had accumulated, by dint of personal frugality and self- denial, was bequeathed to her nieces. Branwell, her dar- ling, was to have had his share ; but his reckless expenditure had distressed the good old lady, and his name was omitted in her will.^ When the first shock was over the three sisters began to enjoy the full relish of meeting again, after the longest separation they had had in their lives. They had much to tell of the past and much to settle for the future. Anne had been for some little time in a situation, to which she was to return at the end of the Christmas holidays. For another year or so they were again to be all three apart ; and, after that, the happy vision of being together and opening a school was to be realised. Of course they did not now look forward to settling at Burlington, or any other place which would take them away from their father; but the small sum which they each independently possessed would enable them to effect such alterations in the parson- ^ The statement about Branwell is scarcely accurate. From the will, which was proved at York, December 28, 1842. we learn that * my Japan dressing-box I leave to my nephew Branwell Bronte.' That none of Miss Branwell's money was left to her nephew must have been due solely to the aunt's wise recognition that the girls would be more in need of it. The money was divided between some of her female relatives at Penzance and her nieces at Haworth. 254 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE age house at Haworth as would adapt it to the reception of pupils. Anne^s plans for the interval were fixed. Em- ily quickly decided to be the daughter to remain at home. About Charlotte there was much deliberation and some discussion. Even in all the haste of their sudden departure from Brussels M. Heger had found time to write a letter of sympathy to Mr. Bronte on the loss which he had just sus- tained ; a letter containing such a graceful appreciation of the daughters' characters, under the form of a tribute of respect to their father, that I should have been tempted to copy it, even had there not also been a proposal made in it, respecting Charlotte, which deserves a place in the rec- ord of her life. ^Au Reverend Monsieur Bronte Pasteur Evangelique, ' Samedi, 5 o^^^. ^ Monsieur, — Un evenement bien triste decide mesde- moiselles vos filles a retourner brusquement en Angleterre. Ce depart qui nous afflige beaucoup a cependant ma com- plete approbation ; il est bien naturel qu'elles cherchent a vous consoler de ce que le ciel vient de vous oter, en se serrant autour de vous, pour mieux vous faire apprecier ce que le ciel vous a donne et ce qu'il vous laisse encore. J'espere que vous me pardonnerez, monsieur, de profiter de cette circonstance pour vous faire parvenir Texpression de mon respect ; je n'ai pas Thonneur de vous connaltre personnellement, et cependant j^eprouve pour votre per- sonne un sentiment de sincere veneration, car en jugeant un pere de famille par ses enfants on ne risque pas de se tromper, et sous se rapport Teducation et les sentiments que nous avons trouves dans mesdemoiselles vos filles n'ont pu que nous donner une tr^s haute idee de votre merite et de votre caractere. Vous apprendrez sans doute avec plaisir ^ue vos enfants ont fait du progres tres remarquable dans ifoutes les branches de Tenseignement, et que ces progres im LETTER OF M. HEGER TO MR. BRONTfi 255 sont entierement dlls a lenr amour pour le travail et a leur perseverance ; nous n'avons eu que bien pen a faire avec de pareilles eleves ; leur avancement est votre oeuvre bien plus que la notre ; nous n^avons pas eu a leur apprendre le prix du temps et de Tinstruction, elles avaient appris tout cela dans la maison paternelle^ et nous n^avons eu, pour notre part, que le faible merite de diriger leurs efforts et de fournir un aliment convenable a la louable activite que vos filles ont puisee dans votre exemple et dans vos legons. Puissent les eloges merites que nous donnons a vos en- fants vous etre de quelque consolation dans le malheur qui vous afflige ; c^est la notre espoir en vous ecrivant, et ce sera, pour mesdemoiselles Charlotte et Emily, une douce et belle recompense de leurs travaux. * En perdant nos deux cheres eleves, nous ne devons pas vous cacher que nous eprouvons a la fois et du chagrin et de ^inquietude ; nous sommes affliges parce que cette brusque separation vient briser Taffection presque paternelle que nous leur avons vouee, et notre peine s'augmente a la vue de tant de travaux interrompus, de tant de choses bien commencees, et qui ne demandent que quelque temps encore pour etre menees k bonne fin. Dans un an chacune de vos demoiselles eUt ete entierement premunie contre les eventualites de Tavenir; chacune d^elles acquerait a la fois et ^instruction et la science d^enseignement ; Mile Emily allait apprendre le piano ; recevoir des legons du meilleur professeur que nous ayons en Belgique, et deja elle avait elle-meme de petites eleves ; elle perdait done a la fois un reste d^ignorance et un reste plus genant encore de timidite ; Mile Charlotte commengait adonner des legons en frangais, et d'acquerir cette assurance, cet aplomb si necessaire dans Tenseignement : encore un an tout au plus et Toeuvre etait achevee et bien achevee. Alors nous aurious pu, si cela vous etit convenu, offrir a mesdemoiselles vos filles ou du moins a Tune des deux une position qui etit ete dans ses goiits, et qui lui etlt donne cette douce independance s'l difficile h trouver pour une jeune personne. Ce n'est pas, 256 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE croyez-le bien, monsieur, ce n^est pas ici pour nous une question d'interet personnel, c^est une question d^affection ; vous me pardonnerez si nous vous parlous de vos enfants, si nous nous occupons de leur avenir, comme si elles faisaient partiedenotre famille ; leurs qualites personnelles, leur bon vouloir, leur zele extreme sont les seules causes qui nous poussent k nous hasarder de la sorte. Nous savons, monsieur, que vous p^serez plus mtirement et plus sagement que nous la consequence qu'aurait pour Tavenir une inter- ruption complete dans les etudes de vos deux fiUes ; vous deciderez ce qu'il faut faire, et vous nous pardonnerez notre franchise, si vous daignez considerer que le motif qui nous fait agir est une affection bien desinteressee et qui s^affli- gerait beaucoup de devoir deja se resigner a n'etre plus utile k vos chers enfants. ^ Agreez, je vousprie, monsieur, Texpression respectueuse demes sentiments de haute consideration. 0. Heger/ There was so much truth, as well as so much kindness, in this letter — it was so obvious that a second year of in- struction would be far more valuable than the first — that there was no long hesitation before it was decided that Charlotte should return to Brussels. Meanwhile they enjoyed their Christmas all together in- expressibly. Branwell was with them; that was always a pleasure at this time ; whatever might be his faults, or even his vices, his sisters yet held him up as their family hope, as they trusted that he would some day be their family pride. They blinded themselves to the magnitude of the failings of which they were now and then told, by persuading themselves that such failings were common to all men of any strength of character; for, till sad experience taught them better, they fell into the usual error of confounding strong passions with strong character. Charlotte's friends came over to see her, and she re- turned the visit. Her Brussels life must have seemed like a dream, so completely, in this short space of time, did 1842 AT HOME AT HAWORTH 257 she fall back into the old household ways ; with more of household independence than she could ever have had dur- ing her aunt's lifetime. Winter though it was, the sisters took their accustomed walks on the snow-covered moors ; or went often down the long road to Keighley, for such books as had been added to the library there during their long absence from England. CHAPTER XII Towards the end of January the time came for Charlotte to return to Brussels. Her journey thither was rather disastrous. She had to make her way alone ; and the train from Leeds to London, which should have reached Eustoii Square early in the afternoon, was so much delayed that it did not get in till ten at night. She had intended to seek out the Chapter Colfee- house, where she had stayed before, and which would have been near the place where the steam- boats lay ; but she appears to have been frightened by the idea of arriving at an hour which, to Yorkshire notions, was so late and unseemly ; and taking a cab, therefore, at the station, she drove straight to the London Bridge Wharf, and desired a waterman to row her to the Ostend packet, which was to sail the next morning. She described to me, pretty much as she has since described it in ^Vil- lette,^ her sense of loneliness, and yet her strange pleasure in the excitement of the situation, as in the dead of that winter^s night she went swiftly over the dark river to the black hull's side, and was at first refused leave to ascend to the deck. ^ No passengers might sleep on board,' they said, with some appearance of disrespect. She looked back to the lights and subdued noises of London — that ^ Mighty Heart' in which she had no place — and, standing up in the rocking boat, she asked to speak to some one in authority on board the packet. He came, and her quiet, simple statement of her wish, and her reason for it, quelled the feeling of sneering distrust in those who had first heard her request ; and impressed the authority so favourably that he allowed her to come on board, and take possession 1843 RETURN TO BRUSSELS 259 of a berth. The next morning she sailed ; and at seven on Sunday evening she reached the Rue d'Isabelle once more, having only left Haworth on Friday morning at an early hour. Her salary was 161. a year ; out of which she had to pay for her German lessons, for which she was charged as much (the lessons being probably rated by time) as when Emily learnt with her and divided the expense, viz. ten francs a month. By Miss Bronte's own desire she gave her English lessons in the classe, or schoolroom, without the supervision of Madame or M. Heger. They offered to be present, with a view to maintain order among the unruly Belgian girls ; but she declined this, saying that she would rather enforce discipline by her own manner and character than be in- debted for obedience to the presence of a gendarme. She ruled over a new schoolroom, which had been built on the space in the playground adjoining the house. Over that First Class she was surveillante at all hours; and hence- forward she was called Mademoiselle Charlotte by M. Heger's orders. She continued her own studies, princi- pally attending to German and to Literature ; and every Sunday she went alone to the German and English chapels. Her walks too were solitary, and principally taken in the allee def endue, where she was secure from intrusion. This solitude was a perilous luxury to one of her temperament, so liable as she was to morbid and acute mental suffering. On March G, 1843, she writes thus : — ^ I am settled by this time, of course. I am not too much overloaded with occupation ; and besides teaching English I have time to improve myself in German. I ought to consider myself well off, and to be thankful for my good fortunes. I hope I am thankful ; and if I could always keep up my spirits and never feel lonely, or long for companionship, or friendship, or whatever they call it, I should do very well. As I told you before, M. and Ma- dame Heger are the only two persons in the house for whom I really experience regard and esteem, and of course I cannot be always with them, nor even very often. They 260 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE told me^ when I first returned, that I was to consider their sitting-room my sitting-room also, and to go there when- ever I was not engaged in the schoolroom. This, however, I cannot do. In the daytime it is a public room, where music masters and mistresses are constantly passing in and out ; and in the evening I will not and ought not to in- trude on M. and Madame Heger and their children. Thus I am a good deal by myself, out of school hours; but that does not signify. I now regularly give English lessons to M. Heger and his brother-in-law. They get on with won- derful rapidity, especially the first. He already begins to speak English very decently. If you could see and hear the efforts I make to teach them to pronounce like English- men, and their unavailing attempts to imitate, you would laugh to all eternity. ^The Carnival is just over, and we have entered upon the gloom and abstinence of Lent. The first day of Lent we had coffee without milk for breakfast ; vinegar and vegetables, with a very little salt fish, for dinner ; and bread for supper. The Carnival was nothing but masking and mummery. M. Heger took me and one of the pupils into the town to see the masks. It was animating to see the immense crowds, and the general gaiety, but the masks were nothing. I have boen twice to the D.s^^ (those cousins of ^Mary^s^ of whom I have before made mention). ^When she leaves Bruxelles I shall have nowhere to go to. I have had two letters from Mary. She does not tell me she has been ill, and she does not complain ; but her letters are not the letters of a person in the enjoyment of great happiness. She has nobody to be as good to her as M. Heger is to me; to lend her books ; to converse with her sometimes, &c. ^ Good-bye. When I say so it seems to me that you will hardly hear me; all the waves of the Channel heaving and roaring between must deaden the sound. ^ The Dixons. 2 This letter to Ellen Nussey was illustrated by a humorous pen-and- ink sketch of Charlotte Bronte saying ' Good-bye ' across the Channel. im HER SOLICITUDE IN THE ^PENSIONNAT' 261 From the tone of this letter it may easily be perceived that the Brussels of 1843 was a different place from that of 1842. Then she had Emily for a daily and nightly solace and companion. She had the weekly variety of a visit to the family of the D.s ; and she had the frequent happiness of seeing ^Mary^ and Martha. Now Emily was far away in Haworth — where she or any other loved one might die before Charlotte^ with her utmost speed, could reach them, as experience, in her aunt^s case, had taught her. The D.s were leaving Brussels; so, henceforth, her weekly holiday would have to be passed in the Rue d^Isabelle, or so she thought. ^Mary^ was gone off on her own independent course ; Martha alone remained — still and quiet for ever, in the cemetery beyond the Porte de Louvain. The weather, too, for the first few weeks after Charlotte^s return, had been piercingly cold; and her feeble constitution was always painfully sensitive to an inclement season. Mere bodily pain, however acute, she could always put aside ; but too often ill- health assailed her in a part far more to be dreaded. Her de- pression of spirits, when she was not well, was pitiful in its extremity. She was aware that it was constitutional, and could reason about it; but no reasoning prevented her suffer- ing mental agony while the bodily cause remained in force. The Hegers have discovered, since the publication of 'Villette,' that at this beginning of her career as English teacher in their school the conduct of her pupils was often impertinent and mutinous in the highest degree. But of this they were unaware at the time, as she had declined their presence and never made any complaint. Still it must have been a depressing thought to her at this period that her joyous, healthy, obtuse pupils were so little answer- able to the powers she could bring to bear upon them ; and though, from their own testimony, her patience, firmness, and resolution at length obtained their just reward, yet with one so weak in health and spirits the reaction after such struggles as she frequently had with her pupils must have been very sad and painful. 262 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE She thus writes to her friend Ellen : — ' April 1843. ^ Is there any talk of your coming to Brussels ? During the bitter cold weather we had through February, and the principal part of March, I did not regret that you had not accompanied me. If I had seen you shivering as I shivered myself, if I had seen your hands and feet as red and swelled as mine were, my discomfort would just have been doubled. I can do very well under this sort of thing ; it does not fret me ; it only makes me numb and silent ; but if you were to pass a winter in Belgium you would be ill. However, more genial weather is coming now, and I wish you were here. Yet I never have pressed you, and never would press you too warmly to come. There are privations and humiliations to submit to ; there is monotony and uniformity of life ; and, above all, there is a constant sense of solitude in the midst of numbers. The Protestant, the foreigner, is a solitary being, whether as teacher or pupil. I do not say this by way of complaining of my own lot ; for though I acknowl- edge that there are certain disadvantages in my present position, what position on earth is without them? And, whenever I turn back to compare what I am with what I was — my place here with my place at Mrs. (Sidgwick^s or Mrs. Whitens) — I am thankful. There was an observation in your last letter which excited, for a moment, my wrath. At first I thought it would be folly to reply to it, and I would let it die. Afterwards I determined to give one answer, once for all. Three or four people,'^ it seems, have the idea that the future epoicx of Mademoiselle Bronte is on the Continent. These people are wiser than I am. They could not believe that I crossed the sea merely to return as teacher to Madame Heger^s. I must have some more powerful motive than respect for my master and mistress, gratitude for their kindness, &c., to induce me to refuse a salary of 50Z. in England and accept one of 161. in Belgium. I must, forsooth, have some remote hope of entrapping a husband somehow, or somewhere. If these charitable people knew HER LETTERS FROM BRUSSELS 263 the total seclusion of the life I lead — that I never exchange a word with any other man than Monsieur Heger, and sel- dom indeed with him — they would, perhaps, cease to sup- pose that any such chimerical and groundless notion had influenced my proceedings. Have I said enough to clear myself of so silly an imputation ? Not that it is a crime to marry, or a crime to wish to be married ; but it is an im- becility, which I reject with contempt, for women, who have neither fortune nor beauty, to make marriage the prin- cipal object of their wishes and hopes, and the aim of all their actions ; not to be able to convince themselves that they are unattractive, and that they had better be quiet, and think of other things than wedlock/ The following is an extract, from one of the few letters which have been preserved, of her correspondence with her sister Emily — * Here is the actual letter. The original, from Charlotte Bronte and her Circle, is in the possession of Mr. A. B. Nicholls : — * Dear E. J., — The reason of the unconscionable demand for money is explained in my letter to papa. Would you believe it, Mile. Miihl demands as much for one pupil as for two, namely, ten francs per month. This, with the five francs per month to the hlanchisseuse, makes havoc in 16^. per annum. You will perceive I have begun again to take German lessons. Things wag on much as usual here. Only Mile. Blanche and Mile. Hausseare at present on a system of war without quarter. They hate each other like two cats. Mile. Blanche frightens Mile. Hausse by her white passions (for they quarrel venom- ously). Mile. Hausse complains that when Mile. Blanche is in fury elle na pas de Uvres." I find also that Mile. Sophie dislikes Mile. Blanche extremely. She says she is heartless, insincere, and vindictive, which epithets, I assure you, are richly deserved. Also I find she is the regular spy of Mme. Heger, to whom she reports everything. Also she invents— which I should not have thought. I have now the entire charge of the Englisli lessons. I have given two lessons to the first class. Hortense Jannoy was a picture on these occasions ; her face was black as a blue-piled thunder-loft," and her two ears were red as raw beef. To all questions asked her reply was, Je ne sais pas/' It is a pity but her friends could meet with a person qualified to cast out a devil. I am richly off for companionship in these parts. 364 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ' May 29, 1843. 'I get on here from day to day in a Robinson-Criisoe-like sort of way, very lonely, but that does not signify. In other respects I have nothing substantial to complain of, nor is this a cause for complaint. I hope you are well. Walk out often on the moors. My love to Tabby. I hope she keeps well.^ And about this time she wrote to her father — ' June 2, 1843. ^ I was very glad to hear from home. I had begun to get low-spirited at not receiving any news, and to entertain indefinite fears that something was wrong. You do not say anything about your own health, but I hope you are well, and Emily also. I am afraid she will have a good deal of hard work to do now that Hannah^ (a servant girl who had been assisting Tabby) ^is gone. I am exceedingly glad to Of late days M. and Mme. Heger rarely speak to me, and I really don't pretend to care a fig for anybody else in the establishment. You are not to suppose by that expression that I am under the influence of warm affection for Mme. Heger. I am convinced that she does not like me— why I can't tell, nor do I think she herself has any definite reason for the aversion ; but, for one thing, she cannot comprehend why I do not make intimate friends of Mesdames Blanche, Sophie, and Hausse. M. Heger is wondrously influenced by Madame, and I should not wonder if he disapproves very much of my unamiable want of sociability. He has already given me a brief lecture on uni- versal hienmillance, and, perceiving that I don't improve in conse- quence, I fancy he has taken to considering me as a person to be let alone, left to the error of her ways ; and consequently he has in a great measure withdrawn the light of his countenance, and I get on from day to day in a Robinson-Crusoe-like condition— very lonely. That does not signify. In other respects I have nothing substantial to complain of, nor is even this a cause for complaint. Except the loss of M. Heger's goodwill (if I have lost it) I care for none of 'em. I hope you are well and hearty. Walk out often on the moors. Sorry am I to hear that Hannah is gone, and that she has left you burdened with the charge of the little girl, her sister. I hope Tabby will continue to stay with you —give my love to her. Regards to the fighting gentry, and to old asthma.— Your C. B.' 1843 DEVOIR *SUR LA MORT DE NAPOLEON' 265 hear that you still keep Tabby ^ (considerably upwards of seventy). ' It is an act of great charity to her, and I do not think it will be unrewarded, for she is very faithful, and will always serve you, when she has occasion, to the best of her abilities ; besides, she will be company for Emily, who, without her, would be very lonely.' I gave a devoir, written after she had been four months under M. Heger's tuition. I will now copy out another, written nearly a year later, during which the progress made appears to me very great. ' 31 mai 1843. ^SUR LA MoRT DE NAPOLEON. ^ Napoleon naquit en Corse et mourut a Sainte-Helene. Entre ces deux iles rien qu'un vaste et brtilant desert et i'ocean immense. II naquit fils d'un simple gentilhomme, et mourut empereur, mais sans couronne et dans les fers. Entre son berceau et sa tombe qu^y a-t-il ? la carriere d^'un soldat parvenu, des champs de bataille, une mer de sang, un trone, puis du sang encore, et des fers. Sa vie, c'est Tarc- en-ciel; les deux points extremes touchent la terre, le comble lumineux mesure les cieux. Sur Napoleon au berceau une mere brillait ; dans la maison paternelle il avait des freres et des soeurs ; plus tard dans son palais il eut une femme qui Taimait. Mais sur son lit de mort Napoleon est seul ; plus de mere, ni de frfere, ni de soeur, ni de femme, ni d'enfant ! ! D'autres ont dit et rediront ses exploits, moi, je m'arrete a contempler Tabandonnement de sa derni^re heure. ^ II est la, exile et captif, enchatne sur un ecueil. Nouveau Promethee, il subit le chatiment de son orgueil ! Promebhee avait voulu etre Dieu et Createur ; il deroba le feu du Ciel pour animer le corps qu'il avait forme. Et lui, Buonaparte, il a voulu creer, non pas un homme, mais un empire, et pour donner une existence, une ame, a son oeuvre gigiintesque il n'a pas hesite a arracher la vie a des nations entieres. Jupiter 266 LIFE OF (CHARLOTTE BRONTE indigne de Timpiete de Promethee, le riva vivant a la cime dn Caucase. Ainsi, pour punir Fambition rapace de Buona- parte, la Providence Fa enchatne, jusqu^a ce que la mort s^en suivit, sur un roc isole de FAtlantique. Peut-etre Ik aussi a-t-il senti lui fouillant le flanc cet insatiable vautour dont parle la fable, peut-etre a-t-il souffert aussi cette soif du coeur, cette faim de Fame, qui torturent Fexile, loin de sa famille et de sa patrie. Mais parler ainsi n^est-ce pas attribuer gratuitement a Napoleon une humaine faiblesse qu^'il n'eprouva jamais ? Quand done s^est-il laisse en- chamer par un lien d'affection ? Sans doute d'autres con- querants ont hesite dans leur carriere de gloire, arretes par un obstacle d^amour ou d^arnitie, retenus par la main d^une f emme, rappeles par la voix d^un ami — lui, jamais ! II n^eut pas besoin, comme Ulysse, de se Her au mat du navire, ni de se boucher les oreilles avec de la cire ; il ne redoutait pas le chant des Sirenes — il le dedaignait ; il se fit marbre et fer pour executer ses grands projets. Napoleon ne se regardait pas comme un homme, mais comme Fincarnation d'mi peuple. II n^aimait pas ; il ne considerait ses amis et ses proches que comme des imstruments auxquels il tint, tant quails furent utiles, et qu'il jeta cote quand ils ces- serent de Fetre. Qu^on ne se permette done pas d^approcher du sepulcre du Corse avec sentiments de pitie, ou de souil- ler de larmes la pierre qui couvre ses restes, son ame re- pudierait tout cela. On a dit, je le sais, qu^elle f ut crenelle la main qui le separa de sa femme et de son enfant. Non, c'etait une main qui, comme la sienne, ne tremblait ni de passion ni de crainte, c^etait la main d^un homme froid, convaincu, qui avait su deviner Buonaparte; et voici ce que disait cet homme que la defaite n'a pu humilier, ni la victoire enorgueillir. Marie-Louise n^est pas la femme de Napoleon ; c'est la France que Napoleon a epousee ; c^est la France qu^il aime, leur union enfante la perte de FEurope ; voila le divorce que je veux — voiU Funion qu'il faut bristr." ^ La voix des timides et des traitres protesta centre cette 1843 DEVOIR ' SUR LA MORT DE NAPOLEON 267 sentence. ^^C'est abuser de droit de la victoire ! C'est fouler aux pieds le vaincu ! Que TAngieterre se montre clemente, qu^elle ouvre ses bras pour recevoir comme bote son ennemi desarme/' L^Angleterre aurait peut-etre ecoute ce conseil, car partout et toujours il y a des ames faibles et timorees bientot seduites par la flatterie ou effrayees par le reproche. Mais la Providence permit qu^un homme se trouvat qui n^a jamais su ce que c^est que la crainte ; qui aima sa patrie mieux que sa renommee ; impenetrable de- vant les menaces^ inaccessible aux louanges, il se presenta devant le conseil de la nation, et levant son front tranquille en haut, il osa dire : Que la trahison se taise ! car c^est trahir que de conseiller de temporiser avec Buonaparte. Moi je sais ce que sont ces guerres dont TEurope saigne encore, comme une victime sous le couteau du boucher. II faut en finir avec Napoleon Buonaparte. Vous vous effrayez k tort d'un mot si dur ! Je n^ai pas de magnanimite, dit- on? Soit ! que m'importe ce qu'on dit de moi ? Je n^ai pas ici a me faire une reputation de heros magnanime, mais k guerir, si la cure est possible, TEurope qui se meurt, epuisee de ressources et de sang, TEurope dont vous ne- gligez les vrais interets, preoccupes que vous etes d'une vaine renommee de clemence. Vous etes faibles ! Eh bien ! je viens vous aider. Envoyez Buonaparte a Sainte-Heldne ! n'hesitez pas, ne cherchez pas un autre endroit ; c'est le seul convenable. Je vous le dis, j^ai reflechi pour vous; c'est la qu^il doit etre, et non pas ailleurs. Quant a Na- poleon, homme, soldat, je n'ai rien centre lui ; c'est un lion royal, aupres de qui vous n'etes que des chacals. Mais Na- poleon empereur, c^est autre chose, je Textirperai du sol de TEurope."^ Et celui qui parla ainsi toujours sut garder sa promesse, celle-la comme toutes les autres. Je Tai dit, et je le repete, cet homme est Tegal de Napoleon par le genie ; comme trempe de caractere, comme droiture, comme Elevation de pensee et de but, il est d^une tout autre espece. Napoleon Buonaparte etait avide de renommee et de gloire : Arthur Wellesley ne se soucie ni de Tune ni de Fautre ; 268 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ropinion publiqne. la popularite, etaient clioses de grand valeur aux yenx de Napoleon ; pour Wellington Topinion publique est une rumeur, nn rien que le souffle de son in- flexible volonte fait disparaitre comme une bulle de savon. Napoleon flattait le peuple ; Wellington le brusque ; Tun cherchait les applaudissements, Fautre ne se soucie que du temoignage de sa conscience ; quand elle approuve, c'est assez ; tout autre louange Fobsede. Aussi ce peuple, qui adorait Buonaparte, s^'irritait, s^insurgeait centre la morgue de Wellington ; parfois il lui temoigna sa colere et sa liaine par des grognements, par des hurlements de betes fauves ; et alors, avec une impassibilite de senateur remain, le mo- derne Coriolan toisait du regard Femeute furieuse ; il croi- sait ses bras nerveux sur sa large poitrine, et seul, debput sur son seuil, il attendait, il bravait cette tempete popu- laire dont les flots venaient mourir a quelques pas de lui : et quand la foule, honteuse de sa rebellion, venait lecher les pieds du maitre, le hantain patricien meprisait Fhom- mage d'aujourd'hui comme la haine d^hier, et dans les rues de Londres, et devant son palais ducal d^Apsley, il repoussait d^un genre plein de froid dedain Fincommode empresse- ment du peuple enthousiaste. Oette fierte neanmoins n'excluait pas en lui une rare modestie ; partout il se sou- strait a Feloge ; se derobe au panegyrique ; jamais il ne parle de ses exploits, et jamais il ne souffre qu'un autre lui en parle en sa presence. Son caractere egale en grandeur et surpasse en verite celui de tout autre heros ancien ou moderne. La gloire de Napoleon cr6t 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 ombrag- ent 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 fonde- ments solides de la terre ; mais alors, Farbre seculaire, in- ebranlable comme le roc il a sa base, brave et la faux du temps et Feffort des vents et des tempetes. II faudra pent- 1843 WELLINGTON AND BUONAPARTE 269 etre nu siecle a TAiigleterre poor qu'elle connaisse la valeur de son lieros. Dans un siecle TEurope entiere saura com- bien Wellington a des droits a 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 England or for Wellington. She now felt that she had made great progress towards obtaining pro- ficiency in the French language, which had been her main object in coming to Brussels. But to the zealous learner ^Alps on Alps arise. ^ NTo 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 for- bade. 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 vic- tor 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 1, 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 dur- 270 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ing 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 de- tails; nothing will be uninteresting. Do not think it is because people are unkind to me that I wish to leave Bel- gium; 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 grmides 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 dis- covered 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 ALONE IN BRUSSELS 271 so 1 I off in another country, became a terrible reality, op- presoing 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/ ^ An interesting letter to Emily, printed in Charlotte Bronte and her Circle, was written at this time. It gives the actual facts of a famous incident in Villette : — * Bruxelles : September 2, 1843. • Dear E. J., — Another opportunity of writing to you coming to pass, I shall improve it by scribbling a few lines. More than half the holi- days are now past, and rather better than I expected. The weather has been exceedingly fine during the last fortnight, and yet not so Asiatically hot as it was last year at this time. Consequently I have tramped about a great deal and tried to get a clearer acquaintance with the streets of Bruxelles. This week, as no teacher is here except Mile. Blanche, who is returned from Paris, I am always alone except at meal times, for Mile. Blanche's character is so false and so contempti- ble 1 can't force myself to associate with her. She perceives my ut- ter dislike and never now speaks to me — a great relief. ' However, I should inevitably fall into the gulf of low spirits if I stayed always by myself here without a human being to speak to, so I go out and traverse the Boulevards and streets of Bruxelles some- times for hours together. Yesterday I went on a pilgrimage to the cemetery, and far beyond it on to a hill where there was nothing but fields as far as the horizon. When I came back it was evening ; but I had such a repugnance to return to the house, which contained nothing that I cared for, I §till kept threading the streets in the neigh- bourhood of the Rue d'Isabelle and avoiding it. I found myself op- posite to Ste. Gudule, and the bell, whose voice you know, began to toll for evening salut. I went in, quite alone (which procedure you will say is not much like me), wandered about the aisles, where a few old women were saying their prayers, till vespers began. I stayed till they were over. Still I could not leave the church or force myself to go home — to school I mean. An odd whim came into my head. In a solitary part of the Cathedral six or seven people still remained kneeling by the confessionals. In two confessionals I saw a priest. I felt as if I did not care what I did, provided it was not absolutely wrong, and that it served to vary my life and yield a moment's inter- est. I took a fancy to change myself into a Catholic and go and make a real confession, to see what it was like. Knowing me as you do, you will think this odd, but when people are by themselves they have singular fancies. A penitent was occupied in confessing. Tliey do 272 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE In the daytime^ driven abroad by loathing of her com- panion and by the weak restlessness of fever^ she tried to walk herself into such a state of bodily fatigue as would in- duce 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 again — anywhere but to the pensionnat — out to the cemetery where Martha lay — out 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 footsteps — sick for want not go into the sort of pew or cloister which the priest occupies, but kneel down on the steps and confess through a grating. Both the confessor and the penitent whisper very low, you can hardly hear their voices. After I had watched two or three penitents go and re- turn I approached at last and knelt down in a niche which was just vacated. I had to kneel there ten minutes waiting, for on the other side was another penitent, invisible to me. At last that went away and a little wooden door inside the grating opened, and I saw the priest leaning his ear towards me. I was obliged to begin, and yet I did not know a word of the formula with which they always com- mence their confessions. It was a funny position. I felt precisely as I did when alone on the Thames at midnight. I commenced with saying I was a foreigner and had been brought up as a Protestant. The priest asked if I was a Protestant then. I somehow could not tell a lie and said Yes." He replied that in that case I could not ''jouir du bonheur de la confesse;" but I was determined to confess, and at last he said he would allow me, because it might be the first step towards returning to the true Church. I actually did confess — a real confession. When I had done he told me his address, and said that every morning I was to go to the Rue du Pare — to his house — and he would reason with me and try to convince me of the error and enormity of being a Protestant ! I ! I promised faithfully to go. Of course, however, the adventure stops there, and I hope I shall never see the priest again. I think you had better not tell papa of this. He will not understand that it was only a freak, and will perhaps think I am going to turn Catholic. Trusting that you and papa are well, and also Tabby and the Holyes, and hoping you will write to me im- mediately, I am yours, im DEPRESSION AND HOME SICKNESS 373 of food, but not hungry ; fatigued with long-continued ex- ercise — yet 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 reopened, and her positive practical duties recommenced. She writes thus on October 13, 1843^ : — ^ Mary (Taylor) 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 Brus- sels 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(ixon)s left I have had no friend. I had, indeed, some very kind ac- quaintances in the family of a Dr. (Wheelwright), 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 ut- terly 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 Ma- dame 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 Ellen Nussey. 274 ! LiJ^Ji. Vi< CJHAKLUl^TE BRONTE to return to England to do nothing. I am too old for that now ; but if I could hear of a favourable oppor- tunity for commencing a school^ I think I should em- brace 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 with- out a backbone ; 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(ixon) 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 ques- tion ; I have not answered it. However, when I have ac- quired as much German as I think fit I think I shall pack up bag and baggage, and depart. Twinges of home-sick- ness cut me to the heart, every now and then. To-day the weather is glaring, and I am stupefied 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, dur- ing 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 as- tonished the first time I was left alone thus ; when every- body else was enjoying the pleasures of a fete day with ^ The late Mr. George Dbcon, afterwards M.P. for Birmingham. 