CARNEGIE INSTITUTE
OP TECHNOLOGY
THE LIBRARY
THE BRONTES
LIFE AND LETTERS
THE BRONTES
LIFE AND LETTERS
BEING AN ATTEMPT TO PRESENT A FULL
AND FINAL RECORD OF THE LIVES OF
THE THREE SISTERS, CHARLOTTE, EMILY
AND ANNE BRONTE FROM THE BIOGRA-
PHIES OF MRS. GASKELL AND OTHERS,
AND FROM NUMEROUS HITHERTO UN-
PUBLISHED MANUSCRIPTS AND LETTERS
BY
CLEMENT SHORTER
VOL. I
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON : MCMVIII
First Edition printed September 1908
Second Edition printed November 1908
Edinburgh : T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty
PREFACE
THE Life of Charlotte Bronte has been written, with
finality all will agree, by Mrs. Gaskell, but when an author
has attained to great fame there is a public, however
small, with whom the interest extends beyond a standard
biography. It was so with Johnson, and we have not only
the incomparable * Boswell,' but certain volumes of letters
edited by Dr. Birkbeck Hill. It was so with Scott, and
we have not only the always interesting ' Lockhart,' but
four volumes of letters and diaries that every lover
of Sir Walter delights in. Thus it is that I have to
congratulate myself upon the fact that the widespread
interest in the Brontes has secured for my book, Charlotte
Bronte and Her Circle, a very large audience, both in
Great Britain and the United States. The merits of that
book were due in no measure to the compiler, but rather
to the happy accident which placed in his hands a great
deal of material not known to any previous writer on
the subject.
During the eleven years that have passed since I first
published Charlotte Bronte and Her Circle, correspondents
from all parts of the world have forwarded me documents
and letters which I am glad to add here, thus making this
book, which I call The Brontes : Life and Letters, very
largely a new work. Everything that was in the former
vi THE BRONTES
work has been incorporated, and a quantity of extremely
valuable new material has been added, including many
hitherto unpublished letters. The placing for the first
time of the whole of the correspondence in chronological
order will, it is hoped, be considered in itself sufficient to
justify this publication.
It had always been my ambition to present these letters
in chronological order, but I found that no book of the
kind could be considered satisfactory that did not include
all the letters already published, even those that were
familiar to the readers of Mrs. Gaskell's biography. The
exhaustion of the copyright of Mrs. Gaskell's book has
given me my opportunity. I have every reason to hope
that there are many Bronte enthusiasts who will welcome
these volumes, which, although avowedly a compilation,
will make a sympathetic appeal to those who have come
under the glamour of the Bronte story.
I have to offer a word of thanks to Dr. Robertson
Nicoll, to Mr. C. W. Hatfield of Pershore, and to Mr.
Butler Wood of Bradford, for kindly reading my proof-
sheets, and for valuable suggestions. I have also to
acknowledge indebtedness to Mr. Thomas J. Wise and
Mr. H. Buxton Forman for the loan of correspondence.
C. S.
PRELIMINARY
MRS. GASKELL'S BIOGRAPHY
THERE have been few biographies that have secured a
more widespread interest than the Life of Charlotte Bronte
by Mrs. Gaskell. It has held a position of singular
popularity for fifty years ; and while biography after bio-
graphy has come and gone, it still commands a place side
by side with Boswell's Johnson and Lockhart's Scott >
although in all essentials it is considerably inferior to
these. There were obvious reasons for this success,
Mrs. Gaskell was herself a popular novelist, who com-
manded a very wide audience, and Cranford, at least, has
taken a place among the classics of our literature. She
brought to bear upon the biography of Charlotte Bronte
some of those literary gifts which had made the charm of her
eight volumes of romance. And these gifts were employed
upon a romance of real life, not less fascinating than any
thing which imagination could have furnished. Charlotte
Bronte's success as an author turned the eyes of the world
upon her. Thackeray had sent her his Vanity Fair
before he knew her name or sex. The precious volume
lies before me
And Thackeray did not send many inscribed copies of his
books even to successful authors. Speculation concerning
the author of Jane Eyre was sufficiently rife during those
VOL. i. A
2 THE BRONTES
seven sad years of literary renown to make a biography
imperative when death came to Charlotte Bronte in 1855.
All the world had heard something of the three marvellous
sisters, daughters of a poor parson in Yorkshire, going
one after another to their death with such melancholy
swiftness, but leaving two of them, at least imperish-
able work behind them. The old blind father and the
bereaved husband read the confused eulogy and criticism,
sometimes with a sad pleasure at the praise, oftener with
a sadder pain at the grotesque inaccuracy. Small wonder
that it became impressed upon Mr. Bronte's mind that an
authoritative biography was desirable. His son-in-law,
Mr. Arthur Bell Nicholls, who lived with him in the
Haworth parsonage during the six weary years which
succeeded Mrs. Nicholls's death, was not so readily won
to the unveiling of his wife's inner life ; and although we,
who read Mrs. Gaskell's Memoir, have every reason to be
thankful for Mr. Bronte's decision, peace of mind would
undoubtedly have been more assured to Charlotte Bronte's
surviving relatives had the most rigid silence been main-
tained. The book, when it appeared in 1857, l gave infinite
pain to a number of people, including Mr. Bronte and
Mr. Nicholls; and Mrs. GaskeH's subsequent experiences
had the effect of persuading her that all biographical
literature was intolerable and undesirable. She would
seem to have given instructions that no biography of
herself should be written. Her daughters have respected
that wish, and now that forty years have passed since her
death we have no substantial record of one of the most
fascinating women of her age. The loss to literature has
been forcibly brought home to the present writer, who has
in his possession a number of letters written by Mrs.
Gaskell to numerous friends of Charlotte Bronte during
1 Mrs. Gaskell's biography of Charlotte Bronte must be read in the ' Haworth edition/
printed in 1900 by Smith, Elder and Co., in England, and by Harper Bros., in the
United States. In this edition will be found sixty-five letters to her publisher, Mr.
George Smith, and to his mother, that are not obtainable elsewhere.
PRELIMINARY 8
the progress of the biography. They serve, all of them,
to impress one with the singular, charm of the woman, her
humanity and breadth of sympathy. They make us think
better of Mrs. Gaskell, as Thackeray's letters to Mrs.
Brookfield make us think better of the author of Vanity
Fair.
Apart from these letters, a journey in the footsteps, as
it were, of Mrs. Gaskell reveals to us the remarkable con-
scientiousness with which she set about her task. It
would have been possible, with so much fame behind her,
to have secured an equal success, and certainly an equal
pecuniary reward, had she merely written a brief mono-
graph with such material as was voluntarily placed in her
hands. Mrs. Gaskell possessed a higher ideal of a bio-
grapher's duties. She spared no pains to find out the
facts ; she visited every spot associated with the name of
Charlotte Bronte Thornton, Haworth, Cowan Bridge,
Birstall, Brussels and she wrote countless letters to the
friends of Charlotte Bronte's earlier days.
But why, it may be asked, was Mrs. Gaskell selected as
biographer ? The choice was made by Mr. Bronte, and
it would have been difficult to have named any other
practised writer with equal qualifications. When Mr.
Bronte had once decided that there should be an authori-
tative biography and he alone was active in the matter
there could be but little doubt upon whom the task
would fall. Among all the friends whom fame had
brought to Charlotte, Mrs. Gaskell stood prominent for
her literary gifts and her large-hearted sympathy. She
had made the acquaintance of Miss Bronte when the latter
was on a visit to Sir James Kay-Shuttleworth, in 1850;
and a letter from Charlotte to her father, and others to
Mr. W. S. Williams, which will be found in due chronolo-
gical order, indicate the beginning of a friendship which
was to leave so striking a record in literary history.
But the friendship, which commenced so late in Char-
4 THE BRONTES
lotte Bronte's life, never reached the stage of downright
intimacy. Of this there is abundant evidence in the
biography ; and Mrs. Gaskell was forced to rely upon the
correspondence of older friends of Charlotte's. Mr
George Smith, the head of the firm of Smith and Elder,
furnished some twenty letters. Mr. W. S. Williams, to
whom is due the credit of 'discovering' the author of
Jane Eyre, lent others; and another member of Messrs.
Smith and Elder's staff, Mr. James Taylor, furnished
half-a-dozen more; but the best help came from another
quarter.
Of the two schoolfellows with whom Charlotte Bronte
regularly corresponded from childhood till death, Mary
Taylor and Ellen Nussey, the former had destroyed every
letter ; and thus it came about that by far the larger part
of the correspondence in Mrs. Gaskell's biography was
addressed to Miss Ellen Nussey, now as 'My dearest
Nell,' now simply as 'E.' The unpublished correspon-
dence in my hands, which refers to the biography, opens
with a letter from Mrs. Gaskell to Miss Nussey, dated July
6th, I855. 1 It relates how, in accordance with a request
from Mr. Bronte, she had undertaken to write the work,
and had been over to Haworth. There she had made
the acquaintance of Mr. Nicholls for the first time. She
told Mr, Bronte how much she felt the difficulty of the
task she had undertaken. Nevertheless, she sincerely
desired to make his daughter's character known to all who
took deep interest in her writings. Both Mr. Bronte and
Mr. Nicholls agreed to help to the utmost, although Mrs.
Gaskell was struck by the fact that it was Mr. Nicholls,
and not Mr. Bronte, who was more intellectually alive to
the attraction which such a book would have for the public.
His feelings were opposed to any biography at all ; but
1 An earlier letter, dated June i6th, 1855, from Mr. Bronte to Mrs. Gaskell,
begging her to undertake the biography of his daughter, is printed in the Haworth
edition of the Life.
PRELIMINARY 5
he had yielded to Mr. Bronte's 'impetuous wish, 1 and he
brought down all the material? he could find, in the shape
of about a dozen letters. Mr. Nicholls, moreover, told
Mrs. Gaskell that Miss Nussey was the person of all
others to apply to ; that she had been the friend of his
wife ever since Charlotte was fifteen, and that he was
writing to Miss Nussey to beg her to let Mrs Gaskell see
some of the correspondence.
But here is Mr. Nicholls's actual letter, as well as earlier
letters from and to Miss Nussey, which would seem to
indicate that it was really a suggestion from that lady that
produced the application to Mrs. Gaskell. She desired
that some attempt should be made to furnish a biography
of her friend if only to set at rest, once and for all, the
speculations of the gossiping community with whom
Charlotte Bronte's personality was still shrouded in
mystery.
TO REV. A. B. NICHOLLS
*, i855-
DEAR MR. NICHOLLS, I have been much hurt and pained
by the perusal of an article in Sharpe for this month, entitled
' A Few Words about Jane Eyre' You will be certain to see the
article, and I am sure both you and Mr. Bronte will feel acutely
the misrepresentations and the malignant spirit which characterises
it. Will you suffer the article to pass current without any
refutations ? The writer merits the contempt of silence, but there
will be readers and believers. Shall such be left to imbibe a
tissue of malignant falsehoods, or shall an attempt be made to do
justice to one who so highly deserved justice, whose very name
those who best knew her but speak with reverence and affection ?
Should not her aged father be defended from the reproach the
writer coarsely attempts to bring upon him ?
I wish Mrs. Gaskell, who is every way capable, would under-
take a reply, and would give a sound castigation to the writer.
Her personal acquaintance with Haworth, the Parsonage, and its
inmates, fits her for the task, and if on other subjects she lacked
8 THE BRONTES
information I would gladly supply her with facts sufficient to set
aside much that is asserted, if you yourself are not provided with
all the information that is needed on the subjects produced.
Will you ask Mrs. Gaskell to undertake this just and honourable
defence? I think she would do it gladly. She valued dear
Charlotte, and such an act of friendship, performed with her
ability and power, could only add to the laurels she has already
won. I hope you and Mr. Bronte are well. My kind regards to
both. Believe me, yours sincerely, E. NUSSEY.
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORIH./I/JW nM, 1855.
DF.AK Miss NTSSEY, We had not seen the article in Sharpe,
and very possibly should not, if you had not directed our attention
to it. We ordered a copy, and have now read the ' Few Words
about Jane Eyre! The writer has certainly made many mistakes,
but apparently not from any unkind motive, as he professes to be
an admirer of Charlotte's works, pays a just tribute to her genius,
and in common with thousands deplores her untimely death.
His design seems rather to be to gratify the curiosity of the
multitude in reference to one who had made such a sensation in
the literary world. But even if the article had been of a less
harmless character, we should not have felt inclined to take any
notice of it, as by doing so we should have given it an importance
which it would not otherwise have obtained Charlotte herself
would have acted thus ; and her character stands too high to
be injured by the statements in a magazine of small circulation
and little influence statements which the writer prefaces with the
remark that he does not vouch for their accuracy. The many
laudatory notices of Charlotte and her works which appeared
since her death may well make us indifferent to the detractions
of a few envious or malignant persons, as there ever will be
such.
The remarks respecting Mr. Bronte excited in him only amuse-
ment indeed, I have not seen him laugh as much for some
months as he did while I was reading the article to him We are
both well in health, but lonely and desolate.
Mr. Bronte unites with me in kind regards. Yours sincerely,
A. B. NICHOLLS.
PRELIMINARY
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH,/W/>' nth, 1855.
DEAR Miss NUSSEY, Some other erroneous notices of
Charlotte having appeared, Mr. Bronte has deemed it advisable
that some authentic statement should be put forth. He has
therefore adopted your suggestion and applied to Mrs. Gaskell,
who has undertaken to write a life of Charlotte. Mrs. Gaskell
came over yesterday and spent a few hours with us. The greatest
difficulty seems to be in obtaining materials to show the develop-
ment of Charlotte's character. For this reason Mrs. Gaskell is
anxious to see her letters, especially those of any early date. I
think I understood you to say that you had some ; if so, we
should feel obliged by your letting us have any that you may think
proper, not for publication, but merely to give the writer an
insight into her mode of thought. Of course they will be returned
after a little time.
I confess that the course most consonant with my own feelings
would be to take no steps in the matter, but I do not think it
right to offer any opposition to Mr. Bronte's wishes.
We have the same object in view, but should differ in our mode
of proceeding. Mr. Bronte has not been very well. Excitement
on Sunday (our Rush-bearing) and Mrs. Gaskell's visit yesterday
have been rather much for him. Believe me, sincerely yours,
A. B. NlCHOLLS.
Mrs. Gaskell, however, wanted to make Miss Nussey's
acquaintance, and asked if she might visit her ; and added
that she would also like to see Miss Wooler, Charlotte's
schoolmistress, if that lady were still alive. To this letter
Miss Nussey made the following reply :
TO MRS. GASKELL, MANCHESTER
ILKLEY,/*// 26M, 1855.
MY DEAR MADAM, Owing to my absence from home your
letter has only just reached me. I had not heard of Mr. Bronte's
request, but I am most heartily glad that he has made it. A
letter from Mr. Nicholls was forwarded along with yours, which
I opened first, and was thus prepared for your communication,
8 THE BRONTES
the subject of which is of the deepest interest to me. I will do
everything in my power to aid the righteous work you have
undertaken, but I feel my powers very limited, and apprehend
that you may experience some disappointment that I cannot
contribute more largely the information which you desire. I
possess a great many letters (for I have destroyed but a small
portion of the correspondence), but I fear the early letters are not
such as to unfold the character of the writer except in a few
points. You perhaps may discover more than is apparent to me.
You will read them with a purpose I perused them only with
interests of affection. I will immediately look over the corre-
spondence, and I promise to let you see all that I can confide to
your friendly custody. I regret that my absence from home
should have made it impossible for me to have the pleasure of
seeing you at Brookroyd at the time you propose. I am engaged
to stay here till Monday week, and shall be happy to see you any
day you name after that date, or, if more convenient to you to
come Friday or Saturday in next week, I will gladly return in
time to give you the meeting. I am staying with our school-
mistress, Miss Wooler, in this place. I wish her very much to
give me leave to ask you here, but she does not yield to my
wishes ; it would have been pleasanter to me to talk with you
among these hills than sitting in my home and thinking of one
who had so often been present there. I am, my dear madam,
yours sincerely, ELLEN NUSSEY.
Mrs. Gaskell and Miss Nussey met, and the friendship
which ensued was closed only by death ; indeed one of
the most beautiful letters in the collection in my hands is
one signed ' Meta Gaskell/ and dated January 22, 1866.
It tells in detail, with infinite tenderness and pathos, of
her mother's last moments. 1 That, however, was ten years
later than the period with which we are concerned. In
1856 Mrs. Gaskell was energetically engaged upon a bio-
graphy of her friend which should lack nothing of thorough-
ness, as she hoped. She claimed to have visited the scenes
of all the incidents in Charlotte's life, * the two little pieces
1 * Mama's last Jays,' it runs, ' had been full of loving thought and tender help for
others. She was so sweet and dear and noble beyond words.'
PRELIMINARY
of private governess-ship excepted.' She went one day
with Mr. Smith to the Chapter Coffee-House, where the
sisters first stayed in London. Another day she is in
Yorkshire, where she makes the acquaintance of Miss
Wooler, which permitted, as she said, ' a more friendly
manner of writing towards Charlotte Bronte's old school-
mistress/ Again she is in Brussels, where Madame H6ger
refused to see her, although M. H6ger was kind and
communicative, * and very much indeed I both like and
respect him. 1 Her countless questions were exceedingly
interesting. They covered many pages of note-paper.
1 Did Branwell Bronte know of the publication of Jane
Eyre' she asks, * and how did he receive the news? ' Mrs.
Gaskell was persuaded in her own mind that he had never
known of its publication, and we shall presently see that
she was right. Charlotte had distinctly informed her, she
said, that Branwell was not in a fit condition at the time to
be told. * Where did the girls get the books which they
read so continually ? Did Emily accompany Charlotte as a
pupil when the latter went as a teacher to Roe Head ?
Why did not Branwell go to the Royal Academy in London
to learn painting? Did Emily ever go out as a governess?
What were Emily's religious opinions ? Did she ever make
friends? ' Such were the questions which came quick and
fast to Miss Nussey, and Miss Nussey fortunately kept
her replies.
TO MRS. GASKELL, MANCHESTER
BROOKROYD, October i2fut, 1856.
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL, If you go to London pray try
what may be done with regard to a portrait of dear Charlotte. It
would greatly enhance the value and interest of the memoir, and
be such a satisfaction to people to see something that would
settle their ideas of the personal appearance of the dear departed
one. It has been a surprise to every stranger, I think, that she
was so gentle and lady-like to look upon.
Emily Bronte went to Roe Head as pupil when Charlotte
10 THE BRONTES
went as teacher ; she stayed there but two months ; she never
settled, and was ill from nothing but home-sickness. Anne took
her place and remained about two years. Emily was a teacher
for one six months in a ladies' school in Halifax or the neighbour-
hood. I do not know whether it was conduct or want of finances
that prevented Branwcll from going to the Royal Academy.
Probably there were impediments of both kinds.
I am afraid if you give me my name I shall feel a prominence
in the book that I altogether shrink from. My very last wish
would be to appear in the book more than is absolutely neces-
sary. If it were possible, I would choose not to be known at all.
It is my friend only that I care to see and recognise, though your
framing and setting of the picture will very greatly enhance its
value. I am, my dear Mrs. Gaskell, yours very sincerely,
KLLEN NUSSEY.
The book was published in two volumes, under the title
of T/te Life of Charlotte Bronte, in the spring of 1857. At
first all was well. Mr. Bronte's earliest acknowledgment of
the hook was one of approbation. Sir James Kay -Shuttle-
worth expressed the hope that Mr. Nicholls would 'rejoice
that his wife would be known as a Christian heroine who
could bear her cross with the firmness of a martyr saint.'
Canon Kingsley wrote a charming letter to Mrs. Gaskell,
published in his Life, and more than once reprinted since.
4 Let me renew our long interrupted acquaintance/ he
writes from St. Leonard's, under date May 141*1, 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 imaginative 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
PRELIMINARY 11
work of fiction yours, indeed, and Thackeray's, 'are the
only ones I care to open. Shirley disgusted 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 misjudged 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/
It was a short-lived triumph, however, and Mrs. Gaskell
soon found herself, as she expressed it, 'in a veritable
hornet's nest.' Mr. Bronte, to begin with, did not care
for the references to himself and the suggestion that he
had treated his wife unkindly, although it is clear from the
correspondence that he did not find anything wrong on his
first perusal of the book. Mrs. Gaskell had associated
him with numerous eccentricities and ebullitions of temper,
which during his later years he always asserted, and
undoubtedly with perfect truth, were, at the best, the
fabrications of a dismissed servant. Mr. Nicholls had also
his grievance. There was just a suspicion implied that
he had not been quite the most sympathetic of husbands.
The suspicion was absolutely ill-founded, and arose from
Mr. Nicholls's intense shyness. But neither Mr. Brontfe
nor Mr. Nicholls gave Mrs. Gaskell much trouble. They,
at any rate, were silent. Trouble, however, came from
many quarters. Yorkshire people resented the air of
patronage with which, as it seemed to them, a good
Lancashire lady had taken their county in hand. They
were not quite the backward savages, they retorted, which
some of Mrs. Gaskell's descriptions in the beginning of her
12 THE BRONT&S
book would seem to suggest. Between Lancashire and
Yorkshire there is always a suspicion of jealousy. It was
intensified for the moment by these sombre pictures of
4 this lawless, yet not unkindly population/ l A son-in-law
of Mr. Redhead wrote to deny the account of that clergy-
man's association with Haworth. * He gives another as
true/ wrote Mrs. Gaskell, 'in which I don't see any great
difference/ Miss Martineau wrote sheet after sheet ex-
planatory of her relations with Charlotte Bronte. ' Two
separate householders in London each declare that the
first interview between Miss Bronte and Miss Martineau
took place at her house/ is another of Mrs. Gaskell's
despairing cries. In one passage Mrs. Gaskell had spoken
of wasteful young servants, and the young servants in
question came upon Mr. Bronte for the following testi-
monial :
HAWORTH, Attest i;///, 1857
I beg leave to state to all whom it may concern, that Nancy and
Sarah Cans, during the time they were in my service, were kind
to rny children, and honest, and not wasteful, but sufficiently
careful in regard to food, and all other articles committed to their
charge. p. BRONTK, A.B.,
Incumbent of //, ; : f <ot ///, Yorkshire.
Three whole pages were devoted to the dramatic recital
of a scandal at 1 luworth, and this entirely disappears from
the third edition. A casual reference to a girl who had
been seduced, and had found a friend in Miss Bronte, gave
further trouble. 'I have altered the word "seduced" to
" betrayed," ' writes Mrs. Gaskell to Martha Brown, ' and I
hope that this will satisfy the unhappy girl's friends/ But
all these were small matters compared with the Cowan
Bridge controversy and the threatened legal proceedings
over Branwell Bronte's suggested love affairs. Mrs.
1 ' Some of the West Rtdinger* are very angry, and declare they are half a century in
civilisation before some of the Lancashire folk, and that thus neighbourhood is a paradise
compared with some districts not far from Manchester. 'Ellen Nus^ey to Mrs. Gaj-kell,
April ibih, 1859.
PRELIMINARY 18
Gaskell defended the description in Jane Eyre of Cowan
Bridge with peculiar vigour. Mr. Carus Wilson, the
Brocklehurst of Jane Eyre, and his friends were furious.
They threatened an action. There were letters in the
Times and letters in the Daily News. Mr. Nicholls broke
silence the only time that he did so during the forty years
that followed his wife's death with two admirable letters
to the Halifax Guardian, 1 The Cowan Bridge controversy
was a drawn battle, in spite of numerous and glowing testi-
monials to the virtues of Mr. Carus Wilson. Most people
who know anything of the average private schools of half
a century ago are satisfied that Charlotte Bronte's descrip-
tion was substantially correct. * I want to show you many
letters/ writes Mrs. Gaskell, 'most of them praising the
character of our dear friend as she deserves, and from
people whose opinion she would have cared for, such as the
Duke of Argyll, Kingsley, Greg, etc. Many abusing me.
I should think seven or eight of this kind from the Carus
Wilson clique.'
The Branwell matter was more serious. Here Mrs.
Gaskell had, indeed, shown a singular recklessness. The
lady referred to by Branwell was Mrs. Robinson, the wife
of the Rev. Edmund Robinson of Thorp Green, and after-
wards Lady Scott. Anne Bronte was governess iti her
family for four years, and Branwell tutor to the son for
about two. Branwell, under the influence of opium,
made certain statements about his relations with Mrs.
Robinson which have been effectually disproved, although
they were implicitly believed by the Bronte girls, who,
womanlike, were naturally ready to regard a woman as
the ruin of a beloved brother. The recklessness of Mrs.
Gaskell in accepting such inadequate testimony can be
explained only on the assumption that she had a novelist's
satisfaction in the romance which the ' bad woman ' theory
supplied. She wasted a considerable amount of rhetoric
upon it. ' When the fatal attack came on/ she says, ' his
1 See Appendix VIII.
14 THE BRONTES
pockets were found filled with old letters from the woman
to whom he was attached. He died ! she lives still in
Mayfair. I see her name in county papers, as one of
those who patronise the Christmas balls ; and I hear of
her in London drawing-rooms' and so on. There were
no love-letters found in Branwell Bronte's pockets. 1
When Mrs. Gaskell's husband came post-haste to Haworth
to ask for proofs of Mrs. Robinson's complicity in Bran-
well's downfall, none were obtainable. I was assured by
the late Sir Leslie Stephen that his father, Sir James
Stephen, was employed at the time to make careful
inquiry, and that he and other eminent lawyers came to
the conclusion that it was one long tissue of lies or halluci-
nations.* The subject is sufficiently sordid, and indeed
almost redundant in any biography of the Brontes; but it
is of moment, because Charlotte Bronte and her sisters
were so thoroughly persuaded that a woman was at the
bottom of their brother's ruin ; and this belief Charlotte im-
pressed upon all the friends who were nearest and dearest
to her Her letters at the time of her brother's death are
full of censure of the supposed wickedness of another.
Here, Mrs. Gaskell did not show the caution which a
masculine biographer, less prone to take literally a man's
accounts of his amours, would undoubtedly have dis-
played. Indeed she told Miss Nussey that she intended
to revenge the wrongs of the Brontes upon 'that woman '
an admirable piece of chivalry if she had been sure of
her facts.
Yet, when all is said, Mrs. Gaskell had done her work
1 'To this txilii statement (i.e. that lovc-lcttcrs were found in Branwell's pockets)
Martha Rtovtn t;ave to me a flat contradiction, declaring that she was employed in the
sick-room at the lime, and had personal knowledge that not one letter, nur a vestige
of one, from the lady in question, was so found ' Lcylaxul. The BtenU Family ^
vol. u. p. 284.
1 Mr. Nicholls believed the story to have had some truth in it, as he could not other-
wise account for Anne's acceptance of her brother's version of the affair, she being all
the time in the same family. The piobable explanation is that Anne failed to under-
stand and to accept at its true worth Mrs. Robinson's irresponsible flirtation with her
brother. Mrs. Robinson was probably laughing at Branwell all the time
PRELIMINARY 15
as thoroughly and well as the documents before her
permitted. Lockhart's Scott and Froude's Carlyle are
examples of great biographies which called for abun-
dant censure upon their publication ; yet both these books
will live as classics of their kind. To be interesting,
it is perhaps indispensable that the biographer should be
indiscreet, and certainly the Branwell incident a matter
of two or three pages is the only part of Mrs. Gaskell's
biography in which indiscretion becomes indefensible.
And for this she suffered cruelly. ' I did so try to tell the
truth/ she said to a friend, * and I believe now I hit as
near to the truth as any one could do.' ' I weighed every
line with my whole power and heart/ she said on another
occasion, '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/
And that clearly Mrs. Gaskell succeeded in doing. It is
quite certain that Charlotte Bronte would not stand on so
splendid a pedestal to-day but for the single-minded
devotion of her accomplished biographer.
It has sometimes been implied that the portrait drawn
by Mrs. Gaskell was far too sombre, that there are
passages in Charlotte's letters which show that ofttimes
her heart was merry and her life sufficiently cheerful. That
there were long periods of gaiety for all the three sisters,
surely no one ever doubted. To few people, fortunately,
is it given to have lives wholly without happiness. And
yet, when this is acknowledged, how can one say that the
picture was too gloomy ? Taken as a whole, the life of
Charlotte Bronte was among the saddest in literature. At
a miserable school, where she herself was unhappy, she
saw her two elder sisters stricken down and carried home
to die. In her home was the narrowest poverty. She
had, in the years when that was most essential, no mother's
care ; and perhaps there was a somewhat too rigid disci-
plinarian in the aunt who took the mother's place. Her
16 THE BRONTES
second school brought her, indeed, two kind friends ; but
her shyness made that school-life in itself a prolonged
tragedy. Of the two experiences as a private governess
I shall have more to say. They were periods of torture
to her sensitive nature. The ambition of the three girls
to start a school on their own account failed ignominiously.
The suppressed vitality of childhood and early womanhood
made Charlotte unable to enter with sympathy and tolera-
tion into the life of a foreign city, and Brussels was for her
a further disaster. Then within two years, just as literary
fame was bringing its consolation for the trials of the past,
she saw her two beloved sisters taken from her. And,
finally, when at last a good man won her love, there were
left to her only nine months of happy married life. * I am
not going to die. We have been so happy. 1 These words
to her husband on her death-bed are not the least piteously
sad in her tragic story. That her life was a tragedy, was
the opinion of the woman friend with whom on the
intellectual side she had most in common. Miss Mary
Taylor wrote to Mrs. Gaskell the following letter from
New Zealand upon receipt of the Life :
WELLINGTON, y>th July 1857
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL, I am unaccountably in receipt by
post of two vols. 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 perfect 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-suppression,' 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.
PRELIMINARY 17
It must upset most people's notions of beauty to be told that
the portrait at the beginning is that of an ugly woman. 1 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 clays. Old Roberson said he * would
\\ade 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 1 thank you for the book the first copy, I believe,
that arrived in New Zealand. Smceiely yours,
MARY TAYLOR.
And in another letter, written a little later (28th January
1858), Miss Mary Taylor writes to Miss Kllen Nussey in
similar strain :
'Your account of Mrs. Gaskell's book was very interesting/ she
says. ' She seems a hasty, impulsive person, and the needful
drawing back after her warmth gives her an inconsistent look.
Yet I doubt not her book will be of great use You must be
aware that many strange notions as to the kind of person Charlotte
really was will be done away with by a knowledge of the true
facts of her life. I have heard imperfectly of fartliei printing on
the subject As to the mutilated edition that is to come, I am
sorry for it. Libellous or not, the first edition was all true, and
except the declamation all, in my opinion, useful to be published.
Of course I don't know how far necessity may make Mrs Gaskdl
give them up. You know one dare not always say the world
moves.'
We who do know the whole story in fullest detail
will understand that it was desirable to * mutilate ' the
book, and that, indeed, truth did in some measure require
1 Mrs. Gaskell had described Charlotte Bronte's features as 'plain, large, and ill-set/
and had written of her 'crooked mouth and large nose ' while acknowledging the
beauty of hair and eyes.
VOL. I. B
18 THE BRONTfiS
It. But with these letters of Mary Taylor's before us, let
us not hear again that the story of Charlotte Bronte's life
was not, in its main features, accurately and adequately
told by her gifted biographer.
Why then, I am naturally asked, add one further book to
the Bronte biographical literature ? The reply is, I hope,
sufficient. Fifty years have gone by, and they have been
years of growing interest in the subject. In the year
1895 ten thousand people visited the Bronte Museum at
Haworth. Interesting books have been written, notably
Sir Wemyss Reid's monograph and Mr. Leyland's The
Bronte Family, but they have gone out of print. Dozens
of letters and many new facts have come to light, and
details, which seemed too trivial in 1857, are of sufficient
importance to-day; facts which were rightly suppressed
then may honestly and honourably be given to the public
at an interval of half a century. Added to all this,
fortune has been kind to me.
Some thirteen or fourteen years ago the late Miss Ellen
Nussey placed in my hands a printed volume of some 400
pages, which bore no publisher's name, but contained
upon its title-page the statement that it was The Story of
Charlotte Brontes Life, as told through her Letters.
These are the Letters which Miss Nussey had lent to
Mrs. Gaskell and to Sir Wemyss Reid. Of these letters
Mrs. Gaskell published about 100, and Sir Wemyss Reid
added a few more. It w r as explained to me that the
volume had been privately printed by Mr. J. Horsfall
Turner of Idle, Bradford, under a misconception, and that
only some dozen copies were extant. Miss Nussey
asked me if I would write something around what might
remain of the unpublished letters, and if I saw my way
to do anything which would add to the public appre-
ciation of the friend who from early childhood until
then had been the most absorbing interest of her life.
A careful study of the volume made it perfectly clear
PRELIMINARY 19
to me that there were still some letters which might with
advantage be added to the Bronte story, although Mr,
Augustine Birrell had advised to the contrary, and Mr,
John Morley declined, on behalf of Messrs. Macmillan, tc
accept a book on the subject. At the same time arose
the possibility of a veto being placed upon the publication
of these letters. An examination of Charlotte Bronte's
will, which was proved at York by her husband in 1855,
suggested an easy way out of the difficulty. I made up
my mind to try and see Mr. Nicholls. I had heard of his
disinclination to be in any way associated with the con-
troversy which had gathered round his wife for all these
years; but I wrote to him nevertheless, and received a
cordial invitation to visit him in his Irish home.
It was exactly forty years to a day after Charlotte died
March 3ist, 1895 when I alighted at the station in the
quiet little town of Banagher in Ireland, to receive the
cordial handclasp of the man into whose keeping Charlotte
Bronte had given her life. It was one of man) visits, and
the beginning of an interesting correspondence. Mr.
Nicholls placed all the papers in his possession in my
hands. They were more varied and more abundant than
I could possibly have anticipated. They included countless
manuscripts written in childhood, and bundles of letters.
Here were the letters Charlotte Bronte had written to her
family during her second sojourn in Brussels to * Dear
Branwell ' and 'Dear E. J.,' as she calls Emily Jane
Bronte letters that even to handle was calculated to give
a thrill to the Bronte enthusiast. Here also were the love-
letters of Maria Branwell to her lover Patrick Bronte,
which were referred to in Mrs. Gaskell's biography, but
had never hitherto been printed.
'The four small scraps of Emily and Anne's manuscript/
writes Mr. Nicholls, 'I accidentally found squeezed into the
little box I send you. They are sad reading, poor girls!
The others I found in the bottom of a cupboard tied up in
20 THE BRONTfiS
a newspaper, where they had lain for nearly thirty years,
and where, had it not been for your visit, they must have
remained during my lifetime, and most likely afterwards
have been destroyed.'
Some slight extracts from Bronte letters in Macmillaris
Magazine, signed 4 E. Baumer Williams/ brought me into
communication with a gifted daughter of Mr. \V. S. Williams,
who had first discovered the merit of the novelist. Mrs.
Williams and her husband generously placed the whole
series of these letters of Charlotte Bronte to their father
at my disposal. It was of some of these letters that Mrs.
Gaskell wrote in enthusiastic terms when she had read
them, and she was only permitted to see a few. Then I
have to thank Mr. Joshua Taylor, the nephew of Miss
Mary Taylor, for permission to publish his aunt's letters. 1
Mr. James Taylor, 2 again, who wanted to marry Charlotte
Bronte, and who died twenty years afterwards in Bombay,
left behind him a bundle of letters which I found in the
possession of a relative in the north of London. 8 I dis-
covered through a letter addressed to Miss Xussey that
the ' Brussels friend' referred to by Mrs. Gaskell was a
Miss Lortitia Wheelwright, and I determined to write to
ill the Wheelwrights in the London Directory. My first
effort succeeded, and the Miss Wheelwright kindly lent
me all the letters that she had preserved. It is scarcely
possible that time will reveal any more 4 unpublished letters
from the author of lane Eyre. Several of those alreadv
. . *
in print are forgeries, and I have already seen a letter
addressed from Paris, a city which Miss Bronte never
visited. I have the assurance of Dr. He"ger of Brussels
that Miss Bronte's correspondence with his father no
longer exists.
1 Some extracts from which weie printed in my Charlotte Rtontt and Htr Circle.
They are given here in then entirety
a Who was in no way related to Mary Taylor and her famil)
3 Mrs. Lawry of Muswell Hill, to whose courtesy in placing these and other papers
at my disposal I am gieatly indebted. These lettcii, were afterwards purchased by Mr.
Thomas Wise.
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 21
CHAPTER I
PATRICK BRONTE AND MARIA HIS WIFE
IT would seem quite clear to any careful investigator that
the Reverend Patrick Bronte, Incumbent of Haworth, and
the father of three famous daughters, was a much maligned
man. We talk of the fierce light which beats upon a
throne, but what is that compared to the fierce light which
beats upon any man of some measure of individuality who
is destined to live out his life in the quiet of a country
village in the very centre, as it were, of personal talk '
and gossip not always kindly to the stranger within the
gate ? The view of Mr. Bronte, presented by Mrs. Gaskell
in the early editions of her biography of Charlotte Bronte,
is that of a severe, ill-tempered, and distinctly disagreeable
character. It is the picture of a man who disliked the
vanities of life so intensely, that the new shoes of his
children and the silk dress of his wife were not spared by
him In sudden gusts of passion. A stern old ruffian, one
is inclined to consider him. His pistol-shooting rings
picturesquely, but not agreeably, through Mrs, GaskelPs
memoir. It has been explained already in more than one
quarter that this was not the real Patrick Bronte, and that
much of the unfavourable gossip was due to the chatter of
a dismissed servant, retailed to Mrs. Gaskell on one of her
missions of inquiry in the neighbourhood. The stories of
the burnt shoes and the mutilated dress have been rele-
gated to the realm of myth, and the pistol-shooting may
now be acknowledged as a harmless pastime not more
iniquitous than the golfing or angling of a latter-day
22 THE BRONTES
clergyman. It is certain, were the matter of much interest
to-day, that Mr. Bronte was fond of the use of firearms.
The late Incumbent of Haworth 1 pointed out to me, on
the old tower of Haworth Church, the marks of pistol
bullets, which he had been assured were made by Mr.
Bronte. I have myself handled both the gun and the
pistols these latter very ornamental weapons, by the way,
manufactured at Bradford which Mr. Bronte possessed
during the later years of his life. 2 From them he had
obtained much innocent amusement ; but his son-in-law,
Mr. Nicholls, who, up to the day of his death, professed a
reverent and enthusiastic affection for old Mr. Bronte,
informed me that the bullet marks upon Haworth Church
were the irresponsible frolic of the curate Mr. Smith. It
does not much matter. All this is trivial enough in any
case, and one turns very readily to more important factors
In the life of the father of the Brontes.