2 This, it is hardly necessary to say, is ironical. In a previous letter to the same correspondeut ahe says, ' Madame Heger is a politic, plausi- ble, and interested person. I no longer trust her.' im ESTRANGEMENT FROM MADAME HEGER 275 their friends, and she knew I was quite by myself, and never took the least notice of me. Yet, I understand, she praises me very much to everybody, and says what excellent lessons I give. She is not colder to me than she is to the other teachers; but they are less dependent on her than I am. They have relations and acquaintances in Bruxelles. You remember the letter she wrote me, when I was in Eng- land ? How kind and affectionate that was ! is it not odd? In the meantime the complaints I make at present are a sort of relief which I permit myself. In all other respects I am well satisfied with my position, and you may say so to people who inquire after me (if any one does). Write to me, dear, whenever you can. You do a good deed when you send me a letter, for you comfort a very desolate heart. ^ One of the reasons for the silent estrangement between Madame Heger and Miss Bronte, in the second year of her residence at Brussels, is to be found in the fact that the English Protestant's dislike of Romanism increased with her knowledge of it, and its effects upon those who professed it; and when occasion called for an expression of opinion from Charlotte Bronte she was uncompromising truth. Madame Heger, on the opposite side, was not merely a Roman Cath- olic, she was devote. Not of a warm or impulsive temper- ament, she was naturally governed by her conscience, rather than by her affections ; and her conscience was in the hands of her religious guides. She considered any slight thrown upon her Church as blasphemy against the Holy Truth; and, though she was not given to open ex- pression of her thoughts and feelings, yet her increasing coolness of behaviour showed how much her most cherished opinions had been wounded. Thus, although there was never any explanation of Madame Heger's change of man- ner, this may be given as one great reason why, about this time, Charlotte was made painfully conscious of a silent estrangement between them ; an estrangement of which. 276 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE perhaps^ the former was hardly aware. I have before al- luded to intelligence from home, calculated to distress Charlotte exceedingly with fears respecting Branwell, which I shall speak of more at large when the realisation of her worst apprehensions came to affect the daily life of herself and her sisters. I allude to the subject again here, in order that the reader may remember the gnawing private cares which she had to bury in her own heart ; and the pain of which could only be smothered for a time under the diligent fulfilment of present duty. Another dim sor- row was faintly perceived at this time. Her father's eye- sight began to fail ; it was not unlikely that he might shortly become blind ; more of his duty must devolve on a curate, and Mr. Bronte, always liberal, would have to pay at a higher rate than he had heretofore done for this as- sistance. She wrote thus to Emily : — ' Dec. 1, 1843. ^ This is Sunday morning. They are at their idolatrous " messe,'^ and I am here — that is, in the refectoire. I should like uncommonly to be in the dining-room at home, or in the kitchen, or in the back kitchen. I should like even to be cutting up the hash, with the clerk and some register people at the other table, and you standing by, watching that I put enough flour, and not too much pepper, and, above all, that I save the best pieces of the leg of mutton for Tiger and Keeper, the first of which personages would be jumping about the dish and carving-knife, and the lat- ter standing like a devouring flame on the kitchen floor. To complete the picture. Tabby blowing the fire, in order to boil the potatoes to a sort of vegetable glue ! How di- vine are these recollections to me at this moment ! Yet I have no thought of coming home just now. I lack a real pretext for doing so ; it is true this place is dismal to me, but I cannot go home without a fixed prospect when I get there ; and this prospect must not be a situation ; that would be jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire. You 1843 ANXIETY TO RETURN HOME 277 call yourself idle ! absurd, absurd ! ... Is papa well ? Are you well ? and Tabby ? You ask about Queen Victoria's visit to Brussels. I saw her for an instant flashing through the Rue Roy ale in a carriage and six, surrounded by sol- diers. She was laughing and talking very gaily. She looked a little stout, vivacious lady, very plainly dressed, not much dignity or pretension about her. The Belgians liked her very well on the whole. They said she enlivened the sombre Court of King Leopold, which is usually as gloomy as a conventicle. AVrite to me again soon. Tell me whether papa really wants me very much to come home, and whether you do likewise. I have an idea that 1 should be of no use there — a sort of aged person upon the parish. I pray, with heart and soul, that all may continue well at Haworth; above all in our grey, half-inhabited house. God bless the walls thereof ! Safety, health, happiness, and prosperity to you, papa, and Tabby. Amen. 0. B.' Towards the end of this year (1843) various reasons con- spired with the causes of anxiety which have been mentioned to make her feel that her presence was absolutely and im- peratively required at home, while she had acquired all that she proposed to herself in coming to Brussels the second time ; and was, moreover, no longer regarded with the former kindliness of feeling by Madame Heger. In conse- quence of this state of things, working down with sharp edge into a sensitive mind, she suddenly announced to that lady her immediate intention of returning to England. Both M. and Madame Heger agreed that it would be for the best, when they learnt only that part of the case which she could reveal to them — namely, Mr. Bronte's increasing blindness. But as the inevitable moment of separation from people and places, among which she had spent so many happy hours, drew near, her spirits gave way ; she had the natural pre- sentiment that she saw them all for the last time, and she received but a dead kind of comfort from being reminded by her friends that Brussels and Haworth were not so very 278 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE far apart ; that access from one place to the other was not so difficult or impracticable as her tears would seem to predi- cate ; nay, there was some talk of one of Madame Heger^s daughters being sent to her as a pupil, if she fulfilled her intention of trying to begin a school. To facilitate her success in this plan, should she ever engage in it, M. Heger gave her a kind of diploma, dated from and sealed with the seal of the Athenee Royal de Bruxelles, certifying that she was perfectly capable of teaching the French language, having well studied the grammar and composition thereof, and, moreover, having prepared herself for teaching by studying and practising the best methods of instruction. This certificate is dated December 29, 1843, and on January 2, 1844, she arrived at Haworth. On the 23rd of the month she writes as follows — ^ Every one asks me what I am going to do, now that I am returned home ; and every one seems to expect that I should immediately commence a school. In truth, it is what I should wish to do. I desire it above all things. I have sufficient money for the undertaking, and I hope now sufficient qualifications to give me a fair chance of success; yet I cannot yet permit myself to enter upon life — to touch the object which seems now within my reach, and which I have been so long straining to attain. You will ask me why. It is on papa^s account ; he is now, as you know, getting old, and it grieves me to tell you that he is losing his sight. I have felt for some months that I ought not to be away from him; and I feel now that it would be too selfish to leave him (at least as long as Bran well and Anne are absent), in order to pursue selfish interests of my own. With the help of God I will try to deny myself in this mat- ter, and to wait. ^ I suffered much before I left Brussels. I think, how- ever long I live, I shall not forget what the parting with M. ^ To Ellen Nussey 1844 KINDNESS OF HER NATURE 279 Heger cost me ; it grieved me so much to grieve him, who has been so true, kind^ and disinterested a friend.^ At parting he gave me a kind of diploma certifying my abili- ties as a teacher, sealed with the seal of the Athenee Royal, of which he is professor. I was surprised also at the degree of regret expressed by my Belgian pupils, when they knew I was going to leave. I did not think it had been in their phlegmatic nature. ... I do not know whether you feel as I do, but there are times now when it appears to me as if all my ideas and feelings, except a few friendships and af- fections, are changed from what they used to be ; some- thing in me, which used to be enthusiasm, is tamed down and broken. I have fewer illusions ; what I wish for now is active exertion — a stake in life. Haworth seems such a lonely, quiet spot, buried away from the world. I no longer regard myself as young — indeed, I shall soon be twenty- eight ; and it seems as if I ought to be working and brav- ing the rough realities of the world, as other people do. It is, however, my duty to restrain this feeling at present, and I will endeavour to do so.' Of course her absent sister and brother obtained a holi- day to welcome her return home, and in a few weeks she was spared to pay a visit to her friend at B(irstall). But she was far from well or strong, and the short journey of fourteen miles seems to have fatigued her greatly. Soon after she came back to Haworth, in a letter to one of the household in which she had been staying, there ' M. and Mme. Heger celebrated their golden wedding in 1888, but Mme. Heger died the next year. M. Constantin Heger lived to be eii^hty-seven years of age, dying at 72 Rue Nettoyer, Brussels, on May 6, 1896. He was born in Brussels in 1809, took part in the Belgian revo- lution of 1830, and fought in the war of independence against the Dutch. He was twice married, and it was his second wife who was associated with Charlotte Bronte. She started the school in the Rue d'Isabelle, and M. Heger took charge of the upper French classes. The Pensionnat Heger was removed in 1894 to the Avenue Louise. I had an interview with Mile. Heger in 1895. Her father, however, was too ill to see me. 280 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE occurs this passage : ^ Our poor little cat has been ill two days, and is just dead. It is piteous to see even an animal lying lifeless. Emily is sorry. ^ These few words relate to points in the characters of the two sisters which I must dwell upon a little. Charlotte was more than commonly tender in her treatment of all dumb creatures, and they, with that fine instinct so often noticed, were invariably attracted towards her. The deep and exaggerated con- sciousness of her personal defects — the constitutional ab- sence of hope, which made her slow to trust in human affection, and, consequently, slow to respond to any mani- festation of it — made her manner shy and constrained to men and women, and even to children. We have seen something of this trembling distrust of her own capability of inspiring affection in the grateful surprise she expresses at the regret felt by her Belgian pupils at her departure. But not merely were her actions kind, her words and tones were ever gentle and caressing, towards animals : and she quickly noticed the least want of care or tenderness on the part of others towards any poor brute creature. The readers of ^Shirley' may remember that it is one of the tests which the heroine applies to her lover : — ^Do you know what soothsayers I would consult ?^ . . . ' The little Irish beggar that comes barefoot to my door ; the mouse that steals out of the cranny in my wainscot ; the bird in frost and snow that pecks at my window for a crumb ; the dog that licks my hand and sits beside my knee. ... I know somebody to whose knee the black cat loves to climb, against whose shoulder and cheek it likes to purr. The old dog always comes out of his kennel and wags his tail, and whines affectionately when somebody pass- es.' [For ^somebody 'and ^he,' read ^Charlotte Bronte 'and ^she.'] ^ He quietly strokes the cat, and lets her sit while he conveniently can ; and when he must disturb her by rising he puts her softly down, and never flings her from him rough- ly : he always whistles to the dog, and gives him a caress.' 1844 EMILY AND HER DOG ^KEEPER' 281 The feeling, which in Charlotte partook of something of the nature of an affection, was, with Emily, more of a passion. Some one speaking of her to me, in a careless kind of strength of expression, said, ^She never showed regard to any human creature ; all her love was reserved for animals/ The helplessness of an animal was its passport to Charlotte^s heart; the fierce, wild intractability of its nature was what often recommended it to Emily. Speak- ing of her dead sister, the former told me that from her many traits in Shirley^s character were taken : her way of sitting on the rug reading, with her arm round her rough bulldog's neck ; her calling to a strange dog, run- ning past, with hanging head and lolling tongue, to give it a merciful draught of water, its maddened snap at her, her nobly stern presence of mind, going right into the kitchen, and taking up one of Tabby's red-hot Italian irons to sear the bitten place, and telling no one, till the danger was wellnigh over, for fear of the terrors that might beset their weaker minds. All this, looked upon as well- invented fiction in ' Shirley,' was written down by Charlotte with streaming eyes ; it was the literal true account of what Emily had done. The same tawny bulldog (with his ^ strangled whistle called ' Tartar ^ in ' Shirley,^ was ^ Keeper^ in Ilaworth Parsonage; a gift to Emily. With the gift came a warning. Keeper was faithful to the depths of his nature as long as he was with friends ; but he who struck him with a stick or whip roused the relentless nature of the brute, who flew at his throat forthwith, and held him there till one or the other was at the point of death. Now Keeper's household fault was this : he loved to steal upstairs, and stretch his square tawny limbs on the comfortable beds, covered over with delicate white coun- terpanes. But the cleanliness of the parsonage arrange- ments was perfect; and this habit of Keeper's was so objectionable that Emily, in reply to Tabby's remonstrances, declared that, if he was found again transgressing, she her- self, in defiance of warning and his well-known ferocity of 282 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE nature, would beat him so severely that he would never offend again. In the gathering dusk of an autumn evening Tabby came, half triumphantly, half tremblingly, but in great wrath, to tell Emily that Keeper was lying on the best bed, in drowsy voluptuousness. Charlotte saw Emily's whitening face and set mouth, but dared not speak to in- terfere ; no one dared when Emily's eyes glowed in that manner out of the paleness of her face, and when her lips were compressed into stone. She went upstairs, and Tabby and Charlotte stood in the gloomy passage below, full of the dark shadows of coming night. Downstairs came Emily, dragging after her the unwilling Keeper, his hind legs set in a heavy attitude of resistance, held by the ^scuft of his neck,' but growling low and savagely all the time. The watchers would fain have spoken, but durst not, for fear of taking off Emily's attention, and causing her to avert her head for a moment from the enraged brute. She let him go, planted in a dark corner at the bottom of the stairs ; no time was there to fetch stick or rod, for fear of the strangling clutch at her throat — her bare clenched fist struck against his red fierce eyes, before he had time to make his spring, and, in the language of the turf, she ^punished him^ till his eyes were swelled up, and the half- blind, stupefied beast was led to his accustomed lair to have his swollen head fomented and cared for by the very Emily herself. The generous dog owed her no grudge ; he loved her dearly ever after ; he walked first among the mourners at her funeral ; he slept moaning for nights at the door of her empty room, and never, so to speak, re- joiced, dog fashion, after her death. He, in his turn, was mourned over by the surviving sister. Let us somehow hope, in half Red-Indian creed, that he follows Emily now ; and, when he rests, sleeps on some soft white bed of dreams, unpunished when he awakes to the life of the land of shadows. Now we can understand the force of the words, ^Our poor little cat is dead. Emily is sorry.' CHAPTEK XIII The moors were a great resource this spring; Emily and Charlotte walked out on them perpetually, ^to the great damage of our shoes, but, I hope, to the benefit of our health/ The old plan of school-keeping was often dis- cussed in these rambles ; but indoors they set with vigour to shirt-making for the absent Branwell, and pondered in silence over their past and future life. At last they came to a determination. ^I have seriously entered into the enterprise of keeping a school — or rather taking a limited number of pupils at home. That is, I have begun in good earnest to seek for pupils. I wrote to Mrs. (White)' (the lady with whom she had lived as governess, just before going to Brussels), "^not asking her for her daughter — I cannot do that — but inform- ing her of my intention. I received an answer from Mr. (White) expressive of, I believe, sincere regret that I had not informed them a month sooner, in which case, he said, they would gladly have sent me their own daughter, and also Colonel KS(tott)'s, but that now both were promised to Miss C(orkhills). I was partly disappointed by this answer, and partly gratified ; indeed, I derived quite an impulse of encouragement from the warm assurance that if I had but applied a little sooner they would certainly have sent me their daughter. I own I had misgivings that nobody would be willing to send a child for education to Haworth. These misgivings are partly done away with. I have writ- ten also to Mrs. B(usfeild), of Keighley, and have enclosed the diploma which M. Heger gave me before I left Brus- 284 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE sels. I have not yet received her answer, but I wait for it with some anxiety. I do not expect that she will send me any of her children, but if she would I dare say she could recommend me other pupils. Unfortunately she knows us only very slightly. As soon as I can get an assurance of only one pupil, I will have cards of terms printed, and will commence the repairs necessary in the house. I wish all that to be done before winter. I think of fixing the board and English education at per annum. Again, at a later date, July 24 in the same year, she writes — ^ I am driving on with my small matter as well as I can. I have written to all the friends on whom I have the slight- est claim, and to some on whom I have no claim ; Mrs. B(usfeild), for example. On her, also, I have actually made bold to call. She was exceedingly polite ; regretted that her children were already at school at Liverpool ; thought the undertaking a most praiseworthy one, but feared I should have some difficulty in making it succeed on account of the situatio7i. Such is the answer I receive from almost every one. I tell them the retired situation is, in some points of view, an advantage ; that were it in the midst of a large town I could not pretend to take pupils on terms so moderate — Mrs. B(usfeild) remarked that she thought the terms very moderate — but that, as it is, not having house-rent to pay, we can offer the same privileges of education that are to be had in expensive seminaries, at little more than half their price ; and, as our number must be limited, we can devote a large share of time and pains to each pupil. Thank you for the very pretty little purse you have sent me. I make you a cu- rious return in the shape of half a dozen cards of terms. Make such use of them as your judgment shall dictate. You will see that I have fixed the sum at 35Z., which I think is the just medium, considering advantages and dis- advantages.^ 1844 DISTRIBUTION OF CIRCULAR 285 This was written in July; August, September, and Octo- ber passed away, and no pupils were to be heard of. Day after day there was a little hope felt by the sisters until the post came in. But Haworth village was wild and lonely, and the Brontes but little known, owing to their want of connections. Charlotte writes on the subject, in the early winter months, to this effect : — ^I, Emily, and Anne are truly obliged to you for the efforts you have made in our behalf ; and if you have not been successful you are only like ourselves. Every one wishes us well ; but there are no pupils to be had. We have no present intention, however, of breaking our hearts on the subject, still less of feeling mortified at defeat. The effort must be beneficial, whatever the result may be, be- cause it teaches us experience, and an additional knowledge of this world. I send you two more circulars.^ ^ ^ The circular ran as follows : — THE MISSES BRONTfi'S ESTABLISHMENT FOR THE BOARD A]^D EDUCATIOK OP A LIMITED NUMBER OP YOUNG LADIES, THE PARSONAGE, HAWORTH, NEAR BRADFORD. Terms. Board and Education, including AVriting, Arithmetic, History, Gram-1 £ s. d. 35 0 0 110 Music -J , ^ Drawing } * ' Quarter 110 Use of Piano Forte, per Quarter Washing, per Quarter . . . 0 5 0 0 15 0 Each Young Lady to be provided with One Pair of Sheets, Pillow Cases, Four Towels, a Dessert and Tea Spoon. A Quarter's Notice, or a Quarter's Board, is required previous to the Removal of a Pupil. 286 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE A month later she says : — ' We have made no alterations yet in our house. It would be folly to do so, while there is so little likelihood of our ever getting pupils. I fear you are giving yourself too much trouble on our account. Depend upon it, if you were to persuade a mamma to bring her child to Haworth, the as- pect of the place would frighten her, and she would prob- ably take the dear girl back with her instanter. We are glad that we have made the attempt, and we will not be cast down because it has not succeeded.^ There were, probably, growing up in each sister's heart secret unacknowledged feelings of relief that their plan had not succeeded. Yes ! a dull sense of relief that their cher- ished project had been tried and had failed. For that house, which was to be regarded as an occasional home for their brother, could hardly be a fitting residence for the children of strangers. They had, in all likelihood, become silently aware that his habits were such as to render his society at times most undesirable. Possibly, too, they had, by this time, heard distressing rumours concerning the cause of that remorse and agony of mind which at times made him restless and unnaturally merry, at times rendered him moody and irritable. In January 1845 Charlotte says, ^ Branwell has been quieter and less irritable on the whole this time than he was in summer. Anne is, as usual, always good, mild, and patient.' The deep-seated pain which he was to occasion to his relations had now taken a decided form, and pressed heavily on Charlotte's health and spirits. Early in this year she went to H.* to bid good-bye to her dear friend ^ Mary,' who was leaving England for Australia. Branwell, I have mentioned, had obtained the situation of a private tutor. Anne was also engaged as governess in * Hunsworth, the residence of the Taylors at this time. Mary was going to New Zealand, not Australia. 1845 SAD FOREBODINGS 287 the same family, and was thus a miserable witness to her brother's deterioration of character at this period. Of the causes of this deterioration I cannot speak ; but the conse- quences were these : He went home for his holidays reluc- tantly, stayed there as short a time as possible, perplexing and distressing them all by his extraordinary conduct — at one time in the highest spirits, at another in the deepest depression — accusing himself of blackest guilt and treach- ery, without specifying what they were ; and altogether evincing an irritability of disposition bordering on in- sanity. Charlotte and Emily suffered acutely from his mysteri- ous behaviour. He expressed himself more than satisfied with his situation ; he was remaining in it for a longer time than he had ever done in any kind of employment before ; so that for some time they could not conjecture that anything there made him so wilful and restless and full of both levity and misery. But a sense of something wrong connected with him sickened and oppressed them. They began to lose all hope in his future career. He was no longer the family pride ; an indistinct dread, caused partly by his own conduct, partly by expressions of ago- nising suspicion in Anne's letters home, was creeping over their minds that he might turn out their deep disgrace. But, I believe, they shrank from any attempt to define their fears, and spoke of him to each other as little as possible. They could not help but think, and mourn, and wonder. •February 20, 1845. ^ I spent a week at H(unsworth), not very pleasantly ; headache, sickliness, and flatness of spirits made me a poor companion, a sad drag on the vivacious and loquacious gaiety of all the other inmates of the house. I never was fortunate enough to be able to rally, for as much as a single hour, while I was there. I am sure all, with the excep- tion, perhaps, of Mary, were very glad when I took my departure. I begin to perceive that I have too little life 288 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE in me, nowadays, to be fit company for any except very quiet people. Is it age, or what else, that changes me so?^ Alas ! she hardly needed to have asked this question. How could she be otherwise than ^flat-spirited,' ^a poor companion,^ and a ^ sad drag' on the gaiety of those who were light-hearted and happy ? Her honest plan for earn- ing her own livelihood had fallen away, crumbled to ashes; after all her preparations not a pupil had offered herself ; and, instead of being sorry that this wish of many years could not be realised, she had reason to be glad. Her poor father, nearly sightless, depended upon her cares in his blind helplessness ; but this was a sacred, pious charge, the duties of which she was blessed in fulfilling. The black gloom hung over what had once been the brightest hope of the family — over Branwell, and the mystery in which his wayward conduct was enveloped. Somehow and some time he would have to turn to his home as a hiding-place for shame ; such was the sad foreboding of his sis- ters. Then how could she be cheerful, when she was los- ing her dear and noble * Mary,' for such a length of time and distance of space that her heart might well prophesy that it w^as ^for ever'? Long before she had written of Mary T(aylor) that she ^ was full of feelings noble, warm, generous, devoted, and profound. God bless her ! I never hope to see in this world a character more truly noble. She would die willingly for one she loved. Her intellect and attainments are of the very highest standard.' And this was the friend whom she was to lose! Hear that friend's account of their final interview: — ^When I last saw Charlotte (Jan. 1845) she told me she had quite decided to stay at home. She owned she did not like it. Her health was weak. She said she would like any change at first, as she had liked Brussels at first, and she thought that there might be some pos- sibility for some people of having a life of more variety and more communion with human kind, but she saw none 1845 DAILY LIFE AT HAWORTH 289 for her. I told her very warmly that she ought not to stay at home ; that to spend the next five years at home, in solitude and weak health, would ruin her ; that she would never recover it. Such a dark shadow came over her face when I said, ^' Think of what you'll be five years hence V that I stopped, and said, ^' Don^t cry, Char- lotte !" She did not cry, but went on walking up and down the room, and said in a little while, But I intend to stay, Polly. A few weeks after she parted from Mary she gives this account of her days at Haworth : — * March 24, 1845. ^I can hardly tell you how time gets on at Haworth. There is no event whatever to mark its progress. One day resembles another; and all have heavy, lifeless physiogno- mies. Sunday, baking day, and Saturday are the only ones that have any distinctive mark. Meantime life wears away. I shall soon be thirty ; and I have done nothing yet. Sometimes I get melancholy at the prospect before and be- hind me. Yet it is wrong and foolish to repine. Undoubt- edly my duty directs me to stay at home for the present. There was a time when Haworth was a very pleasant place to me ; it is not so now. I feel as if we were all buried here. I long to travel; to work ; to live a life of action. Excuse me, dear, for troubling you with my fruitless wishes. I will put by the rest, and not trouble you with them. You must write to me. If you knew how welcome your letters are, you would write very often. Your letters, and the French newspapers, are the only messengers that come to me from the outer world beyond our moors ; and very welcome mes- sengers they are.^ One of her daily employments was to read to her father, and it required a little gentle diplomacy on her part to effect this duty ; for there were times when the offer of another to do what he had been so long accustomed to do for himself only reminded him too painfully of the deprivation under 19 290 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi which he was suffering. And, in secret, she, too, dreaded a similar loss for herself. Long-continued ill-health, a de- ranged condition of the liver, her close application to mi- \ nute drawing and writing in her younger days, her now habitual sleeplessness at nights, the many bitter noiseless tears she had shed over BranwelFs mysterious and dis- ytressing conduct — all these causes were telling on her poor eyes; and about this time she thus writer to M. Heger : — ^11 n^y a rien que je crains comme le desoeuvrement, Finertie, la lethargic des facultes. Quand le corps est paresseux Fesprit souffre cruellement ; je ne connaitrais pas cette lethargic si je pouvais ecrire. Autrefois je passais des journees, des semaines, des mois entiers a ecrire, et pas tout a fait sans fruit, puisque Southey et Coleridge, deux de nos meilleurs auteurs, a qui j'ai envoye certains manuscrits, en ont bien voulu temoigner leur approbation; mais a present j^ai la vue trop faible ; si j^ecrivais beaucoup je deviendrais aveugle. Cette faiblesse de vue est pour moi une terrible privation; sans cela savez-vous ce que je ferais, monsieur? J'ecrirais un livre et je le dedierais a mon maitre de littera- ture, au seul maitre que j'aie jamais eu — a vous, monsieur! Je vous ai dit souvent en frangais combien je vous respecte, combien je suis redeuable a votre bonte, a vos conseils. Je voudrais le dire une f ois en anglais. Cela ne se pent pas ; il ne faut pas y penser. La carri^re des lettres m^est fer- mee. . . . N'oubliez pas de me dire comment vous vous por- tez, comment madame et les enfants se portent. Je compte bientot avoir de vos nouvelles ; cette idee me souris, car le souvenir de vos bontes ne s'effacera jamais de ma memoire, et tant que ce souvenir durera le respect que vous m^avez inspire durera aussi. Agreez, monsieur,^ &c. It is probable that even her sisters and most intimate friends did not know of this dread of ultimate blindness which beset her at this period. What eyesight she had to spare she reserved for the use of her father. She did but 1845 LETTER TO ELLEN NUSSEY 291 little plain-sewing ; not more writing than could be avoided^ and employed herself principally in knitting. •April 2, 1845. ^ I see plainly it is proved to us that there is scarcely a draught of unmingled happiness to be had in this world. George^s^ illness comes with Mary^s marriage. Mary Tay- lor finds herself free/ and on that path to adventure and exertion to which she has so long been seeking admission. Sickness, hardship, danger are her fellow-travellers — her inseparable companions. She may have been out of the reach of these S.W.N.W. gales, before they began to blow, or they may have spent their fury on land, and not ruffled the sea much. If it has been otherwise she has been sorely tossed, while we have been sleeping in our beds, or lying awake thinking about her. Yet these real, material dangers, when once past, leave in the mind the sat- isfaction of having struggled with difficulty, and overcome it. Strength, courage, and experience are their invariable results ; whereas I doubt whether suffering purely mental has any good result, unless it be to make us by comparison less sensitive to physical suffering.'* . . . Ten years ago I should have laughed at your account of the blunder you made in mistaking the bachelor doctor of Burlington for a married man. I should have certainly thought you scru- pulous overmuch, and wondered how you could possibly regret being civil to a decent individual, merely because he happened to be single, instead of double. Now, however, I can perceive that your scruples are founded on common sense. I know that if women wish to escape the stigma of husband-seeking they must act and look like marble or ^ George Nussey is meaut. The letter is to his sister. I do not know who the Mary is, probably ' M. A. Ash well, ' a friend of Ellen Nussey's. ^ The omitted passage runs : — ' I repeat, then, Mary Taylor has done well to go to New Zealand, but I wish we could soon have another letter from her. I hope she may write soon from Madeira.* 292 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE clay — cold, expressionless, bloodless ; for every appearance of feeling, of joy, sorrow, friendliness, antipathy, admira- tion, disgust, are alike construed by the world into the attempt to hook a husband. Never mind ! well-meaning women have their own consciences to comfort them after all. Do not, therefore, be too much afraid of showing yourself as you are, affectionate and good-hearted ; do not too harshly repress sentiments and feelings excellent in themselves, because you fear that some puppy may fancy that you are letting them come out to fascinate him ; do not condemn yourself to live only by halves, because if you showed too much animation some pragmatical thing in breeches might take it into his pate to imagine that you designed to dedicate your life to his inanity. Still, a com- posed, decent, equable deportment is a capital treasure to a woman, and that you possess. Write again soon, for I feel rather fierce and want stroking down.'' * June 13, 1845. ^ As to the Mrs. P , who, you say, is like me, I some- how feel no leaning to her at all. I never do to people who are said to be like me, because I have always a notion that they are only like me in the disagreeable, outside, first-acquaintance part of my character ; in those points which are obvious to the ordinary run of people, and which I know are not pleasing. You say she is clever — a clever person." How I dislike the term ! It means rather a shrewd, very ugly, meddling, talking woman. . . . I feel reluctant to leave papa for a single day. His sight diminishes weekly ; and can it be wondered at that, as he sees the most precious of his faculties leaving him, his spirits sometimes sink ? It is so hard to feel that his few and scanty pleasures must all soon go. He has now the greatest difficulty in either reading or writing ; and then he dreads the state of dependence to which blindness will inevitably reduce him. He fears that he will be nothing in his parish. I try to cheer him ; sometimes I succeed temporarily, but no consolation can restore his sight, or 1845 HER OPINION OF CURATES 293 atone for the want of it. Still he is never peevish ; never impatient ; only anxious and dejected/ For the reason just given Charlotte declined an invita- tion to the only house to which she was now ever asked to come. In answer to her correspondent's reply to this let- ter she says^ — 'You thought I refused you coldly, did you ? It was a queer sort of coldness, when I would have given my ears to say Yes, and was obliged to say No. Matters, however, are now a little changed. Anne is come home, and her presence certainly makes me feel more at liberty. Then, if all be well, I will come and see you' (at Hathersage). ' Tell me only when I must come. Mention the week and the day. Have the kindness also to answer the following queries, if you can. How far is it from Leeds to Sheffield? Can you give me a notion of the cost ? Of course, when I come, you will let me enjoy your own company in peace, and not drag me out a-visiting. I have no desire at all to see your curate. I think he must be like all the other curates I have seen ; and they seem to me a self-seeking, vain, empty race. At this blessed moment we have no less than three of them in Haworth Parish — and there is not one to mend another. The other day they all three, ac- companied by Mr. Smith, of whom, by the way, I have grievous things to tell you, dropped, or rather rushed, in unexpectedly to tea. It was Monday (baking day), and I was hot and tired ; still, if they had behaved quietly and decently, I would have served them out their tea in peace ; but they began gloryfying themselves and abusing Dis- senters in such a manner that my temper lost its balance, and I pronounced a few sentences sharply and rapidly, which struck them all dumb. Papa was greatly horrified also, but I don't regret it.' ^ Letter to Ellen Nussey dated June 5, 1845, and addressed to Hathersage. LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE On her returu from this short visit to her friend* she travelled with a gentleman in the railway carriage, whose features and bearing betrayed him, in a moment, to be a Frenchman. She ventured to ask him if such was not the case ; and, on his admitting it, she further inquired if he had not passed a considerable time in Germany, and was answered that he had ; her quick ear detected something of the thick, guttural pronunciation which, Frenchmen say, they are able to discover even in the grandchildren of their countrymen who have lived any time beyond the Rhine. Charlotte had retained her skill in the language by the habit of which she thus speaks to M. Heger : — ^ Je crains beaucoup d'oublier le frangais — j'apprends tons les jours une demi-page de frangais par coeur, et j^ai grand plaisir a apprendre cette legon. Veuillez- presenter a madame Fassurance de mon estime ; je crains que Marie- Louise et Claire ne m'aient deja oubliee ; mais je vous re- verrai un jour ; aussitot que j'aurai gagne assez d^argent pour aller a Bruxelles, j'y irai.^ And so her journey back to Ha worth, after the rare pleasure of this visit to her friend, was pleasantly beguiled by conversation with the French gentleman ; and she ar- rived at home refreshed and happy. What to find there ? It was ten o^clock when she reached the parsonage. Branwell was there, unexpectedly, very ill. He had come * This was a three weeks' visit to the house of the Rev. Henry Nus- sey, who had just become Vicar of Hathersage, in Derbyshire, and was on his honeymoon at the time that his sister Ellen and Charlotte Bronte stayed at his house. Charlotte's only visit to Hathersage is noteworthy because in Hathersage Church are the tombs of Robert Eyre, who fought at Agincourt and died in 1459, and Joan, his wife, who died in 1464. I have already suggested that the only * Jane ' in the Bronte story was associated with school days at Cowan Bridge, but it is not difficult to believe that Joan Eyre, wife of the old armour- clad warrior, suggested the title for Miss Bronte's most famous book. In Hathersage churchyard the grave of Robin Hood's comrade, * Lit- tle John,' is shown, 10 feet 6 inches long. 1845 SORE TRIALS 295 home a day or two before, apparently for a holiday ; in reality, I imagine, because some discovery had been made which rendered his absence imperatively desirable. The day of Charlotte's return he had received a letter from Mr. (Robinson), sternly dismissing him, intimating that his pro- ceedings were discovered, characterising them as bad be- yond expression, and charging him, on pain of exposure, to break off immediately, and for ever, all communication with every member of the family. Whatever may have been the nature and depth of Bran- welFs sins — whatever may have been his temptation, what- ever his guilt— there is no doubt of the suffering which his conduct entailed upon his poor father and his innocent sisters. The hopes and plans they had cherished long, and laboured hard to fulfil, were cruelly frustrated ; hencefor- ward their days were embittered and the natural rest of their nights destroyed by his paroxysms of remorse. Let us read of the misery caused to his poor sisters in Char- lotte's own affecting words :^ — ^ We have had sad work with BranwelL He thought of nothing but stunning or drowning his agony of mind. No one in this house could have rest; and, at last, we have been obliged to send him from home for a week, with some one to look after him. He has written to me this morn- ing, expressing some sense of contrition . . . but as long as he remains at home I scarce dare hope for peace in the house. We must all, I fear, prepare for a season of distress and disquietude. When I left you I was strongly impressed with the feeling that I was going back to sorrow.' * August 1845. ^Things here at home are much as usual ; not very bright as regards Branwell, though his health, and consequently his temper, have been somewhat better this last day or two^ because he is no^ forced to abstain.' * Extracted from various letters to Ellen Nussey. 