Patrick Bronte was born in a cottage in Emdale, in the
parish of Drumballyroney, County Down, in Ireland, on
St. Patrick's Day, March 17, 1777. He was one of the ten
children of Hugh Brunty, farmer, and his nine brothers and
sisters seem all of them to have spent their lives in their
Irish home, and most of them to have married and been
given in marriage, and to have gone to their graves in peace. 3
The mother, Eleanor M'Clory, had been brought up a
1 The late Rev. John. Wade, who occupied the parsonage at Haworth from the death
of Mr. Bronte in 1861 until 1898, when he resigned.
2 The pistols were sold at Sotheby's Sale Rooms, London, on July 26, 1907.
8 William, the second son, was baptized on the i6th March 1779. Hugh, the third
son, on the 27th May 1781. James, the fourth son, on the 3rd November 1783. Welsh
or Walsh, the fifth son, on the igth February 1786. Jane, the eldest daughter and sixth
child, on the ist February 1789. Mary, the seventh child, on the 1st May 1791. The
register containing the names of Patrick, Rose, Sarah and Alice, the remainder of the
family, was destroyed. Wright's The Brontes in Ireland. Mr. Horsfall Turner shows
(Patrick Brontes Collected Works} that the name is spelt * Brunty ' in all these six
entries in Drumgooland Parish Register. James Brunty or Bronte, who died a bachelor
at the age of 87, is said to have visited Haworth and to have spoken of his niece
Charlotte as 'terrible sharp and inquisitive.' The ultimate destination of Patrick
Bronte's nine brothers and sisters is carefully traced by Mr. Horsfall Turner in his book
Patrick Brontes Collected Works. All the brothers died in Ireland.
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTE 23
Roman Catholic, but became a Protestant at her marriage.
Patrick alone of the family had ambition, and, one must
add, the opportune friend, without whom ambition counts
for little in the struggle of life. After a brief period of
schooling, he became a weaver, the principal industry of
the district, but at sixteen we meet him as a teacher, first
at the Glascar Hill Presbyterian School, about a mile
from the Brunty cottage at Emdale, and later probably
in 1798 at the school connected with the Parish Church
of Dramballyroney, this new post involving a transfer of
allegiance to the Episcopal Faith.
It was at Drumballyroney, it is believed, that he saved
the hundred pounds or so which enabled him at the age
of twenty-five, incited thereto by the vicar of his parish,
Mr. Tighe, to leave Ireland for St. John's College,
Cambridge. In 1802 Patrick Bronte went to Cambridge,
and entered his name in the college books. There,
indeed, we find the name, not of Patrick Bronte, but of
Patrick Branty, 1 and this brings us to an Interesting
point as to the origin of the name. In the register of
baptisms his name is entered, as are those of his brothers
and sisters, as ' Brunty ? and ' B run tee ' ; and it can
scarcely be doubted that, as Dr. Douglas Hyde has
pointed out, the original name was O'Prunty. 2 The Irish,
1 * Patrick Branty ' is written in another handwriting in the list of admissions at St.
John's College, Cambridge. Dr. J. A. Erskine Stuart, who has a valuable note on the
subject in an article on 'The Bronte Nomenclature 5 (Bronte Society's Publications,
Ft. in.), has found the name as Brunty, Bruntee, Bronty, and Branty but never in
Patrick Bronte's handwriting. There is, however, no signature of Mr. Bronte's extant
prior to 1799. His own signatures showed a gradual evolution, however. His matri-
culation signature the first we have is ( Pa.tr. Bronte' without the diuresis j at
Wethersfield he signed Bronte"; at Dewsbury, 'Bronte" or 'BronteV Not until he
arrived at Haworth do we find his signature as Bronte.
2 'I translated this* (i.e. an Irish romance) 'from a manuscript in my possession
made by one "Patrick O'Prunty, an ancestor probably of Charlotte Bronte, in 1763.*
The Story of Early Gaelic Literature, p. 49- By Douglas Hyde, 1895. It is an
interesting fact that Mr. Bronte was not the first of his own family with an inclination
for writing. Dr. Hyde has in his possession a manuscript volume in the Irish language,
written by one Patrick O'Prunty in 1763. Patrick O'Prunty was, I should imagine, an
elder brother of Mr. Bronte's father. The little book was called The Adventures of the
24 THE BRONTES
at the beginning of the century, were well-nigh as primitive
in such matters as were the English of a century earlier ;
and one Is not surprised to see variations in the spelling of
the Bronte name it being in the case of his brothers and
sisters occasionally spelt ' Brontee.' To me it is clear that
for the change of name Lord Nelson was responsible, and
that the dukedom of Bronte, which was conferred upon
the great sailor in 1799, suggested the more ornamental
surname. There were no Irish Brontes in existence before
Nelson became Duke of Bronte ; but all Patrick's brothers
and sisters, with whom, it must be remembered, he was on
terms of correspondence his whole life long, gradually,
with a true Celtic sense of the picturesqueness of the thing,
seized upon the more attractive surname. For this theory
there is, of course, not one scrap of evidence ; we only
know that the registers which record the baptism of
Patrick's brothers and sisters give us Brunty, and that his
own signature through his successive curacies Is Bronte,
with various modifications of the accent on the final e.
From Cambridge, after taking orders in 1 806, Mr. Bronte
moved to a curacy at Wethersfield in Essex; and Mr.
Augustine Birrell has told us 1 how the good-looking Irish
Son of Ice Counsel > and there is a colophon of which Dr. Hyde sends me the original
and a translation ; he also sends me the first quatrain of Patrick OTrunty's poem :
Colophon to the Adventures of the Son of Ice Counsel,
Guidhim beannocht gach leightheora a n-an6ir na Trionoite agas na h-6ighe Muine
air an sgribhne6ir Pjidruig ua Pronntuidh mhic Neill, rnhic Seathain, etc. April y e 20,
1763.
I pray the blessing of each reader in honour of the Trinity and of the Virgin Mary ora
the writer, that is Patrick O'Prunty, son of Mall, son of Seathan, etc. April ye 20*
First Quatrain of Patrick O'Prunty's poem.
Nochad rnillean failte fior
Uaim. do theachta an airdriogh
Thainic clmgainn anois go mbuaidh
Na stiughraighthdir os cionn priomhshluaglbu
Ninety millions of true welcomes
From me to the coming of the high King
Who is come to us now with victory
As a guide over the chief-hosts.
1 In bis Life of Charlotte Bronte, published by Walter Scott in 1887*
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTE 25
curate made successful love to a young parishioner Miss
Mary Burder, he having lodged at the house of Miss
Burder's aunt, Miss Mildred Davy. Mary Burder would
have married him, it seems, but for an obdurate uncle and
guardian. She was spirited away from the neighbourhood,
and the lovers never met again. Mary Burder, as the
wife of a Nonconformist minister named Silree, died in
1866, in her seventy-seventh year. This lady, from
whom doubtless either directly or indirectly the story was
obtained, may have amplified and exaggerated a very
mild flirtation. One would like further evidence for the
statement that when Mr. Bronte lost his wife in 1821
he asked his old sweetheart, Mary Burder, to become the
mother of his six children, and that she answered 'no.'
In any case, Mr. Bronte left Wethersfield early in 1809
for a curacy at Wellington, in Shropshire, where John
Eyton was vicar. 1 Near by at Shrewsbury an old friend
of St. John's College days, John Nunn, was a curate. 2
Hence probably the recommendation. The Wellington
curacy lasted only a few months, however, and at the end
of this year, 1809, we find Mr. Bronte in Yorkshire at
Dewsbury. His new vicar, Mr. Buckmaster, had some
title to fame as a hymn-writer, 8 but he will interest the
lover of Cowper the poet in that he was the successor to
1 John Eyton's son, Robeit William Eyton, the antiquary and county historian, was
bora in the vicarage at Wellington in 1815.
2 A sequel to this friendship belonging to fifty years later is contained in a letter sent
to me by Mr. Nunn's niece, who writes ;
{ In 1857 I was staying with Mr. Nunn at Thorndon, in Suffolk, of which place he was rector. The
good man, had never read a novel in his life, and of course had never heard of the famous Bronte books.
I was reading Mrs. Ga^kell's Life with absorbed interest, and one day my uncle said, "I have heard
have read them once more, and now I destroy them.'"
8 Among the contents of Mr. Bronte's library sold at Sotheby's in 1907, was a book
entitled:
' A Series of Discourses containing a System of Devotional, Experimental, and Practical Religion,
particularly calculated for the Use of Families. Preached at the Parish Church of Dewsbury, York-
shire, by the Rev. J. Buckmaster, A.M., Vicar, Wakefield. Published by E. Waller.'
It was inscribed, 'To the Rev. P. Bronte, A. M., A Testimonial of Sincere Esteem
from the Author,*
26 THE BRONT&S
Cowper's friend and correspondent, Matthew Powley, the
husband of Mary Unwin's only daughter. 1
What little we know of Mr. Bronte's sojourn in Dews-
bury is due to the researches of Mr. W. \V. Yates of that
town. 2 It is practically covered by three incidents. One
of them tells of a visit of the curate with the children of
the Sunday-school from Uewsbury to Earlsheaton, a
neighbouring village. In presence of an offensive bully
Mr. Bronte showed great courage, seized the man who
blocked the path and threw him on one ^ide. The story
was used by Charlotte Bronte in Shirley A second
incident is that of the intervention of Mr. Bronte in coming
forward to support a young man named William Nowell,
who was wrongfully charged with deserting after taking
the King's shilling. lie was brought before a magistrate
and sentenced to imprisonment. Mr. Bronte and others
agitated with the result that Nowell was released and the
man, James Thackeray, who had charged Xowell with
enlisting, was tried for perjury and sentenced to seven
years' transportation. Mr. Bronte took a considerable
part in agitating ior the release oi Xoweli and for bringing
his accuser to trial. A letter signed 4 Palmer^ton ' s from
the War Offire is extant, addressed to Mr Bronte in
answer to a memorial from him on the subject. Mr.
Bronte took up Novell's case in the Lccd$ Mcrcnrv, where
then and after\\ards he wrote under the pseudonym of
'Sydney/ A third episode is concerned with Mr. Bronte's
leaving I )ewsbiiry. It is recorded that he declined to
preach again after hearing the remark of a churchwarden,
that Mr. Buckmaster should not 'keep a dog and bark
himself in other words, that the vicar should not preach
1 The Rev Matthew 1'owley died in 1 806 as vicar of Uewsl.urj ; hi* vufc, Mary
1'ow ley, died in 1835, a^ed eighty-nine.
8 rke Father of ttu fronts Jfts Liji and JT0/A at 1 >t , >nn u ;;u' Ha> tshead,l>y
W. W. Yates. Leeds: Fred K. Spark and Son, 1897.
* Palmersum \\.is at St. John's College, Cambridge, from AJTI, 1803 lo January
1806, but it is improbable that the future Minister of State and Mr Bronte were
ever on speaking terms.
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 27
and pay a curate for preaching. He solemnly announced
this grievance, it is said, from the pulpit, and departed from
Dewsbury, Mr. Ruckmaster, however, assisting him to a
new curacy at Hartshead.
Mr. Bronte's next curacy was obtained in 1811, by a
removal to Hartshead, near Huddersfielci Here, in 1812,
when thirty-five years of age, he married Miss Maria
Bran well, of Penzance. 1 Miss Branwell had only a few
months before left her Cornish home for a visit to an
uncle in Yorkshire. This uncle was a Mr. John Fennell,
a Methodist Local Preacher, and Governor of Woodhouse
Grove Wesleyan Academy. 2 To Methodism, indeed, the
Cornish Branwells would seem to have been devoted at
one time or another, for I have seen a copy of the Imitation
inscribed * M. Branwell, July 1807,' with the following
title-page :
AN EXTRACT OF THE CHRISTIAN'S PAT'I ERN :
OK, A TREATISE ON THE IMITATION OF CHRIST.
\\RITTEN IN LA'llN BY THOMAS A KEMP1S
ABRIDGED AND PUBLISHED IN ENGLISH I1Y JOHN
WESLEY, M.A., LONDON. PRINTED AT THE
CONFERENCE OFFICE, NORTH GREEN, FINSBURY
SQUARE. G. STORY, AGENT. SOLD BY G. \VI1IT-
FIELD, CITY ROAD. 1803. PKICE BOUND IS.
1 The Bianwells. --Maria Branwell's father, Thomas Krunwcll, was * Assistant ' to
the Corporation of Pen/Alice, that is, a Councillor. He marrud Anne Carnc, and they
and many of their children were buried in a vault in the Churchyard of St. Mary's,
f'enzance The vault is marked ' T. B., 1808.' Thomas Br
Penzancc, November 28, 1768, and died in 1808 ; his wife
son, Benjamin Carnc Branwell, born I775> who became May*
and six daughters Mrs Bronte, Miss Elizabeth Branwell, Mib 11
married her cousin Joseph Branwtll, and thus did not change he
was married iti
i i Suo. They had one
of iVnzance in 1809,
anw< 11 (Charlotte, who
nunu ), Mrs. Kingston
(Anne), whose one daughter, Elizabeth Jane, died in Penzanu in 1^78, .md two others.
1 Woodhouse Grove School was opened in 1812, Mr. John 1 enncll being appointed
its 6rst Governor, the only layman who ever occupied that post. lie was also the first
Head-master, and his vufe was 'Governess* (i.e. Matron) of the school, their joint
salary amounting to jC^oo per annum. Mr. Bronte conducted the first examination of
the boys of Woodhouse Grove School. Mr. Pennell was a year there, and after
another twelvemonth's preparation he was ordained a curate, his first curacy being at
Biadford Parish Church, where, on the 23rd June 1816, ht preached the funeral sermon
on the death of Vicar Crosse. Charles A. tederer in the Yorkshire Daily Observer,
July 30, 1907.
28 THE BRONTES
The book was evidently brought by Mrs. Bronte from
Penzance, and given by her to her husband or left among
her effects. The poor little woman had been in her grave
for nearly five years when it came into the hands of one of
her daughters, as we learn from Charlotte's handwriting
on the fly-leaf:
C. Bronte $ book. This hook was given to me in July 1826. It is
not certainly knoivn who is the author, but it is generally supposed
that Thomas a Konpis is. I saw a reivard of ,10,000 offered in
the Leeds Mercury to any one who could find out for a certainty
iv ho is the autJior.
The conjunction of the names of John Wesley, Maria
Branwell, and Charlotte Bronte surely gives this little
volume, ' price bound is.,' a singular interest! The intro-
duction of Mr. Bronte to Miss Branwell doubtless arose
from his friendship with the Rev. William Morgan, who,
as we shall see, was married on the same day as Mr.
Bronte and also performed the ceremony for his friend.
Mr. Bronte had met Mr. Morgan as a fellow-curate at
Wellington, and Morgan was engaged to Miss Fennell.
In Mr. Bronte's scanty library was a book entitled :
'Sermons or Homilies appointed to be read in Churches in
the time of Ouecn Elizabeth of Famous Memory.' Oxford :
Clarendon Tress, 1802.
It bears the inscription in Mr. Bronte's handwriting:
The Rev. P. Bronte's Book, presented to him by his Friend
W. Morgan, as a Memorial of the pleasant and agreeable friend-
ship which subsisted between them at Wellington and as a token
of the same friendship which, as is hoped, will continue for ever.
Here I may refer to the letters which Maria Branwell
wrote to her lover during the brief courtship. Mrs.
Gaskell, it will be remembered, makes but one extract
from this correspondence, which was handed to her
by Mr. Bronte as part of the material for her memoir.
Long years before, the little packet had been taken from
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 29
Mr. Bronte's desk, for we find Charlotte writing to Miss
Nussey on February i6th, 1850:
A few days since, a little incident happened which curiously
touched me, Papa put into my hands a little packet of letters
and papers, telling me that they were mamma's, and that I might
read them. I did read them, in a frame of mind I cannot describe.
The papers were yellow with time, all having been written before
I was born. It was strange now to peruse, for the first time, the
records of a mind whence my own sprang ; and most strange, and
at once sad and sweet, to find that mind of a truly fine, pure, and
elevated order. They were written to papa before they were
married. There is a rectitude, a refinement, a constancy, a
modesty, a sense, a gentleness about them indescribable. I wish
she had lived, and that I had known her.
Yet another forty years or so and the little packet came
into my possession. Handling, with a full sense of their
sacredness, these letters, written more than ninety years
ago by a good woman to her lover, one is tempted to hope
that there is no breach of the privacy which should, even
in our day, guide certain sides of life, in publishing the
correspondence in its completeness. With the letters I
find a little MS., which is also of pathetic interest. It is
entitled * The Advantages of Poverty in Religious Con-
cerns/ and it is endorsed in the handwriting of Mr. Bronte,
written, doubtless, many years afterwards :
The above was written by my dear wife, and is for insertion in
one of the periodical publications. Keep it as a memorial of her.
There is no reason to suppose that the MS. was ever
published ; there is no reason why any editor should have
wished to publish it. It abounds in the obvious. 1 At the
same time, one notes that from both father and mother
alike Charlotte Bronte and her sisters inherited some
measure of the literary faculty. It is nothing to say that
not one line of her father's or mother's would have been
1 Acting upon the desire of the publishers to preserve every possible rp'-morial of the
Brontes in these pages, I print the essay in Appendix I.
80 THE BRONTES
preserved had it not been for their gifted children. It is
sufficient that the zest for writing was there, and that the
intense passion for handling a pen, which seems to have
been singularly strong in Charlotte Bronte, must have
come to a great extent from a similar passion alike in
father and mother. Mr. Bronte, indeed, may be counted
a prolific author. He published, in all, four books, three
pamphlets, and two sermons. Of his books, two were in
verse and two in prose. Cottage Poems 1 was published in
181 i ; The Rural Minstrel* in 1813 ; The Cottage in the
Wood* in 1815 ; and The Maid of Killarney* in 1818.
After his wife's death he published no more books, but
only occasional sermons and pamphlets. 5 Reading over
these old-fashioned volumes now, one admits that they
1 Cottage rocm\, by the Rev. Patrick Bronte, B A., Minister of H.irtshead-cum-
Clifton, near Leeds, Yoikshirr. Halifax . Printed and sold by P. K Hulden for the
Author. Sold also by B. Crosby and Co. , Stationers' Court, Lonoon ; F. HouKton
and Son, Wellington ; and by the Booksellers of Halifax, Leeds, York, etc 1811
a Thi Rural Ahn\irc! A Miscellany of Descriptive Poems By the Rev P.Bronte,
A.B. , Minister of I lartshead-cum-l hiton, near Leeds, Yorkshire. Halifax . Printed and
sold by P K. Ilolden for the Author. Sold also by B. and R. Crosby and Co.,
Stationers' Court, London And by all other Bookseller*; 1813.
* The Cot/age in tht \Vood, or ^ the Art of Becoming A'lt h and Happy, by the Rev.
P. Bronte, A.B , Minister of Thornton, Bradford, Yorkshire. Bradford, printed and
sold by T. Inkersley Sold also by Sherwood and Co , London ; Robinson and Co.,
Leeds; Ilolden, Halifax ; J. Hurst, \Yukeheld ; and all other Booksellers. 1815.
4 7 he Maid of Killarney ; ot , Albion and frloia' A Modern Tale; in which are
interwoven some cursory lem.uks on Religion and Politics London, printed by
Baldwin, Ciadock and Joy, Paternoster Row. Sold also by T. Inkersley, Bradford;
Robinson and Co , Leeds ; and all other Booksellers. 1818
B Mi. UionU s other uoiks were.
1. The Phenomenon , of , An Amount in Vet se of the Extraordinary Disruption of a
Bog which took Plate in the Moors o/ Haworth on the \2th day of ^tptcmber 1824
Intended as a Reward Book for the Highei Classes in Sunday schools By the Rev.
P. Bronte, M.A., Incumbent of llawoith, near Keighle), Bi.idfoid Printed and sold
by T. Inkersley, Biuljje Street ; and by F. Westlcy, Stationers 1 Coin t, London 1824.
Price Twopence.
2. A Sermon I 'readied in the Church of Haworth on Sunday the 1 2th clay of
September 1824, in lefeience to an Earthquake and Lxtraordinar) Eiuption of Mud
and Watei that had taken Place ten days before in the Mosv of that Chapelry By the
Rev. Patrick Bionte, A B. , Incumbent of Ha\\orth, near Keighley, Bradford. Punted
and sold by T. Inkersley, Bridge Stieet ; and all othei Booksellers. 1824. Price
Sixpence.
3. 7*he Signs of the Times ; or, A Familiar Treatise on ^ome Political Indications in
the Year 1835. By P. Bionte, A.B., Incumbent of Haworth, near Bradford, Yorkshire.
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 81
possess but little distinction. It has been pointed out,
indeed, that one of the strongest lines in Jane Eyre
'To the finest fibre of my nature, sir/ is culled from Mr.
Bronte's verse. It is the one line of his that will live.
In iSn Mr. Bronte published at Halifax a volume
entitled Cottage Poems. Among its contents is * An
Epistle to the Rev. J B while journeying for the
recovery of his health' the Rev. J. B. being, of course,
his Vicar. Like his daughter Charlotte, Mr. Bronte is
more interesting in his prose than in his poetry. The
Cottage in the }Vood ; or, the Art of Becoming Rich and
Happy, is a kind of religious novel a spiritual Pamela, in
which the reprobate pursuer of an innocent girl ultimately
becomes converted and marries her. The Maid of
Killarney ; or, Albion and Flora, is better worth reading.
Under the guise of a story it has something to say on
many questions of importance. We know now why
Charlotte never learnt to dance until she went to Brussels,
and why children's games were unknown to her, for here
are many mild diatribes against dancing and card-playing.
The British Constitution and the British and Foreign
Bible Society receive a considerable amount of criticism.
But in spite of this didactic weakness there are one or
Kcighley, printed by R. Aked, Bookseller, Low Street ; and sold by W. Crofts, 19
Chancery Lane, London ; and all Booksellers. MDrrcxxxv.
4. A BtJtf T?cati\f on {he Best Time and Mode of Baptism, chiefly in answer to a
Tract of Peter Tontifex, also the Rev. M. S , Baptist Minister. By P Bronte, A.B.,
Incumbent of Haworth, Yorkshire. Price Threepence. Keighlcy, printed by R.
Aked, Book&ellci, Low Street. MDCCCXXXVI.
5. A Funeral Sermon for the late Rev. William Weightman, M.A. Preached in the
Church of ILtworth on Sunday the 2nd of October 1842, by the Rev. Patrick Bronte,
A. B., Incumbent. The Profits, if any, to go in aid of the Sunday-school, Halifax.
Printed by J. U. Walker, George Street. 1842. Price Sixpence.
All the above works have been reprinted under the title of:
'Bronteana, the Rev. Patrick Bronte, A. B. His Collected Works and Life. Edited
by J. Horsfall Turner of Idle, Bradford. Bingley, printed for the Editor by T.
Harrison and Sons 1898.'
Mr. Horsfall Turner also enumerates the fugitive writings of Mr. Bronte, including
contributions to the Leeds Mercury, the Leeds ////;/.///<;<;, to The Pastoral Visitor
a Magazine issued at Bradford by thr Rev \V. Morgan, and to the C&ttage Afagazine,
issued at Dewsbury by the Rev. J. Buckworth.
82 THE BRONTfiS
two pieces of really picturesque writing, notably a descrip-
tion of an Irish wake, and a forcible account of the defence
of a house against Whiteboys.
It is true enough that these books are merely of interest
to collectors and that they live only by virtue of Patrick
Bronte's remarkable children. But many a prolific writer
of the day passes muster as a genius among- his contem-
poraries upon as small a talent ; and Mr. Bronte does not
seem to have given himself any airs as an author. Thirty
years were to elapse before there were to be any more
books from this family of writers ; but Jane Eyre owes
something, we may be sure, to The Maid of KiHarney.
Mr. Bronte married Maria Branwell in 1812 at Guiseley
Church, Yorkshire. She was in her thirtieth year, and
was one of seven children one son and six daughters
the father of whom, Mr. Thomas Branwell, had died
in 1808. He was a member of the town council, or as it
was then called ' Assistant to the Corporation ' of Penzance,
and three years before the marriage of Maria Branwell
her brother, Benjamin Carne Branwell, was Mayor of
Penzance. 1 By a curious coincidence, another sister,
Charlotte, was married in Penzance on the same clay that
Maria was married at Guiseley the 29th of December
i8i2. 2 Before me are a bundle of samplers worked by
four of these Branwell sisters. Maria Branwell 'ended
her sampler' April the I5th, 1791, and it is inscribed with
1 It is pointed out by k j. II. R.' ( Yorkshut Daily (V>W7<;, AuguM 13, 1907) that Maria
Branwell's brother could not have been at Woodhoiuse Giove School as sometimes stated.
8 The late Miss Charlotte Branwell of Penzance wrote to me as follows : ' My Aunt
Maria Branwell, after the death of her parents, went to Yoikshire on a visit to her
iclatives, where she met the Rev. Patrick Bionte. They soon became engaged to be
married. Jane Fcnnell was previously engaged to the Rev. William Morgan. And
when the time arrived for their marriage, Mr. Fennell said he should have to give his
daughter and niece away, and if so, he could not marry them ; so it was arranged that
Mr. Morgan should marry Mr Bronte and Maria Branwell, and afterwards Mr. Bronte
should perform the same kindly office towards Mr. Morgan and Jane Pennell. So the
bridegrooms married each other and the brides acted as bridesmaids to each other. My
father and mother, Joseph and Charlotte Branwell, were mained at Madron, which was
then the parish church of Penzance, on the same day and hour. Perhaps a similar case
never happened before or since : two sisters and four first cousins being united in holy
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 88
the text, Flee from sin as from a serpent, for if thou earnest
too near to it, it will bite thee. The teeth thereof are as
the teeth of a lion to slay the souls of men. Another
sampler is by Elizabeth Branwell ; another by Margaret,
and another by Anne. These, some miniatures, and the
book and papers to which I have referred, are all that
remain to us as a memento of Mrs. Bronte, apart from the
children that she bore to her husband. The miniatures
were in the possession of Miss Charlotte Branwell, of
Penzance, when they came under my notice ; they are of
Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Branwell Charlotte Bronte's
maternal grandfather and grandmother and of Mrs.
Bronte and her sister Elizabeth Branwell as children.
To return, however, to our bundle of love-letters. Com-
ment is needless, if indeed comment or elucidation were
possible at this distance of time.
TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSIIEAD
WOOD HOUSE GROVE, August 26th, 1812.
MY DEAR FRIEND, This address is sufficient to convince you
that I not only permit, but approve of yours to me I do indeed
consider you as my friend ; yet, when I consider how short a
time I have had the pleasure of knowing you, I start at my own
rashness, my heart fails, and did I not think that you would be
disappointed and grieved at it, I believe I should be ready to
spare myself the task of writing. Do not think that I am so
wavering as to repent of what I have already said. No, believe
me, this will never be the case, unless you give me cause for it.
You need not fear that you have been mistaken in my character.
If I know anything of myself, I am incapable of making an
ungenerous return to the smallest degree of kindness, much less
to you whose attentions and conduct have been so particularly
matrimony at one and the same time. And they were all happy marriages. Mr. Bronte
was perhaps peculiar, but I have always heard my own dear mother say that he was
devotedly fond cf his wife, and she of him. These marriages were solemnised on the
29th of December 1812.'
Mr. Charles A. Federer ( Yorkshire Daily Observer, August 5, 1907) notes that
Mr. Fennell could not in any case have performed the ceremony, as he was not at the
time ordained a priest of the Church of England.
VOL. I. C
34 THE BRONTES
obliging. I will frankly confess that your behaviour and what I
have seen and heard of your character has excited my warmest
esteem and regard, and be assured you shall never have cause to
repent of any confidence you may think proper to place in me, and
that it will always be my endeavour to deserve the good opinion
which you have formed, although human weakness may in some
instances cause me to fall short. In giving you these assurances
I do not depend upon my own strength, but I look to Him who
has been my unerring guide through life, and in whose continued
protection and assistance I confidently trust.
I thought on you much on Sunday, and feared you would not
escape the rain. I hope you do not feel any bad effects from it ?
My cousin wrote you on Monday and expects this afternoon to be
favoured with an answer. Your letter has caused me some foolish
embarrassment, tho' in pity to my feelings they have been very
sparing of their raillery.
I will now candidly answer your questions. The politeness of
others can never make me forget your kind attentions, neither can
I walk our accustomed rounds without thinking on you, and, why
should I be ashamed to add, wishing for your presence. If you
knew what were my feelings whilst writing this you would pity
me. I wish to write the truth and give you satisfaction, yet fear
to go too far, and exceed the bounds of propriety. But whatever
I may say or write I will never deceive you, or exceed the truth.
If you think I have not placed the utmost confidence in you, con-
sider my situation, and ask yourself if I have not confided in you
sufficiently, perhaps too much. I am very sorry that you will not
have this till after to-morrow, but it was out of my power to write
sooner. I rely on your goodness to pardon everything in this
which may appear either too free or too stiff, and beg that you
will consider me as a warm and faithful friend.
My uncle, aunt, and cousin unite in kind regards.
I must now conclude with again declaring myself to be yours
sincerely, MARIA BRANWELL.
TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSHEAD
WOOD HOUSE GROVE, September yh, 1812.
MY DEAREST FRIEND, I have just received your affectionate
and very welcome letter, and although I shall not be able to send
this until Monday, yet I cannot deny myself the pleasure of
writing a few lines this evening, no longer considering it a task,
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 85
but a pleasure, next to that of reading yours. I had the pleasure
of hearing from Mr. Fennell, who was at Bradford on Thursday
afternoon, that you had rested there all night Had you pro-
ceeded, I am sure the walk would have been too much for you ;
such excessive fatigue, often repeated, must injure the strongest
constitution. I am rejoiced to find that our forebodings were
without cause. I had yesterday a letter from a very dear friend
of mine, and had the satisfaction to learn by it that all at home
are well. I feel with you the unspeakable obligations I am under
to a merciful Providence my heart swells with gratitude, and I
feel an earnest desire that I may be enabled to make some suit-
able return to the Author of all my blessings. In general, I think
I am enabled to cast my care upon Him, and then I experience a
calm and peaceful serenity of mind which few things can destroy.
In all my addresses to the throne of grace I never ask a blessing
for myself but I be^ the same for you, and considering the
important station which you are called to fill, my prayers are
proportionately fervent that you may be favoured with all the
gifts and graces requisite for such a calling. O my dear friend,
let us pray much that we may live lives holy and useful to each
other and all around us !
Monday morn. My cousin and I were yesterday at Calverley
church, where we heard Mr. Watman preach a very excellent
sermon from * learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart.'
He displayed the character of our Saviour in a most affecting
and amiable light. I scarcely ever felt more charmed with his
excellences, more grateful for his condescension, or more abased
at my own unworthiness ; but I lament that my heart is so little
retentive of those pleasing and profitable impressions.
I pitied you in your solitude, and felt sorry that it was not in
my power to enliven it. Have you not been too hasty in inform-
ing your friends of a certain event? Why did you not leave them
to guess a little longer? I shrink from the idea of its being
known to everybody. I do, indeed, sometimes think of you, but
I will not say how often, lest I raise your vanity ; and we some-
times talk of you and the doctor. But I believe I should seldom
mention your name myself were it not now and then introduced
by my cousin. I have never mentioned a word of what is past
to anybody. Had I thought this necessary I should have
requested you to do it. But I think there is no need, as by some
means or other they seem to have a pretty correct notion how
86 THE BRONTfiS
matters stand betwixt us ; and as their hints, etc., meet with no
contradiction from me, my silence passes for confirmation. Mr.
Fennell has not neglected to give me some serious and encourag-
ing advice, and my aunt takes frequent opportunities of dropping
little sentences which I may turn to some advantage. I have
long had reason to know that the present state of things would
give pleasure to all parties. Your ludicrous account of the scene
at the Hermitage was highly diverting, we laughed heartily at it ;
but I fear it will not produce all that compassion in Miss Fenneirs
breast which you seem to wish. I will now tell you what I was
thinking about and doing at the time you mention. I was then
toiling up the hill with Jane and Mrs. Clapham to take our tea at
Mr. Tatham's, thinking on the evening when I first took the same
walk with you, and on the change which had taken place in my
circumstances and views since then not wholly without a wish
that I had your arm to assist me, and your conversation to shorten
the walk. Indeed, all our walks have now an insipidity in them
which I never thought they would have possessed. When I work,
if I wish to get forward I may be glad that you are at a distance.
Jane begs me to assure you of her kind regards. Mr. Morgan is
expected to be here this evening. I must assume a bold and
steady countenance to meet his attacks !
I have now written a pretty long letter without reserve or
caution, and if all the sentiments of my heart are not laid open to
you believe me it is not because I wish them to be concealed, for,
I hope there is nothing there that would give you pain or dis-
pleasure. My most sincere and earnest wishes are for your
happiness and welfare, for this includes my own. Pray much for
me that I may be made a blessing and not a hindrance to you.
Let me not interrupt your studies nor intrude on that time which
ought to be dedicated to better purposes. Forgive my freedom,
my dearest friend, and rest assured that you are and ever will be
dear to MARIA BRANWELL.
Write very soon.
TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSHEAD
WOOD HOUSE GROVE, September nth, 1812.
MY DEAREST FRIEND, Having spent the day yesterday at
Miry Shay, 1 a place near Bradford, I had not got your letter till
1 This fine old Jacobean building still stands, and is situated in Barkerend Road,
about a quarter of a mile from the parish church.
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTE 87
my return in the evening, and consequently have only a short
time this morning to write if I send it by this post. You surely
do not think you trouble me by writing? No, I think I may
venture to say if such were your opinion you would trouble me no
more. Be assured, your letters are and I hope always will be
received with extreme pleasure and read with delight. May our
Gracious Father mercifully grant the fulfilment of your prayers!
Whilst we depend entirely on Him for happiness, and receive each
other and all our blessings as from His hands, what can harm us
or make us miserable? Nothing temporal or spiritual.
Jane had a note from Mr. Morgan last evening, and she desires
me to tell you that the Methodists 1 service in church hours is to
commence next Sunday week. You may expect frowns and
hard words from her when you make your appearance here again,
for, if you recollect, she gave you a note to carry to the Doctor,
and he has never received it. What have you done with it? If
you can give a good account of it you may come to see us as soon
as you please and be sure of a hearty welcome from all parties.
Next Wednesday we have some thoughts, if the weather be fine,
of going to Kirkstall Abbey once more, and I suppose your
presence will not make the walk less agreeable to any of us.
The old man is come and waits for my letter. In expectation
of seeing you on Monday or Tuesday next, I remain, yours
faithfully and affectionately, M. B.
TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSHEAD
WOOD HOUSE GROVE, September i8M, 1812.
How readily do I comply with my dear Mr. B/s request ! You
see, you have only to express your wishes, and as far as my power
extends I hesitate not to fulfil them. My heart tells me that it
will always be my pride and pleasure to contribute to your
happiness, nor do I fear that this will ever be inconsistent with
my duty as a Christian. My esteem for you and my confidence
in you is so great, that I firmly believe you will never exact any-
thing from me which I could not conscientiously perform. I shall
in future look to you for assistance and instruction whenever I
may need them, and hope you will never withhold from me any
advice or caution you may see necessary.
For some years I have been perfectly my own mistress, subject
88 THE BRONTES
to no control whatever so far from it, that my sisters who are
many years older than myself, and even my dear mother, used to
consult me in every case of importance, and scarcely ever doubted
the propriety of my opinions and actions. Perhaps you will be
ready to accuse me of vanity in mentioning this, but you must
consider that I do not boast of it, I have many times felt it a
disadvantage ; and although, I thank God, it never led me into
error, yet, in circumstances of perplexity and doubt, I have deeply
felt the want of a guide and instructor.
At such times I have seen and felt the necessity of supernatural
aid, and by fervent applications to a throne of grace I have
experienced that my heavenly Father is able and willing to supply
the place of every earthly friend. I shall now no longer feel this
want, this sense of helpless weakness, for I believe a kind Provi-
dence has intended that I shall find in you every earthly friend
united ; nor do I fear to trust myself under your protection, or shrink
from your control. It is pleasant to be subject to those we love,
especially when they never exert their authority but for the good of
the subject. How few would write in this way ! But I do not fear
thatjw/ will make a bad use of it. You tell me to write my thoughts,
and thus as they occur I freely let my pen run away with them.
Sat. morn. I do not know whether you dare show your face
here again or not after the blunder you have committed. When
we got to the house on Thursday evening, even before we were
within the doors, we found that Mr. and Mrs. Bedford had been
there, and that they had requested you to mention their intention
of coming a single hint of which you never gave ! Poor I too
came in for a share in the hard words which were bestowed upon
you, for they all agreed that I was the cause of it. Mr. Fennell said
you were certainly mazed, and talked of sending you to York, etc.
And even I begin to think that this, together with the note, bears
some marks of insanity] However, I shall suspend my judgment
until I hear what excuse you can make for yourself. I suppose
you will be quite ready to make one of some kind or another.
Yesterday I performed a difficult and yet a pleasing task in
writing to my sisters. I thought I never should accomplish the
end for which the letter was designed ; but after a good deal of
perambulation I gave them to understand the nature of my
engagement with you, with the motives and inducements which
led me to form such an engagement, and that in consequence of
it I should not see them again so soon as I had intended. I con-
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTE 89
eluded by expressing a hope that they would not be less pleased
with the information than were my friends here. I think they
will not suspect me to have made a wrong step, their partiality
for me is so great. And their affection for me will lead them to
rejoice in my welfare, even though it should diminish somewhat
of their own. I shall think the time tedious till I hear from you,
and must beg you will write as soon as possible. Pardon me, my
dear friend, if I again caution you against giving way to a weak-
ness of which I have heard you complain. When you find your
heart oppressed and your thoughts too much engrossed by one
subject let prayer be your refuge this you no doubt know by
experience to be a sure remedy, and a relief from every care and
error. Oh, that we had more of the spirit of prayer ! I feel that
I need it much.
Breakfast-time is near, I must bid you farewell for the time,
but rest assured you will always share in the prayers and heart of
your own MARIA.
Mr. Fennell has crossed my letter to my sisters. With his
usual goodness he has supplied my deficiencies, and spoken of me
in terms of commendation of which I wish I were more worthy.
Your character he has likewise displayed in the most favourable
light ; and I am sure they will not fail to love and esteem you
though unknown.
All here unite in kind regards. Adieu.
TO REV. PATRICK BRONTK, A.B., HARTSHEAD
WOOD HOUSL GROVK, September iyd, 1812.