296 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ' August 18, 1845. ^ I have delayed writing, because I have no good news to communicate. My hopes ebb low indeed about Branwell. I sometimes fear he will never be fit for much. The late blow to his prospects and feelings has quite made him reck- less. It is only absolute want of means that acts as any check to him. One ought, indeed, to hope to the very last; and I try to do so, but occasionally hope in his case seems so fallacious.' * November 4, 1845. ^I hoped to be able to ask you to come to Haworth. It almost seemed as if Branwell had a chance of getting employment, and I waited to know the result of his efforts, in order to say, Dear Ellen, come and see us.'' But the place (a secretaryship to a railway committee) is given to another person. Branwell still remains at home ; and while he is here you shall not come. I am more confirmed in that resolution the more I see of him. I wish I could say one word to you in his favor, but I cannot. I will hold my tongue. We are all obliged to you for your kind suggestion about Leeds ; but I think our school schemes are, for the present, at rest.' * December 31, 1845. ' You say well, in speaking of (Branwell), that no suffer- ings are so awful as those brought on by dissipation ; alas ! I see the truth of this observation daily proved. and must have as weary and burdensome a life of it in waiting upon their unhappy brother. It seems grievous, indeed, that those who have not sinned should suffer so largely.' In fact, all their latter days blighted with the presence of cruel, shameful suffering — the premature deaths of two at least of the sisters — all the great possibilities of their earthly lives snapped short — may be dated from midsum- mer 1845. For the last three years of Bran well's life he took opium 1845 A TIME OF TROUBLE 297 habitually, by way of stunning conscience ; he drank, more- over, whenever he could get the opportunity. The reader may say that I have mentioned his tendency to intemperance long before. It is true ; but it did not become habitual, as far as I can learn, until after he was dismissed from his tutorship. He took opium, because it made him forget for a time more effectually than drink ; and, besides, it was more portable. In procuring it he showed all the cunning of the opium-eater. He would steal out while the family were at church — to which he had professed himself too ill to go — and manage to cajole the village druggist out of a lump ; or, it might be, the carrier had unsuspiciously brought him some in a packet from a distance. For some time before his death he had attacks of delirium tremens of the most frightful character ; he slept in his father's room, and he would sometimes declare that either he or his father would be dead before the morning. The trem- bling sisters, sick with fright, would implore their father not to expose himself to this danger ; but Mr. Bronte is no timid man, and perhaps he felt that he could possibly influence his son to some self-restraint, more by showing trust in him than by showing fear. The sisters often lis- tened for the report of a pistol in the dead of the night, till watchful eye and hearkening ear grew heavy and dull with the perpetual strain upon their nerves. In the mornings young Bronte would saunter out, saying, with a drunk- ard's incontinence of speech, ^The poor old man and I have had a terrible night of it ; he does his best — the poor old man ! but it's all over with me/ CHAPTER XIV Ii^ the course of this sad autumn of 1845 a new interest came up ; faint^ indeed, and often lost sight of in the vivid pain and constant pressure of anxiety respecting their brother. In the biographical notice of her sisters, which Charlotte prefixed to the edition of ^Wuthering Heights ^ and ^ Agnes Grey' published in 1850 — a piece of writing unique, as far as I know, in its pathos and its power — she says — ' One day in the autumn of 1845 I accidentally lighted on a MS. volume of verse, in my sister Emily's handwrit- ing. Of course I was not surprised, knowing that she could and did write verse. I looked it over, and some- thing more than surprise seized me — a deep conviction that these were not common effusions, nor at all like the poetry women generally write. I thought them condensed and terse, vigorous and genuine. To my ear they had also a peculiar music, wild, melancholy, and elevating. My sister Emily was not a person of demonstrative char- acter, nor one on the recesses of whose mind and feelings even those nearest and dearest to her could, with impunity, intrude unlicensed : it took hours to reconcile her to the discovery I had made, and days tp persuade her that such poems merited publication. . . .'[ Meantime my younger sister quietly produced some of her own compositions, in- timating that since Emily's had given me pleasure I might like to look at hers. I could not but be a partial judge, yet I thought that these verses too had a sweet, sincere pathos of their own. We had very early cherished the dream of one day being authors. ... We agreed to arrange 1845 THE SISTERS' POEMS 299 a small selection of our poems, and, if possible, get them printed. Averse to personal publicity, we veiled our own names under those of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell ; the ambiguous choice being dictated by a sort of conscientious scruple at assuming Christian names positively masculine, while we did not like to declare ourselves women, because — without at the time suspecting that our mode of writing and thinking was not what is called feminine " — we had a vague impression that authoresses are liable to be looked on with prejudice ; we noticed how critics sometimes used for their chastisement the weapon of personality, and for their reward a flattery which is not true praise. The bring- ing out of our little book was hard work, j As was to be expected, neither we nor our poems were at all wanted ; but for this we had been prepared at the outset ; though inexperienced ourselves, we had read of the experience of others. The great puzzle lay in the difficulty of getting answers of any kind from the publishers to whom we ap- plied. Being greatly harassed by this obstacle, I ventured to apply to the Messrs. Chambers, of Edinburgh, for a word of advice ; they may have forgotten the circumstance, but / have not, for from them I received a brief and business-like, but civil and sensible reply, on which we acted, and at last made way.^ I inquired from Mr. Robert Chambers, and found, as Miss Bronte conjectured, that he had entirely forgotten the application which had been made to him and his brother for advice ; nor had they any copy or memoran- dum of the correspondence. There is an intelligent man living in Haworth ^ who has * Mr. Greenwood, who died at Haworth in 1863. He lived in the middle of the Town Gate, about halfway up the street on the right- hand side. An accident in his youth caused him to appear somewhat deformed, one shoulder being higher than the other. The inscription on his tomb in Haworth churchyard runs as follows : — * In loving remembrance of John Greenwood, of Haworth, who died March 25, 1863, aged 56 years.* 300 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE given me some interesting particulars relating to the sisters about this period. He says — ^ I have known Miss Bronte as Miss Bronte a long time ; indeed, ever since they came to Haworth in 1819. But I had not much acquaintance with the family till about 1843, when I began to do a little in the stationery line. Nothing of that kind could be had nearer than Keighley before I began. They used to buy a great deal of writing- paper, and I used to wonder whatever they did with so much. I sometimes thought they contributed to the magazines. When I was out of stock I was always afraid of their com- ing ;' they seemed so distressed about it if I had none. I have walked to Halifax (a distance of ten miles) many a time for half a ream of paper, for fear of being without it when they came. I could not buy more at a time for want of capital. I was always short of that. I did so like them to come when I had anything for them ; they were so much different to anybody else ; so gentle and kind, and so very quiet. They never talked much. Charlotte sometimes would sit and inquire about our circumstances so kindly and feelingly ! . . . Though I am a poor working man (which I have never felt to be any degradation), I could talk with her with the greatest freedom. I always felt quite at home with her. Though I never had any school educa- tion, I never felt the want of it in her company.' The publishers to whom she finally made a successful application for the production of ^Currer, Ellis, and Acton BelFs poems ' were Messrs. Aylott & Jones, Paternoster Row.* Mr. Aylott has kindly placed at my disposal the ^ Aylott and Jones were two young booksellers and stationers of 8 Paternoster Row, who published scarcely any books, but whose nanae will always be associated with two volumes now of considerable value in the eyes of collectors — Poeim, by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, a copy of which was sold at Sotheby's in 1899 for 18^. , and The Gem : Thoughts towards Nature in Poetry, Literature, and Art, the latter 1S46 THE SISTERS' POEMS 301 letters which she wrote to them on the subject.^ The first is dated January 28, 1846, and in it she inquires if they will publish one volume octavo of poems ; if not at their own risk, on the author's account. It is signed '^C. Bronte/ They must have replied pretty speedily, for on January 31 she writes again — ' Gentlemen, — Since you agree to undertake the publi- cation of the work respecting which I applied to you, I should wish now to know, as soon as possible, the cost of paper and printing. I will then send the necessary remit- tance, together with the manuscript. I should like it to be printed in one octavo volume, of the same quality of paper and size of type as Moxon's last edition of Wordsworth. The poems will occupy, I should think, from 200 to 250 pages. They are not the production of a clergyman, nor are they exclusively of a religious character ; but I presume these circumstances will be imrhaterial. It will, perhaps, be necessary that you should see the manuscript, in order to calculate accurately the expense of publication; in that case I will send it immediately. I should like, however, previously to have some idea of the probable cost ; and if, from what I have said, you can make a rough calculation on the subject, I should be greatly obliged to you.^ In her next letter, February 6, she says — ^ You will perceive that the poems are the work of three persons, relatives ; their separate pieces are distinguished by their respective signatures.^ She writes again on February 15, and on the 16th she says — issued on commission for D. G. Rossetti and his Pre-Raphaelite col- leagues, a copy of which now sells for from ten pounds to twenty pounds. ^ The originals of these letters are now in the collection brought to- gether by the late Mr. Alfred Morrison. There are some few letters not printed by Mrs. Gaskell, but they are immaterial. 302 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi ^ The MS. will certainly form a thinner volume than I had anticipated. I cannot name another model which I should like it precisely to resemble, yet I think a duodeci- mo form, and a somewhat reduced, though still clear type, would be preferable. I only stipulate for clear type, not too small, and good paper.^ On February 21 she selects the ^long primer type' for the poems, and will remit 31Z. 10s. in a few days. Minute as the details conveyed in these notes are, they are not trivial, because they afford such strong indications of character. If the volume was to be published at their own risk, it was necessary that the sister conducting the negotiation should make herself acquainted with the dif- ferent kinds of type and the various sizes of books. Ac- cordingly she bought a small volume, from which to learn all she could on the subject of preparation for the press. No half-knowledge — no trusting to other people for deci- sions which she could make for herself ; and yet a generous and full confidence, not misplaced, in the thorough probity of Messrs. Aylott & Jones. The caution in ascertaining the risk before embarking in the enterprise, and the prompt payment of the money required, even before it could be said to have assumed the shape of a debt, were both parts of a self-reliant and independent character. Self-contained also was she. During the whole time that the volume of poems was in the course of preparation and publication no word was written telling any one, out of the household cir- cle, what was in progress. ^ ^ The title-page ran as follows : * Poems by Gurrer, Ellis, d Acton Bell. London : Aylott & Jones, 8 Paternoster Bow, 1846. ' Two years later the unbound copies were issued with a title-page bearing the im- print of Smith, Elder, & Co., and the same date, 1846, although it is clear that the sheets could not have been taken over by Smith, Elder, & Co. until 1848. The edition with the Smith, Elder, & Co. title-page has an advertisement of the third edition of Jane Eyre, of the second edition of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and of the first edition of 1846 LETTER TO MISS WOOLER 303 I have had some of the letters placed in my hands which she addressed to her old schoolmistress. Miss Wooler. They begin a little before this time. Acting on the con- viction^ which I have all along entertained, that where Charlotte Bronte^s own words could be used no others ought to take their place, I shall make extracts from this series, according to their dates. * January 30, 1846. ^ My dear Miss Wooler, — I have not yet paid my visit to B(irstall) ; it is, indeed, more than a year since I was there, Wuthering Reights. Wildfell Hall was not in its second edition until 1848. The question is set at rest by the two following letters : — TO GEORGE SMITH, ESQ. ' September 7, 1848. * My dear Sir,— You are probably aware that C, E., and A. Bell published, a year or two since, a volumlace nor employment ; per- haps, too, I shall be quite past the prime of life, my faculties will be rusted, and my few acquirements in a great measure forgotten. These ideas sting me keenly sometimes, but whenever I consult my con- science it affirms that I am doing right in staying at home, and bitter are its upbraidings when I yield to an eager desire for release. I returned to Brussels after aunt's death against my conscience, prompt- ed by what seemed then an irresistible impulse. I was punished for my selfish folly by a total hindrance for more than two years of hap- piness and peace of mind. I could hardly pxpect success were I to err again in the same way.' It has been urged that this passage, in its suggestion of loss of * peace of mind,* has reference to the writer's devotion to her profess- or, M. Heger, having been something more than the admiration of a pupil for an honoured instructor. Charlotte Bronte's friend Ellen Nussey, on the other hand, always declared that the reference was to her father having given way to drink during her second sojourn in Brussels. The point is unimportant. 2 In the original letter to Ellen Nussey the words ' frozen up in Northamptonshire ' occur. im ANNE'S ^HEROISM OF ENDURANCE' 327 fnl. I do not remember such a series of North-Pole days. England might really have taken a slide up into the Arctic Zone ; the sky looks like ice ; the earth is frozen ; the wind is as keen as a two-edged blade. We have all had severe colds and coughs in consequence of the weather. Poor Anne has suffered greatly from asthma, but is now, we are glad to say, rather better. She had two nights last week when her cough and difficulty of breathing were painful indeed to hear and witness, and must have been most dis- tressing to suffer ; she bore it, as she bears all affliction, without one complaint, only sighing now and then when nearly worn out. She has an extraordinary heroism of en- durance. I admire, but I certainly could not imitate her." . . . ^ You say I am to ^Hell you plenty." What would you have me say ? Nothing happens at Haworth ; nothing, at least, of a pleasant kind. One little incident occurred about a week ago to sting us to life ; but if it gives no more pleasure for you to hear than it does for us to wit- ness, you will scarcely thank me for adverting to it. It was merely the arrival of a sheriff^s officer on a visit to Branwell, inviting him either to pay his debts or take a trip to York. Of course his debts had to be paid. It is not agreeable to lose money, time after time, in this way ; but where is the use of dwelling on such subjects ? It will make him no better." * December 28. ^ I feel as if it was almost a farce to sit down and write to you now, with nothing to say worth listening to ; and indeed, if it were not for two reasons, I should put oft* the business at least a fortnight hence. The first reason is, I want another letter from you, for your letters are interest- ing, they have something in them, some results of experi- ence and observation ; one receives them with pleasure, and reads them with relish ; and these letters I cannot ex- pect to get, unless I reply to them. I wish the corre- spondence could be managed so as to be all on one side. The second reason is derived from a remark in your last. 338 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE that yon felt lonely, something as I was at Brussels/ and that consequently you had a peculiar desire to hear from old acquaintance. I can understand and sympathise with this. I remember the shortest note was a treat to me, when I was at the above-named place ; therefore I write. I have also a third reason : it is a haunting terror lest you should imagine I forget you — that my regard cools with absence. It is not in my nature to forget your nature ; though I dare say I should spit fire and explode some- times if we lived together continually ; and you, too, would get angry, and then we should get reconciled and jog on as before. Do you ever get dissatisfied with your own temper when you are long fixed to one place, in one scene, subject to one monotonous species of annoyance ? I do : I am now in that unenviable frame of mind ; my hu- mour, I think, is too soon overthrown, too sore, too de- monstrative and vehement. I almost long for some of the uniform serenity you describe in Mrs. 's disposition ; or, at least, I would fain have her power of self-control and concealment; but I would not take her artificial habits and ideas along with her composure. After all I should prefer being as I am. . . . You do right not to be annoyed at any maxims of conventionality you meet with. Regard all new ways in the light of fresh experience for you : if you see any honey, gather it.^ ' . . . don% after all, con- sider that we ought to despise everything we see in the world, merely because it is not what we are accustomed to. ^ * At Stonegappe and Brussels' in the original letter, which was ad- dressed to Ellen Nussey. 2 ' See Punch ' is the only omission here. The previous number of Punch (No. 241, vol. x. p. 91, February 21, 1846) had contained a paper entitled 'Little Fables for Little Politicians.' The second of these fables, entitled ' The Drones,' sets forth how * a swarm of drones lived for a number of years in a rich beehive, helping themselves to the best of the honey, and contributing nothing to the store.' Finally, the drones — that is to say, the Protectionists — were driven out by the bees; and Punch implores ' our venerable Dukes to have the above little Fable read to them at least once a day.' 1846 THE CLOSE OF 1846 329 I suspect, on the contrary, that there are not nnfreqnently substantial reasons underneath for customs that appear to us absurd ; and if I were ever again to find myself amongst strangers I should be solicitous to examine before I con- demned. Indiscriminating irony and fault-finding are just sunnjMshness, and that is all. Anne is now much better, but papa has been for near a fortnight far from well with the influenza ; he has at times a most distressing cough, and his spirits are much depressed.^ So ended the year 1846. CHAPTER XVI The next year opened with a spell of cold, dreary weather, which told severely on a constitution already tried by anx- iety and care. Miss Bronte describes herself as having ut- terly lost her appetite, and as looking ^ grey, old, worn, and sunk,^ from her sufferings during the inclement sea- son. The cold brought on severe toothache ; toothache was the cause of a succession of restless, miserable nights ; and long wakefulness told acutely upon her nerves, making them feel with redoubled sensitiveness all the harass of her oppressive life. Yet she would not allow herself to lay her bad health to the charge of an uneasy mind; ^for after all,^ said she at this time, ^ I have many, many things to be thankful for.^ But the real state of things may be gath- ered from the following extracts from her letters. * March 1. ^ Even at the risk of appearing very exacting I can't help saying that I should like a letter as long as j'^our last, every time you write. Short notes give one the feeling of a very small piece of a very good thing to eat — they set the appe- tite on edge, and don't satisfy it — a letter leaves you more contented ; and yet, after all, I am very glad to get notes ; so don't think, when you are pinched for time and ma- terials, that it is useless to write a few lines ; be assured a few lines are very acceptable as far as they go; and though I like long letters I would by no means have you to make a task of writing them. ... I really should like you to come to Haworth, before I again go to B(irstall). And it is natural and right that I should have this wish. To keep 1847 FAMILY TRIALS 331 friendship in proper order the balance of good offices must be preserved ; otherwise a disquieting and anxious feeling creeps in^ and destroys mutual comfort. In summer^ and in fine weather, your visit here might be much better man- aged than in winter. We could go out more, be more in- dependent of the house and of our room. Branwell has been conducting himself very badly lately. I expect, from the extravagance of his behaviour, and from mysterious hints he drops (for he never will speak out plainly), that we shall be hearing news of fresh debts contracted by him soon. My health is better : I lay the blame of its feeble- ness on the cold weather more than on an uneasy mind.^ * March 24, 1847. ' It is at Haworth, if all be well, that we must next see each other again. I owe you a grudge for giving Miss Wooler some very exaggerated account about my not being well, and setting her on to urge my leaving home as quite a duty. 1^11 take care not to tell you next time, when I think I am looking specially old and ugly ; as if people could not have that privilege without being supposed to be at the last gasp ! I shall be thirty-one next birthday. My youth is gone like a dream ; and very little use have I ever made of it. What have I done these last thirty years ? Precious little.^* i iv .f. The quiet, sad year stole on. The sisters were contem- plating near at hand, and for a long time, the terrible ef- fects of talents misused and faculties abused in the person of that brother once their fond darling and dearest pride. They had to cheer the poor old father, in whose heart all trials sank the deeper, because of the silent stoicism of his endurance. They had to watch over his health, of which, whatever was its state, he seldom complained. They had to save, as much as they could, the precious remnants of his sight. They had to order the frugal household with ^ Both the above letters were addressed to Ellen Nussey. 332 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE increased care, so as to supply wants and expenditure utter- ly foreign to their self-denying natures. Though they shrank from overmuch contact with their fellow beings, for all whom they met they had kind words, if few ; and when kind actions were needed they were not spared, if the sisters at the Parsonage could render them. They visited the parish schools duly; and often were Charlotte^s rare and brief holidays of a visit from home shortened by her sense of the necessity of being in her place at the Sun- day school. In the intervals of such a life as this ^ Jane Eyre^ was making progress. ^ The Professor ^ was passing slowly and heavily from publisher to publisher. ^ Wuthering Heights ^ and ^ Agnes Grey^ had been accepted by another publisher, ^ on terms somewhat impoverishing to the two authors a bargain to be alluded to more fully hereafter.* It was lying in his hands, awaiting his pleasure for its passage through the press, during all the months of early summer. The piece of external brightness to which the sisters looked during these same summer months was the hope that the friend to whom so many of Charlotte^s letters are addressed, and who was her chosen companion, whenever circumstances permitted them to be together, as well as a favourite with Emily and Anne, would be able to pay them a visit at Haworth. Fine weather had come in May, Char- lotte writes, and they hoped to make their visitor decently comfortable. Their brother was tolerably well, having got to the end of a considerable sum of money which he became possessed of in the spring, and therefore under the whole- some restriction of poverty. But Charlotte warns her friend that she must expect to find a change in his appearance, and that he is broken in mind ; and ends her note of entreating invitation by saying, ^ I pray for fine weather, that we may get out while you stay.' At length the day was fixed. * The two stories were published as if they were one book ; see note, p. 356. A DISAPPOINTMENT 333 ^Friday will suit us very well. I do trust nothing will now arise to prevent your coming. I shall be anxious about the weather on that day ; if it rains I shall cry. Don^t ex- pect me to meet you ; where would be the good of it ? I neither like to meet^ nor to be met. Unless, indeed, you had a box or a basket for me to carry ; then there would be some sense in it. Come in black, blue, pink, white, or scarlet, as you like. Come shabby or smart ; neither the colour nor the condition signifies ; provided only the dress contain Ellen, all will be right.' But there came the first of a series of disappointments to be borne. One feels how sharp it must have been to have wrung out the following words : — ' May 20. ^ Your letter of yesterday did indeed give me a cruel chill of disappointment. I cannot blame you, for I know it was not your fault. I do not altogether exempt from re- proach. . . . This is bitter, but I feel bitter. As to going to B(irstall), I will not go near the place till you have been to Ha worth. My respects to all and sundry, accompanied with a large amount of wormwood and gall, from the ef- fusion of which you and your mother are alone excepted. — C. B. ^ You are quite at liberty to tell what I think, if you judge proper. Though it is true I may be somewhat un- just, for I am deeply annoyed. I thought I had arranged your visit tolerably comfortable for you this time. I may find it more difficult on another occasion.' I must give one sentence from a letter written about this time, as it shows distinctly the clear strong sense of the writer. was amused by what she^ says respecting her wish that, when she marries, her husband will, at least, have a ^ The reference is to a Miss Amelia Ringrose, who married Joseph Taylor, one of Mary Taylor's brothers. 334 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE will of his own, even should he be a tyrant. Tell her, when she forms that aspiration again, she must make it condi- tional : if her husband has a strong will, he must also have a strong sense, a kind heart, and a thoroughly correct notion of justice ; because a man with a weah brain and a strong loill is merely an intractable brute ; you can have no hold of him ; you can never lead him right. A tyrant under any circumstanceB is a curse.^ Meanwhile ' The Professor ' had met with many refusals from different publishers ; some, I have reason to believe, not over-courteously worded in writing to an unknown author, and none alleging any distinct reasons for its re- jection. Courtesy is always due ; but it is, perhaps, hardly to be expected that, in the press of business in a great publishing house, they should find time to explain why they decline particular works. Yet, though one course of action is not to be wondered at, the opposite may fall upon a grieved and disappointed mind with all the graciousness of dew ; and I can well sympathise with the published account which ^Currer Beir gives of the feelings experienced on reading Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co.^s letter containing the rejection of ^The Professor.' ' As a forlorn hope we tried one publishing house more. Ere long, in a much shorter space than that on which ex- perience had taught him to calculate, there came a letter, which he opened in the dreary anticipation of finding two hard, hopeless lines, intimating that ''Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co. were not disposed to publish the MS.,'' and, instead, he took out of the envelope a letter of two pages. He read it trembling. It declined, indeed, to publish that tale for business reasons, but it discussed its merits and demerits so courteously, so considerately, in a spirit so rational, with a discrimination so enlightened, that this very refusal cheered the author better than a vulgarly expressed accept- ance would have done. It was added that a work in three volumes would meet with careful attention.' Mr. Smith has told me a little circumstance connected 1847 UNINITIATED IN PUBLISHERS' WAYS 335 with the reception of this manuscript, which seems to me indicative of no ordinary character. It came (accompanied by the note given below) in a brown paper parcel to 65 Cornhill. Besides the address to Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co. there were on it those of other publishers to whom the tale had been sent, not obliterated, but simply scored through, so that Mr. Smith at once perceived the names of some of the houses in the trade to which the unlucky parcel had gone without success. TO MESSES. SMITH AKD ELDER. • July 1«, 1847. ^ Gentlemen, — I beg to submit to your consideration the accompanying manuscript. I should be glad to learn whether it be such as you approve, and would undertake to publish at as early a period as possible. Address, Mr. Currer Bell, under cover to Miss Bronte, Haworth, Brad- ford, Yorkshire.^ Some time elapsed before an answer was returned. A little circumstance may be mentioned here, though it belongs to a somewhat earlier period, as showing Miss Brontes inexperience of the ways of the world, and willing deference to the opinions of others. She had written to a publisher about one of her manuscripts, which she had sent him, and, not receiving any reply, she consulted her brother as to what could be the reason for the prolonged silence. He at once set it down to her not having enclosed a postage-stamp in her letter. She accordingly wrote again, to repair her former omission, and apologize for it. TO MESSRS. SMITH AND ELDER. * August 2, 1847. ^Gentlemen, — About three weeks since I sent for your consideration a MS. entitled ^^The Professor, a tale by Currer Bell.^' I should be glad to know whether it reached your hands safely, and likewise to learn, at your earliest 336 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE convenience, whether it be such as you can undertake to publish. — I am, Gentlemen, yours respectfully, ' CuRRER Bell. enclose a, directed cover for your reply.^ This time her note met with a prompt answer ; for, four days later, she writes (in reply to the letter which she after- wards characterised in the Preface to the second edition of ^ Wuthering Heights ^ as containing a refusal so delicate, reasonable, and courteous as to be more cheering than some acceptances) — ^ Your objection to the want of varied interest in the tale is, I am aware, not without grounds ; yet it appears to me that it might be published without serious risk, if its ap- pearance were speedily followed up by another work from the same pen, of a more striking and exciting character. The first work might serve as an introduction, and accus- tom the public to the author^s name ; the success of the second might thereby be rendered more probable. I have a second narrative in three volumes, now in progress, and nearly completed, to which I have endeavored to impart a more vivid interest than belongs to The Professor. In about a month I hope to finish it, so that if a pub- lisher were found for ^'The Professor the second nar- rative might follow as soon as was deemed advisable ; and thus the interest of the public (if any interest was aroused) might not be suffered to cool. Will you be kind enough to favour me with your judgment on this plan?^ While the minds of the three sisters were in this state of suspense their long-expected friend came to pay her prom- ised visit. She was with them at the beginning of the glowing August of that year. They were out on the moors for the greater part of the day, basking in the gold- en sunshine, which was bringing on an unusual plenteous- ness of harvest, for which, somewhat later, Charlotte ex- pressed her earnest desire that there should be a thanksgiv- HAWORTH MOOR — SHOWING CHARLOTTE BRONTE'S CHAIR. IINIVEKSITY of llLlNOib 1^7 'JANE EYRE' 337 ing service in all the cliurches. August was the season of glory for the neighbourhood of Haworth. Even the smoke^ lying the valley between that village and Keigh- ley, took beauty from the radiant colours on the moors above, the rich purpfe of the heather bloom calling out an harmonious contrast in the tawny golden light that, in the full heat of summer evenings, comes stealing everywhere through the dun atmosphere of the hollows. And up on the moors, turning away from all habita- tions of men, the royal ground on which they stood would expand into long swells of amethyst - tinted hills, melting away into aerial tints ; and the fresh and fragrant scent of the heather, and the * murmur of innumerable bees," would lend a poignancy to the relish with which they welcomed their friend to their own true home on the wild and open hills. There, too, they could escape from the Shadow in the house below. Throughout this time — during all these confidences — not a word was uttered to their friend of the three tales in London — two accepted and in the press, one trembling in the balance of a publisher's judgment — nor did she hear of that other story, ^nearly completed,' lying in manuscript in the grey old parsonage down below. She might have her suspicions that they all wrote with an intention of publication some time; but she knew the bounds which they set to themselves in their communications; nor could she, nor any one else, wonder at their reticence, when re- membering how scheme after scheme had failed, just as it seemed close upon accomplishment. Mr. Bronte, too, had his suspicions of something going on; but, never being spoken to, he did not speak on the subject, and consequently his ideas were vague and uncer- tain, only just prophetic enough to keep him from being actually stunned when, later on, he heard of the success of ^Jane Eyre,^ to the progress of which we must now return. 22 338 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE TO MESSRS. SMITH AND ELDER. 'August 24. now send you per rail a MS. entitled Jane Eyre/' a novel in three volumes, by Currer Bell. L find I cannot prepay the carriage of the parcel, as money for that purpose is not received at the small station-house where it is left. If, when you acknowledge the receipt of the MS., you would have the goodness to mention the amount charged on delivery, I will immediately transmit it in postage- stamps. It is better in future to address Mr. Currer Bell, under cover to Miss Bronte, Haworth, Bradford, York- shire, as there is a risk of letters otherwise directed not reaching me at present. To save trouble, I enclose an en- velope.^ ^ 1 The letters of Charlotte Broute are now mainly contained in Mrs. Gaskell's biography and Charlotte Bronte and her Circle. Conditions of space would have made it impracticable, even were it otherwise desirable, to incorporate all Miss Bronte's letters in the notes to this volume. Through the courtesy of Mr. George Smith, of Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co., I am enabled, however, to add a number of hitherto un- published letters to Mrs. Gaskell's narrative, of which one dated Sep- tember 24 comes first in chronological order : — TO SMITH, ELDER, AND CO. ' Gentlemen, — I have to thank you for punctuating the sheets before sending them to me, as I found the task very puzzling, and, besides, I consider your mode of punctuation a great deal more correct and rational than my own. I am glad you think pretty well of the first part of Jane Eyre, and I trust, both for your sakes and my own, the public may think pretty well of it too. ' Henceforth I hope I shall be able to return the sheets promptly and regularly. — I am, Gentlemen, yours respectfully, C. Bell.' On September 29 she wrote again— * Gentlemen,— I trust you will be able to get Jane Eyre out next month. Have the goodness to continue to send the sheets of the third vol. along with those of the second. * I again thank you for your attention in punctuating the sheets. — I am. Gentlemen, yours respectfully, C. Bell.' 1847 *JANE EYRE 339 ^ Jane Eyre^ was accepted, and printed and published by October 16/ While it was in the press Miss Bronte went to pay a short visit to her friend at B(rookroyd). The proofs were forwarded to her there, and she occasionally sat at the same table with her friend, correcting them ; but they did not exchange a word on the subject. Immediately on her return to the Parsonage she wrote — * September. ^ I had a very wet, windy walk home from Keighley ; but my fatigue quite disappeared when I reached home, and found all well. Thank God for it. ^ My boxes came safe this morning. I have distributed the presents. Papa says I am to remember him most kind- ly to you. The screen will be very useful, and he thanks you for it. Tabby was charmed with her cap. She said ^^she never thought o^ naught o^ t' sort as Miss sending her aught, and, she is sure, she can never thank her enough for it.^^ I was infuriated on finding a jar in my trunk. At first I hoped it was empty, but when I found it heavy and replete, I could have hurled it all the way back to (B)irstall. However, the inscription A. B. softened me much. It was at once kind and villanous in you to send it: You ought first to be tenderly kissed, and then after- wards as tenderly whipped. Emily is just now on the floor of the bedroom where I am writing, looking at her apples. She smiled when I gave the collar to her as your present, with an expression at once well pleased and slightly surprised. All send their love. — Yours in a mixture of anger and love.^ When the manuscript of ^ Jane Eyre ^ had been received by the future publishers of that remarkable novel, it fell to * It was in three volumes, and the title-page ran as follows : — * Jane Eyre: an Autobiography. Edited by Currer BelL In Three Volumes. London: Smith, Elder, <& Co., Cornhill. 1847.* 340 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE the share of a gentleman connected with the firm to read it first. ^ He was so powerfully struck by the character of the tale that he reported his impression in very strong terms to Mr. Smith, who appears to have been much amused by the admiration excited. ^You seem to have been so enchanted that I do not know how to believe you/ he laughingly said. But when a second reader, in the per- son of a clear-headed Scotchman/ not given to enthusiasm, had taken the manuscript home in the evening, and be- came so deeply interested in it as to sit up half the night to finish it, Mr. Smith's curiosity was sufficiently excited to prompt him to read it for himself ; and great as were the praises which had been bestowed upon it, he found that they had not exceeded the truth. ^ N On its publication copies were presented to a few pri- vate literary friends. Their discernment had been rightly reckoned upon. They were of considerable standing in the world of letters; and one and all returned expressions of high praise along with their thanks for the book. Among them was the great writer of fiction for whom Miss Bronte felt so strong an admiration;* he immediately appreciated and, in a characteristic note to the publishers, acknowledged its extraordinary merits. The Reviews were more tardy, or more cautious. The » Mr. William Smith Williams (1800-1875) was the literary adviser to the firm of Smith, Elder, & Co. for many years. From this time forward he became a regular correspondent of Miss Bronte, and the most interesting letters that she wrote — of those that have been pre- served — are addressed to him. This was partially due to the fact that he lent her books with considerable regularity, and thus provoked comment upon her reading. 2 The * clear-headed Scotchman ' was Mr. James Taylor, who held a position of considerable responsibility in the firm of Smith, Elder, & Co., and whose name we meet many times in later pages. See note, p. 525. ^ * There will be no preface to Jane Eyre,' Miss Bronte writes to Smith, Elder, & Co. on October 29. * If you send me six copies of the work they will be amply sufficient, and I shall be obliged to you for them.* ^ Thackeray. 1847 *JANE EYRE' 341 ' Athenaeum ' and the ^ Spectator ' gave short notices, con- taining qualified admissions of the power of the author. The ^Literary Gazette ' was uncertain as to whether it was safe to praise an unknown author. The ^ Daily News ' de- clined accepting the copy which had been sent, on the score of a rule ^ never to review novels but a little later on there appeared a notice of the ^ Bachelor of the Albany' in that paper ; and Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co. again for- warded a copy of ^ Jane Eyre ' to the editor, with a request for a notice. This time the work was accepted ; but I am not aware what was the character of the article upon it.* The ^Examiner' came forward to the rescue, as far as the opinions of professional critics were concerned. The literary articles in that paper were always remarkable for their genial and generous appreciation of merit; nor w^as the notice of ^ Jane Eyre ^ an exception ; it was full of hearty yet delicate and discriminating praise. Otherwise the press in general did little to promote the sale of the novel ; the demand for it among librarians had begun be- fore the appearance of the review in the ^Examiner;' the power and fascination of the tale itself made its merits known to the public without the kindly finger-posts of professional criticism ; and early in December the rush began for copies. I will insert two or three of Miss Bronte^'s letters to her publishers,^ in order to show how timidly the idea of suc- cess was received by one so unaccustomed to adopt a san- guine view of any subject in which she was individually * The magazines were snfficienlly generous of praise. The sec- ond edition of Jane Eyre, published in 1848, contains seven pages of ' opinions of the press.' * Decidedly the best novel of the season/ was the comment of the Westminster Review. ' Almost all that we require in a novelist the writer has — perception of character and power of de- lineating it, picturesqueness, passion, and knowledge of life/ was Mr. George Henry Lewes's estimate in Fraser. '^Almost simultaneously she was writing to Mr. Smith Williams, as the following letter indicates :— * October 4, 1847. * Dear Sir, — I thank you sincerely for your last letter. It is valu- able to me because it furnishes me with a sound opinion on points re- 342 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE concerned. The occasions on which these notes were writ- ten will explain themselves. TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AKD CO. * October 19, 1847. 'Gentlemen, — The six copies of ''Jane Eyre"^ reached me this morning. You have given the work every advan- tage which good paper, clear type, and a seemly outside can supply : if it fails the fault will lie with the author ; you are exempt. ' I now await the judgment of the press and the public. — I am. Gentlemen, yours respectfully, C. Bell.^ TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, A^B CO. * October 26, 1847. 'Gentlemen, — I have received the newspapers. They speak quite as favourably of "Jane Eyre^' as I expected them to do. The notice in the " Literary Gazette^' seems certainly to have been indited in rather a flat mood, and the "Athenaeum"^ has a style of its own, which I respect, but cannot exactly relish ; still, when one considers that journals of that standing have a dignity to maintain which would be deranged by a too cordial recognition of the specting which I desired to be advised ; be assured I shall do what I can to profit by your wise and good counsel. * Permit me, however, Sir, to caution you against forming too favour- able an idea of my powers, or too sanguine an expectation of what they can achieve. I am myself sensible both of deficiencies of capacity and disadvantages of circumstance which will, I fear, render it somewhat difficult for me to attain popularity as an author. The eminent writ- ers you mention — Mr. Thackeray, Mr. Dickens, Mrs. Marsh, &c. — doubtless enjoyed facilities for observation such as I have not ; cer- tainly they possess a knowledge of the world, whether intuitive or ac- quired, such as I can lay no claim to, and this gives their writings an importance and a variety greatly beyond what I can offer the public. * Still, if health be spared and time vouchsafed me, I mean to do my best ; and should a moderate success crown my efforts its value will be greatly enhanced by the proof it will seem to give that your kind counsel and encouragement have not been bestowed on one quite un- worthy. — Yours respectfully, C. Bell.* 1847 'JANE EYRE' 343 claims of an obscure author, I suppose there is every rea- son to be satisfied. ^ Meantime a brisk sale wonld be effectual support under the liaideur of lofty critics. — I am. Gentlemen, yours re- spectfully, C. Bell.' TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AISTD CO. ' Nov. 13, 1847. ^ Gentlemen, — I have to acknowledge the receipt of yours of the 11th inst., and to thank you for the informa- tion it communicates. The notice from the People's Journal^' also duly reached me, and this morning I re- ceived the Spectator. The critique in the Spectator'' gives that view of the book which will naturally be taken by a certain class of minds ; ^ I shall expect it to be fol- lowed by other notices of a similar nature. The way to detraction has been pointed out, and will probably be pur- sued. Most future notices will in all likelihood have a re- flection of the Spectator" in them. I fear this turn of opinion will not improve the demand for the book — but time will show. If ^^Jane Eyre has any solid worth in it, it ought to weather a gust of unfavourable wind. — I am, Gentlemen, yours respectfully, 0. Bell.'^ TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AKD CO. * Nov 30, 1847. ^ Gentlemen, — I have received the Economist," but not the Examiner ;" from some cause that paper has missed, * 'The book,' says the Spectator, 'displays considerable skill ia the plan, and great power, but rather shown in the writing than in the matter ; and its vigour sustains a species of interest to the last.' 2 On November 27 Miss Bronte writes to Mr. W. Smith Williams— ' Dear Sir,— Will you have the goodness in future to direct all com- munications to me to Haworth, near Keiglileyy instead of to Bradford? With this address they will, owing to alterations in local post-office arrangements, reach me a day earlier than if sent by Bradford. I have received this week the Glasgow Examiner, the Bath Herald, and Douglas JerroWs Newspaper. The Examiner, it appears, has not yet given a notice. I am, dear Sir, yours respectfully, C. Bell.' 344 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE as the Spectator did on a former occasion ; I am glad, however, to learn through your letter that its notice of Jane Eyre^"* was favourable, and also that the prospects of the work appear to improve. ^ I am obliged to you for the information respecting Wuthering Heights/^ — I am, gentlemen, yours respect- fully, C. Bell/ TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AKD CO. ' Dec. 1, 1847. ^Gentlemen, — The Examiner" reached me to-day: it had been missent on account of the direction, which was to Currer Bell, care of Miss Bronte. Allow me to intimate that it would be better in future not to put the name of Currer Bell on the outside of communications ; if directed simply to Miss Bronte they will be more likely to reach their destination safely. Currer Bell is not known in the district, and I have no wish that he should become known. The notice in the Examiner" gratified me very much ; it appears to be from the pen of an able man who has under- stood what he undertakes to criticise ; of course approba- tion from such a quarter is encouraging to an author, and I trust it will prove beneficial to the work. — I am, gentle- men, yours respectfully, C. Bell. ' I received likewise seven other notices from provincial papers enclosed in an envelope. I thank you very sincerely for so punctually sending me all the various criticisms on Jane Eyre."' TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AKD CO. * Dec. 10, 1847. ' Gentlemen, — I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your letter enclosing a bank post bill, for which I thank you. Having already expressed my sense of your kind and up- right conduct, I can now only say that I trust you will always have reason to be as well content with me as I am with you. If the result of any future exertions I may be mi SUCCESS OF UANE EYRE' 345 a'ole to make should prove agreeable and advantageous to you^ I shall be well satisfied ; and it would be a serious source of regret to me if I thought you ever had reason to repent being my publishers. ^ You need not apologise, gentlemen, for having written to me so seldom ; of course I am always glad to hear from you, but I am truly glad to hear from Mr. Williams like- wise ; he was my first favourable critic ; he first gave me encouragement to persevere as an author, consequently I naturally respect him and feel grateful to him. 'Excuse the informality of my letter, and believe me, gentlemen, yours respectfully, Currer Bell." There is little record remaining of the manner in which the first news of its wonderful success reached and affected the one heart of the three sisters.^ I once asked Charlotte — we were talking about the description of Lowood School, and she was saying that she was not sure whether she should have written it if she had been aware how instantaneously it would have been identified with Cowan Bridge' — whether ^ Another letter of this period, hitherto unpublished, may be given here. The reference is, of course, to Leigh Hunt's Jai' of Honey from Mount Hyhla, of which an early copy of the first edition must have been sent to Miss Bronte. The book was first published in 1848 : — TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AND CO. * December 25, 1847. 'Gentlemen, — Permit me to thank you for your present, which reached me yesterday. I was not prepared for anything so truly taste- ful, and when I had opened the parcel, removed the various envelopes, and at last got a glimpse of the chastely attractive binding, I was most agreeably surprised. What is better, on examination I find the con- tents fully to answer the expectation excited by the charming exte- rior ; the Honey is quite as choice as the Jar is elegant. The illustra- tions too are very beautiful, some of them peculiarly so. I trust the public will show itself grateful for the pains you have taken to provide a book so appropriate to the seas'^n. C. Bell.' 2 'Jane Eyre has got down into Yorkshire,' writes Miss Bronte to Mr. Williams under date January 4, 1848 ; ' a copy has even pene- trated into this neighbourhood. I saw ?,n elderly clergyman reading it 346 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE the popularity to which the novel attained had taken her by surprise. She hesitated a little, and then said, ^ I be- lieved that what had impressed me so forcibly when I wrote it must make a strong impression on any one who read it. I was not surprised at those who read ^^Jane Eyre'^ being deeply interested in it; but I hardly expected that a book by an unknown author could find readers.' The sisters had kept the knowledge of their literary vent- ures from their father, fearing to increase their own anx- ieties and disappointment by witnessing his; for he took an acute interest in all that befell his children, and his own tendency had been towards literature in the days when he was young and hopeful. It was true he did not much manifest his feelings in words ; he would have thought that he was prepared for disappointment as the lot of man, and that he could have met it with stoicism ; but words are poor and tardy interpreters of feelings to those who love one another, and his daughters knew how he would have borne ill-success worse for them than for himself. So they did not tell him what they were undertaking. He says now that he suspected it all along, but his suspicions could take no exact form, as all he was certain of was that his children were perpetually writing — and not writing letters. We have seen how the communications from their publishers were received ^ under cover to Miss Bronte.' Once, Charlotte told me, they overheard the postman meeting Mr. Bronte, as the latter was leaving the house, and inquiring from the the other day, and had the satisfaction of hearing him exclaim, Why, they have got School, and Mr. here, I declare ! and Miss (naming the originals of Lowood, Mr. Brocklehurst and Miss Temple). He had known them all. I wondered whether he would recognise the portraits, and was gratified to find that he did, and that, moreover, he pronounced them faithful and just. He said, too, that Mr. (Brocklehurst) "deserved the chastisement he had got." * He did not recognise Currer BelL What author would be with- out the advantage of being able to walk invisible ? One is thereby enabled to keep such a quiet mind. I make this small observation in confidence.' i 1S47 RECEPTION OF ^JANE EYRE' 347 parsoPx where one Currer Bell could be living, to which Mr. Bronte replied that there was no such person in the par- ish. This must have been the misadventure to which Miss Bronte alludes in the beginning of her correspondence with Mr. Aylott. Now, however, when the demand for the work had assured success to ' Jane Eyre/ her sisters urged Charlotte to tell their father of its publication. She accordingly went into his study one afternoon after his early dinner, carrying with her a copy of the book, and two or three re- views, taking care to include a notice adverse to it. She informed me that something like the following con- versation took place between her and him. (I wrote down her words the day after I heard them, and I am pretty sure they are quite accurate.) ^Papa, Tve been writing a book.^ ' Have you, my dear T ' Yes ; and I want you to read it."" ^ I am afraid it will try my eyes too much.^ ' But it is not in manuscript ; it is printed.^ ' My dear ! youVe never thought of the expense it will be ! It will be almost sure to be a loss ; for how can you get a book sold ? No one knows you or your name.^ ' But, papa, I don't think it will be a loss ; no more will you, if you will just let me read you a review or two, and tell you more about it/ So she sat down and read some of the reviews to her father ; and then, giving him the copy of ^ Jane Eyre"" that she intended for him, she left him to read it. When he came in to tea he said, ' Girls, do you know Charlotte has been writing a book, and it is much better than likely T But while the existence of Currer Bell, the author, was like a piece of a dream to the quiet inhabitants of Ha worth Parsonage, who went on with their uniform household life, their cares for their brother being its only variety — the whole reading world of England was in a ferment to dis- cover the unknown author. Even the publishers of ^ Jane 348 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE Eyre" were ignorant whether Currer Bell was a real or an assumed name, whether it belonged to a man or a woman. In every town people sought out the list of their friends and acquaintances, and turned away in disappointment. No one they knew had genius enough to be the author. Every little incident mentioned in the book was turned this way and that to answer, if possible, the much -vexed question of sex. All in vain. People were content to re- lax their exertions to satisfy their curiosity, and simply to sit down and greatly admire. I am not going to write an analysis of a book with which every one who reads this biography is sure to be acquainted ; much less a criticism upon a work which the great flood of public opinion has lifted up from the obscurity in which it first appeared, and laid high and safe on the everlasting hills of fame. Before me lies a packet of extracts from newspapers and periodicals, which Mr. Bronte has sent me. It is touching to look them over, and see how there is hardly any notice, however short and clumsily worded, in any obscure provin- cial paper, but what has been cut out and carefully ticketed with its date by the poor bereaved father — so proud when he first read them, so desolate now. For one and all are full of praise of this great unknown genius, which suddenly appeared amongst us. Conjecture as to the authorship ran about like wild-fire. People in London, smooth and pol- ished as the Athenians of old, and, like them, ^ spending their time in nothing else but either to tell or to hear some new thing/ were astonished and delighted to find that a fresh sensation, a new pleasure, was in reserve for them in the uprising of an author capable of depicting with accurate and Titanic power the strong, self-reliant, racy, and indi- vidual characters which were not, after all, extinct species, but lingered still in existence in the North. They thought that there was some exaggeration mixed with the peculiar force of delineation. Those nearer to the spot, where the scene of the story was apparently laid, were sure, from the 1847 ADMIRATION FOR THACKERAY 349 very truth and accuracy of the writing, that the writer was no Southron ; for though ^ dark, and cold, and rugged is the North/ the old strength of the Scandinavian races yet abides there, and glowed out in every character depicted in ^ Jane Eyre/ Further than this curiosity, both honourable and dishonourable, was at fault. When the second edition appeared, in the January of the following year, with the dedication to Mr. Thackeray, peo- ple looked at each other and wondered afresh. But Currer Bell knew no more of William Makepeace Thackeray as an individual man — of his life, age, fortunes, or circumstances — than she did of those of Mr. Michael Angelo Titmarsh.^ The one had placed his name as author upon the title-page of ' Vanity Fair,^ the other had not. She was thankful for the opportunity of expressing her high admiration of a writer whom, as she says, she regarded ^as the social re- generator of his day — as the very master of that working corps who would restore to rectitude the warped state of things. . . . His wit is bright, his humour attractive, but both bear the same relation to his serious genius that the mere lambent sheet-lightning, playing under the edge of the summer cloud, does to the electric death-spark hid in its womb." Anne Bronte had been more than usually delicate all the summer, and her sensitive spirit had been deeply affected ^ Thackeray sent Vanity Fair and Esmond to Miss Bronte, the first 'With the grateful regards of W. M. Thackeray, July 18, 1848,' the second inscribed, *Miss Bronte, with W. M. Thackeray's grateful re- gards. October 28, 1852.' On October 28, 1847, Miss Bronte writes to Mr. Smith Williams, * I feel honoured in being approved by Mr. Thaclceray, because I approve Mr. Thackeray. This may sound pre- sumptuous perhaps, but I mean that I have long recognised in his writings genuine talent, such as I admired, such as I wondered at and delighted ia. No author seems to distinguish so exquisitely as he does dross from ore, the real from the counterfeit. I believed too he had deep and true feelings under hiS seeming sternness. Now I am sure he has. One good word from such a man is worth pages of praise from ordinary judges/ 350 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE by the great anxiety of her .home. But now that ^ Jane Byre' gave such indication^' of success Charlotte began to plan schemes of future pleasure — perhaps relaxation from care would be the more correct expression — for their dar- ling younger sister, the ^ little one ' of the household. But, although Anne was cheered for a time by Charlotte's suc- cess, the fact was that neither her spirits nor her bodily strength were such as to incline her to much active ex- ertion, and she led far too sedentary a life, continually stooping either over her book, or work, or at her desk. ^It is with difficulty,' writes her sister, ^that we can pre- vail upon her to take a walk, or induce her to converse. I look forward to next summer with the confident intention that she shall, if possible, make at least a brief sojourn at the seaside.' In this same letter is a sentence telling how dearly home, even with its present terrible drawback, lay at the roots of her heart; but it is too much blended with reference to the affairs of others to bear quotation. Any author of a successful novel is liable to an inroad of letters from unknown readers, containing commendation — sometimes of so fulsome and indiscriminating a character as to remind the recipient of Dr. Johnson's famous speech to one who offered presumptuous and injudicious praise — sometimes saying merely a few words, which have power to stir the heart ^as with the sound of a trumpet,' and in the high humility they excite to call forth strong resolutions to make all future efforts worthy of such praise ; and occa- sionally containing that true appreciation of both merits and demerits, together with the sources of each, which forms the very criticism and help for which an inexperi- enced writer thirsts. Of each of these kinds of communi- cation Currer Bell received her full share; and her warm heart, and true sense and high standard of what she aimed at, affixed to each its proper value. Among other letters of hers some to Mr. G. H. Lewes ^ have been kindly placed ^ George Henry Lewes (1817-1878). Published Biographical His- 1847 COREESPONDENCE 351 by him at my service ; and, as I know Miss Bronte highly prized his letters of encouragement and advice, I shall give extracts from her replies, as their dates occur, because they will indicate the kind of criticism she valued, and also be- cause throughout, in anger as in agreement and harmony, they show her character, unblinded by any self -flattery, full of clear-sighted modesty as to what she really did well, and what she failed in, grateful for friendly interest, and only sore and irritable when the question of sex in author- ship was, as she thought, roughly or unfairly treated. As to the rest, the letters speak for themselves, to those who know how to listen, far better than I can interpret their meaning into my poorer and weaker words. Mr. Lewes has politely sent me the following explanation of that let- ter of his to which the succeeding one of Miss Bronte is a reply :— ^When '^Jane Eyre first appeared, the publishers courteously sent me a copy. The enthusiasm with which I read it made me go down to Mr. Parker, and propose to write a review of it for " Fraser^s Magazine.^' He would not consent to an unknown novel — for the papers had not yet declared themselves — receiving such importance, but thought it might make one on Recent Novels : English and French," which appeared in Eraser, December 1847. Meanwhile I had written to Miss Bronte to tell her the delight with which her book filled me ; and seem to have sermonised her, to judge from her reply.* TO G. H. LEWES, ESQ. * November 6. 1847. ' Dear Sir, — Your letter reached me yesterday. I beg to assure you that I appreciate fully the intention with which it was written, and I thank you sincerely both for its cheer- ful commendation and valuable advice. tory of Philosophy, 1845-6 ; Ranihorpe, 1847 ; Rose, Blanche and Violet, 1848 ; Life of Goethe, 1855 ; Problems of Life and Mind, 1873-79, and many other works. 352 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ^ Yon warn me to beware of melodrama, and yon exhort me to adhere to the reaL When I first began to write, so impressed was I with the trnth of the principles you advo- cate, that I determined to take Nature and Truth as my sole guides, and to follow to their very footprints ; I re- strained imagination, eschewed romance, repressed excite- ment ; over-bright colouring, too, I avoided, and sought to produce something which should be soft, grave, and true. ^ My work (a tale in one volume) being completed, I offered it to a publisher. He said it was original, faithful to nature, but he did not feel warranted in accepting it ; such a work would not sell. I tried six publishers in suc- cession ; they all told me it was deficient in startling incident' and thrilling excitement/^ that it would never suit the circulating libraries, and as it was on those libra- ries the success of works of fiction mainly depended, they could not undertake to publish what would be overlooked there. ^^^Jane Eyre" was rather objected to at first, on the same grounds, but finally found acceptance. ^ I mention this to you, not with a view of pleading ex- emption from censure, but in order to direct your atten- tion to the root of certain literary evils. If, in your forth- coming article in Fraser," you would bestow a few words of enlightenment on the public who support the circulat- ing libraries, you might, with your powers, do some good. ^ You advise me, too, not to stray far from the ground of experience, as I become weak when I enter the region of fiction ; and you say real experience is perennially inter- esting, and to all men.'^ ^I feel that this also is true ; but, dear sir, is not the real experience of each individual very limited ? And, if a writer dwells upon that solely or principally, is he not in danger of repeating himself, and also of becoming an ego- tist ? Then, too, imagination is a strong, restless faculty, which claims to be heard and exercised: are we to be quite deaf to her cry, and insensate to her struggles ? When 1^7 CORRESPONDENCE 353 she shows us bright pictures, are we never to look at them, and try to reproduce them ? And when she is eloquent, and speaks rapidly and urgently in our ear, are we not to write to her dictation ? shall anxiously search the next number of ^^Fraser'^ for your opinions on these points. Believe me, dear sir, yours gratefully, C. Bell." But while gratified by appreciation as an author she was cautious as to the person from whom she received it ; for much of the value of the praise depended on the sincerity and capability of the person rendering it. Accordingly she applied to Mr. Williams (a gentleman connected with her publishers' firm) for information as to who and what Mr. Lewes was. Her reply, after she had learnt something of the character of her future critic, and while awaiting his criticism, must not be omitted. Besides the reference to him it contains some amusing allusions to the perplexity which began to be excited respecting the ^identity of the brothers Bell,' and some notice of the conduct of another publisher towards her sister, which I refrain from charac- terising, because I understand that truth is considered a libel in speaking of such people. TO W. S. WILLIAMS, ESQ. ' November 10, 1847. ^Dear Sir, — I have received the Britannia '' and the Sun," but not the Spectator,'' which I rather regret, as censure, though not pleasant, is often wholesome. ^ Thank you for your information regarding Mr. Lewes. I am glad to hear that he is a clever and sincere man : such being the case, I can await his critical sentence with forti- tude ; even if it goes against me I shall not murmur ; abil- ity and honesty have a right to condemn, where they think condemnation is deserved. From what you say, however, I trust rather to obtain at least a modified approval. ^Your account of the various surmises respecting the 23 354 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE identity of the brothers Bell amused me much : were the enigma solved it would probably be found not worth the trouble of solution ; but I will let it alone : it suits ourselves to remain quiet, and certainly injures no one else. ^The reviewer who noticed the little book of poems, in the Dublin Magazine/^ conjectured that the soi-disant three personages were in reality but one, who, endowed with an unduly prominent organ of self-esteem, and conse- quently impressed with a somewhat weighty notion of his own merits, thought them too vast to be concentrated in a single individual, and accordingly divided himself into three, out of consideration, I suppose, for the nerves of the much -to -be -astounded public ! This was an ingenious thought in the reviewer — very original and striking, but not accurate. We are three. prose work, by Ellis and Acton, will soon appear : it should have been out, indeed, long since ; for the first proof sheets were already in the press at the commencement of last August, before Currer Bell had placed the MS. of Jane Eyre^^ in your hands* Mr. Newby, however, does not do business like Messrs. Smith and Elder; a different spirit seems to preside at Mortimer Street to that which guides the helm at 65 CornhilL . . . My relations have suffered from exhausting delay and procrastination, while I have to acknowledge the benefits of a management at once business-like and gentleman-like^ energetic and con- siderate. ' I should like to know if Mr. Newby' often acts as he has ^ Thomas Cautley Newby carried on business as a publisher, first at 72 Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square, whence the BrontC books were issued, and afterwards, from 1850 to 1874, at 30 Welbeck Street. Mrs. Riddell, the novelist, has described Mr. Newby as *a spare man of middle height, who used to travel" round to the country libraries.* * He did not,' she says, * stand well as a publisher. One of h?s brothen* said to me, Were I you, I should not say that Newby had published anything for me." * It is not the least humorous aspect of Newby 's mysterious career that Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights shocked him greatly. 1847 CORRESPONDENCE 355 done to my relations, or Avhether this is an exceptional in- stance of his method. Do you know, and can you tell me anything about him ? You must excuse me for going to the point at once, when I want to learn anything: if my ques- tions are impertinent you are, of course, at liberty to decline answering them. — I am yours respectfully, C. Bell." TO G. H. LEWES, ESQ. * November 22, 1847. ^Dear Sir, — I have now read ^^Eanthorpe." I could not get it till a day or two ago ; but I have got it and read it at last ; and in reading " Ranthorpe I have read a new book — not a reprint — not a reflection of any other book, but a 7iew book, did not know such books were written now. It is very different to any of the popular works of fiction: it fills the mind with fresh knowledge. Your experience and your convictions are made the reader^s ; and to an author, at least, they have a value and an interest quite unusual. I await your criticism on Jane Eyre''^ now with other sentiments than I entertained before the perusal of Ran- thorpe. ' You were a stranger to me. I did not particularly re- spect you. I did not feel that your praise or blame would have any special weight. I knew little of your right to condemn or approve. Noto I am informed on these points. ' You will be severe ; your last letter taught me as much. Well ! I shall try to extract good out of your se- verity ; and besides, though I am now sure you are a just, discriminating man, yet, being mortal, you must be falli- ble ; and if any part of your censure galls me too keenly to the quick — gives me deadly pain — I shall for the pres- ent disbelieve it, and put it quite aside, till such time as I feel able to receive it without torture. — I am, dear sir, yours very respectfully, 0. Bell.^ In December 1847 ^Wuthering Heights^ and ^ Agnes 356 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE Grey^ appeared.^ The first named of these stories has revolted many readers by the power with which wicked and exceptional characters are depicted. Others, again, have felt the attraction of remarkable genius, even when displayed on grim and terrible criminals. Miss Bronte herself says, with regard to this tale, ^ Where delineation of human character is concerned the case is different. I am bound to avow that she had scarcely more practical knowledge of the peasantry amongst whom she lived than a nun has of the country people that pass her convent gates. My sister's disposition was not naturally gregari- ous : circumstances favoured and fostered her tendency to seclusion ; except to go to church, or to take a walk on the hills, she rarely crossed the threshold of home. Though her feeling for the people round her was benevo- lent, intercourse with them she never sought, nor, with very few exceptions, ever experienced ; and yet she knew them, knew their ways, their language, their family his- tories; she could hear of them with interest, and talk of them with detail, minute, graphic, and accurate ; but with them she rarely exchanged a word. Hence it ensued that what her mind had gathered of the real concerning them was too exclusively confined to those tragic and terrible traits of which, in listening to the secret annals of every rude vicinage, the memory is sometimes compelled to receive the impress. Her imagination, which was a spirit more sombre than sunny — more powerful than sportive — found in such traits material whence it wrought creations like Heathcliff, like Earnshaw, like Catherine. Having formed these beings, she did not know what she had done. If the auditor of her work, when read in manuscript, shuddered ^ The book containing Wuthering Heights and Agnes Orey was in three volumes. The title-pages ran as follows : — ' Wuthering Heights : a Novel. By Ellis Bell. Vol. I. ( Vol. II.) London: Thomas Cautley Newby, Publisher, 72 Mortimer St., Caven- dish Sq. 1847.' ' Agnes Grey : a Novel. By Acton Bell. Vol. III. Lon- don: Thomas Cautley Newby, 72 Mortimer St., Cavendish Sq., 1847/ 18i8 DOMESTIC DISTRESS 357 under the grinding influence of natures so relentless and implacable^ of spirits so lost and fallen ; if it was com- plained that the mere hearing of certain vivid and fearful scenes banished sleep by night, and disturbed mental peace by day;, Ellis Bell would wonder what was meant, and sus- pect the complainant of affectation. Had she but lived, her mind would of itself have grown like a strong tree — loftier, straighter, wider-spreading — and its matured fruits would have attained a mellower ripeness and sunnier bloom ; but on that mind time and experience alone could work ; to the influence of other intellects it was not amenable. Whether justly or unjustly, the productions of the two younger Miss Brontes were not received with much favour at the time of their publication. ^ Critics failed to do them justice. The immature, but very real, powers revealed in ^^Wuthering Heights were scarcely recognised; its im- port and nature were misunderstood ; the identity of its author was misrepresented : it was said that this was an earlier and ruder attempt of the same pen which had pro- duced ^^Jane Eyre.^^^ . . . 'Unjust and grievous error! We laughed at it at first, but I deeply lament it now.