MY DEAREST FRIEND, Accept of my warmest thanks for your
kind affectionate letter, in which you have rated mine so highly
that I really blush to read my own praises. Pray that God would
enable me to deserve all the kindness you manifest towards me,
and to act consistently with the good opinion you entertain of me
then I shall indeed be a helpmeet for you, and to be this shall
at all times be the care and study of my future life. We have had
to-day a large party of the Bradford folks the Rands, Fawcetts,
Dobsons, etc. My thoughts often strayed from the company,
and I would have gladly left them to follow my present employ-
ment. To write to and receive letters from my friends were
always among my chief enjoyments, but none ever gave me so
40 THE BRONTES
much pleasure as those which I receive from and write to my
newly adopted friend. I am by no means sorry you have given
up all thought of the house you mentioned. With my cousin's
help I have made known your plans to my uncle and awnt. Mr.
Fennell immediately coincided with that which respects your
present abode, and observed that it had occurred to him before,
but that he had not had an opportunity of mentioning it to you.
My aunt did not fall in with it so readily, but her objections did
not appear to me to be very weighty. For my own part, I feel
all the force of your arguments in favour of it, and the objections
are so trifling that they can scarcely be called objections. My
cousin is of the same opinion. Indeed, you have such a method
of considering and digesting a plan before you make it known to
your friends, that you run very little risk of incurring their dis-
approbations, or of having your schemes frustrated. I greatly
admire your talents this way may they never be perverted by
being used in a bad cause! And whilst they are exerted for good
purposes, may they prove irresistible! If I may judge from your
letter, this middle scheme is what would please you best, so that
if there should arise no new objection to it, perhaps it will prove
the best you can adopt. However, there is yet sufficient time
to consider it further. I trust in this and every other circum-
stance you will be guided by the wisdom that cometh from above
a portion of which I doubt not has guided you hitherto. A
belief of this, added to the complete satisfaction with which I read
your reasonings on the subject, made me a ready convert to your
opinions. I hope nothing will occur to induce you to change
your intention of spending the next week at Bradford. Depend
on it you shall have letter for letter ; but may we not hope to see
you here during that time, surely you will not think the way more
tedious than usual ? I have not heard any particulars respecting
the church since you were at Bradford. Mr. Rawson is now there,
but Mr. Hardy and his brother are absent, and I understand
nothing decisive can be accomplished without them. Jane expects
to hear something more to-morrow. Perhaps ere this reaches you,
you will have received some intelligence respecting it from Mr.
Morgan. If you have no other apology to make for your blunders
than that which you have given me, you must not expect to be
excused, for I have not mentioned it to any one, so that however
it may clear your character in my opinion it is not likely to
influence any other person. Little, very little, will induce me to
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTE 41
cover your faults with a veil of charity. I already feel a kind of
participation in all that concerns you. All praises and censures
bestowed on you must equally affect me. Your joys and sorrows
must be mine. Thus shall the one be increased and the other
diminished. While this is the case we shall, I hope, always find
'life's cares' to be 'comforts/ And may we feel every trial and
distress, for such must be our lot at times, bind us nearer to God
and to each other! My heart earnestly joins in your compre-
hensive prayers. I trust they will unitedly ascend to a throne of
grace, and through the Redeemer's merits procure for us peace and
happiness here and a life of eternal felicity hereafter. Oh, what
sacred pleasure there is in the idea of spending an eternity together
in perfect and uninterrupted bliss ! This should encourage us to
the utmost exertion and fortitude. But whilst I write, my own
words condemn me I am ashamed of my own indolence and
backwardness to duty. May I be more careful, watchful, and
active than I have ever yet been !
My uncle, aunt, and Jane request me to send their kind regards,
and they will be happy to see you any time next week whenever
you can conveniently come down from Bradford. Let me hear
from you soon I shall expect a letter on Monday. Farewell,
my dearest friend. That you may be happy in yourself and
very useful to all around you is the daily earnest prayer of
yours truly,
MARIA BRANWELL.
TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSHEAD
WOOD HOUSE GROVE, October yd, 1812.
How could my dear friend so cruelly disappoint me? Had he
known how much I had set rny heart on having a letter this
afternoon, and how greatly I felt the disappointment when the
bag arrived and I found there was nothing for me, I am sure he
would not have permitted a little matter to hinder him. But
whatever was the reason of your not writing, I cannot believe it
to have been neglect or unkindness, therefore I do not in the
least blame you, I only beg that in future you will judge of my
feelings by your own, and if possible never let me expect a letter
without receiving one. You know in my last which I sent you at
Bradford I said it would not be in my power to write the next
day, but begged I might be favoured with hearing from you on
42 THE BRONTES
Saturday, and you will not wonder that I hoped you would have
complied with this request. It has just occurred to my mind that
it is possible this note was not received ; if so, you have felt dis-
appointed likewise ; but I think this is not very probable, as the
old man is particularly careful, and I never heard of his losing
anything committed to his care. The note which I allude to
was written on Thursday morning, and you should have received
it before you left Bradford. I forget what its contents were, but
I know it was written in haste and concluded abruptly. Mr.
Fennell talks of visiting Mr. Morgan to-morrow. I cannot lose
the opportunity of sending this to the office by him as you will
then have it a day sooner, and if you have been daily expecting
to hear from me, twenty-four hours are of some importance. I
really am concerned to find that this, what many would deem
trifling incident, has so much disturbed my mind. I fear I should
not have slept in peace to-night if I had been deprived of this
opportunity of relieving my mind by scribbling to you, and now
I lament that you cannot possibly receive this till Monday. May
I hope that there is now some intelligence on the way to me? or
must my patience be tried till I see you on Wednesday? But
what nonsense am I writing ! Surely after this you can have no
doubt that you possess all my heart. Two months ago I could
not possibly have believed that you would ever engross so much
of my thoughts and affections, and far less could I have thought
that I should be so forward as to tell you so. I believe I must
forbid you to come here again unless you can assure me that you
will not steal any more of my regard. Enough of this ; I must
bring my pen to order, for if I were to suffer myself to revise
what I have written I should be tempted to throw it in the fire,
but I have determined that you shall see my whole heart. I have
not yet informed you that I received your serio-comic note on
Thursday afternoon, for which accept my thanks.
My cousin desires me to say that she expects a long poem on
her birthday, when she attains the important age of twenty-one.
Mr. Fennell joins with us in requesting that you will not fail to
be here on Wednesday, as it is decided that on Thursday we are
to go to the Abbey if the weather, etc., permits.
Sunday morning. I am not sure if I do right in adding a few
lines to-day, but knowing that it will give you pleasure I wish to
finish, that you may have it to-morrow. I will just say that if my
feeble prayers can aught avail, you will find your labours this day
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 48
both pleasant and profitable, as they concern your own soul and
the souls of those to whom you preach. I trust in your hours of
retirement you will not forget to pray for me. I assure you I
need every assistance to help me forward ; I feel that my heart is
more ready to attach itself to earth than heaven. I sometimes
think there never was a mind so dull and inactive as mine is with
regard to spiritual things.
I must not forget to thank you for the pamphlets and tracts
which you sent us from Bradford. I hope we shall make good use
of them. I must now take my leave. I believe I need scarcely
assure you that I am yours truly and very affectionately,
MARIA BRANWELL.
TO REV. PATRICK HRONTK, A.B., HARTSHEAD
WOOD HOUSE GROVE, October 2u/, 1812.
With the sincerest pleasure do I retire from company to
converse with him whom I love beyond all others. Could my
beloved friend see my heart he would then be convinced that the
affection I bear him is not at all inferior to that which he feels
for me indeed I sometimes think that in truth and constancy it
excels. But do not think from this that I entertain any suspicions
of your sincerity no, I firmly believe you to be sincere and
generous, and doubt not in the least that you feel all you express.
In return, I entreat that you will do me the justice to believe that
you have not only a very large portion of my affection and esteem,
but all that I am capable of feeling, and from henceforth measure
rny feelings by your own. Unless my love for you were very
great how could I so contentedly give up rny home and all my
friends a home I loved so much that I have often thought
nothing could bribe me to renounce it for any great length of
time together, and friends with whom I have been so long accus-
tomed to share all the vicissitudes of joy and sorrow? Yet these
have lost their weight, and though I cannot always think of them
without a sigh, yet the anticipation of sharing with you all the
pleasures and pains, the cares and anxieties of life, of contributing
to your comfort and becoming the companion of your pilgrimage,
is more delightful to me than any other prospect which this world
can possibly present. I expected to have heard from you on
Saturday last, and can scarcely refrain from thinking you unkind
44 THE BRONTES
to keep me in suspense two whole days longer than was necessary,
but it is well that my patience should be sometimes tried, or I
might entirely lose it, and this would be a loss indeed ! Lately I
have experienced a considerable increase of hopes and fears, which
tend to destroy the calm uniformity of my life. These are not
unwelcome, as they enable me to discover more of the evils and
errors of my heart, and discovering them I hope through grace to
be enabled to correct and amend them. I am sorry to say that
my cousin has had a very serious cold, but to-day I think she is
better ; her cough seems less, and I hope we shall be able to come
to Bradford on Saturday afternoon, where we intend to stop till
Tuesday. You may be sure we shall not soon think of taking
such another journey as the last. I look forward with pleasure
to Monday, when I hope to meet with you, for as we are no
longer twain separation is painful, and to meet must ever be
attended with joy.
Thursday morning. I intended to have finished this before
breakfast, but unfortunately slept an hour too long. I am every
moment in expectation of the old man's arrival. I hope my
cousin is still better to-day ; she requests me to say that she is
much obliged to you for your kind inquiries and the concern
you express for her recovery. I take all possible care of her, but
yesterday she was naughty enough to venture into the yard
without her bonnet ! As you do not say anything of going to
Leeds I conclude you have not been. We shall most probably
hear from the Dr. this afternoon. I am much pleased to hear of
his success at Bierley ! O that you may both be zealous and
successful in your efforts for the salvation of souls, and may your
own lives be holy, and your hearts greatly blessed while you are
engaged in administering to the good of others! I should have
been very glad to have had it in my power to lessen your fatigue
and cheer your spirits by my exertions on Monday last. I will
hope that this pleasure is still reserved for me. In general, I feel
a calm confidence in the providential care and continued mercy
of God, and when I consider His past deliverances and past favours
I am led to wonder and adore. A sense of my small returns of
love and gratitude to Him often abases me and make? me think I
am little better than those who profess no religion. Pray for me,
my dear friend, and rest assured that you possess a very, very
large portion of the prayers, thoughts, and heart of yours truly,
M. BRANWELL.
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 45
Mr. Fennell requests Mr. Bedford to call on the man who has
had orders to make blankets for the Grove and desire him to send
them as soon as possible. Mr. Fennell will be greatly obliged to
Mr. Bedford if he will take this trouble.
TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSHEAD
WOOD HOUSE GROVE, November i8M, 1812.
MY DEAR SAUCY PAT, Now don't you think you deserve this
epithet far more than I do that which you have given me?
I really know not what to make of the beginning of your last ;
the winds, waves, and rocks almost stunned me. I thought you
were giving me the account of some terrible dream, or that you
had had a presentiment of the fate of my poor box, having no idea
that your lively imagination could make so much of the slight
reproof conveyed in my last. What will you say when you get a
real, downright scolding! Since you show such a readiness to
atone for your offences after receiving a mild rebuke, I am in-
clined to hope you will seldom deserve a severe one. I accept
with pleasure your atonement, and send you a free and full
forgiveness. But I cannot allow that your affection is more
deeply rooted than mine. However, we will dispute no more
about this, but rather embrace every opportunity to prove its
sincerity and strength by acting in every respect as friends and
fellow-pilgrims travelling the same road, actuated by the same
motives, and having in view the same end. I think if our lives
are spared twenty years hence I shall then pray for you with the
same, if not greater, fervour and delight that I do now. I am
pleased that you are so fully convinced of my candour, for to
know that you suspected me of a deficiency in this virtue would
grieve and mortify me beyond expression. I do not derive any
merit from the possession of it, for in me it is constitutional.
Yet I think where it is possessed it will rarely exist alone, and
where it is wanted there is reason to doubt the existence of
almost every other virtue. As to the other qualities which your
partiality attributes to me, although I rejoice to know that I
stand so high in your good opinion, yet I blush to think in how
small a degree I possess them. But it shall be the pleasing study
of my future life to gain such an increase of grace and wisdom as
shall enable me to act up to your highest expectations and prove
to you a helpmeet. I firmly believe the Almighty has set us
46 THE BRONTES
apart for each other ; may we, by earnest, frequent prayer, and
every possible exertion, endeavour to fulfil His will in all things!
I do not, cannot, doubt your love, and here I freely declare I love
you above all the world besides. I feel very, very grateful to the
great Author of all our mercies for His unspeakable love and con-
descension towards us, and desire ' to show forth my gratitude not
only with my lips, but by my life and conversation.' I indulge a
hope that our mutual prayers will be answered, and that our
intimacy will tend much to promote our temporal and eternal
interest.
I suppose you never expected to be much the richer for me,
but I am sorry to inform you that I am still poorer than I thought
myself. I mentioned having sent for my books, clothes, etc. On
Saturday evening about the time you were writing the description
of your imaginary shipwreck, I was reading and feeling the effects
of a real one, having then received a letter from my sister giving
me an account of the vessel in which she had sent my box being
stranded on the coast of Devonshire, in consequence of which the
box was dashed to pieces with the violence of the sea, and all my
little property, with the exception of a very few articles, swallowed
up in the mighty deep. If this should not prove the prelude to
something worse, I shall think little of it, as it is the first disas-
trous circumstance which has occurred since I left my home, and
having been so highly favoured it would be highly ungrateful in
me were I to suffer this to dwell much on my mind.
Mr. Morgan was here yesterday, indeed he only left this
morning. He mentioned having written to invite you to Bierley
on Sunday next, and if you complied with his request it is likely
that we shall see you both here on Sunday evening. As we
intend going to Leeds next week, we should be happy if you would
accompany us on Monday or Tuesday. I mention this by desire
of Miss Fennell, who begs to be remembered affectionately to
you. Notwithstanding Mr. Fennell's complaints and threats, I
doubt not but he will give you a cordial reception whenever you
think fit to make your appearance at the Grove. Which you may
likewise be assured of receiving from your ever truly affectionate
MARIA.
Both the doctor and his lady very much wish to know what
kind of address we make use of in our letters to each other. I
think they would scarcely hit on this \ \
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 47
TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSIIEAD
WOOD HOUSE GROVE, December $th, 1812.
MY DEAREST FRIEND, So you thought that perhaps I might
expect to hear from you. As the case was so doubtful, and you
were in such great haste, you might as well have deferred writing
a few days longer, for you seem to suppose it is a matter of
perfect indifference to me whether I hear from you or not. I
believe I once requested you to judge of my feelings by your own
am I to think that you are thus indifferent? I feel very
unwilling to entertain such an opinion, and am grieved that you
should suspect me of such a cold, heartless, attachment. But
I am too serious on the subject ; I only meant to rally you a little
on the beginning of your last, and to tell you that I fancied there
was a coolness in it which none of your former letters had con-
tained. If this fancy was groundless, forgive me for having
indulged it, and let it serve to convince you of the sincerity and
warmth of my affection. Real love is ever apt to suspect that
it meets not with an equal return ; you must not wonder then
that my fears are sometimes excited. My pride cannot bear the
idea of a diminution of your attachment, or to think that it is
stronger on my side than on yours. But I must not permit my
pen so fully to disclose the feelings of my heart, nor will I tell
you whether I am pleased or not at the thought of seeing you
on the appointed day.
Miss Fennell desires her kind regards, and, with her father,
is extremely obliged to you for the trouble you have taken about
the carpet, and has no doubt but it will give full satisfaction.
They think there will be no occasion for the green cloth.
We intend to set about making the cakes here next week, but
as the fifteen or twenty persons whom you mention live probably
somewhere in your neighbourhood, I think it will be most con-
venient for Mrs. B. to make a small one for the purpose of
distributing there, which will save us the difficulty of sending
so far.
You may depend on my learning my lessons as rapidly as they
are given me. I am already tolerably perfect in the ABC, etc.
I am much obliged to you for the pretty little hymn which I have
already got by heart, but cannot promise to sing it scientifically,
though I will endeavour to gain a little more assurance.
Since I began this Jane put into my hands Lord Lyttelton's
48 THE BRONTES
Advice to a Lady. When I read those lines, ' Be never cool reserve
with passion joined, with caution choose, but then be fondly kind,
etc./ my heart smote me for having in some cases used too much
reserve towards you. Do you think you have any cause to com-
plain of me ? If you do, let me know it. For were it in my power
to prevent it, I would in no instance occasion you the least pain
or uneasiness. I am certain no one ever loved you with an
affection more pure, constant, tender, and ardent than that which
I feel. Surely this is not saying too much ; it is the truth, and I
trust you are worthy to know it. I long to improve in every
religious and moral quality, that I may be a help, and if possible
an ornament to you. Oh let us pray much for wisdom and grace
to fill our appointed stations with propriety, that we may enjoy
satisfaction in our own souls, edify others, and bring glory to the
name of Him who has so wonderfully preserved, blessed, and
brought us together.
If there is anything in the commencement of this which looks
like pettishness, forgive it ; my mind is now completely divested
of every feeling of the kind, although I own I am sometimes too
apt to be overcome by this disposition.
Let me have the pleasure of hearing from you again as soon
as convenient. This writing is uncommonly bad, but I too am
in haste.
Adieu, my dearest. I am your affectionate and sincere
MARIA.
The marriage in Guiseley Church, near Bradford, 1 was
followed by the setting up house at Hartshead, where Mr.
Bronte was curate for four years. Mr. William Morgan,
who married Mrs. Bronte's cousin the same day, was curate
of the neighbouring village of Bierley. Mr. Morgan per-
formed the marriage ceremony, and Mr. Bronte officiated
a few minutes later to make his wife's cousin Mrs.
Morgan. During his married life at Hartshead, Mr.
Bronte lived in a house at the top of Clough Lane,
1 Thus reported in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1813: 'Lately at Guiseley, near
Bradford, by the Revd. W. Morgan, minister of Bierley, Revd. P. Bronte, B.A., minister
of Ilartshead-cum-Clifton, to Maria, third daughter of the late T. Branwell, Esq., of
Penzance. At the same time, by the Revd. P. Bronte, Revd. W. Morgan, to the only
daughter of Mr. John Fennell, Head-master of the Wesleyan Academy, near Bradford.'
PATRICK AND MARIA BRONTfi 49
Hightown. Here his two eldest children, Maria and
Elizabeth, were born. 1 He then removed to Thornton,
near Bradford.
1 Maria Bronte was born in 1813, and christened April 23, 1814. Elizabeth was
born Feb. 8, 1815, and' was christened at Thornton on August 26 of that year, her
aunt Elizabeth Branwell of Penzance, and Elizabeth Firth of Thornton, being her
godmothers, and Mr. Firth of Kipping House, Thornton, her godfather.
VOL. T D
50 THE BRONTES
CHAPTER II
THE BRONTES AT THORNTON
PATRICK BRONTE exchanged the living of Hartshead-cum-
Clifton in 1815 for that of Thornton. He was doubtless in-
spired thereto by the fact that his wife's cousin, Mrs. William
Morgan, and her husband were residing in Bradford, about
four miles distant. It is clear that both Mr. Bronte's
entry into Yorkshire and his introduction to the lady
who became his wife were due to Mr. Morgan. The
friends, as we have seen, first met at Wellington. Through
the influence of Mrs. Fletcher of Madeley in the same
county, Mr. Morgan came into communication with the
Fennells and their friend, Mr. Crosse, Vicar of Brad-
ford. Mr. John Fennell was a godson of the famous
Wesleyan, the Rev. John Fletcher, Wesley's friend. Mr.