^ Henceforward Charlotte Bronte^s existence becomes di- vided into two parallel currents — her life as Currer Bell, the author ; her life as Charlotte Bronte, the woman. There were separate duties belonging to each character — not opposing each other ; not impossible, but difficult to be reconciled. When a man becomes an author, it is prob- ably merely a change of employment to him. He takes a portion of that time which has hitherto been devoted to some other study or pursuit; he gives up something of the legal or medical profession, in which he has hitherto endeavoured to serve others, or relinquishes part of the trade or business by which he has been striving to gain a livelihood ; and another merchant, or lawyer, or doctor, steps into his vacant place, and probably does as well as he. But no other can take up the quiet regular duties of the daughter, the wife, or the mother, as well as she whom 358 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE God has appointed to fill that particular place : a woman's principal work in life is hardly left to her own choice ; nor can she drop the domestic charges devolving on her as an individual, for the exercise of the most splendid talents that were ever bestowed. And yet she must not shrink from the extra responsibility implied by the very fact of her possessing such talents. She must not hide her gift in a napkin ; it was meant for the use and service of others. In a humble and faithful spirit must she labour to do what is not impossible, or God would not have set her to do it. I put into words what Charlotte Bronte put into actions. The year 1848 opened with sad domestic distress. It is necessary, however painful, to remind the reader constant- ly of what was always present to the hearts of father and sisters at this time. It is well that the thoughtless critics, who spoke of the sad and gloomy views of life presented by the Brontes in their tales, should know how such words were wrung out of them by the living recollection of the long agony they suffered. It is well, too, that they who have objected to the representation of coarseness, and shrunk from it with repugnance, as if such conceptions arose out of the writers, should learn that not from the imagination — not from internal conception — but from the hard, cruel facts, pressed down, by external life, upon their very senses, for long months and years together, did they write out what they saw, obeying the stern dictates of their con- sciences. They might be mistaken. They might err in writing at all, when their afflictions were so great that they could not write otherwise than they did of life. It is possible that it would have been better to have described only good and pleasant people, doing only good and pleas- ant things (in which case they could hardly have written at any time) ; all I say is, that never, I believe, did women, possessed of such wonderful gifts, exercise them with a fuller feeling of responsibility for their use. As to mis- takes, they stand now — as authors as well as women — be- fore the judgment seat of God. LETTER TO MR. LEWES 359 * January 11, 1848. ^ We have not been very comfortable here at home late- ly. Branwell has, by some means, contrived to get more money, from the old quarter, and has led us a sad life with his absurd and often intolerable conduct. Papa is harassed day and night; we have little peace; he is always sick;i has two or three times fallen down in fits; what will be the ultimate end God knows. But who is without their drawback, their scourge, their skeleton behind the curtain ? It remains only to do one's best, and endure with patience what God sends.' I suppose that she had read Mr. Lewes's review on ^Re- cent Novels,' when it appeared in the December of the last year, but I find no allusion to it till she writes to him on January 12, 1848. ^ Dear Sir, — I thank you, then, sincerely for your gener- ous review ; and it is with the sense of double content I express my gratitude, because I am now sure the tribute is not superfluous or obtrusive. You were not severe on Jane Eyre ;" you were very lenient. I am glad you told me my faults plainly in private, for in your public notice you touch on them so lightly, I should perhaps have passed them over, thus indicated, with too little reflection. ^ I mean to observe your warning about being careful how I undertake new works; my stock of materials is not abundant, but very slender ; and, besides, neither my ex- perience, my acquirements, nor my powers are sufficiently varied to justify my ever becoming a frequent writer. I tell you this because your article in Eraser " left in me an uneasy impression that you were disposed to think better of the author of ^^Jane Eyre" than that indi- vidual deserved; and I would rather you had a correct than a flattering opinion of me, even though I should never see you. ' In the original letter it runs, ' be (B.) is always sick/ 360 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ^ If I ever do write another book, I think I will have nothing of what yon call melodrama I think so, but I am not sure. I think, too, I will endeavour to follow the counsel which shines out of Miss Austen^s ^^mild eyes/^ to finish more and be more subdued but neither am I sure of that. When authors write best, or, at least, when they write most fluently, an influence seems to waken in them, which becomes their master — which will have its own way — putting out of view all behests but its own, dic- tating certain words, and insisting on their being used, whether vehement or measured in their nature; new- moulding characters, giving unthought-of turns to inci- dents, rejecting carefully elaborated old ideas, and suddenly creating and adopting new ones. ^ Is it not so ? And should we try to counteract this in- fluence ? Can we indeed counteract it ? am glad that another work of yours will soon appear; most curious shall I be to see whether you will write up to your own principles, and work out your own theories. You did not do it altogether in Ranthorpe^^ — at least not in the latter part ; but the first portion was, I think, nearly without fault ; then it had a pith, truth, significance in it which gave the book sterling value; but to write so one must have seen and known a great deal, and I have seen and known very little. ^ Why do you like Miss Austen so very much ? I am puzzled on that point. What induced you to say that you would have rather written Pride and Prejudice or "^^Tom Jones,^^ than any of the Waverley Novels ? had not seen " Pride and Prejudice, till I read that sentence of yours, and then I got the book. And what did I find? An accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a com- mon-place face ; a carefully fenced, highly cultivated gar- den, with neat borders and delicate flowers ; but no glance of a bright, vivid physiognomy, no open country, no fresh air, no blue hill, no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen, in their elegant but MR. G. H. LEWES 361 confined houses. These observations will probably irritate you, but I shall run the risk. ^N"ow I can understand admiration of George Sand ; for though I never saw any of her works which I admired throughout (even Consuelo/^ which is the best, or the best that I have read, appears to me to couple strange ex- travagance with wondrous excellence), yet she has a grasp of mind which, if I cannot fully comprehend, I can very deeply respect : she is sagacious and profound ; Miss Aus- ten is only shrewd and observant. ' Am I wrong ; or were you hasty in what you said ? If you have time I should be glad to hear further on this sub- ject ; if not, or if you think the question frivolous, do not trouble yourself to reply. — I am yours respectfully, ^C. Bell.' TO G. H. LEWES, ESQ. 'January 18, 1848. ' Dear Sir, — I must write one more note, though I had not intended to trouble you again so soon. I have to agree with you, and to differ from you. *^You correct my crude remarks on the subject of the influence f well, I accept your definition of what the effects of that influence should be ; I recognise the wisdom of your rules for its regulation. . . . - ' What a strange lecture comes next in your letter! You say I must familiarise my mind with the fact that Miss Austen is not a poetess, has no ^ sentiment'''^ (you scorn- fully enclose the word in inverted commas), ^^no elo- quence, none of the ravishing enthusiasm of poetry -y' and then you add, I must ^Hearn to acknowledge her as 07ie of the greatest artists, of the greatest painters of human char- acter, and one of the writers with the nicest sense of means to an end that ever lived/' ' The last point only will I ever acknowledge. ^Can there be a great artist without poetry ? ' What I call — what I will bend to, as a great artist, then — cannot be destitute of the divine gift. But by poetry, I 362 LIFE OF CHARLOTTP: ERONTfi am sure, you understand something different to what I do, as you do by sentiment/^ It \^ poetry, as I comprehend the word, which elevates that masculine George Sand, and makes out of something coarse something godlike. It is "sentiment," in my sense of the term — sentiment jealously hidden, but genuine, which extracts the venom from that formidable Thackeray, and converts what might be corro- sive poison into purifying elixir. ^If Thackeray did not cherish in his large heart deep feeling for his kind, he would delight to exterminate ; as it is, I believe, he wishes only to reform. Miss Austen being, as you say, without " sentiment," without poetry, maybe is sensible, real (more real than true), but she can- not be great. * I submit to your anger, which I have now excited (for have I not questioned the perfection of your darling ?) ; the storm may pass over me. Nevertheless I will, when I can (I do not know when that will be, as I have no access to a circulating library), diligently peruse all Miss Austen^s works, as you recommend. . . . You must forgive me for not always being able to think as you do, and still believe me yours gratefully, 0. Bell.^ I have hesitated a little before inserting the following extract from a letter to Mr. Williams, but it is strikingly characteristic ; and the criticism contained in it is, from that circumstance, so interesting (whether we agree with it or not) that I have determined to do so, though I thereby displace the chronological order of the letters, in order to complete this portion of a correspondence which is very valuable, as showing the purely intellectual side of her character.* ^ The following letters, addressed to her publishers, come here by- right of date : — ^February 17, 1848. * I have received your letter and its enclosure — a bank bill for 100^. — ^for which I thank you. Your conduct to nae has been such that you 1848 MR. G. H. LEWES 363 TO W. S. WILLIAMS, ESQ. ' April 26, 1848. ^My dear Sir, — I have now read ^^Rose, Blanche, and Violet/^ and I will tell you, as well as I can, what I think of it. Whether it is an improvement on Ranthorpe I do not know, for I liked ^'^Ranthorpe " much ; but, at any rate, it contains more of a good thing. I find in it the same power, but more fully developed. ' The author's character is seen in every page, which makes the book interesting — far more interesting than any story could do; but it is what the writer himself says that attracts, far more than what he puts into the mouths of his characters. Gr. H. Lewes is, to my perception, decidedly the most original character in the book. . . . The didactic passages seem to me the best — far the best — in the work ; very acute, very profound, are some of the views there given, and very clearly they are offered to the reader. He is a just thinker ; he is a sagacious observer ; there is wisdom in his theory, and, I doubt not, energy in his practice. But cannot doubt my relatives would have been most happy, had it been in their power to avail themselves of your proposal respecting the pub- lication of their future works, but their present engagements to Mr. Newby are such as to prevent their consulting freely their own in- clinations and interests, and I need not tell you, who have so clearly proved the weight honour has with you as a principle of action, that engagements must be respected whether they are irksome or not. For my own part I peculiarly regret this circumstance." * April 20, 1848. * I have received the parcel containing Mr. Lewes's new work, and a copy of the third edition of Jane Eyre. Accept my sincere thanks for your kind present. * If the circumstance of a gift being at once unexpected and accept- able can enhance its value, I assure you this is valuable to me. The only drawback to my pleasure in receiving it is, that I think I should have purchased it, and not have had it given to me ; but I will not dis- pute the point with your generosity ; there are cases where it is ungra- cious to decline an obligation ; I will endeavour to suppose this one. ' I trust the third edition of Jane Eyre will go off well. Mr. Lewes's work, I do not doubt, will prosper.' 364 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE why, then, are you often provoked with him while you read ? How does he manage, while teaching, to make his hearer feel as if his business was, not quietly to receive the doctrines propounded, but to combat them ? You acknowl- edge that he offers you gems of pure truth : why do you keep perpetually scrutinising them for flaws ? ^Mr. Lewes, I divine, with all his talents and honesty, must have some faults of manner ; there must be a touch too much of dogmatism : a dash extra of confidence in him, sometimes. This you think while you are reading the book; but when you have closed it and laid it down, and sat a few minutes collecting your thoughts, and settling your impres- sions, you find the idea or feeling predominant in your mind to be pleasure at the fuller acquaintance you have made with a fine mind and a true heart, with high abilities and manly principles. I hope he will not be long ere he publishes another book. His emotional scenes are some- what too uniformly vehement : would not a more subdued style of treatment often have produced a more masterly ef- fect ? Now and then Mr. Lewes takes a French pen into his hand, wherein he differs from Mr. Thackeray, who al- ways uses an English quill. However, the French pen does not far mislead Mr. Lewes ; he wields it with British muscles. All honour to him for the excellent general ten- dency of his book ! ^ He gives no charming picture of London literary society, and especially the female part of it ; but all coteries, whether they be literary, scientific, political, or religious, must, it seems to me, have a tendency to change truth into affecta- tion. When people belong to a clique, they must, I sup- pose, in some measure, write, talk, think, and live for that clique ; a harassing and narrowing necessity. I trust the press and the public show themselves disposed to give the book the reception it merits ; and that is a very cordial one, far beyond anything due to aBulwer or D'Israeli production/ Let us return from Currer Bell to Charlotte Bronte. The 1848 UNSANITARY STATE OF HAWORTH 365 winter in Haworth had been a sickly season. Influenza had prevailed amongst the villagers^ and where there was a real need for the presence of the clergyman's daughters they were never found wanting^ although they were shy of be- stowing mere social visits on the parishioners. They had themselves suffered from the epidemic ; Anne severely, as in her case it had been attended with cough and fever enough to make her elder sisters very anxious about her. There is no doubt that the proximity of the crowded churchyard rendered the Parsonage unhealthy, and oc- casioned much illness to its inmates. Mr. Bronte repre- sented the unsanitary state of Haworth pretty forcibly to the Board of Health ; and, after the requisite visits from their officers, obtained a recommendation that all future interments in the churchyard should be forbidden, a new graveyard opened on the hillside, and means set on foot for obtaining a water supply to each house, instead of the weary, hard-worked housewives having to carry every bucketful from a distance of several hundred yards up a steep street. But he was baffled by the ratepayers ; as, in many a similar instance, quantity carried it against quality, numbers against intelligence. And thus we find that illness often assumed a low typhoid form in Haworth, and fevers of various kinds visited the place with sad frequency. In February 1848 Louis Philippe was dethroned. The quick succession of events at that time called forth the fol- lowing expression of Miss Bronte's thoughts on the subject, in a letter addressed to Miss Wooler, and dated March 31: — remember well wishing my lot had been cast in the troubled times of the late war, and seeing in its exciting incidents a kind of stimulating charm, which it made my pulse beat fast to think of : I remember even, I think, being a little impatient that you would not fully sympathise with my feelings on those subjects; that you heard my as- pirations and speculations very tranquilly, and by no means seemed to think the flaming swords could be any pleasant 366 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi addition to Paradise. I have now outlived youth ; and though I dare not say that I have outlived all its illusions — that the romance is quite gone from life — the veil fallen from truth, and that I see both in naked reality — yet cer- tainly many things are not what they were ten years ago ; and, amongst the rest, the pomp and circumstance of war " have quite lost in my eyes their fictitious glitter. I have still no doubt that the shock of moral earthquakes wakens a vivid sense of life, both in nations and individuals; that the fear of dangers on a broad national scale diverts men's minds momentarily from brooding over small private perils, and for the time gives them something like large- ness of views ; but as little doubt have I that convulsive revolutions put back the world in all that is good, check civilisation, bring the dregs of society to its surface ; in short, it appears to me that insurrections and battles are the acute diseases of nations, and that their tendency is to exhaust, by their violence, the vital energies of the coun- tries where they occur. That England may be spared the spasms, cramps, and frenzy fits now contorting the Conti- nent, and threatening Ireland, I earnestly pray. With the French and Irish I have no sympathy. With the Ger- mans and Italians I think the case is different ; as differ- ent as the love of freedom is from the lust for license.^ Her birthday came round. She wrote to the friend whose birthday was within a week of hers ; wrote the ac- customed letter : but reading it with our knowledge of what she had done, we perceive the difference between her thoughts and what they were a year or two ago, when she said, ^ I have done nothing.^ There must have been a modest consciousness of having ^done something' present in her mind, as she wrote this year — ^I am now thirty-two.^ Youth is gone — gone — and will 1 This letter to Ellen Nussey is dated April 22, 1848. Charlotte Bronte's birthday was April 21. 1848 REPUDIATION OF AUTHOKSHIP 367 never come back : can^t help it. . . . It seems to me that sorrow must come some time to everybody^ and those who scarcely taste it in their youth often have a more brim- ming and bitter cup to drain in after life ; whereas those who exhaust the dregs early, who drink the lees before the wine, may reasonably hope for more palatable draughts to succeed.' The authorship of ^ Jane Eyre^ was as yet a close secret in the Bronte family ; not even this friend, who was all but a sister, knew more about it than the rest of the world. She might conjecture, it is true, both from her knowledge of previous habits and from the suspicious fact of the proofs having been corrected at B(rookroyd), that some literary project was afoot ; but she knew noth- ing, and wisely said nothing, until she heard a report from others that Charlotte Bronte was an author — had published a novel ! Then she wrote to her, and received the two following letters ; confirmatory enough, as it seems to me now, in their very vehemence and agitation of in- tended denial of the truth of the report : — * April 28, 1848. ^ Write another letter, and explain that last note of yours distinctly. If your allusions are to myself, which I sup- pose they are, understand this : I have given no one a right to gossip about me, and am not to be judged by frivo- lous conjectures, emanating from any quarter whatever. Let me know what you heard, and from whom you hoard it.^ 'May 3, 1848. ^ All I can say to you about a certain matter is this : the report — if report there be — and if the lady, who seems to have been rather mystified, had not dreamt what she fan- cied had been told to her — must have had its origin in some absurd misunderstanding. I have given no one a right either to affirm or to hint, in the most distant man- ner, that I am publishing (humbug!) Whoever has 368 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE said it — if any one has, which I doubt — is no friend of mine. Though twenty books were ascribed to me, I should own none. I scout the idea utterly. Whoever, after I have distinctly rejected the charge, urges it upon me will do an unkind and ill-bred thing. The most profound ob- scurity is infinitely preferable to vulgar notoriety ; and that notoriety I neither seek nor will have. If, then, any B — an or G — an' should presume to bore you on the subject — to ask you what ^^novel'^ Miss Bronte has been publishing,'^ you can just say, with the distinct firmness of which you are perfect mistress when you choose, that you are author- ised by Miss Bronte to say that she repels and disowns every accusation of the kind. You may add, if you please, that if any one has her confidence you believe you have, and she has made no drivelling confessions to you on the subject. I am at a loss to conjecture from what source this rumour has come; and, I fear, it has far from a friendly origin. I am not certain, however, and I should be very glad if I could gain certainty. Should you hear any- thing more, please let me know. Your offer of Simeon's Life is a very kind one, and I thank you for it. I dare say papa would like to see the work very much, as he knew Mr. Simeon.^ Laugh or scold A out of the pub- lishing notion ; and believe me, through all chances and changes, whether calumniated or let alone, yours faithfully, 'C. Bronte.' The reason why Miss Bronte was so anxious to preserve her secret was, I am told, that she had pledged her word to her sisters that it should not be revealed through her. The dilemmas attendant on the publication of the sisters' novels, under assumed names, were increasing upon them. ^ * Any Birstallian or Gomersalian ' in original letter. ^ Charles Simeon (1759-1836), an eminent Evangelical divine of the Church of England. He was a Fellow of King's College, Cambridge, and hence Mr. Bronte's acquaintance with him. He would also be known to him as the patron of the living of Bradford Parish Church, of which Haworth is a chapelry. 1848 SUSPICIONS OF THE CRITICS 369 Many critics insisted on believing that all the fictions pub- lished as by three Bells were the works of one author, but written at different periods of his development and ma- turity. No doubt this suspicion affected the reception of the books. Ever since the completion of Anne Bronte/s tale of ^ Agnes Grey ^ she had been labouring at a second, ^The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.' It is little known; the subject — the deterioration of a character, whose profligacy and ruin took their rise in habits of intemperance, so slight as to be only considered ^ good fellowship' — was painfully discordant to one who would fain have sheltered herself from all but peaceful and religious ideas. ' She had ' (says her sister of that gentle Mittle one'), ^in the course of her life, been called on to contemplate near at hand, and for a long time, the terrible effects of talents misused and faculties abused ; hers was naturally a sensitive, reserved, and dejected nature ; what she saw sank very deeply into her mind ; it did her harm. She brooded over it till she believed it to be a duty to reproduce every detail (of course with fictitious characters, incidents, and situations), as a warning to others. She hated her work, but would pursue it. When reasoned with on the subject she regarded such reasonings as a temptation to self-indulgence. She must be honest ; she must not varnish, soften, or conceal. This well-meant resolution brought on her misconstruction, and some abuse, which she bore, as it was her custom to bear whatever was unpleasant, with mild, steady patience. She was a very sincere and practical Christian, but the tinge of religious melancholy communicated a sad shade to her brief blameless life.' In the June of this year ^The Tenant of Wildfell Hall'' ^ * The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. By Acton Bell. In three Volumes. London: T. C. Newby, Publisher. 72 Mortimer St., Cavendish Sq. 1848.' The book went into a second edition the same year, and to this edition Anne Bronte contributed a 'Preface/ in which she said, 'Re- specting the author's identity, I would have it to be distinctly under- stood that Acton Bell is neither Currer nor Ellis Bell, and therefore let not his faults be attributed to them.' 370 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi was sufficiently near its completion to be submitted to the per- son who had previously published for Ellis and Acton Bell/ In consequence of his mode of doing business^ consider- able annoyance was occasioned both to Miss Bronte and to them. The circumstances, as detailed in a letter of hers to a friend in New Zealand, were these : — One morning, at the beginning of July, a communication was received at the Parsonage from Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Oo. which disturbed its quiet inmates not a little, as, though the matter brought under their notice was merely referred to as one which afEected their literary reputation, they con- ceived it to have a bearing likewise upon their character. ^ Jane Eyre ^ had had a great run in America, and a pub- lisher there had consequently bid high for early sheets of the next work by ^ Currer Bell.^ These Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co. had promised to let him have. He was there- fore greatly astonished, and not well pleased, to learn that a similar agreement had been entered into with another American house, and that the new tale was very shortly to appear. It turned out, upon inquiry, that the mistake had originated in Acton and Ellis BelFs publisher having as- sured this American house that, to the best of his belief, 'Jane Eyre,' 'Wuthering Heights,' and 'The Tenant of Wildfell Hall' (which he pronounced superior to either of the other two) were all written by the same author. ^ Here is a letter addressed to Mr. George Smith, of Smith, Elder, & Co. It is dated June 15, 1848 * Miraheau reached me this morning ; this is the third valuable and interesting work I have received from your hands ; such often-repeated kindness leaves me at a loss for words in which to express my sense of it. Not being ingenious enough to coin new terms of acknowledg- ment, I must even have recourse to the old ones, and repeat once more, "I thank you." ^Mirabeau being one of the most remarkable characters of a remark- able era, I look forward to the perusal of his life with much interest. I should think the two portraits given are excellent ; they both seem full of character, rendering the strong, striking physiognomy of the original with most satisfactory effect.' im CURRER AND ACTON BELL IN LONDON 371 Though Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co. distinctly stated in their letter that they did not share in such ^belief/ the sisters were impatient till they had shown its utter ground- lessness, and set themselves perfectly straight. With rapid decision they resolved that Charlotte and Anne should start for London that very day, in order to prove their separate identity to Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co., and demand from the credulous publisher his reasons for a ^ belief^ so directly at variance with an assurance which had several times been given to. him. Having arrived at this determination, they made their preparations with resolute promptness. There were many household duties to be performed that day ; but they were all got through. The two sisters each packed up a change of dress in a small box, which they sent down to Keighley by an opportune cart ; and after early tea they set off to walk thither — no doubt in some excitement ; for, independently of the cause of their going to London, it was Anne's first visit there. A great thunderstorm overtook them on their way that summer evening to the station; but they had no time to seek shelter. They only just caught the train at Keighley, arrived at Leeds, and were whirled up by the night train to London. About eight o'clock on the Saturday morning they ar- rived at the Chapter Coffee-house,^ Paternoster Row — a strange place, but they did not well know where else to go. They refreshed themselves by washing, and had some breakfast. Then they sat still for a few minutes, to con- sider what next should be done. When they had been discussing their project in the quiet ^The Chapter Coffee-house, at the west corner of Paul's Alley, Paternoster Row, ' was noted in the last century as the place of meet- ing of the London publishers' {Wheatley's London). It was here in 1777 that the edition of the British poets for which Johnson wrote his Lives was arranged for. The building was destroyed in 1858, and a public-house stands on the site, with a draper's work-rooms above. A set of first editions of the Bronte novels was bound in wood from a beam of the old building by Mr. Elliot Stock, the publisher and book- seller, of Paternoster Row. 372 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE of Haworth Parsonage the day before, and planning the mode of setting about the business on which they were going to London, they had resolved to take a cab, if they should find it desirable, from their inn to Cornhill; but amidst the bustle and ^ queer state of inward excitement^ in which they found themselves, as they sat and considered their position on the Saturday morning, they quite forgot even the possibility of hiring a conveyance; and when they set forth they became so dismayed by the crowded streets, and the impeded crossings, that they stood still repeatedly, in complete despair of making progress, and were nearly an hour in walking the half-mile they had to go. Neither Mr. Smith nor Mr. Williams knew that they were coming ; they were entirely unknown to the publishers of ^ Jane Eyre,^ who were not, in fact, aware whether the * Bells ^ were men or women, but had always written to them as to men. On reaching Mr. Smith's Charlotte put his own letter into his hands, the same letter which had excited so much disturbance at Haworth Parsonage only twenty-four hours before. ^ Where did you get this T said he, as if he could not believe that the two young ladies dressed in black, of slight figures and diminutive stature, looking pleased yet agitated, could be the embodied Currer and Acton Bell, for whom curiosity had been hunting so eagerly in vain. An explanation ensued, and Mr. Smith at once began to form plans for their amusement and pleasure during their stay in London. He urged them to meet a few literary friends at his house; and this was a strong temptation to Charlotte, as amongst them were one or two of the writers whom she particularly wished to see; but her resolution to remain unknown induced her firmly to put it aside. The sisters were equally persevering in declining Mr. Smith's invitations to stay at his house. They refused to leave their quarters, saying they were not prepared for a long stay. When they returned back to their inn, poor Charlotte paid for the excitement of the interview, which had wound 1848 CURRER AND ACTON BELL IN LONDON 373 np the agitation and hurry of the last twenty-four hours, by a racking headache and harassing sickness. Towards even- ing, as she rather expected some of the ladies of Mr. Smith's family to call, she prepared herself for the chance by tak- ing a strong dose of sal-volatile, which roused her a little, but still, as she says, she was ^ in grievous bodily case ^ when their visitors were announced, in full evening costume. The sisters had not understood that it had been settled that they were to go to the Opera, and therefore were not ready. Moreover they had no fine, elegant dresses either with them or in the world. But Miss Bronte resolved to raise no objections in the acceptance of kindness. So, in spite of headache and weariness, they made haste to dress themselves in their plain, high-made country garments. Charlotte says, in an account which she gives to her friend of this visit to London, describing the entrance of her party into the Opera House — ^Fine ladies and gentlemen glanced at us, as we stood by the box door, which was not yet opened, with a slight grace- ful superciliousness, quite warranted by the circumstances. Still I felt pleasurably excited in spite of headache, sick- ness, and conscious clownishness ; and I saw Anne was calm and gentle, which she always is. The performance was Rossini's " Barber of Seville " — very brilliant, though I fancy there are things I should like better. We had got home after one o^clock. We had never been in bed the night before ; had been in constant excitement for twenty- four hours; you may imagine we were tired. The next day, Sunday, Mr. Williams came early to take us to church ; and in the afternoon Mr. Smith and his mother fetched us in a carriage, and took us to his house to dine. ^On Monday we went to the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, the National Gallery, dined again at Mr. Smith's, and then went home to tea with Mr. Williams at his house. ' On Tuesday morning we left London, laden with books Mr. Smith had given us, and got safely home. A more 374 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE jaded wretch than I looked it would be difficult to con- ceive. I was thin when I went, but I was meagre indeed when I returned, my face looking grey and very old, with strange deep lines ploughed in it ; my eyes stared unnatu- rally. I was weak and yet restless. In a while, however, these bad effects of excitement went off, and I regained my normal condition. * Mrs. Gaskell made use of a letter addressed to Mary Taylor in Ler account of this visit to London, but the letter has many characteristic touches which make it not the least valuable of the hitherto unpub- lished material. It is interesting also to compare it withMrs.GaskelFs skilful paraphrase TO MISS MARY TAYLOR. * Haworth : ' September 4, 1848. * Dear Polly, — I write you a great many more letters than you write me, though whether they all reach you, or not, Heaven knows ! I dare say you will not be without a certain desire to know how our affairs get on ; I will give you, therefore, a notion as briefly as may be. Acton Bell has published another book ; it is in three volumes, but I do not like it quite so well as Agnes Orey, the subject not being such as the Author had pleasure in handling. It has been praised by some reviews and blamed by others ; as yet only 25^. have been realised for the copy- right, and, as Acton Bell's publisher is a shuffling scamp, I expected no more. ' About two months since I had a letter from my publishers — Smith and Elder — saying that Jane Eyre had had a great run in America, and that a publisher there had consequently bid high for the first sheets of a new work by Currer Bell, which they had promised to let him have. 'Presently after came another missive from Smith and Elder ; their American correspondent had written to them complaining that the first sheets of a new work by Currer Bell had been already received, and not by their house, but by a rival publisher, and asking the mean- ing of such false play ; it enclosed an extract from a letter from Mr. Newby (A. and E. Bell's publisher) affirming that to the best of his belief Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights and Agnes Orey, and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (the new work) were all. the production of one writer. * This was a lie, as Newby had been told repeatedly that they were the production of three different authors ; but the fact was he wanted to make a dishonest move in the game to make the public and 1848 CURRER AND ACTON BELL IN LONDON 375 The impression Miss Bronte made upon those with whom she first became acquainted during this visit to Lon- don was of a person with clear judgment and a fine sense ; the trade believe that he had got hold of Currer Bell, aod thus cheat Smith and Elder by securing the American publisher's bid. * The upshot of it was that on the very day I received Smith & Elder's letter Anne and I packed up a small box, sent it down to Keighley, set out ourselves after tea — walked through a snowstorm to the station, got to Leeds, and whirled up by the night train to Lon- don, with the view of proving our separate identity to Smith & Elder, and confronting Newby with his lie. ' We arrived at the Chapter Coffee-house (our old place, Polly ; we did not well know where else to go) about eight o'clock in the morning. We washed ourselves, had some breakfast, sat a few minutes, and tlien set off in queer inward excitement to 65 Cornhill. Neither Mr. Smith nor Mr. Williams knew we were coming ; they had never seen us ; they did not know whether we were men or women, but had always written to us as men. * We found 65 to be a large bookseller's shop, in a street almost as bustling as the Strand. We went in, walked up to the counter. There were a great many young men and lads here and there. I said to the first I could accost, '* May I see Mr. Smith ?" He hesitated, looked a little surprised. We sat down and waited a while, looking at some books on the counter, publications of theirs well known to us, of many of which they had sent us copies as presents. At last we were shown up to Mr. Smith. *'Is it Mr. Smith ?" I said, looking up through my spectacles at a tall young man. It is." I then put his own letter into his hand directed to Currer Bell. He looked at it and then at me again. "Where did you get this ?" he said. I laughed at his perplex- ity ; a recognition took place. I gave my real name — Miss Bronte. We were in a small room, ceiled with a great skylight, and there ex- planations were rapidly gone into, Mr. Newby being anathematised, I fear, with undue vehemence. Mr. Smith hurried out and returned quickly with one whom he introduced as Mr. Williams, a pale, mild, stooping man of fifty, very much like a faded Tom Dixon. Another recognition and a long nervous shaking of hands. Then followed talk —talk — talk, Mr. Williams being silent, Mr. Smith loquacious. ' Mr. Smith said we must come and stay at his house, but we were not prepared for a long stay and declined this also ; as we took our leave he told us he should bring his sisters to call on us that evening. We returned to our inn, and I paid for the excitement of the interview by a thundering headache and a harassing sickness. Towards evening, 376 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE and though reserved, possessing unconsciously the power of drawing out others in conversation. She never ex- pressed an opinion without assigning a reason for it ; she as I got no better and expected the Smiths to call, I took a strong dose of sal-volatile. It roused me a little ; still I was in grievous bodily case when they were announced. They came in, two elegant young ladies, in full dress, prepared for the Opera— Mr. Smith him- self in evening costume, white gloves, &c. We had by no means un- derstood that it was settled we were to go to the Opera, and were not ready. Moreover we had no fine, elegant dresses with us, or in the world. However on brief rumination I thought it would be wise to make no objections. I put my headache in my poeket ; we attired ourselves in the plain, high-made country garments we possessed, and went with them to their carriage, where we found Mr. Williams. They must have thought us queer, quizzical-looking beings, especially me with my spectacles. I smiled inwardly at the contrast which must have been apparent between me and Mr. Smith as I walked with him up the crimson-carpeted staircase of the Opera House and stood amongst a brilliant throng at the box door, which was not yet open. Fine ladies and gentlemen glanced at us with a slight graceful supercili- ousness quite warranted by the circumstances. Still I felt pleasantly excited in spite of headache and sickness and conscious clowuishness, and I saw Anne was calm and gentle, which she always is. * The performance was Rossini's opera of the Barber of Seville, very brilliant, though I fancy there are things I should like better. We got home after one o'clock. We had never been in bed the night be- fore, and had been in constant excitement for twenty-four hours. You may imagine we were tired. * The next day, Sunday, Mr. Williams came early and took us to church. He was so quiet but so sincere in his attentions one could not but have a most friendly leaning towards him. He has a nervous hesitation in speech, and a difficulty in finding appropriate language in which to express himself, which throws him into the background in conversation, but I had been his correspondent and therefore knew with what intelligence he could write, so that I was not in danger of undervaluing him. In the afternoon Mr. Smith came in his carriage with his mother, to take us to his house to dine. Mr. Smith's resi- dence is at Bayswater, six miles from Cornhill ; the rooms, the draw- ing-room especially, looked splendid to us. There was no company — only his mother, his two grown-up sisters, and his brother, a lad of twelve or thirteen, and a little sister, the youngest of the family, very like himself. They are all dark-eyed, dark haired, and have clear. IMS CURRER AND ACTON BELL IN LONDON 377 never pot a question without a definite purpose ; and yet people felt at their ease in talking with her. All conversa- tion with her was genuine and stimulating ; and when she launched forth in praise or reprobation of books, or deeds, or works of art, her eloquence was indeed burning. She was thorough in all that she said or did ; yet so open and fair in dealing with a subject, or contending with an oppo- nent, that instead of rousing resentment she merely con- vinced her hearers of her earnest zeal for the truth and right. Not the least singular part of their proceedings was the place at which the sisters had chosen to stay. Paternoster Row was for many years sacred to publish- ers. It is a narrow flagged street, lying under the shadow pale faces. The mother is a portly, handsome woman of her age, and all the children more or less well-looking— one of the daughters de- cidedly pretty. We had a fine dinner, which neither Anne nor I had appetite to eat, and were glad when it was over. I always feel under an awkward constraint at table. Dining out would be hideous to me. 'Mr. Smith made himself very pleasant. He is ?i practical man. I wish Mr. Williams were more so, but he is altogether of the contem- plative, theorising order. Mr. Williams has too many abstractions. ' On Monday we went to the Exhibition of the Royal Academy and the National Gallery, dined again at Mr. Smith's, then went home with Mr. Williams to tea and saw his comparatively humble but neat resi- dence and bis fine family of eight children. A daughter of Leigh Hunt was there ; she sang some little Italian airs, which she had picked up among the peasantry in Tuscany, in a manner that charmed me. * On Tuesday morning we left London, laden with books which Mr. Smith had given us, and got safely home. A more jaded wretch than I looked when I returned it would be difficult to conceive. I was thin when I went, but was meagre indeed when I returned ; my face looked grey and very old, with strange deep lines ploughed in it ; my eyes stared unnaturally. I was weak and yet restless. In a while, however, the bad effects of excitement went off and I regained my normal condition. ' We saw Mr. Newby, but of him more another time. * Good-bye. God bless you. Write. 378 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE of St. Panrs. The dull warehouses on each side are mostly occupied at present by wholesale booksellers ; if they be publishers^ shops, they show no attractive front to the dark and narrow street. Halfway up, on the left-hand side, is the Chapter Coffee-house. I visited it last June. It was then unoccupied. It had the appearance of a dwelling-house, two hundred years old or so, such as one sometimes sees in ancient country towns ; the ceilings of the small rooms were low, and had heavy beams running across them ; the walls were wainscoted breast high ; the staircase was shallow, broad, and dark, taking up much space in the centre of the house. This, then, was the Chapter Coffee-house, which, a century ago, was the re- sort of all the booksellers and publishers ; and where the literary hacks, the critics, and even the wits used to go in search of ideas or employment. This was the place about which Chatterton wrote in those delusive letters he sent to his mother at Bristol, while he was starving in London. ^I am quite familiar at the Chapter Coft'ee-house, and know all the geniuses there.^ Here he heard of chances of em- ployment ; here his letters were to be left. Years later it became the tavern frequented by Univer- sity men and country clergymen who were up in London for a few days, and, having no private friends or access into society, were glad to learn what was going on in the world of letters from the conversation which they were sure to hear in the coffee room. In Mr. Bronte's few and brief visits to town, during his residence at Cambridge, and the period of his curacy in Essex, he had stayed at this house ; hither he had brought his daughters, when he was convoy- ing them to Brussels ; and here they came now, from very ignorance where else to go. It was a place solely frequent- ed by men ; I believe there was but one female servant in the house. Few people slept there ; some of the stated meetings of the Trade were held in it, as they had been for more than a century ; and, occasionally, country book- sellers, with now and then a clergyman, resorted to it; 1848 CURRER AND ACTON BELL IN LONDON 379 but it was a strange, desolate place for the Miss Bronte^s to have gone to, from its purely business and masculine aspect. The old ^grey-haired, elderly man^ who officiated as waiter seems to have been touched from the very first with the quiet simplicity of the two ladies, and he tried to make them feel comfortable and at home in the long, low, dingy room upstairs, where the meetings of the Trade were held. The high, narrow window^s looked into the gloomy Row; the sisters, clinging together on the most remote window seat (as Mr. Smith tells me he found them when he came, that Saturday evening, to take them to the Opera), could see nothing of motion, or of change, in the grim, dark houses opposite, so near and close, although the whole breadth of the Row was between. The mighty roar of London was round them, like the sound of an un- seen ocean, yet every footfall on the pavement below might be heard distinctly in that unfrequented street. Such as it was, they preferred remaining at the Chapter Coffee- house to accepting the invitation which Mr. Smith and his mother urged upon them ; and, in after years, Charlotte says — ' Since those days I have seen the West End, the parks, the fine squares ; but I love the City far better. The City seems so much more in earnest ; its business, its rush, its roar are such serious things, sights, sounds. The City is getting its living — the West End but enjoying its pleasure. At the West End you may be amused ; but in the City you are deeply excited.^ ^ Their wish had been to hear Dr. Croly on the Sunday morning, and Mr. Williams escorted them to St. Stephen^s, Walbrook ; but they were disappointed, as Dr. Croly did not preach. Mr. Williams also took them (as Miss Bronte has mentioned) to drink tea at his house. On the way thither they had to pass through Kensington » Villette, vol. i. p. 89. 380 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE Gardens, and Miss Bronte was much ^struck with the beauty of the scene, the fresh verdure of the turf, and the soft, rich masses of foliage/ From remarks on the different character of the landscape in the South from what it was in the North, she was led to speak of the softness and varied intonation of the voices of those with whom she conversed in London, which seem to have made a strong impression on both sisters. All this time those who came in contact with the ^Miss Browns'' (an- other pseudonym, also beginning with B) seem only to have regarded them as shy and reserved little countrywomen, with not much to say. Mr. Williams tells me that on the night when he accompanied the party to the Opera, as Charlotte ascended the flight of stairs leading from the grand entrance up to the lobby of the first tier of boxes, she was so much struck with the architectural effect of the splendid decorations of that vestibule and saloon, that involuntarily she slightly pressed his arm and whispered, ' You know I am not accustomed to this sort of thing.^ Indeed, it must have formed a vivid contrast to what they were doing and seeing an hour or two earlier the night be- fore, when they were trudging along with beating hearts and high-strung courage on the road between Haworth and Keighley, hardly thinking of the thunderstorm that beat about their heads, for the thoughts which filled them of how they would go straight away to London, and prove that they were really two people and not one impostor. It was no wonder that they returned to Haworth thoroughly fagged and worn out, after the fatigue and excitement of this visit. The next notice I find of Charlotte^s life at this time is of a different character from anything telling of enjoyment. •July 28. ^ Branwell is the same in conduct as ever. His constitu- tion seems much shattered. Papa, and sometimes all of us, have sad nights with him. He sleeps most of the day, and ABOUT CASTERTON SCHOOL 381 consequently will lie awake at night. But has not every house its trial T ^ While her most intimate friends were yet in ignorance of the fact of her authorship of ^ Jane Eyre/ she received a letter from one of them making inquiries about Casterton School. It is but right to give her answer, written on August 28, 1848.' ' Since you wish to hear from me while you are from home, I will write without further delay. It often happens that when we linger at first in answering a friend^s letter obstacles occur to retard us to an inexcusably late period. In my last I forgot to answer a question which you asked me, and was sorry afterwards for the omission. I will begin, therefore, by replying to it, though I fear what information I can give will come a little late. You said Mrs. had some thoughts of sending to school, and wished to know whether the Clergy Daughters^ School at Casterton was an eligible place. * The following letter to Mr. George Smith is dated August 17, 1848 :— * How you can expect to escape the infliction of thanks by means of that ingenuous explanation of the value (to you) of the books you send me I don't know. Consider yourself now thanked twice as much as ever ; if you are overwhelmed I am sorry, but I cannot help it, nor can I diminish one atom of the burden. The case for me stands as it did before ; it was not so much by the sacrifice your gifts cost you that I reckoned their value, as by the pleasure they gave mCy and, as that pleasure is enhanced by what you tell me, I ought to be, and, I hope, am, still more grateful. * I have received the books ; the parcel from Messrs. Bradbury & Evans contained, as you conjectured, a copy of Vanity Fair. I send the accompaiiying note of acknowledgment to be posted in London. ' I will not return Charles Lamb, for in truth he is very welcome. I saw a review with extracts in the Examiner, and thought at the time I should much like to read the whole work. Bat, having accepted this book, I tell you distinctly that I will not accept any more till such time as I shall have finished another manuscript, and you find it such as you like. * My sister joins me in kind remembrances to your mother, sisters, and yourself.' ^ Miss Wooler. 382 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE My personal knowledge of that institution is very much out of date, being derived from the experience of twenty years ago. The establishment was at that time in its infancy, and a sad, rickety infancy it was. Typhus fever decimated the school periodically;^ and consumption and scrofula, in every variety of form bad air and water, bad and insufficient diet can generate, preyed on the ill-fated pupils. It would not then have been a fit place for any of Mrs. ^s children ; but I understand it is very much al- tered for the better since those days. The school is re- moved from Cowan^s Bridge (a situation as unhealthy as it was picturesque — low, damp, beautiful with wood and wa- ter) to Casterton. The accommodations, the diet, the dis- cipline, the system of tuition — all are, I believe, entirely altered and greatly improved. I was told that such pupils as behaved well, and remained at the school till their edu- cation was finished, were provided with situations as gov- ernesses, if they wished to adopt the vocation, and much care was exercised in the selection; it was added that they were also furnished with an excellent wardrobe on leaving Casterton. . . . The oldest family in Haworth failed lately, and have quitted the neighbourhood where their fathers resided before them for, it is said, thirteen generations. . . . Papa, I am most thankful to say, continues in very good health, considering his age ; his sight, too, rather, I think, improves than deteriorates. My sisters likewise are pretty well.^ But the dark cloud was hanging over that doomed house- hold, and gathering blackness every hour. On October 9 she thus writes :^ — ^ The past three weeks have been a dark interval in our humble home. Branwell's constitution had been failing fast ^ Mr. W. W. Cams Wilson wishes me to mention that this statement is a mistake. He says they have only had typhus fever twice in the school (either at Cowan Bridge or at Casterton) since its institution in 1823 {Note hy Mrs. Oaskell). In a letter to Ellen Nussey. 1848 DEATH OF BRANWELL BRONTE 383 all the snmmer; but still neither the doctors nor himself thought him so near his end as he was. He was entirely confined to his bed but for one single day, and was in the village two days before his death. He died, after twenty minutes' struggle, on Sunday morning, September 24. He was perfectly conscious till the last agony came on. His mind had undergone the peculiar change which frequently precedes death, two days previously ; the calm of better feelings filled it ; a return of natural affection marked his last moments. He is in God's hands now ; and the All- Powerful is likewise the All-Merciful. A deep conviction that he rests at last — rests well after his brief, erring, suf- fering, feverish life — fills and quiets my mind now. The final separation, the spectacle of his pale corpse, gave me more acute, bitter pain than I could have imagined. Till the last hour comes we never know how much we can for- give, pity, regret a near relative. All his vices were and are nothing now. We remember only his woes. Papa was acutely distressed at first, but, on the whole, has borne the event well. Emily and Anne are pretty well, though Anne is always delicate, and Emily has a cold and cough at pres- ent. It was my fate to sink at the crisis, when I should have collected my strength. Headache and sickness came on first on the Sunday ; I could not regain my appetite. Then internal pain attacked me. I became at once much reduced. It was impossible to touch a morsel. At last bilious fever declared itself. I was confined to bed a week — a dreary week. But, thank God ! health seems now re- turning. I can sit up all day, and take moderate nourish- ment. The doctor said at first I should be very slow in re- covering, but I seemed to get on faster than he antici- pated. I am truly much letter J I have heard, from one who attended Branwell in his last illness, that he resolved on standing up to die. He had repeatedly said that as long as there was life there was strength of will to do what it chose ; and when the last 384 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE agony began he insisted on assuming the position just men- tioned.^ * October 29, 1848. ^ I think I have now nearly got over the effects of my late illness, and am almost restored to my normal condition of health. I sometimes wish that it was a little higher, but * The following letter from Charlotte BrontS to her friend Mr. W. S. Williams, of Smith, Elder & Co., supplements the text : — October 3, 1848. * My dear Sir, — ** We have hurried our dead out of our sight." A lull begins to succeed the gloomy tumult of last week. It is not per- mitted us to grieve for him who is gone as others grieve for those they lose. The removal of our only brother must necessarily be regarded by us rather in the light of a mercy than a chastisement. Bran well was his father's and his sisters* pride and hope in boyhood, but since manhood the case has been otherwise. It has been our lot to see him take a wrong bent ; to hope, expect, wait his return to the right path ; to know the sickness of hope deferred, the dismay of prayer baffled ; to experience despair at last — and now to behold the sudden early obscure close of what might have been a noble career. * I do not weep from a sense of bereavement — there is no prop with- drawn, no consolation torn away, no dear companion lost — but for the wreck of talent, the ruin of promise, the untimely dreary extinction of what might have been a burning and a shining light. My brother was a year my junior. I had aspirations and ambitions for him once, long ago ; they have perished mournfully. Nothing remains of him but a memory of errors and sufferings. There is such a bitterness of pity for his life and death, such a yearning for the emptiness of his whole existence, as I cannot describe. I trust time will allay these feelings. ' My poor father naturally thought more of his only son than of his daughters, and, much and long as he had suffered on his account, he cried out for his loss like David for that of Absalom — " My son ! my son !" — and refused at first to be comforted. And then, when I ought to have been able to collect my strength and be at hand to support him, I fell ill with an illness whose approaches I had felt for some time pre- viously, and of which the crisis was hastened by the awe and trouble of the death scene, the first I had ever witnessed. The past has seemed to me a strange week. Thank God, for my father's sake, I am better now, though still feeble. I wish indeed I had more general physical Strength ; the want of it is sadly in my way. I cannot do what I 1S48 IMPENDING SORROWS 385 we ought to be content with such blessings as we have, and not pine after those that are out of our reach. I feel much more uneasy about my sister than myself just now. Emily^s cold and cou^h are very obstinate. I fear she has pain in her chest, and I sometimes catch a shortness in her breath- ing, when she has moved at all quickly. She looks very thin and pale. Her reserved nature occasions me great un- easiness of mind. It is useless to question her ; you get no answers. It is still more useles to recommend remedies ; they are never adopted. Nor can I shut my eyes to Anne's great delicacy of constitution. The late sad event has, I feel, made me more apprehensive than common. I cannot help feeling much depressed sometimes. I try to leave all in God's hands ; to trust in His goodness ; but faith and res- ignation are difficult to practise under some circumstances. The weather has been most unfavourable for invalids of late; sudden changes of temperature, and cold penetrating winds have been frequent here. Should the atmosphere become more settled, perhaps a favourable effect might be produced on the general health, and these harassing colds and coughs be removed. Papa has not quite escaped, but he has so far stood it better than any of us. You must not mention my going to Brookroyd this winter. I could not, and would not, leave home on any account. Miss Heald has been for some years out of health now. These things make one feel, would do for want of sustained animal spirits and efficient bodily vigour. 'My unhappy brother never knew what his sisters had done in lit- erature ; he was not aware that they had ever published a line. We could not tell him of our efforts for fear of causing him too deep a pang of remorse for his own time misspent and talents misapplied. Now he will never know. I cannot dwell longer of the subject at present ; it is too painful. * I thank you for you kind sympathy, and pray earnestly that your sons may all do well, and that you may be spared the sufferings my father has gone through. * Yours sincerely, ' C. BRONTfi.* 25 386 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE as well as know, that this world is not our abiding-place. We should not knit hnman ties too close, or clasp human affections too fondly. They must leave us, or we must leave them, one day. God restore health and strength to all who need it V * I go on now with her own affecting words in the bio- graphical notices of her sisters. 'But a great change approached. Affliction came in that shape which to anticipate is dread, to look back on grief. In the very heat and burden of the day the labour- ers failed over their work. My sister Emily first declined. ... Never in all her life had she lingered over any task that lay before her, and she did not linger now. She sank ^ A letter of November 7, 1848, to Mr. George Smith has its place here : — ' I have received your letter containing a remittance of 100^. I think I am chiefly glad of it for the proof it seems to afford that the third edition of Jane Eyre does not lie a dead weight on your hands. I was afraid this might be the case, and it would chagrin me to think that any work of "Currer Bell" acted as a drag on your progress; my wish is to serve a contrary purpose, because it seems to me, from what I hnow, and still more from what I hear of you, that you so well deserve success. In this point of view I sometimes feel anx- ious about the little volume of poems ; I hope it will not be a mere incumbrance in your shop, so as to give you reason to regret having purchased it. . * I will do mj^self the pleasure of writing to you again when I re- ceive the books you mention. You see I carefully abstain from utter- ing a word of thanks, but I must inform you that the loan of the books is indeed well-timed ; no more acceptable benefit could have been conferred on my dear sister Emily, who is at present too ill to occupy herself with writing, or indeed with anything but reading. She smiled when I told her Mr. Smith was going to send some more books. She was pleased. They will be a source of interest for her when her cough and fever will permit her to take interest in any- thing. Now you may judge whether or not you have laid me under an obligation. *My sister Anne joins with me in kind regards to yourself, your mother and sisters/ 1848 IMPENDING SORROWS 387 rapidly. She made haste to leave ns. . . . Day by day, when I saw with what a front she met suffering, I looked on her with an anguish of wonder and love. I have seen nothing like it ; but, indeed, I have never seen her parallel in anything. Stronger than a man, simpler than a child, her nature stood alone. The awful point was that, while full of ruth for others, on herself she had no pity ; the spirit was inexorable to the flesh ; from the trembling hand, the unnerved limbs, the fading eyes, the same ser- vice was exacted as they had rendered in health. To stand by and witness this, and not dare to remonstrate, was a pain no words can render.^ In fact Emily never went out of doors after the Sunday succeeding BranwelFs death. She made no complaint ; she would not endure questioning ; she rejected sympathy and help. Many a time did Charlotte and Anne drop their sewing, or cease from their writing, to listen with wrung hearts to the failing step, the laboured breathing, the fre- quent pauses, with which their sister climbed the short staircase ; yet they dared not notice what they observed, with pangs of suifering even greater than hers. They dared not notice it in words, far less by the caressing as- sistance of a helping arm or hand. They sat still and silent. ' November 23, 1848. ^ I told you Emily was ill in my last letter. She has not rallied yet. She is very ill. I believe, if you were to see her, your impression would be that there is no hope. A more hollow, wasted, pallid aspect I have not beheld. The deep, tight cough continues ; the breathing after the least exertion is a rapid pant ; and these symptoms are accom- panied by pains in the chest and side. Her pulse, the only time she allowed it to be felt, was found to beat 115 per minute. In this state she resolutely refuses to see a doc- tor ; she will give no explanation of her feelings ; she will scarcely allow her feelings to be alluded to. Our posi- 388 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE tioii is, and has been for some weeks, exquisitely painfuL God only knows how all this is to terminate. More than once I have been forced boldly to regard the terrible event of her loss as possible, and even probable. But nature shrinks from such thoughts. I think Emily seems the nearest thing to my heart in the world. ^ * * A letter addressed to Mr. Williams on November 22 may be read here : — * My dear Sir, — I put your most friendly letter into Emily's hands as soon as I had myself perused it, taking care, however, not to say a word in favour of homa3opathy ; that would not have answered. It is best usually to leave her to form her own judgment, and especially not to advocate the side you wish her to favour ; if you do she is sure to lean in the opposite direction, and ten to one will argue herself into non-compliance. Hitherto she has refused medicine, rejected medical advice ; no reasoning, no entreaty has availed to induce her to see a physician. After reading your letter she said, " Mr. Williams's in- tention was kind and good, but he was under a delusion: homoeop- athy was only another form of quackery." Yet she niay reconsider this opinion and come to a different conclusion ; her second thoughts are often the best. * The North American Review is worth reading; there is no mincing the matter there. What a bad set the Bells must be ! What appalling books they write! To-day, as Emily appeared a little easier, I thought the Review would amuse her, so I read it aloud to her and Anne. As I sat between them at our quiet but now somewhat melancholy fire- side I studied the two ferocious authors. Ellis, the "man of uncom- mon talents, but dogged, brutal, and morose," sat leaning back in his easy chair, drawing his impeded breath as he best could, and looking, alas ! piteously pale and wasted ; it is not his wont to laugh, but he smiled, half amused and half in scorn, as he listened. Acton was sewing ; no emotion ever stirs him to loquacity, so he only smiled too, dropping at the same time a single word of calm amazement to hear his character so darkly portrayed. I wonder what the reviewer would have thought of his own sagacity could he have beheld the pair as I did. Vainly, too, might he have looked round for the masculine partner in the firm of ** Bell & Co." How I laugh in my sleeve when I read the solemn assertions that Jane Eyre was written in partner- ship, and that it bears the marks of more than one mind and one sex! ' The wise critics would certainly sink a degree in their own esti- mation if they knew that yours or Mr. Smith's was the first masculine hand that touched the MS. of Jane Eyre, and that till you or he read 1848 ILLNESS OF EMILY BRONTE 389 When a doctor had been sent for, and was in the very house, Emily refused to see him. Her sisters could only describe to him what symptoms they had observed; and the medicines which he sent she would not take, denying that she was ill. ' I hardly know what to say to you about the subject which now interests me the most keenly of anything in this world, for, in truth, I hardly know what to think myself. Hope and fear fluctuate daily. The pain in her side and chest is better : the cough, the sharpness of breath, the extreme emaciation continue. I have endured, however, such tortures of uncertainty on this subject that, at length, I could endure it no longer; and, as her repugnance to see a medical man continues immutable — as she declares ^^no poisoning doctor^' shall come near her — I have written, unknown to her, to an eminent physician in London, giv- ing as minute a statement of her case and symptoms as I could draw up, and requesting an opinion. I expect an answer in a day or two. I am thankful to say that my own health at present is very tolerable. It is well such is the case ; for Anne, with the best will in the world to be useful, is really too delicate to do or bear much. She, too, at pres- ent, has frequent pains in her side. Papa is also pretty well, though Emily^s state renders him very anxious. ' The s' (Anne Bronte's former pupils) were here about a week ago. They are attractive and stylish-looking it no masculine eye had scanned a line of its contents, no masculine ear heard a phrase from its pages. However the view they take of the matter rather pleases me than otherwise. If they like I am not unwilling they should think a dozen ladies and gentlemen aided at the compilation of the book. Strange patchwork it must seem to them — this chapter being penned by Mr. and that by Miss or Mrs. Bell ; that character or scene being delineated by the husband, that other by the wife! The gentleman, of course, doing the rough work, the lady getting up the finer parts. I admire the idea vastly.' ^ The Robinsons; daughters of the Rev. Edmund Robinson, of Thorp Green, Yorks, where Anne was governess and Branwell tutor for a short time. 390 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE girls. They seemed overjoyed to see Anne; when I went into the room they were clinging round her like two chil- dren — she, meantime, looking perfectly quiet and passive. . . . J. and H.^ took it into their heads to come here. I think it probable offence was taken on that occasion, from what cause I know not; and as, if such be the case, the grudge must rest upon purely imaginary grounds, and since, besides, I have other things to think about, my mind rarely dwells upon the subject. If Emily were but well, I feel as if I should not care who neglected, misunderstood, or abused me. I would rather you were not of the number either. The crab cheese arrived safely. Emily has just reminded me to thank you for it; it looks very nice. I wish she were well enough to eat it.^ > But Emily was growing rapidly worse.'* I remember * Joseph and Harry Taylor, Mary Taylor's brothers. 2 A letter to Mr. George Smith concerning Emily's illness is dated November 22, 1848 :— * I think it is to yourself I should address what I have to say respect- ing a suggestion conveyed through Mr. Williams on the subject of your friend Dr. Forbes. * The proposal was one which I felt it advisable to mention to my father, and it is his reply which I would now beg to convey to you. * I am enjoined, in tlie first place, to express my father's sense of the friendly and generous feeling which prompted the suggestion, and in the second place to assure you that did he think any really useful end could be answered by a visit from Dr. Forbes he would, notwith- standing his habitual reluctance to place himself under obligations, unhesitatingly accept an offer so delicately made. He is, however, convinced that whatever aid human skill and the resources of science can yield my sister is already furnished her in the person of her present medical attendant, in whom my father has reason to repose perfect confidence, and he conceives that to bring down a physician from Lon- don would be to impose trouble in quarters where we have no claim, without securing any adequate result. * Still, having reported my father's reply, I would beg to add a re- quest of my own, compliance with which would, it appears to me, secure us many of the advantages of your proposal without subjecting yourself or Dr. Forbes to its inconveniences. I would state Mr. 1848 ILLNESS OF EMILY BRONTfi 391 Miss Bronte^s shiver at recalling the pang she felt when, after having searched in the little hollows and sheltered crevices of the moors for a lingering spray of heather — just one spray, however withered — to take in to Emily, she saw that the flower was not recognised by the dim and differ- ent eyes. Yet, to the last, Emily adhered tenaciously to her habits of independence. She would suffer no one to assist her. Any effort to do so roused the old stern spirit. One Tuesday morning, in December, she arose and dressed herself as usual, making many a pause, but doing every- thing for herself, and even endeavouring to take up her employment of sewing. The servants looked on, and knew what the catching, rattling breath and the glazing of the eye too surely foretold ; but she kept at her work ; and Charlotte and Anne, though full of unspeakable dread, had still the faintest spark of hope. On that morning Charlotte wrote thus — probably in the very presence of her dying sister : — * Tuesday. ' I should have written to you before, if I had had one word of hope to say ; but I have not. She grows daily weaker. The physician's opinion was expressed too ob- Teale's opinion of my sister's case, the course of treatment he has recom- mended to be adopted, and should be most happy to obtain, through you, Dr. Forbes's opinion on the regime prescribed. ' Mr. Teale said it was a case of tubercular consumption, with con- gestion of the lungs ; yet he intimated that the malady had not yet reached so advanced a stage as to cut off all hope ; he held out a pros- pect that a truce and even an arrest of disease might yet be procured ; till such truce or arrest could be brought about he forbade the excite- ment of travelling, enjoined strict care, and prescribed the use of cod- liver oil and carbonate of iron. It would be a satisfaction to know whether Dr. Forbes approves these remedies, or whether there are others he would recommend in preference. * To be indebted to you for information on these points would be felt as no burden either by my sister or myself ; your kindness is of an order which will not admit of entire rejection from any motives ; where there cannot be full acceptance there must be at least a consid- ate compromise.' 393 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi scurely to be of use. He sent some medicine, which she would not take. Moments so dark as these I have never known. I pray for God^s support to us alL Hitherto He has granted it.' The morning grew on to noon. Emily was worse : she could only whisper in gasps. Now, when it was too late, she said to Charlotte, ^ If you will send for a doctor I will see him now.' About two o'clock she died. * December 21, 1848. ^ Emily suffers no more 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 un- der 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. ^ God has sustained me, in a way that I marvel at, through such agony as I had not conceived. I now look at Anne, and wish she were well and strong ; but she is neither ; nor is papa. Could you now come to us for a few days ? I would not ask you to stay long. Write and tell me if you could come next week, and by what train. I would try to send a gig for you to Keighley. You will, I trust, find us tranquil. Try to come. I never so much needed the consolation of a friend's presence. Pleasure, of course, there would be none for you in the visit, except 1848 DEATH OF EMILY BRONTfi 393 what your kind heart would teach you to find in doing good to others/^ As the old bereaved father and his two surviving chil- dren followed the coffin to the grave they were joined by Keeper, Emily^s fierce faithful bulldog. He walked along- side of the mourners, and into the church, and stayed ^ The above letter was written to Ellen Nussey. On December 25 Charlotte wrote to Mr. Williams — * I will write you more at length when my heart can find a little rest ; now I can only thank you very briefly for your letter, which seemed to me eloquent in its sincerity. * Emily is nowhere here now ; her wasted mortal remains are taken out of the house. We have laid her cherished head under the church aisle beside my mother's, my two sisters' — dead long ago — and my poor hapless brother's. But a small remnant of the race is left — so my poor father thinks. ' Well, the loss is ours — not hers, and some sad comfort I take, as I hear the wind blow and feel the cutting keenness of the frost, in know- ing that the elements bring her no more suffering ; this severity can- not reach her grave ; her fever is quieted, her restlessness soothed ; her deep hollow cough is hushed for ever ; we do not hear it in the night nor listen for it in the morning ; we have not the conflict of the strangely strong spirit and the fragile frame before us — relentless con- flict—once seen, never to be forgotten. A dreary calm reigns round us, in the midst of which we seek resignation. ' My father and my sister Anne are far from well. As for me, God has hitherto most graciously sustained me ; so far I have felt adequate to bear my own burden, and even offer a little help to others. I am not ill ; I can get through daily duties, and do something towards keeping hope and energy alive in our mourning household. My father says to me almost hourly , '* Charlotte, you must bear up ; I shall sink if you fail me." These words, you can conceive, are a stimulus to nature. The sight, too, of my sister Anne's very still but deep sorrow wakens in me such fear for her that I dare not falter. Somebody must cheer the rest. ' So I will not now ask why Emily was torn from us in the fulness of our attachment, rooted up in the prime of her own days, in the promise of her powers ; why her existence now lies like a field of green corn trodden down, like a tree in full bearing struck at the root. I will only say, sweet is rest after labour and calm after tem- pest, and repeat again and again that Emily knows that now/ 394 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE quietly there all the time that the burial service was being read. When he came home he lay down at Emily's chamber door, and howled pitifully for many days. Anne Bronte drooped and sickened more rapidly from that time ; and so ended the year 1848. CHAPTER XVII A^T article on ^ Vanity Fair ^ and ' Jane Eyre ^ had appeared in the 'Quarterly Review^ of December 1848. Some weeks after Miss Bronte wrote to her publishers, asking why it had not been sent to her; and conjecturing that it was un- favourable, she repeated her previous request, that whatever was done with the laudatory, all critiques adverse to the novel might be forwarded to her without fail. The 'Quar- terly Review ' ^ was accordingly sent. I am not aware that Miss Bronte took any greater notice of the article than to place a few sentences out of it in the mouth of a hard and vulgar woman in ' Shirley,^ where they are so much in *The Quarterly Remeio article wns written by Miss Rigby, Lady Eastlake (1809-1893). Miss Bront(5 contemplated a reply, under the title of 'A Word to the Quarterly,' as a preface to Shirley, but, acting on the advice of Mr. Williams, Shirley appeared — in 1849 — without a preface. Writing to Mr. Williams (January 2, 1849), Miss Bronte said — 'Untoward circumstances come to me, I think, less painfully than pleasant ones would just now. The lash of tlie Quarterly, however severely applied, cannot sting — as its praise probably would not elate me. Currer Bell feels a sorrowful independence of reviews and re- viewers ; their approbation might indeed fall like a sorrowful weight on his heart, but their censure has no bitterness for him.' And on February 4 she writes to him — ' Anne expresses a wish to see the notices of the poems. You had better, therefore, send them. We shall expect to find painful allu- sions to one now above blame and beyond praise ; but these must be borne. For ourselves, we are almost indifferent to censure. I read the Quarterly without a pang, except that I thought there were some sentences disgraceful to the critic. He seems anxious to let it be un- 396 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE character that few have recognized them as a quotation. The time when the article was read was good for Miss Bronte ; she was numbed to all petty annoyances by the grand severity of Death. Otherwise she might have felt derstood that he is a person well acquainted with the habits of the upper classes. Be this as it may, I am afraid he is no gentleman ; and, moreover, that no training could make him such. Many a poor man, born and bred to labour, would disdain that reviewer's cast of feeling.