Morgan, once a curate at Bradford, it was natural that he
should help his new friend to a vacant curacy at Dews-
bury ; it was natural further that he should introduce him
to the Fennells, and hence the marriage came about.
Mr. Morgan was curate under the Rev. John Crosse, and
later, in 1813, became Vicar of Christ Church, Bradford, 1
1 Mr. Morgan became a widower and married a second time in 1836, and a third
time in very old age. His second wife was Miss Mary Alice Gibson of Bradford In
1851 he exchanged bungs with the Rector of llulcott, Bucks. He died there in 1858,
aged eighty-eight years. His works included an account of Mr. Crosse, his predecessor
at Bradford; The Pansh Priest Pourttaye.d\ Christian Instructions, consisting of
Sermons and Addresses; a talc entitled 7 he IVehk Weaver ; a Selection of Psalms
and Hymns ; also a Memou of his second wife entitled, Simplicty and Godly Sincerity
eAtmf?(ft(l in the Lije <iW l^calh o/ Mrs A/oigan of Huhott, Bmkinghattuhirc, and
THE BRONTES AT THORNTON 51
supplementing his income for a time, it would seem, by keep-
ing a school. The then minister 1 at Thornton was the
Rev. Thomas Atkinson. Mr. Atkinson was betrothed to
a Miss Walker of Lascelles Hall, near Huddersfield, and
to be near to this lady, it is said that the young curate
desired to exchange with Mr. Bronte. Mr. Atkinson
remained in possession of the perpetual curacy of Harts-
head until 1866, and he lived there until 1870. He was
the godfather of Charlotte Bronte, 2 and his wife was her
godmother. 8 The Atkinsons were not, of course, contented
with Mr. Bronte's modest residence. They resided at
late of Bradford^ Yorkshire. The second Mrs. Morgan died in 1852. Mr. Morgan
also edited a maga/me, The Palatal Visitor , to which Mr. Bronte several times
contributed.
1 It was a perpetual curacy, serving as did also Haworth as a chapel-of-ease to
Bradford Parish Church. The cuiate was designed 'minister' until 1855, when the
Rev R. II. Heap became Vicai of Thornton. The value of the livings of Hartshead
and Thornton was the same ,320 per annum.
" A great-niece, Miss Lucy Ethel Fraser, sends me from the Atkinson Pedigree in
her possession the following information concerning Mr. Atkinson and his wife. It will
be seen that Mr. Atkinson's mother was a Firth, a family with which we are to become
acquainted a little later :
Thomas Atkinson Frances, 3rd d of
born at Leeds, June Samuel Walker,
loth, 1780, B.A. of Ksq , of Lascelles
Magdalene College, Hall, nr. Iludders-
Cam bridge, and 7th field, by Ksther his
Junior Optime 1802 wife, d. of John
Married at Kirk- Firth, of Kipping,
heaton, December Gent. Born at
23rd, 1817. M.A. Kirkheaton, Janu-
1814. Incumbent of ary 28th, 1793.
I lartshead- cum -Clif-
ton, Yorkshire.
Mr. Atkinson died February 28, 1870, at the Green House, Mirfield ; his wife died in
1881. Miss Fraser further informs me that her mother was at school at Roe Head
when Charlotte Bronte was a teacher there, and that she ' was a pet of Charlotte's, who
used to call her " velvet cheeks.'"
z There is a tradition among the descendants of the Rev. James Clarke Franks, Vicar
of Huddersfield, who married Miss Elizabeth Firth, that the pair were Charlotte Bronte's
godfather and godmother It is possible, although there is no direct evidence, that Miss
Firth may have been the second godmother with Mrs. Atkinson. She was not married
until 1824.
52 THE BRONTES
Green House, Mirfield, and there Charlotte Bronte fre-
quently visited as a girl. 1
The historian of Thornton 2 has clearly presented that
town to us as it was when Mr. Bronte with his wife and
two children arrived on the scene. His ministrations
were conducted in a building that was known as the Old
Bell Chapel, which dated from 1612, a building of un-
redeemed ugliness. There were only twenty-three houses
in the main street of Thornton at that date. The Parson-
age, as it appears to have been called, was in Market
Street. Many would think it a very mean cottage. But
Thornton as it may be seen a century later is a much
sadder sight, considered aesthetically, than it was when
it presented itself to the eyes of Mr. Bronte. It is now a
town with workshops, factories, and stone quarries ; the
old chapel has been superseded by a new, but by no means
beautiful, church, which stands exactly opposite the ruins,
divided only by the road. It is some years since I was
there. First I wandered among the chapel ruins and the
gravestones which lie around. I found the font, in which
the young Brontes were baptized, exposed to wind and
weather, apparently cared for by none. It has since been
removed into the new church opposite. 8 This church
also possesses to-day a Bronte organ, built by subscriptions
from enthusiasts. A still more precious possession is the
register of births, where are recorded the baptisms of all
but one of the Bronte children. It will be remembered
1 Mr. W. W. Yates in The Father of the Brontes.
2 Mr William Scruton, to whose book Thornton and the Biontts I am indebted for
many facts in this chapter. It was published in i8qS by John Dale and Co , Ltd., of
Bridge Street, Bradford.
1 There arc now three fonts in the new church at Thointon a new one and two old
ones. The oldest, dating from the seventeenth centvir), \sas discovered among the
ruins of the Bell Chapel by Mr Charles Forshaw, and at his suggestion removed into
the church. This was the font m use at the time when Mr. Bronte was curate at
Thornton. The other font was transferred from the inins to the church at the sugges-
tion of Mr. W. Brookes. Mr. John J. Stead of Heckmondwike photogiaphed both the
old fonts when they were among the rums.
THE BRONTES AT THORNTON
58
that Maria Bronte, the eldest child, was baptized
at Hartshead, where she was born. Elizabeth, the
second child, although born at Hartshead, was baptized at
Thornton. 1
It was essentially a nonconformist village, with many
Puritan traditions, in which Mr. Bronte came to take up
his duties in that historic year 1815. Kipping Chapel at
Thornton, the place of worship belonging to the Indepen-
dents, had a history more remarkable than any that per-
tained to the Established Church so far as that locality
was concerned. Oliver Heywood, that famous Royalist
and Presbyterian, who suffered for his devotion to royalty
under Cromwell and for his Prcsbyterianism under
Charles n., visited Thornton many times. It was the
scene of the ministration of two famous men, Joseph
and Accepted Lester, the latter occupying the pulpit of
Kipping House from 1702 to 1709. In 1760 a brother
of Dr. Priestley was minister. A certain Robinson Pool
was pastor during Mr. Bronte's residence at Thornton,
and with him the father of certain remarkable children,
who alone interest us much, managed to agree very well.
At Thornton, then, Charlotte Bronte was born on the
2ist of April 1816, Branwell in 1817, Emily in 1818,
1 I am indebted to Mr. J. J. Steal of Jleckmondwike for the following notes:
FROM IHK RRGISIER o* BAPTISMS, IIAR'ISHUAD-CUM-CLIF'JON,
YORKSHIRE.
1814
April 23
Maria , daughter of
Revel. Patrick Bronte William Morgan
Minister of tins officiating Mini-
Church, and Maria, : ster.
his wife.
FROM THE REGIS i ER 01- BAM ISMS A'i THORNTON CHURCH.
1815
Augt.
26
Elizabeth
daughter of
Patrick
and
Maria
Bronte
Thorn-
ton
J. Fennell
officiating
Minister.
54
THE BRONTES
and Anne in I82O. 1 In this last year the family removed
to Haworth, and in 1821 the poor mother was dead.
The life of the Brontes at Thornton would be an entire
blank to us were it not for a slight glimpse of them afforded
by the diary of his grandmother, which Professor Moore
Smith of Sheffield has kindly permitted me to publish.
This lady was Miss Elizabeth Firth, whose father resided
at Kipping House, Thornton, and was very kind to
Mr. Bronte, and stood godfather to some of his children.
Miss F^irth kept a diary, unhappily all too brief, and only the
Bronte enthusiast will forgive its inclusion in this volume,
so meagre are its details. 2 But from this document
we learn that Mr. Bronte was not, at least in the
early years of his married life, an unsocial person. At
Haworth he gained that character among the village
gossips. But, apart from the fact that he did not enjoy
1 BAPTISMS SOLEMNISED IN THE PARISH OF BRADFORD AND CHAPELRY OF
THORN i ON IN THE COUNTY ot YORK.
When
Child's
1'ai cat's
Name
Quality,
I?j whom the
Dapu/< cl.
Name.
Chmtian
c
Surname
Profession.
Performed
l8l6
291 h
June
Chailotte
daughter
of
The Rev.
Patrick
and
Maria
Bronte
Thornton
Minister
of
Thointon
Wm. Morgan
Minister of
Christ Church
Bradford.
1817
July 23
Patrick
Branwcll
son of
Patrick
and
Maria
Bronte
Thornton
Minister
Jno J'ennell
officiating
Minister.
1818
20th
August
Ktnily
Jane
daughter
of
The Rev.
Patrick
and
Maria
Bionte
A.B.
Thornton
Parsonage
Minister
of
Thornton
Wm. Morgan
Minister of
Christ Church
Bradford.
1820
March
25th
Anne
daughter
of
The Rev.
Patrick
and
Maria
Bronte
Minister of
Haworth
Wm. Morgan
Minister of
Christ Chinch
in Bradford.
a See Appendix II. The Brontes at Thornton.
THE BRONTES AT THORNTON 55
many months of married life at Haworth, the following
letter, which was contributed by Mr. William Dearden of
Halifax to the Examiner in July 1857, after reading the
first edition of Mrs. Gaskell's book, is a sufficient answer
to the charge of moroseness and even savageness that has
been made against him. The letter has never up to now
been reprinted :
In a recent review in the Times of the Life of Charlotte Bronte,
prominence was given to that portion of the biographer's narrative
which exhibits in an unfavourable light the domestic character
of the Rev. P. Bronte, the father of the illustrious Yorkshire-
woman. As a matter of justice, which it is hoped you will
honourably concede, the friends of Mr. Bronte claim the privilege,
through the medium of your columns, of correcting the gross
misstatements, unscrupulously made, concerning that gentleman
in the memoir of his daughter.
The task of a biographer is sacred and responsible. No one
should undertake it who does not feel sure that he possesses not
only the ability to furnish, but the judgment to select, the best
authentic information respecting the personages, living or dead,
whom he introduces into his pages. If he lack in these essentials
though his revelations, especially if singular and romantic, may
interest a large class of readers consequences often ensue,
mortifying to the unlucky writer, derogatory to the character of the
dead, and painfully afflicting to the feelings of the living. Hinc
ilia lacryma in regard to the biographer of Charlotte Bronte.
It will shortly appear that Mrs. Gaskell has relied for most that
she has said of Mr. Bronte's conduct towards his family on the
partial testimony of a single individual the 'good old woman'
who was the only resident in the parsonage, as a temporary nurse,
during the illness of Mrs. Bronte.
That some account should have been given, in the Life of
Charlotte Bronte, of her father, was naturally to be expected ;
but then care should have been taken that the materials for
drawing his domestic portraiture should have been selected from
undeniably authentic sources ; in other words, that Mr. Bronte
should have been allowed to sit for his own picture, and not a
simulacrum been introduced in his stead, which no more resembles
him than ' I to Hercules. 1 The long-tried and faithful pastor of
56 THE BRONTfiS
a flock by whom he is universally revered the father of a family,
all of whom loved and honoured him, and of whom he is now the
sole survivor ought to have been treated with at least common
decency and Christian charity. If it were necessary to introduce
in the background a gloomy figure to heighten the effect of the
'Three Bronte Sisters/ surely poor Branwell's spectral shadow
might have sufficed for such a purpose, without dragging in the
' child -reft father/ tarred and feathered by the malice of an ignorant
country gossip. That Mrs. Gaskell did not give the * counterfeit
presentment' of the Rev. gentleman as the * coinage of her own
brain/ the public will readily believe ; but they will not so readily
acquit her of having done a great wrong to a venerable old man,
'fourscore and upwards' (whom, before she became his public
accuser, ' the breath of calumny had never tainted '), by credulously
listening to and recording the malignant misrepresentations of
a covert and distant enemy, without appealing to those who had
gathered round his hearth for above a quarter of a century, and
who, consequently, were best acquainted with the domestic habits
and conduct of the master of the house. Martha Brown, the
present housekeeper, an intelligent young woman (who has in her
possession several interesting letters of Charlotte Bronte's which
have never been published), has lived in Mr. Bronte's family
from childhood. Nancy Garrs, now in Bradford, was nurse to
Mr. Bronte's children during their residence at Thornton ; she
afterwards removed with the family to Haworth parsonage, and
became a domestic servant ; there, being joined by her younger
sister Sarah, who came to assist her, she remained till very near
the time of Mrs. Bronte's death. Sarah continued with Mr. Bronte
long after that melancholy event, and is now, I believe, in America.
One would have imagined that to two at least of the parties
just mentioned so easily accessible Mrs. Gaskell would have
applied for information respecting the character and conduct of
Mr. Bronte, as a husband and a father; but to neither of these,
nor to any respectable person in Haworth, acquainted with that
gentleman, has she made application for such a purpose. Had
she done so, how different would have been the picture she would
have drawn ! Instead of the cold, stern, stoical, unsympathising
being she has depicted him in certain fits of hallucination, acting
the tyrant or the madman she would have represented him as
an affectionate and considerate husband, and a kind and indulgent
father.
THE BRONTfiS AT THORNTON 57
Mrs. Gaskell -acknowledges that 'the good old woman, Mrs.
Bronte's nurse, was her informant/ of what she is pleased to term
'the instances of eccentricity' exemplified by the pastor at
Haworth a knowledge of which * she holds to be necessary for
the right understanding of the life of his daughter.' But if these
'instances,' etc., cannot be proved nay, are absolutely false-
as we shall shortly see they cannot serve the purpose which
Mrs. Gaskell ' holds it to be necessary ' that they should serve.
On the authority of this Abigail, the biographer ends her curious
category of the qualities of the two sisters, Nancy and Sarah
Garrs, by designating them ' wasteful ' servants. ' Wasteful ! ' said
Mr. Bronte to Nancy: 'had you and your sister been wasteful, I
should have found it out ; but I can truly say that no master was
ever blessed with two more careful and honest servants.' We
now see on whose testimony the greatest dependence can be
placed.
The nurse says : ' I used to think them (the children) spiritless,
they were so different to any children I had ever seen. In part I
set it down to a fancy Mr. Bronte had of not letting them have
flesh meat to eat It was from no wish for saving, for there was
plenty and even waste in the house, with young servants, and no
misiress to see after them ; but he thought the children should
be brought up simply and hardily ; so they had nothing but potatoes
for their dinner ; but they never seemed to wish for anything else ;
they were good little children.' By way of corollary to this
statement, Mrs. Gaskell adds, ' I imagine Mr. Bronte must have
formed some of his opinions on the management of children from
these two theorists' (Rousseau and Mr. Day). She gives an
example of the evils attending such a mode of treating children,
which it is not necessary to repeat. ' Mr. Bronte/ she continues,
' wishes to make his children hardy and indifferent to the pleasures
oi eating and dress. In the latter he succeeded as far as regarded
his daughters ; but he went at his object with unsparing earnest-
ness of purpose/ Nancy Garrs asserts that the children had meat
at dinner every day in the week, and as much as they could eat ;
the only article of food from the free use of which they were
restricted was butter ; but its want was compensated by what is
called in Yorkshire, * spice-cake/
1 Mrs. Bronte's nurse told me/ says Mrs. Gaskell, ' that one day
when the children had been out on the moor, and rain had come
on, she thought their feet would be wet, and accordingly she
58 THE BRONTfiS
rummaged out some coloured boots which had been given to
them by a friend, the Mr. Morgan, who married "cousin Jane,"
she believes. The little pairs she ranged round the kitchen fire
to warm ; but when the children came back, the boots were
nowhere to be found ; only a very strong odour of burnt leather
was perceived. Mr. Bronte had come in and seen them ; they
were too gay and luxurious for his children, and would foster a
love of dress ; so he put them in the fire. He spared nothing that
offended his antique simplicity.' It is sufficient to say that there
is not an atom of truth in this ridiculous story. I make the
assertion on the authority of Mr. Bronte himself, and of Nancy,
who declares that such a circumstance as burning the boots could
not have happened in the kitchen, from which she was rarely
absent above five minutes at a time during the day, without her
having a knowledge of it.
' Long before this,' Mrs. Gaskell declares (on the authority, it is
presumed, of the aforesaid 'good old woman'), 'some one had
given Mrs. Bronte a silk gown; either the make, the colour, or the
material, was not according to his (Mr. Bronte's) notions of con-
sistent propriety, and Mrs. Bronte in consequence never wore it.
But for all this she kept it treasured up in her drawers, which
were generally locked. One day, however, while in the kitchen,
she remembered that she had left the key in her drawer, and
hearing Mr. Bronte upstairs, she augured some ill to her dress,
and running up in haste, she found it cut to shreds. The following
is the true history of this little affair, as given by Nancy: 'One
morning Mr. Bronte perceived that his Mrs. had put on a print
gown, which was made in the fashion of that day, with a long
waist and what he considered absurd-looking sleeves. In a
pleasant humour he bantered her about the dress, and she went
upstairs and laid it aside. Some time after, Mr. Bronte entered
her room, and cut off the sleeves. In the course of the day, Mrs.
Bronte found the sleeveless gown, and showed it me in the
kitchen, laughing heartily. Next day, however, he went to
Keighley, and bought the material for a silk gown, which was
made to suit Mr. Bronte's taste.'
' His strong, passionate, Irish nature/ observes Mrs. Gaskell
(endorsing, of course, the opinion of her favourite informant), 'was,
in general, compressed down with resolute stoicism ; but it was
there, notwithstanding all his philosophic calm and dignity of
demeanour. He did not speak when he was annoyed or dis-
THE BRONTfiS AT THORNTON 59
pleased, but worked off his volcanic wrath by firing pistols out of
the back door in rapid succession. Mrs. Bronte, lying in bed
upstairs, would hear the quick explosions, and know that some-
thing had gone wrong ; but her sweet nature thought invariably
of the bright side, and she would say, " Ought I not to be thankful
that he never gave me an angry word? 1 ' Now and then his
anger took a different form, but still was speechless. Once he got
the hearthrug, and stuffing it up the grate, deliberately set it on fire,
remained in the room in spite of the stench, until it had mouldered
and shrivelled away into uselessness. Another time he took some
chairs, and sawed away at the backs till they were reduced to the
condition of stools." All this about firing the pistols, burning the
hearthrug, and sawing away at the chair-backs, I am assured by
Mr. Bronte, and by Nancy too, is a tissue of falsehoods.
' Owing to some illness of the digestive organs/ says Mrs-
Gaskell, ' Mr. Bronte was obliged to be very careful about his diet;
and, in order to avoid the temptation, and possibly to have the
necessary quiet for digestion, he had begun, before his wife's death,
to take his dinner alone a habit which he always retained. He
did not require companionship, therefore he did not seek it, either
in his walks, or in daily life.' Nancy states that she never heard
of Mr. Bronte's being troubled with indigestion, but even if he
were, it did not prevent him from dining with his family every
day. His children were the frequent companions of his walks. I
remember having seen him more than once conversing kindly and
affably with them in the studio of a clever artist who resided in
Keighley ; and many others, both in that town and in Haworth,
can bear testimony to the fact of his being often seen accompanied
by his young family in his visits to friends, and in his rambles
among the hills.
I may remark, in passing, that the sad story of 'a wealthy
manufacturer beyond Keighley' unnecessarily and cruelly intro-
duced has occasioned more pain among his descendants, whom,
Mrs. Gaskell says, 'the strong feeling of the country-side still
holds as accursed,' a degree of pain which a whole life's penance
by the narrator could not remove.
Mrs. Gaskell speaks truly and well of the good terms on which
Charlotte Bronte (and she might have added the father and
Branwell too) lived with the servants Nancy and Sarah Garrs,
* who cannot,' she says, * speak of the family without tears. 1 To
show the estimation in which these two sisters were held, I may
60 THE BRONTES
remark that Mr. Bronte presented them with ten pounds, when
the younger finally quitted his service ; and his daughter
Charlotte, having heard that the latter, shortly after her arrival
at her home in Bradford, had been attacked by a violent fever,
went to see her, and in spite of every remonstrance, entered the
room of the sick girl, threw herself on the bed beside her, and,
with terms of affectionate regard, repeatedly kissed her burning
brow. Warmly was this kindly feeling on the part of the Bronte
family reciprocated by Nancy and her sister; 'the former of
whom,' says Mrs. Gaskell, ' went over from Bradford to Haworth
on purpose to see Mr. Bronte, and offer him her true sympathy,
when his last child died.' An amusing instance is afforded by
Nancy of her appreciation of Mr. Bronte's character as a husband,
and of his concern for her welfare. One day he entered the
kitchen, apparently in great excitement. ' Nancy,' said he, ' is it
true what I have heard that you are going to marry a Pat?'
1 Yes, sir, I believe it is,' was her prompt reply ; 'and if he prove
but a tenth part as kind a husband to me as you have been to
Mrs. Bronte, I shall think myself very happy in having made a
Pat my choice.'
Whether another edition of Mrs. Gaskell's book will see the
light or not, it is the duty of Mr. Bronte's friends to see to it that
they do not suffer his grey hairs to go down to the grave with the
injurious aspersions on his character, contained in it, unremoved.
'I did not know,' said the venerable old man, a few weeks ago, ' that
I had an enemy in the world ; much less one who would traduce
me before my death. Everything in that book (meaning the
biography of his daughter) which relates to my conduct to my
family is either false or distorted. I never committed such acts
as are there ascribed to me. I stated this in a letter which I sent
to Mrs. Gaskell, requesting her at the same time to cancel the
false statements about me in the next edition of her book. To
this I received no other answer than that Mrs. Gaskell was unwell
and not able to write.'
I have not the remotest wish to injure Mrs. Gaskell in the
estimation of the public by exposing these ' false statements '
which she has made concerning Mr. Bronte in her biography of his
daughter; but she has done great injustice to a good and amiable
man, and it is but right that both she and the world should see
that she has done so. She ought not, for the sake of establishing
a theory to account for certain peculiarities in Charlotte Bronte's
THE BRONTES AT THORNTON 61
character, to have limited her inquiries to one particular party
and that party, as has been shown, not the most impartial and
trustworthy. Character, she has found by humiliating experience,
is too sacred a thing to be trifled with even though the truth be
spoken of the living and the dead. The terror of the law, like the
ancient rack, may extort recantations of former avowed facts and
opinions ; but the public cannot respect the pusillanimity that
repudiates what an erring judgment revealed to the world. A
Branwell's story told with such evident gusto, vanishes into the
limbo of fiction, when the Medusa of Law shakes her snaky locks
at the trembling narrator it is a myth imposed upon the credulity
of one who wished to make a book; and the writer is deeply sorry
that she has given it publicity. It is to be hoped poor Branwell
will meet with a more discreet and Spartan biographer than he
has found in Mrs. Gaskell. No legal threat from the man of
peace, whom she, no doubt, unintentionally wronged, will ever
subject her to the painful necessity of making humiliating confes-
sions of her culpable credulity. He has justified himself; and he
leaves it to the writer of the Life of Charlotte Bronte to speak of
him, in future, with candour and truth.
Neither from the biography of Mrs. Gaskell nor from
any of the numerous books upon the subject of the
Brontes do we really learn anything of the life of the family
at Thornton, although that village is rendered so famous
by the birth of the Bronte children there. One is the
more grateful, therefore, for the meagre diary of Elizabeth
Firth, with its records of constant visits, tea-drinkings, and
social intercourse. Mr. Bronte appears in it in a quite
pleasant light, and we may be quite sure that he was, on the
whole, a gentle, considerate husband. Miss Firth was but
eighteen years of age when Mr. Bronte removed to
Thornton in 1815. She had, it is interesting to note,
been a pupil of Miss Richmal Mangnall, the author of the
once famous MangnalFs Questions, who for many years
kept a school at Wakefield. From her we learn much
that we do not obtain elsewhere, as for example the inter-
esting fact that when Charlotte was born the future
author of Jane Eyre was named after an aunt in Cornwall
62 THE BRONTES
Mrs. Bronte had her sister Elizabeth staying with her,
that sister who was to become a second mother to Char-
lotte in the coming years. Charlotte was nearly four years
of age when her father exchanged the living of Thornton
for that of Haworth, six miles away. He had been five
years at Thornton. Haworth offered him many attrac-
tions a healthier environment for his delicate wife, a
better and more commodious house for his six little
children ; no increase of income, it is true, but no material
loss and no great separation for so good a walker from
his great friends, the Firths of Thornton. Mr. Bronte, it
is clear, took the service at Haworth from February 1820,
although he did not remove his family to the Haworth
parsonage until April of that year. ' There are those yet
alive,' wrote Mrs. Gaskell in 1857, * who remember seven
heavily laden carts lumbering slowly up the long stone
street 1 of Haworth 'bearing the new parson's household
goods to his future abode.'
INFANCY AT HAWORTH 08
CHAPTER III
INFANCY AT HAWORTH AND COWAN BRIDGE
HAWORTH, we have been told, has been over-described.
Yet nothing could be more pardonable than the attempt
to present in word-painting this not particularly pictur-
esque mill-town of the north. 1 The visitor who drives
over from Ilkley has glimpses of the glorious moors which
must alone have served to give moments of buoyancy ancl
exhilaration to the children who lived the story we have
to tell. Approached from Keighley, the little town seems
but a dreary, monotonous climb for the pedestrian, unless
he recalls the fact that these Bronte children toiled often
on foot the self-same journey, bringing back books from
the library of the old Mechanics' Institute, and thereby
supplementing the scantily furnished book-shelves of their
own home. Arriving in the little town, one is still arrested
by the sign of the ' Bull,' an inn that appears more than
once in the Bronte story. One observes the church not
the building in which Mr. Bronte officiated and close by,
separated by a graveyard, the house in which our story
was in the main lived. The original church, built by
William GrimshawMn 1755, was destroyed in 1879, and
1 Pigot's Yorkshire Directory of 1828 gives the census during the first year of
Mr. Bronte's incumbency thus :
' HAWORTH, a populous manufacturing village, in the honour of Fontefract, Morley
wapentake, and in the parish of Bradford, is four miles south of Keighley, containing,
by the census of 1821, 4668 inhabitants.
'Gentry and Clergy: Bronte, Rev. Patrick, Haworth ; Heaton, Robert, gent.,
Ponden Hall ; Miles, Rev. Oddy, Haworth ; Saunders, Rev. Moses, Haworth.'
2 William Grimshaw (1708-1763) was Mr. Bronte's most famous predecessor as
perpetual incumbent at Haworth, He was here from 1742 to his death, and struck
tf4 THE BRONTES
the present new building was opened two years later.
The tower, however, remains ; and the churchyard ; and
the house, with all its sad and sacred associations.
For a good view of Haworth we cannot, however, do
better than turn to a reference-book of 1848 Pigot's
Yorkshire Directory and see the place coldly, statistically
as it appeared at the moment when the Bronte children
were about to become famous :
Haworth is a chapelry, comprising the hamlets of Haworth,
Stanbury, and Near and Far Oxenhope, in the parish of Bradford,
and wapentake of Morley, West Riding Haworth being ten miles
from Bradford, about the same distance from Halifax, Colne, and
Skipton, three and a half miles S. from Keighley, and eight from
Hebden Bridge, at which latter place is a station on the Leeds and
Manchester Railway. Haworth is situated on the side of a hill,
and consists of one irregularly built street the habitations in that
part called Oxenhope being yet more scattered, and Stanbury still
farther distant ; the entire chapelry occupying a wide space. The
spinning of worsted, and the manufacture of stufTs, are branches
which here prevail extensively.
The church or rather chapel (subject to Bradford), dedicated
to St. Michael, was rebuilt in 1755: the living is a perpetual
curacy, in the presentation of the vicar of Bradford and certain
trustees ; the present curate is the Rev. Patrick Bronte. The
other places of worship are two chapels for Baptists, one each
for Primitive and Wesleyan Methodists, and another at Oxenhope
for the latter denomination. There are two excellent free schools
one at Stanbury, the other, called the Free Grammar School,
near Oxenhope ; besides which there are several neat edifices
erected for Sunday teaching. There are three annual fairs : they
are held on Easter-Monday, the second Monday after St. Peter's
day (old style), and the first Monday after Old Michaelmas day.
The chapelry of Haworth, and its dependent hamlets, contained
by the returns for 1831, 5835 inhabitants; and by the census
taken in June 1841, the population amounted to 6303.
the note of revivalism in Yorkshire simultaneously with John Wesley's efforts. He
died at llawoith, but was buried in Luddenden church near his wife. John Newton
of the Olney Hymns wrote his Life. John Wesley pieached at Haworth in 1757, 1761,
1766, 1772, 1786, 1788 and 1790; and George Whitefield also preached here manv
times.
INFANCY AT HA WORTH 65
Then we may turn to Mrs. Gaskell's own description
from inquiries made on the spot' soon after Charlotte
Bronte's death :
The people in Haworth were none of them very poor. Many
of them were employed in the neighbouring worsted mills ; a few
were millowners and manufacturers in a small way ; there were
also some shopkeepers for the humbler and everyday wants ; but
for medical advice, for stationery, books, law, dress, or dainties the
inhabitants had to go to Keighley. There were several Sunday-
schools ; the Baptists had taken the lead in instituting them, the
Wesleyans had followed, the Church of England had brought up
the rear. Good Mr. Grimshaw, Wesley's friend, had built a
humble Methodist chapel, but it stood close to the road leading
on to the moor ; the Baptists then raised a place of worship, with
the distinction of being a few yards back from the highway ; and
the Methodists have since thought it well to erect another and
larger chapel, still more retired from the road. Mr. Bronte was
ever on kind and friendly terms with each denomination as a
body; but from individuals in the village the family stood aloof,
unless some direct service was required, from the first. * They
kept themselves very close/ is the account given by those who
remember Mr. and Mrs. Bronte's coming amongst them. I
believe many of the Yorkshire men would object to the system
of parochial visiting; their surly independence would revolt from
the idea of any one having the right, from his office, to inquire
into their condition, to counsel or to admonish them. The old
hill spirit lingers in them which coined the rhyme, inscribed on
the under part of one of the seats in the sedilia of Whalley Abbey,
not many miles from Haworth :
' Who mells wi' what another does
Had best go home and shoe his goose.'
I asked an inhabitant of a district close to Haworth what sort
of a clergyman they had at the church which he attended.
' A rare good one/ said he : * he minds his own business, and
ne'er troubles himself with ours.'
Haworth needs even to-day no further description, but
if the village has been over-described, the house in which
Mr. Bronte resided, from 1820 till his death in 1861, has
VOL. i. E
66 THE BRONTfiS
not been over-described, perhaps because for many years
the vicar who succeeded Mr. Bronte did not encourage
visitors.
Many changes have been made since Mr. Bronte died,
but the house still retains its essentially interesting features.
In the time of the Brontes, it is true, the front outlook was
as desolate as to-day it is attractive. Then there was a
little piece of barren ground running down to the walls
of the churchyard, with here and there a currant-bush as
the sole adornment. Now we see an abundance of trees
and a well-kept lawn. Ellen Nussey was wont to recall
seeing Emily and Anne Bronte, on a fine summer after-
noon, sitting on stools in this bit of garden plucking
currants from the poor insignificant bushes. There was
no premonition of the time, not so far distant, when the
rough doorway separating the churchyard from the garden,
which was opened for their mother when they were little
children, should be opened again time after time in rapid
succession for their own biers to be carried through. 1 This
gateway is now effectively bricked up. In the days of the
Brontes it was reserved for the passage of the dead a
grim arrangement, which, strange to say, finds no place
in any one of the sisters' stones. We enter the house, and
the door on the right leads into Mr. Bronte's study, always
called the parlour ; that on the left into the dining-room,
where the children spent a great portion of their lives.
From childhood to womanhood, indeed, the three girls
regularly breakfasted with their father in his study. In
the dining-room a square and simple room of a kind
common enough in the houses of the poorer middle classes
1 The graves rise in terraces up to the house. It was a cruel irony, considering the
brief lives of Mrs. Bronte and her children, that against the wall of the church was a short
headstone recording remarkable instances of longevity of the Murgatroyds of Lee:
Susan, wife of John, 1785, aged 86; John, 1789, aged 88; James, their son, 1820,
aged 95; Ann, his wife, 1831, aged 85; Sarah, wife of John, 1846, aged 70; and
John (son of James), 1862, aged 85. United ages, 509. See Haworth Past and
Present^ by J liorsfall Turnei, lor a lull account of the Hawoiih tombstones.
INFANCY AT HAWORTH 67
they ate their midday dinner, their tea and supper. Mr.
Bronte joined them at tea, although he frequently dined
alone in his study. The children's dinner-table has been
described to me by the late Ellen Nussey, who delighted
to recall her memories of her many visits to the house.
At one end sat Miss Bran well, at the other, Charlotte,
with Emily and Anne on either side. Branwell was then
absent. The living was of the simplest. A single joint,
followed invariably by one kind or another of milk-pudding.
Pastry was unknown in the Bronte household. Milk-
puddings, or food composed of milk and rice, would seem
to have made the principal diet of Emily and Anne Bronte,
and to this they added a breakfast of Scotch porridge,
which they shared with their dogs. It is more interesting,
perhaps, to think of all the day-dreams in that room, of the
mass of writing which was achieved there, of the conversa-
tions and speculation as to the future. Miss Nussey has
given a pleasant picture of twilight when Charlotte and
she walked with arms encircling one another round and
round the table, and Emily and Anne followed in similar
fashion. There was no lack of cheerfulness and of hope
at this period. Behind Mr. Bronte's studio was the
kitchen ; and there we may easily picture the Bronte
children telling stories to Tabby or Martha, or to what-
ever servant reigned at the time, and learning, as all of
them did, to become thoroughly domesticated Emily
most of all. Behind the dining-room was a peat-room,
which, when Charlotte was married in 1854, was cleared
out and converted into a little study for Mr. Nicholls.
The staircase with its solid banister remains as it did half
a century ago ; and at its foot one is still shown the corner
which tradition assigns as the scene of Emily's conflict
with her dog Keeper. On the right, at the back, as you
mount the staircase, was a small room allotted to Branwell
as a studio. On the other side of this staircase, also at
the back, was the servants' room. In the front of the
68 THE BRONTfiS
house, immediately over the dining-room, was Miss Bran-
weirs room, afterwards the spare bedroom until Charlotte
Bronte married. In that room she died. On the left,
over Mr. Bronte's study, was Mr. Bronte's bedroom. It
was the room which, for many years, he shared with
Branwell, and it was in that room that Branwell and his
father died at an interval of nearly thirteen years. On
the staircase, half-way up, was a grandfather's clock, which
Mr. Bronte used to wind up every night on his way to bed.
He always went to bed at nine o'clock, and Miss Nussey
well remembers his stentorian tones as he called out as
he left his study and passed the dining-room door * Don't
be up late, children' which they usually were. Between
these two front rooms upstairs, and immediately over the
passage, with a door facing the staircase, was a box room ;
This was the children's nursery, where for many years
the children slept, and where, I believe, the bulk of
their little books were compiled. Later it became Emily's
bedroom.
But this is to anticipate. In September 1821 Mrs.
Bronte died after less than eighteen months of Haworth.
Maria, the eldest of her six children, was but eight years
of age. No wonder that Mr. Bronte sought a stepmother
for his little ones. Tradition has it, as we have seen, that
he asked Mary Burder and Elizabeth Firth in succession,
but that both these ladies refused. In any case, one may
count Mr. Bronte fortunate that his wife's sister, Elizabeth
Branwell, whom we have seen upon a visit to her brother-
in-law in Thornton, consented to come from Penzance to
watch over the six little ones. Mrs. Gaskell tells, indeed,
of her distaste for Yorkshire and Haworth after her own
sunny Cornish home ; but it is clear that she did her duty
and was profoundly esteemed by the nieces who sur-
vived her. Miss Branwell arrived at Haworth in 1822.
Two years later, on July i, 1824, her nieces, Maria and
Elizabeth, were taken to the Clergy Daughters' School
INFANCY AT HAWORTH 69
at Cowan Bridge ; Charlotte followed in August of that
year and Emily in November. In February of 1825
Maria was taken away in ill-health, Elizabeth left in May,
Charlotte and Emily in June. 1 Thus it will be seen that
Charlotte's impressions were of the most transitory kind,
but she always believed that the school had practically
killed her two elder sisters, both of whom died soon after
they arrived back in Haworth. We know how she
gibbeted the school in her novel of Jane Eyre> and
Mrs. Gaskell's identification of Lowood in that novel
caused much wordy discussion in the years following
Charlotte Bronte's death. That the school was bad for
delicate and sensitive children seems now to be beyond
question. Mr. William Carus Wilson, an energetic
evangelical clergyman, may have been as well-meaning as
his friends asserted, but a study of his writings 2 reveals a
temperament which was in no way exaggerated as pre-
sented by Charlotte Bronte in her picture of Brocklehurst
in Jane Eyre. There pretty well we may leave that
threadbare controversy to rest. 8
1 !t\\z Journal of Education for 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 accomplish-
ments. Altogether clever of her age, but knows nothing systematically (at eight years
old !). Left school June I, 1825. Governess.'
The following entries may also be of interest :
* Maria Bronte, aged 10 (daughter of Patrick Bronte, Haworth, near Keighley,
Yorks). July I, 1824. Reads tolerably. Writes pretty well. Ciphers a little. Works
badly. Very little of geography or history. lias made some progress in reading
French, but knows knothmg of the language grammatically. Left February 14, 1825,
in ill-health, and died May 6, 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 accomplishments. Left m ill-health, May 31, 1825.
Died June 15, 1825, in decline.'
' Emily Bronte. Entered November 25, 1824, aged 6|. Reads very prettily, and
works a little. Left June I, 1825. Subsequent career. Governess.'
2 See Appendix in. 7^he Brontes at Cowan Bridge, by the Rev. Angus M. Mackay.
Repubhshed from The Bookman of October 1894.
8 At the same time it is worth while quoting from a letter by * A. H.' in August 1855.
70 THE BRONTES
A, H. was a teacher who was at Cowan Bridge during the time of the residence of the
little Brontes there.