* On August 16, 1849, she writes to Mr. Williams — * To value praise or stand in awe of blame we must respect the source whence the praise and blame proceed, and I do not respect an incon- sistent critic. He says, ** If Jane Eyre be the production of a woman, she must be a woman unsexed." * In that case the book is an unredeemed error, and should be unre- servedly condemned. Jane Eyre is a woman's autobiography ; by a woman it is professedly written. If it is written as no woman would write, condemn it with spirit and decision — say it is bad, but do not eulogise and then detract. I am reminded of the Economist. The literary critic of that paper praised the book if written by a man, and pronounced it odious " if the work of a woman. * To such critics I would say, To you I am neither man nor woman — I come before you as an author only. It is the sole standard by which you have a right to judge me — the sole ground on which I ac- cept your judgment." 'There is a weak comment, having no pretence either to justice or discrimination, on the works of Ellis or Acton Bell. The critic did not know that those writers had passed from time and life. I have read no review since either of my sisters died which I could have wished them to read — none even which did not render the thought of their departure more tolerable to me. To hear myself praised beyond them was cruel, to hear qualities ascribed to them so strangely the reverse of their real characteristics was scarcely supportable. It is sad even now ; but they are so remote from earth, so safe from its turmoils, I can bear it better. * But on one point do I now feel vulnerable : I should grieve to see my father's peace of mind perturbed on my account ; for which reason I keep my author's existence as much as possible out of his way. I have always given him a carefully diluted and modified account of the success of Jane Eyre — just what would please without startling him. The book is not mentioned between us once a month. The Quarterly I kept to myself — it would have worried papa. To that same Quarterly I must speak in the introduction to my present work 1S19 ^QUARTERLY REVIEW ON *JANE EYRE' 397 more keenly than they deserved the criticisms which, while striving to be severe, failed in logic, owing to the misuse of prepositions ; and have smarted under conjectures as to the authorship of ^ Jane Eyre/ which, intended to be acute, — just one little word. You once, I remember, said that review was written by a lady — Miss Rigby. Are you sure of this ? * Give no hint of my intention of discoursing a little with the Quar- terly. It would look too important to speak of it beforehand. All plans are best conceived and executed without noise.' On August 29, 1849, Miss Bronte wrote to Mr. Williams concerning Shirley — * The book is now finished (thank God) and ready for Mr. Taylor, but I have not yet heard from him. I thought I should be able to tell whether it was equal to Jane Eyre or not, but I find I cannot — it may be better, it may be worse. I shall be curious to hear your opin- ion; ray own is of no value. I send the preface, or " Word to the Quarterly,'' for your perusal.' Mr. Williams evidently thought that the preface to Shirley in reply to the Quarterly should be written on different lines, and the author's identity as a woman be avowed. On August 31 Miss Bronte writes to him — 'August 31, 1849. *My dear Sir,— I cannot change my preface. I can shed no tears before the public, nor utter any groan in the public ear. The deep, real tragedy of our domestic experience is yet terribly fresh in my mind and memory. It is not a time to be talked about to the indifferent ; it is not a topic for allusion to in print. * No righteous indignation can I lavish on the Quarterly. I can con- descend but to touch it with the lightest satire. Believe me, my dear Sir, ** C. Bronte" must not here appear ; what she feels or has felt is not the question: it is *'Currer Bell" who was insulted ; he must re- ply. Let Mr. Smith fearlessly print the preface I have sent — let him depend upon me this once ; even if I prove a broken reed, his fall cannot be dangerous : a preface is a short distance, it is not three vol- umes. * I have always felt certain that it is a deplorable error in an author to assume the tragic tone in addressing the public about his own wrongs or griefs. What does the public care about him as an indi- vidual ? His wrongs are its sport ; his griefs would be a bore. What we deeply feel is our own — we must keep it to ourselves. Ellis and Acton Bell were, for me, Emily and Anne ; my sisters — to me inti- mately near, tenderly dear — to the public they were nothing — worse 398 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE were merely flippant. But flippancy takes a graver name when directed against an author by an anonymous writer. We call it then cowardly insolence. Every one has a right to form his own conclusion respect- ing the merits and demerits of a book. I complain not of the judgment which the reviewer passes on ^ Jane Eyre.' Opinions as to its tendency varied then as they do now. While I write I receive a letter from a clergyman in America, in which he says, ^ We have in our sacred of sacreds a special shelf, highly adorned, as a place we de- light to honour, of novels which we recognise as having had a good influence on character, our character. Fore- most is Jane Eyre."' Nor do I deny the existence of a diametrically opposite judgment. And so (as I trouble not myself about the re- viewer's style of composition) I leave his criticisms regard- ing the merits of the work on one side. But when — forget- than nothing — being speculated upon, misunderstood, misrepresented. If I live the hour may come when the spirit will move me to speak of them, but it is not come yet.' And on the same date (August 31, 1849) she writes to Mr. George Smith— *I do not know whether you share Mr. Williams's disapprobation of the preface I sent, but, if you do, ask him to show you the note where- in I contumaciously persist in urging it upon you. I really cannot condescend to be serious with the Quarterly : it is too silly for solem- nity. • Mr. Taylor has just written ; he says he shall be at Haworth on Saturday, September 8, so I shall wait with what patience I may. I am perhaps unduly anxious to know that the manuscript is safely de- posited at 65 Cornhil!, and to hear the opinions of my critics there. Those opinions are by no means the less valuable because I cannot al- ways reconcile them to my own convictions. "In the multitude of counsellors there is safety." ' It is my intention to pack with the manuscript some of the books you have been so kind as to lend me— if the charge of so large a par- cel will not be too burdensome for Mr. Taylor. Such works as I have not yet perused I shall take tlie liberty of retaining a little longer. 'Permit me to thank you for the kind interest you express in my welfare ; I am not ill, but only somewhat overwrought and unnerved.' 1849 *QUx\RTERLY REVIEW ON 'JANE EYRE' 399 ting the chivalroas spirit of the good and noble Sonthey, who said^ ^ In reviewing anonymous works myself, when I have known the authors I have never mentioned them, taking it for granted they had sufficient reasons for avoiding the publicity^ — the ^ Quarterly^ reviewer goes on into gossip- ing conjectures as to who Currer Bell really is, and pretends to decide on what the writer may be from the book, I pro- test with my whole soul against such want of Christian charity. Not even the desire to write a ^ smart article," which shall be talked about in London, when the faint mask of the anonymous can be dropped at pleasure if the cleverness of the review be admired — not even this tempta- tion can excuse the stabbing cruelty of the judgment. Who is he that should say of an unknown woman, ' She must be one who for some sufficient reason has long for- feited the society of her sex"? Is he one who has led a wild and struggling and isolated life, seeing few but plain and unspoken Northerns, unskilled in the euphuisms which assist the polite world to skim over the mention of vice ? Has he striven through long weeping years to find excuses for the lapse of an only brother, and through daily contact with a poor lost profligate been compelled into a certain familiarity with the vices that his soul abhors ? Has he, through trials, close following in dread march through his household, sweeping the hearthstone bare of life and love, still striven hard for strength to say, ' It is the Lord : let Him do what seemeth to him good " — and sometimes striven in vain, until the kindly Light returned? If through all these dark waters the scornful reviewer have passed clear, refined, free from stain — with a soul that has never in all its agonies cried ^Lama sabachthani" — still even then let him pray with the publican rather than judge with the Pharisee. * January 10, 1849. ' Anne had a very tolerable day yesterday, and a pretty quiet night last night, though she did not sleep much. Mr. Wheelhouse ordered the blister to be put on again. She 400 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE bore it without sickness. I have just dressed it, and she is risen and come downstairs. She looks somewhat pale and sickly. She has had one dose of the cod-liver oil; it smells and tastes like train oil. I am trying to hope, but the day is windy, cloudy, and stormy. My spirits fall at intervals very low ; then I look where you counsel me to look, be- yond earthly tempests and sorrows. I seem to get strength if not consolation. It will not do to anticipate. I feel that hourly. In the night I awake and long for morning : then my heart is wrung. Papa continues much the same; he was very faint when he came down to breakfast.^ . . . Dear Ellen, your friendship is some comfort to me. I am thankful for it. I see few lights through the darkness of the present time ; but amongst them the constancy of a kind heart attached to me is one of the most cheering and serene.^ ' * The original letter runs — * I wrote to Huusworth (the Taylors), telling them candidly I would rather they did not come, as, owing to circumstances, I felt it was not in my power to receive them as I could wish.' - On January 18 she writes to Mr. Williams — ' My dear Sir, — In sitting down to write to you I feel as if I were doing a wrong and a selfish thing. I believe I ought to discontinue my correspondence with you till times change, and the tide of calamity which of late days has set so strongly in against us takes a turn. But the fact is, sometimes I feel it absolutely necessary to unburden my mifld. To papa I must only speak cheeringly, to Anne only encour- agingly ; to you I may give some hint of the dreary truth. * Anne and I sit alone and in seclusion, as you fancy us, but we do not study. Anne cannot study now, she can scarcely read ; she occu- pies Emily's chair ; she does not get well. A week ago we sent for a medical man of skill and experience from Leeds to see her. He ex- amined her with the stethoscope. His report I forbear to dwell on for the present — even skilful physicians have often been mistaken in their conjectures. * My first impulse was to hasten her away to a warmer climate, but this was forbidden : she must not travel ; she is not to stir from the house this winter ; the temperature of her room is to be kept con- slautly equal. * Had leave been given to try change of air and scene, I should hardly 1849 ILLNESS OF ANNE BRONTE 401 ' January 15, 1849. can scarcely say that Anne is worse, nor can I say she is better. She varies often in the course of a day, yet each day is passed pretty much the same. The morning is usu- have known how to act. I could not possibly leave papa ; and when I mentioned his accompanying us, the bare thought distressed him too much to be dwelt upon. Papa is now upwards of seventy years of age ; his habits for nearly thirty years have been those of absolute re- tirement ; any change in them is most repugnant to him, and probably could not, at this time, especially when the hand of God is so heavy upon his old age, be ventured upon without danger. ' When we lost Emily I thought we had drained the very dregs of our cup of trial, but now when I hear Anne cough as Emily coughed I tremble lest there should be exquisite bitterness yet to taste. How- ever, I must not look forwards, nor must I look backwards. Too of- ten I feel like one crossing an abyss on a narrow plank — a glance round might quite unnerve. * So circumstanced, my dear Sir, what claim have I on your friend- ship, what right to the comfort of your letters ? My literary char- acter is effaced for the time, and it is by that only you know me. Care of papa and Anne is necessarily my chief present object in life, to the exclusion of all that could give me interest with my publishers or their connections. Should Anne get better, I think I could rally and become Currer Bell once more, but if otherwise I look no further : sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. ' Anne is very patient in her illness, as patient as Emily was un- flinching. I recall one sister and look at the other with a sort of rev- erence as well as affection : under the test of suffering neither has faltered. * All the days of this winter have gone by darkly and heavily like a funeral train. Since September sickness has not quitted the house. It is strange it did not use to be so, but I suspect now all this has been coming on for years. Unused, any of us, to the possession of robust health, we have not noticed the gradual approaches of de- cay ; we did not know its symptoms : the little cough, the small appe- tite, the tendency to take cold at every variation of atmosphere have been regarded as things of course. I see them in another light now. * If you answer this, write to me as you would to a person in an average state of tranquillity and happiness. I want to keep myself as firm and calm as I can. While papa and Anne want me, I hope, I pray, never to fail them. Were I to see you I should endeavour to 402 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ally the best time ; the afternoon and the evening the most feverish. Her cough is the most troublesome at night, but it is rarely violent. The pain in her arm still disturbs her. She took the cod-liver oil and carbonate of iron regularly ; she finds them both nauseous, but especially the oil. Her appetite is small indeed. Do not fear that I shall relax in my care of her. She is too precious not to be cherished with all the fostering strength I have. Papa, I am thank- ful to say, has been a good deal better this last day or two. ^ As to your queries about myself, I can only say that if I continue as I am I shall do very well. I have not yet got rid of the pains in my chest and back. They oddly return with every change of weather ; and are still sometimes accompanied with a little soreness and hoarseness, but I combat them steadily with pitch plasters and bran tea. I should think it silly and wrong indeed not to be regardful of my own health at present ; it would not do to be ill noiv, ^ I avoid looking forward or backward, and try to keep looking upward. This is not the time to regret, dread, or weep. What I have and ought to do is very distinctly laid out for me ; what I want, and pray for, is strength to per- form it. The days pass in a slow, dark march : the nights are the test ; the sudden wakings from restless sleep, the revived knowledge that one lies in her grave, and another, not at my side, but in a separate and sick bed. However, God is over all.^ 'January 22, 1849. ^ Anne really did seem to be a little better during some mild days last week, but to-day she looks very pale and languid again. She perseveres with the cod-liver oil, but still finds it very nauseous. ^ She is truly obliged to you for the soles for her shoes, converse on ordinary topics, and I should wish to write on the same — besides, it will be less harassing to yourself to address me as usual. ' May God long preserve to you the domestic treasures you value ; and when bereavement at last comes may He give you strength to bear it. — Yours sincerely, C. Bronte.* 1849 ILLNESS OF ANNE BRONTE 403 and finds them extremely comfortable. I am to commission you to get her just such a respirator as Mrs. (Heald) had. She would not object to give a higher price, if you thought it better. If it is not too much trouble you may likewise get me a pair of soles ; you can send them and the respirator when you send the box. You must put down the price of all, and we will pay you in a post-office order. Wuther- ing Heights was given to you. (Mary Taylor^s address I have always written >^ Mr. Waring Taylor, Wellington, New Zealand."') I have sent her neither letter nor parcel. I had nothing but dreary news to write, so preferred that others should tell her. I have not written to (Ellen Tay- lor) either. I cannot write, except when I am quite obliged/ 'February 11, 1849. ' We received the box and its contents quite safely to-day. The penwipers are very pretty, and we are very much obliged to you for them. I hope the respirator will be use- ful to Anne, in case she should ever be well enough to go out again. She continues very much in the same state — I trust not greatly worse, though she is becoming very thin. I fear it would be only self-delusion to fancy her better. What effect the advancing season may have on her I know not; perhaps the return of really warm weather may give nature a happy stimulus. I tremble at the thought of any change to cold wind or frost. Would that March were well over ! Her mind seems generally serene, and her suffer- ings hitherto are nothing like Emily^s. The thought of what may be to come grows more familiar to my mind ; but it is a sad, dreary guest.^ ' March 16, 1849. ^We have found the past week a somewhat trying one; it has not been cold, but still there have been changes of temperature whose effect Anne has felt unfavourably. She is not, I trust, seriously worse, but her cough is at times very hard and painful, and her strength rather diminished than improved. I wish the month of March was well over. 404 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE You are right in conjecturing that I am somewhat de- pressed ; at times I certainly am. It was almost easier to bear up when the trial was at its crisis than now. The feel- ing of Emily^s loss does not diminish as time wears on ; it often makes itself most acutely recognised. It brings too an inexpressible sorrow with it ; and then the future is dark. Yet I am well aware it will not do either to complain or sink, and I strive to do neither. Strength, I hope and trust, will yet be given in proportion to the burden ; but the pain of my position is not one likely to lessen with habit. Its solitude and isolation are oppressive circum- stances, yet I do not wish for any friends to stay with me ; I could not do with any one — not even you — to share the sadness of the house ; it would rack me intolerably. Mean- time judgment is still blent with mercy. Anne^s sufferings still continue mild. It is my nature, when left alone, to struggle on with a certain perseverance, and I believe God will help me.^ Anne had been delicate all her life : a fact which perhaps made her father and sister less aware than they would otherwise have been of the true nature of those fatal first symptoms. Yet they seem to have lost but little time be- fore they sent for the first advice that could be procured. She was examined with the stethoscope, and the dreadful fact was announced that her lungs were affected, and that tubercular consumption had already made considerable progress. A system of treatment was prescribed, which was afterwards ratified by the opinion of Dr. Forbes. For a short time they hoped that the disease was arrested. Charlotte — herself ill with a complaint that severely tried her spirits — was the ever-watchful nurse of this youngest, last sister. One comfort was that Anne was the patientest, gentlest invalid that could be. Still, there were hours, days, weeks of inexpressible anguish to be borne, under the pressure of which Charlotte could only pray ; and pray she did, right earnestly. Thus she writes on March 24^ — * To her old schoolmistress Miss Wooler. 1849 A TIME OF DARKNESS 405 ^Anne's decline is gradual and fluctuating; but its nat- ure is not doubtful. ... In spirit she is resigned : at heart she is, I believe, a true Christian. . . . May God support her and all of us through the trial of lingering sickness, and aid her in the last hour, when the struggle which sep- arates soul from body must be gone through ! We saw Emily torn from the midst of us when our hearts clung to her with intense attachment. . . . She was scarce buried when Anne^s health failed. . . .These things would be too much, if reason, unsupported by religion, were condemned to bear them alone. I have cause to be most thankful for the strength that has hitherto been vouchsafed both to my father and to myself. God, I think, is specially merciful to old age ; and, for my own part, trials, which in perspec- tive would have seemed to me quite intolerable, when they actually came I endured without prostration. Yet I must confess that, in the time which has elapsed since Emily's death, there have been moments of solitary, deep, inert af- fliction, far harder to bear than those which immediately followed our loss. The crisis of bereavement has an acute pang which goads to exertion ; the desolate after-feeling sometimes paralyses. I have learnt that we are not to find solace in our own strength ; we must seek it in God's om- nipotence. Fortitude is good ; but fortitude itself must be shaken under us, to teach us how weak we are !' All through this illness of Anne's Charlotte had the comfort of being able to talk to her about her state ; a comfort rendered inexpressibly great by the contrast which it presented to the recollection of Emily's rejection of all sympathy. If a proposal for Anne's benefit was made, Charlotte could speak to her about it, and the nursing and dying sister could consult with each other as to its desira- bility. I have seen but one of Anne's letters ; it is the only time we seem to be brought into direct personal con- tact with this gentle, patient girl. In order to give the req- uisite preliminary explanation, I must state that the fam- 406 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ily of friends, to which Ellen belonged, proposed that Anne should come to them, in order to try what change of air and diet and the company of kindly people could do towards restoring her to health. In answer to this propo- sal Charlotte writes — ' March 24. ^ I read your kind note to Anne, and she wishes me to thank you sincerely for your friendly proposal. She feels, of course, that it would not do to take advantage of it, by quartering an invalid upon the inhabitants of B(rookroyd); but she intimates there is another way in which you might serve her, perhaps with some benefit to yourself as well as to her. Should it in a month or two hence be deemed ad- visable that she should go either to the seaside or to some inland watering-place — and should papa be disinclined to move, and I consequently obliged to remain at home — she asks, could you be her companion ? Of course I need not add that in the event of such an arrangement being made, you would be put to no expense. This, dear Ellen, is Anne^s proposal ; I make it to comply with her wish ; but, for my own part, I must add that I see serious objections to your accepting it — objections I cannot name to her. She continues to vary ; is sometimes worse, and sometimes better, as the weather changes ; but, on the whole, I fear she loses strength. Papa says her state is most precarious ; she may be spared for some time, or a sudden alteration might remove her before we are aware. Were such an al- teration to take place while she was far from home, and alone with you, it would be terrible. The idea of it dis- tresses me inexpressibly, and I tremble whenever she al- ludes to the project of a journey. In short, I wish we could gain time, and see how she gets on. If she leaves home, it certainly should not be in the capricious month of May, which is proverbially trying to the weak. June would be a safer month. If we could reach June I should have good hopes of her getting through the summer. Write such an answer to this note as I can show Anne. You can 1849 LETTER FROM ANNE BRONTE 407 write any additional remarks to me on a separate piece of paper. Do not consider yourself as confined to discussing only our sad affairs. I am interested in all that interests you.' FROM Ai^NE BROKTE. * April 5, 1849. ' My dear Miss (Nussey), — I thank you greatly for your kind letter, and your ready compliance with my proposal, as far as the ivill can go at least. I see, however, that your friends are unwilling that you should undertake the re- sponsibility of accompanying me under present circum- stances. But I do not think there would be any great re- sponsibility in the matter. I know, and everybody knows, that you would be as kind and helpful as any one could possibly be, and I hope I should not be very troublesome. It would be as a companion, not as a nurse, that I should wish for your company ; otherwise I should not venture to ask it. As for your kind and often-repeated invitation to (Birstall,) pray give my sincere thanks to your mother and sisters, but tell them I could not think of inflicting my presence upon them as I now am. It is very kind of them to make so light of the trouble, but still there must be more or less, and certainly no pleasure, from the society of a silent invalid stranger. I hope, however, that Charlotte will by some means make it possible to accompany me after all. She is certainly very delicate, and greatly needs a change of air and scene to renovate her constitution. And then your going with me before the end of May is appar- ently out of the question, unless you are disappointed in your visitors ; but I should be reluctant to wait till then, if the weather would at all permit an earlier departure. You say May is a trying month, and so say others. The earlier part is often cold enough, I acknowledge, but, according to my experience, we are almost certain of some fine warm days in the latter half, when the laburnums and lilacs are in bloom ; whereas June is often cold, and July generally wet. But I have a more serious reason than this for my 7 408 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE impatience of delay. The doctors say that change of air or removal to a better climate would hardly ever fail of success in consumptive cases, if the remedy were taken in tirne; but the reason why there are so many disappoint- ments is, that it is generally deferred till it is too late. Now I would not commit this error ; and, to say the truth, though I suffer much less from pain and fever than I did when you were with us, I am decidedly weaker, and very much thinner. My cough still troubles me a good deal, especially in the night, and, what seems worse than all, I am subject to great shortness of breath on going upstairs or any slight exertion. Under these circumstances I think there is no time to be lost. I have no horror of death : if I thought it inevitable, I think I could quietly resign my- self to the prospect, in the hope that you, dear Miss (Nus- sey), would give as much of your company as you possibly could to Charlotte, and be a sister to her in my stead. But I wish it would please God to spare me, not only for papa^s and Charlotte's sakes, but because I long to do some good in the world before I leave it. I have many schemes in my head for future practice — humble and limited indeed — but still I should not like them all to come to nothing, and my- self to have lived to so little purpose. But God's will be done. Remember me respectfully to your mother and sis- ters, and believe me, dear Miss (Nussey), yours most affec- tionately. Anne Bronte/ It must have been about this time that Anne composed her last verses, before ' the desk was closed, and the pen laid aside for ever.' I hoped that with the brave and strong My portioned taslc might lie ; To toil amid the busy throng, With purpose pure and high. LAST VERSES OF ANNE BRONTE 409 II. But God has fixed another part, And He has fixed it well : I said so with my bleeding heart When first the anguish fell. III. Thou, God, hast taken our delight, Oar treasured hope away ; Thou bidst us now weep through the night, And sorrow through the day. IV. These weary hours will not be lost. These days of misery — These nights of darkness, anguish-tost — Can I but turn to Thee, V. With secret labour to sustain In humble patience every blow To gather fortitude from pain. And hope and holiness from woe. VI. Thus let me serve Thee from my heart, Whate'er may be my written fate ; Whether thus early to depart, Or yet a while to wait. VII. If Thou shouldst bring me back to life. More humbled I should be ; More wise — more strengthened for the strife. More apt to lean on Thee. VIII. Should death be standing at the gate, Thus should I keep my vow ; But, Lord, whatever be my fate, Oh ! let me serve Thee now ! 410 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE I take Oharlotte^s own words as the best record of her thoughts and feelings during all this terrible time. ' April 12. ^ I read Anne^s letter to you ; it was touching enough, as you say. If there were no hope beyond this world — no eternity — no life to come — Emily^s fate, and that which threatens Anne, would be heart-breaking. I cannot forget Emily^s death day ; it becomes a more fixed, a darker, a more frequently recurring idea in my mind than ever. It was very terrible. She was torn, conscious, panting, reluc- tant, though resolute, out of a happy life. But it will not do to dwell on these things. am glad your friends object to your going with Anne : it would never do. To speak truth, even if your mother and sisters had consented I never could. It is not that there is any laborious attention to pay her ; she requires, and will accept, but little nursing ; but there would be hazard, and anxiety of mind, beyond what you ought to be subject to. If, a month or six weeks hence, she continues to wish for a change as much as she does now, I shall (D. V.) go with her myself. It will certainly be my paramount duty ; other cares must be made subservient to that. I have consulted Mr. T(eale) : he does not object, and rec- ommends Scarborough, which was Anne^s own choice. I trust affairs may be so ordered that you may be able to be with us at least part of the time. . . . Whether in lodg- ings or not, I should wish to be boarded. Providing one- self is, I think, an insupportable nuisance. I don^t like keeping provisions in a cupboard, locking up, being pil- laged, and all that. It is a petty wearing annoyance.^ The progress of Anne's illness was slower than that of Emily's had been ; and she was too unselfish to refuse try- ing means, from which, if she herself had little hope of benefit, her friends might hereafter derive a mournful sat- isfaction. 1849 ILLNESS OF ANNE BRONTE 411 began to flatter myself she was getting strength. But the change to frost has told upon her : she suffers more of late. Still her illness has none of the fearful rapid symp- toms which appalled us in Emily's case. Could she only get over the spring, I hope summer may do much for her, and then early removal to a warmer locality for the winter might, at least, prolong her life. Could we only reckon upon another year I should be thankful ; but can w^e do this for the healthy ? A few days ago I wrote to have Dr. Forbes's opinion. He is editor of the Medical Review and one of the first authorities in England on consumptive cases.* He warned us against entertaining sanguine hopes of recovery. The cod-liver oil he considers a peculiarly efficacious medicine. He, too, disapproved of change of residence for the present. There is some feeble consola- tion in thinking we are doing the very best that can be done. The agony of forced total neglect is not now felt, as during Emily's illness. Never may we be doomed to feel such agony again ! It was terrible. I have felt much less of the disagreeable pains in my chest lately, and much less also of the soreness and hoarseness. I tried an appli- cation of hot vinegar, which seemed to do good.' *May 1. ^ I was glad to hear that when we go to Scarborough you will be at liberty to go with us, but the journey and its consequences still continue a source of great anxiety to me ; I must try to put it off two or three weeks longer if I can : perhaps by that time the milder season may have * Dr. Forbes (1787-1861) was knighted and became Sir John Forbes in 1853. He was born at Cuttlebrae, Banffshire, and was educated at the Aberdeen Grammar School and Marischal College. He settled as a medical practitioner at Penzance about the time that Maria Bran- well left that town to become Mrs. Brontt5. In 1849 Forbes was a fashionable London doctor, physician to the Queen's Household, and a prominent investigator of mesmerism. He had edited the British and Foreign Medical Review from its start in 1836 until its discontinu- ance in 1847. 412 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE given Anne more strength — perhaps it will be otherwise ; I cannot tell. The change to fine weather has not proved beneficial to her so far. She has sometimes been so weak, and suffered so much pain in the side, during the last few days, that I have not known what to think. . . . She may rally again and be much better, but there must be some improvement before I can feel justified in taking her away from home. Yet to delay is painful ; for, as is always the case, I believe, under her circumstances, she seems herself not half conscious of the necessity for such delay. She wonders, I believe, why I don^t talk more about the jour- ney : it grieves me to think she may even be hurt by my seeming tardiness. She is very much emaciated — far more than when you were with us ; her arms are no thicker than a little child's. The least exertion brings a shortness of breath. She goes out a little every day, but we creep rather than walk. . . . Papa continues pretty well. I hope I shall be enabled to bear up. So far I have reason for thankfulness to God.^ May had come, and brought the milder weather longed for ; but Anne was worse for the very change. A little later on it became colder, and she rallied, and poor Char- lotte began to hope that, if May were once over, she might last for a long time. Miss Bronte wrote to engage the lodgings at Scarborough — a place which Anne had former- ly visited with the family to whom she was governess.' ^ ' We have engaged lodgings at Scarbro'/ she writes to Miss Ellen Nussey. * We stipulated for a good-sized sitting-room and an airy double-bedded lodging room, with a sea view, and, if not deceived, have obtained these desiderata at No. 2 Cliff. Anne says it is one of the best situations in the place. It would not have done to have taken lodgings either in the town or on the bleak steep coast, where Miss Wooler's house is situated. If Anne is to get any good she must have every advantage. Miss Outh waite [her godmother] left her in her will a legacy of 200^., and she cannot employ her money better than in obtain- ing what may prolong existence, if it does not restore health. We hope to leave home on the 23rd, and I think it will be advisable to rest at York, and stay all night there. I hope this arrangement will suit A JOURNEY TO SCARBOROUGH 413 They took a good-sized sitting-room, and an airy double- bedded room (both commanding a sea view), in one of the best situations of the town. Money was as nothing in com- parison with life ; besides, Anne had a small legacy left to her by her godmother, and they felt that she could not better employ this than in obtaining what might prolong life, if not restore health. On May 16 Charlotte writes — ^It is with a heavy heart I prepare: and earnestly do I wish the fatigue of the journey were well over. It may be borne better than I expect ; for temporary stimulus often does much ; but when I see the daily increasing weakness I know not what to think. I fear you will be shocked when you see Anne ; but be on your guard, dear Ellen, not to express your feelings ; indeed, I can trust both your self- possession and kindness. I wish my judgment sanctioned the step of going to Scarborough more fully than it does. You ask how I have arranged about leaving papa. I could make no special arrangement. He wishes me to go with Anne, and would not hear of Mr. N 's ^ coming, or any- thing of that kind ; so I do what I believe is for the best, and leave the result to Providence.' They planned to rest and spend a night at York ; and, at Anne's desire, arranged to make some purchases there. Charlotte ends the letter to her friend, in which she tells her all this, with — * May 23. wish it seemed less like a dreary mockery in us to you. We reckon on your society, dear Ellen, as a real privilege and pleasure. We shall take little luggage, and shall have to buy bonnets and dresses and several other things either at York or Scarbro' ; which place do you think would be best ? Oh, if it would please God to strengthen and revive Anne, how happy v^e might be together ! His will, however, must be done, and if she is not to recover it remains to pray for strength and patience.' ' Mr. Nicholls, the curate at Haworth, who afterwards became Charlotte Bronte's husband. I 414 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTfi talk of buying bonnets^ &c. Anne was very ill yesterday. She had difficulty of breathing all day, even when sitting perfectly still. To-day she seems better again. I long for the moment to come when the experiment of the sea air will be tried. Will it do her good ? I cannot tell ; I can only wish. Oh! if it would please God to strengthen and revive Anne, how happy we might be together : His will, however, be done The two sisters left Haworth on Thursday, May 24. They were to have done so the day before, and had made an appointment with their friend to meet them at the Leeds station, in order that they might all proceed to- gether. But on Wednesday morning Anne was so ill that it was impossible for the sisters to set out ; yet they had no means of letting their friend know of this, and she conse- quently arrived at the Leeds station at the time specified. There she sat waiting for several hours. It struck her as strange at the time — and it almost seems ominous to her fancy now — that twice over, from two separate arrivals on the line by which she was expecting her friends, coffins were carried forth, and placed in hearses which were wait- ing for their dead, as she was waiting for one in four days to become so. The next day she could bear suspense no longer, and set out for Haworth, reaching there just in time to carry the feeble, fainting invalid into the chaise which was wait- ing to take them down to Keighley. The servant who stood at the Parsonage gates saw Death written on her face, and spoke of it. Charlotte saw it and did not speak of it — it would have been giving the dread too distinct a form; and if this last darling yearned for the change to Scar- borough, go she should, however Charlotte's heart might be wrung by impending fear. The lady who accompanied them, Charlotte's beloved friend of more than twenty years, has kindly written out for me the following account of the journey — and of the end: — 1849 LAST DAYS OF ANNE BRONTE 415 ' She left her home May 24, 1849— died May 28. Her life was calm, quiet, spiritual : such was her end. Through the trials and fatigues of the journey she evinced the pious courage and fortitude of a martyr. Dependence and help- lessness were ever with her a far sorer trial than hard, rack- ing pain. 'The first stage of our journey was to York; and here the dear invalid was so revived, so cheerful, and so happy, we drew consolation, and trusted that at least temporary improvement was to be derived from the change which she had so longed for, and her friends had so dreaded for her. ' By her request we went to the Minster, and to her it was an overpowering pleasure ; not for its own imposing and impressive grandeur only, but because it brought to her susceptible nature a vital and overwhelming sense of omnipotence. She said, while gazing at the structure, If finite power can do this, what is the . . . and here emo- tion stayed her speech, and she was hastened to a less ex- citing scene. ^ Her weakness of body was great, but her gratitude for every mercy was greater. After such an exertion as walk- ing to her bedroom she would clasp her hands and raise her eyes in silent thanks, and she did this not to the ex- clusion of wonted prayer, for that too was performed on bended knee, ere she accepted the rest of her couch. ^ On the 25th we arrived at Scarborough ; our dear in- valid having, during the journey, directed our attention to every prospect worthy of notice. ' On the 26th she drove on the sands for an hour ; and lest the poor donkey should be urged by its driver to a greater speed than her tender heart thought right, she took the reins and drove herself. When joined by her friend she was charging the boy-master of the donkey to treat the poor animal well. She was ever fond of dumb things, and would give up her own comfort for them. ^On Sunday, the 27th, she wished to go to church, and her eye brightened with the thought of once more worship- 416 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE ping her God amongst her fellow creatures.^ We thought it prudent to dissuade her from the attempt, though it was evident her heart was longing to join in the public act of devotion and praise. ^ She walked a little in the afternoon, and meeting with a sheltered and comfortable seat near the beach, she begged we would leave her, and enjoy the various scenes near at * On Sunday, the 27th, the day before her sister died, Charlotte wrote to Mr. Williams — » No. 2 Cliff, Scarboro* : May 27, 1849. * My dear Sir, — The date above will inform you why I have not an- swered your letter more promptly. I have been busy with prepara- tions for departure and with the journey. I am thankful to say we reached our destination safely, having rested one night at York. We found assistance wherever we needed it ; there was always an arm ready to do for my sister what I was not quite strong enough to do — lift her in and out of the carriages, carry her across the line, &c. * It made her happy to see both York and its Minster and Scarboro' and its bay once more. There is yet no revival of bodily strength ; I fear, indeed, the slow ebb continues. People who see her tell me I must not expect her to last long ; but it is something to cheer her mind. * Our lodgings are pleasant. As Anne sits at the window she can look down on the sea, which this morning is calm as glass. She says if she could breathe more freely she would be comfortable at this mo- ment ; but she cannot breathe freely. * My friend Ellen is with us. I find her presence a solace. She is a calm, steady girl — not brilliant, but good and true. She suits and has always suited me well. I like her, with her phlegm, repose, sense, and sincerity, better than I should like the most talented without these qualifications. ' If ever I see you again I should have pleasure in talking over with you the topics you allude to in your last — or rather in hearing you talk them over. We see these things through a glass darkly — or at least I see them thus. So far from objecting to speculation on, or dis- cussion of, the subject, I should wish to hear what others have to say. By others I mean only the serious and reflective ; levity in such matters shocks as much as hypocrisy. * Write to me. In this strange place your letters will come like the visits of a friend. Fearing to lose the post, I will add no more at pres- ent. — Believe me yours sincerely, ' C. Bronte.' i 1849 LAST DAYS OF ANNE BRONTE 417 hand, which were new to us but familiar to her. She loved the place, and wished us to share her preference. ' The evening closed in with the most glorious sunset ever witnessed. The castle on the cliff stood in proud glory, gilded by the rays of the declining sun. The distant ships glittered like burnished gold ; the little boats near the beach heaved on the ebbing tide, inviting occupants. The view was grand beyond description. Anne was drawn in her easy chair to the window, to enjoy the scene with us. Her face became illumined almost as much as the glorious scene she gazed upon. Little was said, for it was plain that her thoughts were driven by the imposing view before her to penetrate forwards to the regions of unfading glory. She again thought of public worship, and wished us to leave her, and join those who were assembled at the house of God. We declined, gently urging the duty and pleasure of staying with her, who was now so dear and so feeble. On returning to her place near the fire she conversed with her sister upon the propriety of returning to their home. She did not wish it for her own sake, she said ; she was fearing others might suffer more if her decease occurred where she was. She probably thought the task of accom- panying her lifeless remains on a long journey was more than her sister could bear — more than the bereaved father could bear, were she borne home another and a third ten- ant of the family vault in the short space of nine months. ^ The night was passed without any apparent accession of illness. She rose at seven o'clock, and performed most of her toilet herself, by her expressed wish. Her sister always yielded such points, believing it was the truest kindness not to press inability when it was not acknowl- edged. Nothing occurred to excite alarm till about 11 A.M. She then spoke of feeling a change. She believed she had not long to live. Could she reach home alive, if we prepared immediately for departure A physician was sent for. Her address to him was made with perfect composure. She begged him to say ^' how long he thought 27 418 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE she might live — not to fear speaking the truth, for she was not afraid to die/^ The doctor reluctantly admitted that the angel of death was already arrived, and that life was ebbing fast. She thanked him for his truthfulness, and he departed to come again very soon. She still occupied her easy chair, looking so serene, so radiant : there was no opening for grief as yet, though all knew the separation was at hand. She clasped her hands, and reverently invoked a blessing from on high ; first upon her sister, then upon her friend, to whom she said, Be a sister in my stead. Give Charlotte as much of your company as you can." She then thanked each for her kindness and attention. ^Ere long the restlessness of approaching death appeared, and she was borne to the sofa. On being asked if she were easier she looked gratefully at her questioner, and said, ^^It is not you who can give me ease, but soon all will be well through the merits of our Redeemer. Shortly after this, seeing that her sister could hardly restrain her grief, she said, ^^Take courage, Charlotte; take courage." Her faith never failed, and her eye never dimmed till about two o'clock, when she calmly, and without a sigh, passed from the temporal to the eternal. So still and so hallowed were her last hours and moments. There was no thought of assistance or of dread. The doctor came and went two or three times. The hostess knew that death was near, yet so little was the house disturbed by the presence of the dying, and the sorrow of those so nearly bereaved, that dinner was announced as ready, through the half-opened door, as the living sister was closing the eyes of the dead one. She could now no more stay the welled-up grief of her sister with her emphatic and dying Take courage," and it burst forth in brief but agonising strength. Charlotte's affec- tion, however, had another channel, and there it turned in thought, in care, and in tenderness. There was bereave- ment, but there was not solitude ; sympathy was at hand, and it was accepted. With calmness came the considera- tion of the removal of the dear remains to their home rest- 1849 DEATH OF ANNE BRONTE 419 ing-place. This melancholy task, however, was never per- formed ; for the afflicted sister decided to lay the flower in the place where it had fallen. She believed that to do so would accord with the wishes of the departed. She had no preference for place. She thought not of the grave, for that is but the body's gaol, but of all that is beyond it. ' Her remains rest 'Where the south sun warms the now dear sod, Where the ocean billows lave and strike the steep and turf -covered rock.' Anne died on the Monday. On the Tuesday Charlotte wrote to her father ; but knowing that his presence was required for some annual church solemnity at Haworth, she informed him that she had made all necessary arrange- ments for the interment, and that the funeral would take place so soon that he could hardly arrive in time for it.^ The surgeon who had visited Anne on the day of her death offered his attendance, but it was respectfully declined. ^ A lady from the same neighbourhood as Ellen was stay- ing in Scarborough at this time ; she, too, kindly offered sympathy and assistance ; and when that solitary pair of mourners (the sister and the friend) arrived at the church this lady was there, in unobtrusive presence, not the less kind because unobtrusive.^ Mr. Bronte wrote to urge Charlotte's longer stay at the seaside. Her health and spirits were sorely shaken ; and much as he naturally longed to see his only remaining child, he felt it right to persuade her to take, with her friend, a few more weeks' change of scene, though even that could not bring change of thought. * The inscription on the tomb at Scarborough churchyard runs as follows : — 'Here lie the Remains of Anne Bronte, Daughter of the Rev. P. Bronte, Incumbent of Haworth, Yoi^kshire. Sfie Died, aged 28, May 28, 1849/ 420 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE The younger servant^ Martha Brown, who has been oc- casionally alluded to in these memoirs, who was with Miss Bronte in her last days, and who still remains the faithful servant at Haworth Parsonage, has recently sent me a few letters which she received from her dearly loved mistress : one of them I will insert here, as it refers to this time: *June 5, 1849. ^ Dear Martha, — I was very much pleased with your note, and glad to learn that all at home are getting on pretty well. It will still be a week or ten days before I return, and you must not tire yourself too much with the clean- ing. ^ My sister Anne's death could not be otherwise than a great trouble to me, though I have known for many weeks that she could not get better. She died very calmly and gently : she was quite sensible to the last. About three minutes before she died she said she was very happy, and believed she was passing out of earth into heaven. It was not her custom to talk much about religion ; but she was very good, and I am certain she is now in a far better place than any this world contains. ' I mean to send one of the boxes home this week, as I have more luggage than is convenient to carry about. Give my best love to Tabby. — I am, dear Martha, your sincere friend, 0. Brokte.' * July 1849. » ^ I intended to have written a line to you to-day, if I had not received yours. We did indeed part suddenly ; it made my heart ache that we were severed without the time to exchange a word ; and yet perhaps it was better. I got here a little before eight o'clock. All was clean and bright, waiting for me. Papa and the servants were well ; and all received me with an affection which should have consoled. The dogs seemed in strange ecstasy. I am certain they re- * To Ellen Nussey. im RETURN TO THE HOUSE OF MOURNING 421 garded me as the harbinger of others. The dumb creatures thought that^ as I was returned, those who had been so long absent were not far behind. ^ I left papa soon, and went into the dining-room : I shut the door — I tried to be glad that I was come home. I have always been glad before — except once — even then I was cheered. But this time joy was not to be the sensation. I felt that the house was all silent — the rooms were all empty. I remembered where the three were laid — in what narrow, dark dwellings — never more to reappear on earth. So the sense of desolation and bitterness took possession of me. The agony that toas to be undergone, and luas not to be avoided, came on. I underwent it, and passed a dreary evening and night, and a mournful morrow ; to-day I am better. ' I do not know how life will pass, but I certainly do feel confidence in Him who has upheld me hitherto. Solitude may be cheered and made endurable beyond what I can believe. The great trial is when evening closes and night approaches. At that hour we used to assemble in the dining-room — we used to talk. Now I sit by myself — necessarily I am silent. I cannot help thinking of their last days, remembering their sufferings, and what they said and did, and how they looked in mortal affliction. Perhaps all this will become less poignant in time. ^ Let me thank you once more, dear Ellen, for your kindness to me, which I do not mean to forget. How did you think all looking at your home ? Papa thought me a little stronger ; he said my eyes were not so sunken.^ 'July 14, 1849.1 ^ I do not much like giving an account of myself. I like better to go out of myself, and talk of something more cheerful. My cold, wherever I got it, whether at Easton or elsewhere, is not vanished yet. It began in my head. 1 To Ellen Nussey. 422 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE then I had a sore throat, and then a sore chest, with a congh, but only a txifiing cough, which I still have at times. The pain between my shoulders likewise amazed me much. Say nothing about it, for I confess I am too much disposed to be nervous. This nervousness is a hor- rid phantom. I dare communicate no ailment to papa; his anxiety harasses me inexpressibly. ^ My life is what I expected it to be. Sometimes when I wake in the morning, and know that Solitude, Remem- brance, and Longing are to be almost my sole companions all day through — that at night I shall go to bed with them, that they will long keep me sleepless — that next morning I shall wake to them again — sometimes, Nell, I have a heavy heart of it. But crushed I am not, yet ; nor robbed of elasticity, nor of hope, nor quite of endeavour. I have some strength to fight the battle of life. I am aware, and can acknowledge, I have many comforts, many mercies. Still I can get on. But I do hope and pray that never may you, or any one I love, be placed as I am. To sit in a lonely room — the clock ticking loud through a still house — and have open before the mind^s eye the record of the last year, with its shocks, sufferings, losses, is a trial. ' I write to you freely, because I believe you will hear me with moderation — that you will not take alarm or think me in any way worse off than I am/ CHAPTER XVIII The tale of ' Shirley ^ had been begun soon after the publi- cation of ^ Jane Eyre/ If the reader will refer to the ac- count I have given of Miss Bronte^s school days at Roe Head, he will there see how every place surrounding that house was connected with the Luddite riots, and will learn how stories and anecdotes of that time were rife among the inhabitants of the neighbouring villages; how Miss Wooler herself, and the elder relations of most of her school- fellows, must have known the actors in those grim disturb- ances. What Charlotte had heard there as a girl came up in her mind when, as a woman, she sought a subject for her next work ; and she sent to Leeds for a file of the ^Mer- curies^ of 1812, ^13, and ^14, in order to understand the spirit of those eventful times. She was anxious to write of things she had known and seen ; and among the number was the West Yorkshire character, for which any tale laid among the Luddites would afford full scope. In ' Shirley' she took the idea of most of her characters from life, al- though the incidents and situations were, of course, ficti- tious. She thought that if these last were purely imagi- nary, she might draw from the real without detection ; but in this she was mistaken : her studies were too closely ac- curate. This occasionally led her into difficulties. People recognised themselves, or were recognised by others, in her graphic descriptions of their personal appearance, and modes of action and turns of thought, though they were placed in new positions, and figured awry in scenes far dif- ferent from those in which their actual life had been passed. Miss Bronte was struck by the force or peculiarity of the m LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE character of some one whom she knew ; she studied it, and analysed it with subtle power ; and having traced it to its germ, she took that germ as the nucleus of an imaginary character, and worked outwards — thus reversing the proc- ess of analysation, and unconsciously reproducing the same external development. The ^ three curates 'were real living men, haunting Haworth and the neighbouring dis- trict ; and so obtuse in perception that, after the first burst of anger at having their ways and habits chronicled was over, they rather enjoyed the joke of calling each other by the names she had given them. ^Mrs. Pryor^ was well known to many who loved the original dearly. The whole family of the Yorkes were, I have been assured, almost daguerreotypes. Indeed, Miss Bronte told me that, before publication, she had sent those parts of the novel in which these remarkable persons are introduced to one of the sons; and his reply, after reading it, was simply that ^ she had not drawn them strong enough.' From those many-sided sons, I suspect, she drew all that there was of truth in the charac- ters of the heroes in her first two works. They, indeed, were almost the only young men she knew intimately, be- sides her brother. There was much friendship, and still more confidence, between the Bronte family and them — although their intercourse was often broken and irregular. There was never any warmer feeling on either side. The character of Shirley herself is Charlotte's representa- tion of Emily. I mention this because all that I, a stranger, have been able to learn about her has not tended to give either me, or my readers, a pleasant impression of her. But we must remember how little we are acquainted with her, compared with that sister, who, out of her more intimate knowledge, says that she ^was genuinely good, and truly great,' and who tried to depict her character in Shirley Keeldar, as what Emily Bronte would have been, had she been placed in health and prosperity. Miss Bronte took extreme pains with * Shirley.' She felt that the fame she had acquired imposed upon her a double 1849 * VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH' 425 responsibility. She tried to make her novel like a piece of actual life — feeling sure that if she but represented the product of personal experience and observation truly good would come out of it in the long run. She carefully studied the different reviews and criticisms that had appeared on ^ Jane Eyre/ in hopes of extracting precepts and advice from which to profit. Down into the very midst of her writing came the bolts of death. She had nearly finished the second volume of her tale when Branwell died — after him Emily — after her Anne ; the pen^ laid down when there were three sisters living and loving, was taken up when one alone remained. Well might she call the first chapter that she wrote after this ^The Valley of the Shadow of Death.' I knew in part what the unknown of ^Shirley' must have suffered, when I read those pathetic words which oc- cur at the end of this and the beginning of the succeeding chapter : — ^ Till break of day she wrestled with God in earnest prayer. ^Not always do those who dare such divine conflict pre- vail. Night after night the sweat of agony may burst dark on the forehead ; the supplicant may cry for mercy with that soundless voice the soul utters when its appeal is to the Invisible. Spare my beloved,'^ it may implore. Heal my life's life. Kend not from me what long affection en- twines with my whole nature. God of heaven — bend — hear — be clement V And after this cry and strife the sun may rise and see him worsted. That opening morn, which used to salute him with the whispers of zephyrs, the carol of skylarks, may breathe, as its first accents, from the dear lips which colour and heat have quitted, Oh ! I have had a suffering night ! This morning I am worse. I have tried to rise. I cannot. Dreams I am unused to have troubled me.'' ^ Then the watcher approaches the patient's pillow, and sees a new and strange moulding of the familiar features, 426 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE feels at once that the insufferable moment draws nigh, knows that it is God^s will his idol should be broken, and bends his head, and subdues his soul to the sentence he cannot avert, and scarce can bear. . . . ^JSTo piteous, unconscious moaning sound — which so wastes our strength that, even if we have sworn to be firm, a rush of unconquerable tears sweeps away the oath — pre- ceded her waking. No space of deaf apathy followed. The first words spoken were not those of one becoming estranged from this world, and already permitted to stray at times into realms foreign to the living.' She went on with her work steadily. But it was dreary to write without any one to listen to the progress of her tale — to find fault or to sympathise — while pacing the length of the parlour in the evenings, as in the days that were no more. Three sisters had done this — then two, the other sister dropping ofiE from the walk — and now one was left desolate, to listen for echoing steps that never came, and to hear the wind sobbing at the windows, with an almost articulate sound. But she wrote on, struggling against her own feelings of illness ; ' continually recurring feelings of slight cold ; slight soreness in the throat and chest, of which, do what I will,^ she writes, cannot get rid.' In August there arose a new cause for anxiety, happily but temporary. 'August 23, 1849. ^ Papa has not been well at all lately. He has had an- other attack of bronchitis. I felt very uneasy about him for some days — more wretched indeed than I care to tell you. After what has happened one trembles at any ap- pearance of sickness ; and when anything ails papa I feel too keenly that he is the last — the only near and dear rela- tive I have in the world. Yesterday and to-day he has seemed much better, for which I am truly thankful. . . . ^ From what you say of Mr. C , I think I should like 1849 COMPLETION OF * SHIRLEY' 427 him very much. A wants shaking to be put out about his appearance. What does it matter whether her husband dines in a dress coat or a market coat, provided there be worth and honesty and a clean shirt underneath ?' * September 10, 1849. ^ My piece of work is at last finished, and despatched to its destination. You must now tell me when there is a chance of your being able to come here. I fear it will now be difficult to arrange, as it is so near the marriage day. Note well, it would spoil all my pleasure if you put your- self or any one else to inconvenience to come to Haworth. But when it is convenient I shall be truly glad to see you. . . . Papa, I am thankful to say, is better, though not strong. He is often troubled with a sensation of nausea. My cold is very much less troublesome ; I am sometimes quite free from it. A few days since I had a severe bilious attack, the consequence of sitting too closely to my writing ; but it is gone now. It is the first from which I have suf- fered since my return from the seaside. I had them every month before.^ * September 13, 1849. ^If duty and the well-being of others require that you should stay at home, I cannot permit myself to complain ; still I am very, very sorry that circumstances will not per- mit us to meet just now. I would without hesitation come to Birstall if papa were stronger ; but uncertain as are both his health and spirits, I could not possibly prevail on my- self to leave him now. Let us hope that when we do see each other our meeting will be all the more pleasurable for being delayed. Dear Ellen, you certainly have a heavy burden laid on your shoulders ; but such burdens, if well borne, benefit the character ; only we must take the great- est, closest, most watchful care not to grow proud of our strength, in case we should be enabled to bear up under the trial. That pride, indeed, would be a sign of radical weakness. The strength, if strength we have, is certainly never in our own selves ; it is given us/ 428 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE TO W. S. WILLIAMS, ESQ. * September 21, 1849. ^My dear Sir, — I am obliged to you for preserving my secret, being at least as anxious as ever {7nore anxious I cannot well be) to keep quiet. You asked me in one of your letters lately whether I thought I should- escape iden- tification in Yorkshire. 1 am so little known that I think I shall. Besides, the book is far less founded on the Real than perhaps appears. It would be diflBcult to explain to you how little actual experience I have had of life, how few ^ persons I have known, and how very few have known me. ^ As an instance how the characters have been managed take that of Mr. Helstone. If this character had an origi- nal it was in the person of a clergyman who died some years since at the advanced age of eighty. I never saw him except once — at the consecration of a church — when I was a child of ten years old. I was then struck with his appearance and stern, martial air. At a subsequent period I heard him talked about in the neighbourhood where he had resided : some mentioned him with enthusiasm, others with detestation. I listened to various anecdotes, balanced evidence against evidence, and drew an inference. The original of Mr. Hall I have seen ; he knows me slightly ; but he would as soon think I had closely observed him or taken him for a character — he would as soon, indeed, sus- pect me of writing a book — a novel — as he would his dog Prince. Margaret Hall called ^^Jane Eyre a wicked book," on the authority of the Quarterly ;" an expres- sion which, coming from her, I will here confess, struck somewhat deep. It opened my eyes to the harm the Quarterly" had done. Margaret would not have called it wicked " if she had not been told so. ^No matter — whether known or unknown — misjudged or the contrary — I am resolved not to write otherwise. I shall bend as my powers tend. The two human beings who understood me, and whom I understood, are gone. I have 1849 ILLNESS OF ^ TABBY' 429 some that love me yet^ and whom I love without expecting, or having a right to expect, that they shall perfectly under- stand me. I am satisfied; but I must have my own way in the matter of writing. The loss of what we possess near- est and dearest to us in this world produces an effect upon the character : we search out what we have yet left that can support, and, when found, we cling to it with a hold of new-strung tenacity. The faculty of imagination lifted me when I was sinking, three months ago ; its active exer- cise has kept my head above water since; its results cheer me now, for I feel they have enabled me to give pleasure to others. I am thankful to God, who gave me the faculty; and it is for me a part of my religion to defend this gift, and to profit by its possession. — Yours sincerely, 'Charlotte Brokte.'' At the time when this letter was written both Tabby and the young servant whom they had to assist her were ill in bed ; and, with the exception of occasional aid, Miss Bronte had all the household work to perform, as well as to nurse the two invalids. . The serious illness of the younger servant was at its height, when a cry from Tabby called Miss Bronte into the kitchen, and she found the poor old woman of eighty laid on the floor, with her head under the kitchen grate ; she had fallen from her chair in attempting to rise. When I saw her, two years later, she described to me the tender care which Charlotte had taken of her at this time; and wound up her account of how 'her own mother could not have had more thought for her nor Miss Bronte had,' by saying, 'Eh! she's a good one — she is T But there was one day when the strung nerves gave way — when, as she says, ' I fairly broke down for ten minutes ; sat and cried like a fool. Tabby could neither stand nor walk. Papa had just been declaring that Martha was in imminent danger. I was myself depressed with headache and sickness. That day I hardly knew what to do or where 430 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE to turn. Thank God ! Martha is now convalescent: Tabby, I trust, will be better soon. Papa is pretty well. I have the satisfaction of knowing that my publishers are delighted with what I sent them. This supports me. But life is a battle. May we all be enabled to fight it well!' The kind friend, to whom she thus wrote, saw how the poor overtaxed system needed bracing, and accordingly sent her a shower-bath — a thing for which she had long been wishing. The receipt of it was acknowledged as fol- lows : — * September 28, 1849. ^ . . . Martha is now almost well, and Tabby much bet- ter. A huge monster package, from Nelson, Leeds,'' came yesterday. You want chastising roundly and soundly. Such are the thanks you get for all your trouble. . . . When- ever you come to Haworth you shall certainly have a thor- ough drenching in your own shower-bath. I have not yet unpacked the wretch. Yours, as you deserve, 0. B.' There was misfortune of another kind impending over her. There were some railway shares, which, so early as 1846, she had told Miss Wooler she wished to sell, but had kept because she could not persuade her sisters to look upon the affair as she did, and so preferred running the risk of loss to hurting Emily's feelings by acting in opposition to her opinion. The depreciation of these same shares was now verifying Charlotte's soundness of judgment. They were in the York and North Midland Company, which was one of Mr. Hudson's pet lines, and had the full benefit of his peculiar system of management. She applied to her friend and publisher, Mr. Smith, for information on the subject ; and the following letter is in answer to his reply: — ' October, 4, 1849. ^ My dear Sir, — I must not thanh you for, but acknowl- edge the receipt of, your letter. The business is certainly very bad; worse than I thought, and much worse than my father has any idea of. In fact, the little railway property LOSS ON RAILWAY SHARES 431 I possessed, according to original prices, formed already a small competency lor me, with my views and habits. Now scarcely any portion of it can, with security, be calculated upon. I must open this view of the case to my father by degrees; and, meanwhile, wait patiently till I see how affairs are likely to turn. . . . However the matter may terminate, I ought perhaps to be rather thankful than dis- satisfied. When I look at my own case, and compare it with that of thousands besides, I scarcely see room for a murmur. Many, very many, are by the late strange rail- way system deprived almost of their daily bread. Such, then, as have only lost provision laid up for the future should take care how they complain. The thought that Shirley"^ has given pleasure at Cornhill yields me much quiet comfort. No doubt, however, you are, as I am, pre- pared for critical severity ; but I have good hopes that the vessel is sufficiently sound of construction to weather a gale or two, and to make a prosperous voyage for you in the end.^ Towards the close of October in this year she went to pay a visit to her friend ; but her enjoyment in the holiday, which she had so long promised herself when her work was completed, was deadened by a continual feeling of ill-health; either the change of air or the foggy weather produced con- stant irritation at the chest. Moreover she was anxious about the impression which her second work would pro- duce on the public mind. For obvious reasons an author is more susceptible to opinions pronounced on the book which follows a great success than he has ever been before. Whatever be the value of fame, he has it in his possession, and is not willing to have it dimmed or lost. * Shirley' was published on October 26.^ ^ On October 24 she wrote to Mr. George Smith from Brookroyd, her friend's liome — * Your note, enclosing the banker's receipt, reached me safely. I should have acknowledged it before had I not been from home. 'I am glad Shirley is so near the day of publication, as I now and 433 LIFE OF CHA]{LOTTE BRONTfi When it came out, but before reading it, Mr. Lewes wrote to tell her of his intention of reviewing it in the ^ Edinburgh/ Her correspondence with him had ceased for some time : much had occurred since. TO G. H. LEWES, ESQ. * November 1, 1849. ^ My dear Sir, — It is about a year and a half since you wrote to me ; but it seems a longer pe^-iod, because since then it has been my lot to pass some black milestones in the journey of life. Since then there have been intervals when I have ceased to care about literature and critics and fame ; when I have lost sight of whatever was prominent in my thoughts at the first publication of Jane Eyre but now I want these things to come back vividly, if possi- ble : consequently it was a pleasure to receive your note. I wish you did not think me a woman. I wish all reviewers believed Currer Bell^^ to be a man ; they would be more just to him. You will, I know, keep measuring me by some standard of what you deem becoming to my sex ; where I am not what you consider graceful you will condemn me. All mouths will be open against that first chapter, and that first chapter is as true as the Bible, nor is it exceptionable. Come what will, I cannot, when I write, think always of myself and of what is elegant and charming in femineity ; it is not on those terms, or with such ideas, I ever took pen in hand : and if it is only on such terms my writing will be tolerated I shall pass away from the public and trouble it no more. Out of obscurity I came, to obscurity I can easily return. Standing afar off, I now watch to see what will become of ^^Shirley.^^ My expectations are very low, and my anticipations somewhat sad and bitter ; still, I earnestly conjure you to say honestly what you think ; flat- then feel anxious to know its doom and learn what sort of reception it will get. In another month some of the critics will have pronounced their fiat, and the public also will have evinced their mood towards it. Meanwhile patience.' 1849 PUBLICATION OF ^SHIRLEY' 433 tery would be worse than vain ; there is no consolation in flattery. As for condemnation^ I cannot, on reflection, see why I should much fear it ; there is no one but myself to suffer therefrom, and both happiness and suffering in this life soon pass away. Wishing you all success in your Scot- tish expedition, I am, dear Sir, yours sincerely, ' C. Bell/ Miss Bronte, as we have seen, had been as anxious as ever to preserve her incognito in ' Shirley.^ She even fan- cied that there were fewer traces of a female pen in it than in ^ Jane Eyre ;^ and thus, when the earliest reviews were published, and asserted that the mysterious writer must be a woman, she was much disappointed. She especially disliked the lowering -of the standard by which to judge a work of fiction, if it proceeded from a feminine pen ; and praise mingled with pseudo - gallant allusions to .her sex mortified her far more than actual blame. But the secret, so jealously preserved, was oozing out at last. The publication of ' Shirley ' seemed to fix the con- viction that the writer was an inhabitant of the district where the story was laid. And a clever Haworth man, who had somewhat risen in the world, and gone to settle in Liverpool, read the novel, and was struck with some of the names of places mentioned, and knew the dialect in which parts of it were written. He became convinced that it was the production of some one in Haworth. But he could not imagine who in that village could have written such a work except Miss Bronte. Proud of his conjecture, he divulged the suspicion (which was almost certainty) in the columns of a Liverpool paper ; thus the heart of the mystery came slowly creeping out ; and a visit to London, which Miss Bronte paid towards the end of the year 1849, made it distinctly known. She had been all along on most happy terms with her publishers ; and their kindness had beguiled some of those weary, solitary hours which had so often occurred of late, by sending for her perusal boxes of 434 LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE books more suited to her tastes than any she could pro- cure from the circulating library at Keighley. She often writes such sentences as the following in her letters to CornhiU :— ^ I was indeed very much interested in the books you sent/ Eckermann's Conversations with Goethe," Guesses at Truth," Friends in Council/' and the little work on Eng- lish social life pleased me particularly, and the last not least. We sometimes take a partiality to books, as to characters, not on account of any brilliant intellect or striking peculiarity they boast, but for the sake of some- thing good, delicate, and genuine. I thought that small book the production of a lady, and an amiable, sensible woman, and I liked it. You must not think of selecting any more works for me yet ; my stock is still far from exhausted. ^ I accept your offer respecting the " Athenaeum ;" it is a paper I should like much to see, providing that you can send it without trouble. It shall be punctually returned." In a letter to her friend she complains of the feelings of illness from which she was seldom or never free. ' November 16, 1849. ^ You are not to suppose any of the characters in Shir- ley" intended as literal portraits. It would not suit the rules of art, nor of my own feelings, to write in that style. We only suffer reality to suggest, never to dictate. The heroines are abstractions, and the heroes also. Qualities I have seen, loved, and admired are here and there put in as decorative gems, to be preserved in that setting. Since you say you could recognize the originals of all except the heroines, pray whom did you suppose the two Moores to ^ This was probably John Oxenford's translation of Eckermann (1792-1854), made in 1849. Sir Arthur Helps's Friends in Council, First Series, was published in 1847. Guesses at Truth was written by Julius and Augustus Hare, and published anonymously in 1827. TIIK ICKVIKWS ON 'SIIIKI.MV 435 reprt'SiMit ? 1 soiul you a ooupio of roviowH ; llio oiin is in iho •* KxiinuiuM'," writton l^y Alhjiiiy roiil>ljiii(|iu\' who id I'.iilUul tlu' most hrillijiiit political writiu' of tlu^ day, a luiui whoso (liotiiMi is miit'h tlKMii^ht of in Ijondon. TIk^ othor, in tho '•Stamhird of l^'roiMloin," is written l»y William llovvitt.'ii (^uaktM' ! . . . I shtuiKl Ik^ |)rotty woll if it wn v not for lu'aihu'hos ;iml imligostion. My ohost has hcun hcttor lately/ In oonsoqnonco of this [on«^-protrai'ttMl statu (^f languor, lieatlaclu', ami sicknesa, to which tho Bli;^Hitost oxposiirt^ to rohl adiloil sensations of iioarsonoss ami soronoss at tim ( luvst, she dotorminod to tako tho ovil in tinm, as mmdi for her father a sake as for her own, ami U) ^o up to Lon- don and oonsidt some physician then*. It was not her lirst inti'iition to visit anywhere ; hut tin* friendly nr«^(>ney of iier publishers prevailed, and it was de(!idiMl that she was to become the ii;uest of Mr. Smith/ Mefore she went • Albiiny William Ki)n!)hiiuiiio (17UM 187*2). Kdiird (liti iCnutiintr from ISIiO. lU'i'ume Sliitistieul Steivlary U) llin Hoard of Tiiulo in IS 17. Wroti' Entjltihd umltr St irn AitintnistrttttoitM^ IHH?. ' Willimn Ilowilt (17U'J VVri»tit inmimt^nihlo wtuks, of whieli I'isitii to Ut'inavkMt' /Y«i