'In July 1824 the Rev. Mr. Bronte arrived at Cowan Bridge with two of his
daughters, Maria and Eluabeth, 10 and 9 years of age. The children were delicate;
both had but recently recovered from the measles and whooping-cough- so recently,
indeed, that doubts were entertained whether they could be admitted with safety to
the other pupils. They were received, however, and went on so well that in August l
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 establishment, and, so far as I have ever known, was satisfied with everything that
came under his observation.
"' The two younger children enjoyed uniformly good health." Charlotte was a
general favourite. To the best of my recollection she was never under disgrace, how-
ever slight j 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 Danghters' School, she must have been
a literal dwarf, and could not have obtained a situation as teacher in a school at
Brussels, or anywhere 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 consisted of meat, vegetables, and pudding, in
abundance ; the children were permitted, and expected, to ask for whatever they desired,
and were never limited.
4 It has been remarked that the food of the school was such that none but starving
children could eat it ; and m support of this statement reference is made to a certain
occasion when the medical attendant 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, prevailed
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 have 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 delicate children are able to contend with the
necessary evils of a public school is, in my opinion, a very grave question, and does not
enter into the present discussion.
The youngei children in all larger institutions are liable to be oppressed; but the
exposure to this evil at Cowan Bridge was not more than in other schools, but, as I
believe, far less. Then, again, thoughtless 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.
* But in ihis respect the institution in question compares very favourably with other
and more expensive schools, as from personal experience I have reason to know. A H.,
August 1855.' From A Vindication of the Clergy Daughters' School and the Rev. W.
Carus Wilson from the Remarks m * The I tje of Charlotte Bronte? by the Rev //.
Shepheard, M.A. London. Suley^Jackson y and Halliday, 1857.
Emily did not enter the school until Nov. 25, 1824.
A LITERARY CHILDHOOD 71
CHAPTER IV
A LITERARY CHILDHOOD
FROM her tenth to her fifteenth year Charlotte Bronte was
at home with her brother and two sisters in the Haworth
parsonage. We have many glimpses of her of an indirect
character afforded of these early years. There is a copy
of The Imitation of Christ extant, given to Charlotte in
1826, and there are other books that we know the children
read during this period, including Scott's Tales of a
Grandfather. They also commenced 'original writing
compositions/ as so many children of precocious tendencies
do to the joy of fond and ambitious parents. But I am
not sure that children often cultivate the minute hand-
writing that was affected by the Bronte prodigies. There
are perhaps a hundred little manuscript books in existence,
principally the work of Charlotte and Branwell, some few,
however, by Emily and Anne. They were compiled in a
microscopic handwriting probably from reasons of economy.
Pence, we may be sure, were scarce with the little ones.
The booklets were stitched and covered, sugar-paper
being in most cases used for the wrappers. It is not
possible to trace any particular talent in these little books,
many of which bear the date 1829. Assuredly hundreds
of children who have never come to fame have written
quite as well. It is noteworthy, however, that the little
Brontes had their heroes, who were also the heroes of the
hour. They took the victorious Duke of Wellington to
their hearts, and also the duke's sons, the Marquis of
Douro and Lord Charles Wellesley, who figure largely in
72 THE BRONTfiS
their tiny pages. It was a life of dreams, of a kind that
children delight in, that indeed makes the life of childhood
ever alternately beautiful and terrible. On the wild
moors behind the house there must have been in any
case much supreme happiness for the little Brontes in
the early years that preceded the real schooldays now
opening to them.
Of the work of the Bronte children at this period
a great deal might be written. Mrs. Gaskell gives a list
of some eighteen booklets, but a great many more from
the pen of Charlotte are in existence. Branwell was
equally prolific; and of him, also, there remains an immense
mass of childish effort. That Emily and Anne were in-
dustrious in a like measure there is abundant reason to
believe ; but very few of their juvenile efforts remain to
us, apart from the unpublished fragments of later years,
to which reference will be made a little later. Whether
Emily and Anne on the eve of their death deliberately
destroyed all their treasures, or whether they were de-
stroyed by Charlotte in the days of her mourning, will
never be known. Meanwhile one turns with interest to
the efforts of Charlotte and Branwell. Charlotte's little
stories commence in her thirteenth year, and go on until
she is twenty-three. From thirteen to eighteen she would
seem to have had one absorbing hero the Duke of
Wellington. Whether the stories be fairy tales or dramas
of modern life, they all alike introduce the Marquis of
Douro, who afterwards became the second Duke of
Wellington, and Lord Charles Wellesley, whose son is now
the third Duke of Wellington. The length of some of
these fragments is indeed incredible. They fill but a few
sheets of notepaper in that tiny handwriting ; but when
copied by zealous admirers, it is seen that more than one
of them is twenty thousand words in length. 1
The Foundling, by Captain Tree, written in 1833, * s a
1 See Appendix iv. The Bronte Manuscripts.
A LITERARY CHILDHOOD 73
story of thirty-five thousands words, though the manuscript
has only eighteen pages. The Green Dwarf, written in
the same year, is even longer," and indeed after her return
from Roe Head in 1832, Charlotte must have devoted
herself to continuous writing. The Adventures of Ernest
Alcmbert is a booklet of these years, and Arthuriana,
or Odds and Ends: being a Miscellaneous Collection of
Pieces in Prose and Verse, by Lord Charles A. F. Wel-
lesley, is yet another.
The son of the Iron Duke is made to talk, in these little
books, in a way which would have gladdened the heart of
a modern interviewer :
' Lord Charles/ said Mr. Rundle to me one afternoon lately,
1 1 have an engagement to drink tea with an old college chum
this evening, so I shall give you sixty lines of the JEneitt to get
ready during my absence. If it is not ready by the time I come
back you know the consequences.' * Very well, sir/ said I, bring-
ing out the books with a prodigious bustle, and making a show as
if I intended to learn a whole book instead of sixty lines of the
&neid. This appearance of industry, however, lasted no longer
than until the old gentleman's back was turned. No sooner had
he fairly quitted the room than I flung aside the musty tomes,
took my cap, and speeding through chamber, hall, and gallery,
was soon outside the gates of Waterloo Palace/
The Secret, another story, of which Mrs. Gaskell gave a
facsimile of the first page, was also written in 1833, an< 3
indeed in this, her seventeenth year, Charlotte Bronte
must have written as much as in any year of her life.
When at Roe Head, 1831-2, she would seem to have
worked at her studies, and particularly her drawing ; but
in the interval between Cowan Bridge and Roe Head she
wrote a great deal. The earliest manuscripts in my pos-
session bear date 1829 that is to say, in Charlotte's
thirteenth year. They are her Tales of the Islanders,
which extend to four little volumes, in brown paper covers,
neatly inscribed * First Volume,' * Second Volume/ and so
74 THE BRONTfiS
on. The Duke is of absorbing importance in these
'Tales.' 'One evening the Duke of Wellington was
writing in his room in Downing Street. He was reposing
at his ease in a simple easy-chair, smoking a homely
tobacco-pipe, for he disdained all the modern frippery of
cigars, . . .' and so on in an abundance of childish imagin-
ings. The Search after Happiness and Characters of Great
Men of the Present Time were also written in 1829. Per-
haps the only juvenile fragment which is worth anything is
also the only one in which she escapes from the Wellington
enthusiasm. It has an interest, moreover, in indicating that
Charlotte in her girlhood heard something of her father's
native land. It is called
AN ADVENTURE IN IRELAND
During my travels in the south of Ireland the following adven-
ture happened to me. One evening in the month of August, after
a long walk, I was ascending the mountain which overlooks the
village of Cahin, when I suddenly came in sight of a fine old
castle. It was built upon a rock, and behind it was a large wood
and before it was a river. Over the river was a bridge, which
formed the approach to the castle. When I arrived at the bridge
I stood still awhile to enjoy the prospect around me : far below
was the wide sheet of still water in which the reflection of the
pale moon was not disturbed by the smallest wave ; in the valley
was the cluster of cabins which is known by the appellation of
Cahin, and beyond these were the mountains of Killala. Over
all, the grey robe of twilight was now stealing with silent and
scarcely perceptible advances. No sound except the hum of the
distant village and the sweet song of the nightingale in the wood
behind me broke upon the stillness of the scene. While I was
contemplating this beautiful prospect, a gentleman, whom I had
not before observed, accosted me with ' Good evening, sir ; are
you a stranger in these parts ? ' I replied that I was. He then
asked me where I was going to stop for the night ; I answered
that I intended to sleep somewhere in the village. ' I am afraid
you will find very bad accommodation there/ said the gentle-
man ; ' but if you will take up your quarters with me at the
A LITERARY CHILDHOOD 75
castle, you are welcome.' I thanked him for his kind offer, and
accepted it.
When we arrived at the castle I was shown into a large parlour,
in which was an old lady sitting in an arm-chair by the fireside,
knitting. On the rug lay a very pretty tortoise-shell cat. As
soon as mentioned, the old lady rose ; and when Mr. O'Callaghan
(for that, I learned, was his name) told her who I was, she said in
the most cordial tone that I was welcome, and asked me to sit
down. In the course of conversation I learned that she was Mr.
O'Callaghan's mother, and that his father had been dead about a
year. We had sat about an hour, when supper was announced,
and after supper Mr. O'Callaghan asked me if I should like to
retire for the night. I answered in the affirmative, and a little
boy was commissioned to show me to my apartment. It was a
snug, clean, and comfortable little old-fashioned room at the top
of the castle. As soon as we had entered, the boy, who appeared
to be a shrewd, good-tempered little fellow, said with a shrug of
the shoulder, ' If it was going to bed I was, it shouldn't be here
that you 'd catch me.' * Why ? ' said I. ' Because/ replied the
boy, * they say that the ould masther's ghost has been seen sitting
on that there chair.' * And have you seen him ? ' * No ; but I 've
heard him washing his hands in that basin often and often.*
4 What is your name, my little fellow ? ' ' Dennis Mulready, please
your honour.' * Well, good-night to you.' ' Good-night, masther ;
and may the saints keep you from all fairies and brownies/ said
Dennis as he left the room.
As soon as I had laid down I began to think of what the boy
had been telling me, and I confess I felt a strange kind of fear,
and once or twice I even thought I could discern something white
through the darkness which surrounded me. At length, by the
help of reason, I succeeded in mastering these, what some would
call idle fancies, and fell asleep. I had slept about an hour when
a strange sound awoke me, and I saw looking through my curtains
a skeleton wrapped in a white sheet. I was overcome with terror
and tried to scream, but my tongue was paralysed and my whole
frame shook with fear. In a deep hollow voice it said to me,
1 Arise, that I may show thee this world's wonders/ and in an
instant I found myself encompassed with clouds and darkness.
But soon the roar of mighty waters fell upon my ear, and I saw
some clouds of spray arising from high falls that rolled in awful
majesty down tremendous precipices, and then foamed and thun-
76 THE BRONTES
dered in the gulf beneath as if they had taken up their unquiet
abode in some giant's cauldron. But soon the scene changed, and
I found myself in the mines of Cracone. There were high pillars
and stately arches, whose glittering splendour was never excelled
by the brightest fairy palaces. There were not many lamps, only
those of a few poor miners, whose rough visages formed a striking
contrast to the dazzling figures and grandeur which surrounded
them. But in the midst of all this magnificence I felt an indescrib-
able sense of fear and terror, for the sea raged above us, and by
the awful and tumultuous noises of roaring winds and dashing
waves, it seemed as if the storm was violent. And now the mossy
pillars groaned beneath the pressure of the ocean, and the glitter-
ing arches seemed about to be overwhelmed. When I heard the
rushing waters and saw a mighty flood rolling towards me, I gave
a loud shriek of terror. The scene vanished, and I found myself
in a wide desert full of barren rocks and high mountains. As
I was approaching one of the rocks, in which there was a large
cave, my foot stumbled and I fell. Just then I heard a deep
growl, and saw by the unearthly light of his own fiery eyes a royal
lion rousing himself from his kingly slumbers. His terrible eye
was fixed upon me, and the desert rang and the rocks echoed with
the tremendous roar of fierce delight which he uttered as he sprang
towards me. 'Well, masther, it's been a windy ni^ht, though
it's fine now,' said Dennis, as he drew the window-curtain and let
the bright rays of the morning sun into the little old-fashioned
room at the top of O'Callaghan Castle. C. BRONTE,
April the 28M, 1829,
Six numbers of The Young Meris Magazine were
written in 1829: a very juvenile poem, The Evening
Walk, by the Marquis of Douro, in 1830; and another,
of greater literary value, The Violet, in the same year. In
1831 we have an unfinished poem, The Trumpet Hath
Sounded\ and in 1832, a very long poem called The
Bridal. Some of them, as for example a poem called
Richard Coeur de Lion and Blondel, are written in penny
and twopenny notebooks of the kind used by laundresses.
Occasionally her father has purchased a sixpenny book
and has written within the cover
A LITERARY CHILDHOOD 77
All that is written in this book must be in a good, plain,
and legible hand. P. B.
While upon this topic, I may as well carry the record
up to the date of publication of Currer Bell's poems.
A Leaf from an Unopened Volume was written in 1834,
as were also The Death of Darius, and Corner Dishes.
Saul: a Poem, was written in 1835, anc ^ a number of
other still unpublished verses. There is a story called
Lord Dour o, bearing date 1837, and a manuscript book of
verses of 1838, but that pretty well exhausts the manu-
scripts before me previous to the days of serious literary
activity. During the years as private governess (1839-
1841) and the Brussels experiences (1842-1843), Charlotte
would seem to have put all literary effort on one side.
There is only one letter of Charlotte Bronte's childhood.
It is endorsed by Mr. Bronte on the cover * Charlotte's
First Letter/ possibly for the guidance of Mrs. Gaskell,
who may perhaps have thought it of insufficient import-
ance. That can scarcely be the opinion of any one to-day.
Charlotte, aged thirteen, is staying with the Fennells, her
mother's friends of those early love-letters.
Letter I
TO THE REV. P. BRONTfi
PARSONAGE HOUSE, CROSSTONE, 1
September ?.yd, 1829.
MY DEAR PAPA, At Aunt's request I write these lines to
inform you that 'if all be well ' we shall be at home on Friday by
dinner-time, when we hope to find you in good health. On
account of the bad weather we have not been out much, but
notwithstanding we have spent our time very pleasantly, between
reading, working, and learning our lessons, which Uncle Fennell
has been so kind as to teach us every day. Branwell has taken
two sketches from nature, and Emily, Anne, and myself have
likewise each of us drawn a piece from some views of the lakes
1 Crosstone is near Todmorden and about twelve miles from Haworth.
78 THE BRONTES
which Mr. Fennell brought with him from Westmoreland. The
whole of these he intends keeping. Mr. Fennell is sorry he
cannot accompany us to Haworth on Friday, for want of room,
but hopes to have the pleasure of seeing you soon. All unite in
sending their kind love with your affectionate daughter,
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
Mrs. Gaskell gives us an interesting glimpse of the
family at this period :
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
reference to her remaining sisters. She was only two years older
than Emily ; but Emily and Anne were simply companions 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 remarkable
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 himself could teach him well, as he had taught
others before. So Patrick or, as his family called him, Branwell
remained 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 companion-
ship with the lads of the village for youth will to youth, and boys
will to boys.
SCHOOL-DAYS AT ROE HEAD 79
CHAPTER V
SCHOOL-DAYS AT ROE HEAD
FROM 1825 to 1831 Charlotte Bronte was at home with
her sisters, reading and writing as we have seen, but
learning nothing very systematically. In 1831-32 she was
a boarder at Miss Wooler's school at Roe Head, some
twenty miles from Haworth. Miss Wooler lived to a
green old age, dying in the year 1885. She would seem
to have been very proud of her famous pupil, and could
not have been blind to her capacity in the earlier years.
Charlotte was with her as governess at Roe Head, and
later at Dewsbury Moor. It is quite clear that Miss Bronte
was head of the school in all intellectual pursuits, and she
made two firm friends Ellen Nussey and Mary Taylor.
A very fair measure of French and some skill in drawing
appear to have been the most striking accomplishments
which Charlotte carried back from Roe Head to Haworth.
There are some twenty drawings of about this date,
and a translation into English verse of the first book of
Voltaire's Henriade. With Ellen Nussey commenced a
friendship which terminated only with the pencilled notes
written from Charlotte Bronte's death-bed. The following
letter was the first of a correspondence that was to con-
tinue without any intefmittence to the end of the writer's
life. Charlotte entered Miss Wooler's school in January
1831, and the first letter was written in the holidays that
followed a few months later. It has a note of formality
that was to break down very quickly :
80 THE BRONTES
Letter 2
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May 3U/, 1831.
DEAR Miss NUSSEY, I take advantage of the earliest oppor-
tunity to thank you for the letter you favoured me with last week,
and to apologise for having so long neglected to write to you ;
indeed, I believe this will be the first letter or note I have ever
addressed to you. I am extremely obliged to for her kind
invitation, and I assure you that I should have very much liked to
hear Mr. 's Lectures on Galvanism, as they would doubtless
have been amusing and instructive. But we are often compelled
to bend our inclination to our duty (as Miss Wooler observed the
other day), and since there are so many holidays this half-year, it
would have appeared almost unreasonable to ask for an extra
holiday; besides, we should perhaps have got behind hand with
our lessons, so that everything considered, it is perhaps as well
that circumstances have deprived us of this pleasure. Believe me
to remain, your affectionate friend, C. BRONTE.
Her other friend, Mary Taylor, was long afterwards to
give Mrs. Gaskell her earliest impression of Charlotte :
I first saw her coming out of a covered cart, in very old-
Mary fashioned clothes, and looking very cold and miserable.
Taylor's She was coming to school at Miss Woolei's. When
Narrative. g j ie a pp earec j j n ^ e 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
possible to help laughing.
We thought her very ignorant, for she had never learnt grammar
at all, and very little geography.
She would confound us by knowing things 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
///.U.
SCHOOL-DAYS AT ROE HEAD 81
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 (printing 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 retracted it afterwards, and would never be per-
suaded 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 at 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 resolu-
tion to say ' No ' to anything. She used to go and stand under
the trees in the playground, and say it was pleasanter. She
endeavoured to explain this, pointing out the shadows, the peeps
of sky, etc. 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 been very impertinent. She replied, ' You
did me a great deal of good, Polly, so don't repent of it. 1 She
used to draw much better, and more quickly, than anything we
had seen before, and knew much about celebrated pictures and
painters. Whenever an opportunity offered of examining a
picture 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 opinion on all matters of that kind,
along with many more, resolving to describe such and such things
to her, until I start at the recollection that I never shall.
We used to be furious politicians, as one could hardly help
being in 1832. She knew the names of the two Ministers ; 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
\ 7 OL. I. F
82 THE BRONTES
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 I 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, etc., he preferred.
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 told me, early one morning,
that she had just been dreaming: 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 ! Make 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, etc.
This habit of ' making out ' interests for themselves, that most
children get who have none in actual 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 grow-
ing 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,' etc. 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 the 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
SCHOOL-DAYS AT ROE HEAD 88
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 information concerning painting, sculpture, poetry,
music, etc., as if it were gold. 1
All that we know of Charlotte Bronte during this year
of schooling at Roe Head we learn from her two friends, 2
apart from a letter to her brother which I give here :
Letter 3
TO BRANWELL BRONTE
ROE HEAD, May \*]th, 1831.
DEAR BRANWELL, As usual I address my weekly letter to
you, because 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 refused to acknowledge it. After you were
gone, many questions and subjects of conversation recurred to me
which I had intended to mention to you, but quite forgot them in
the agitation which I felt at the totally unexpected pleasure of
seeing you. 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 Bill's being thrown out
by the House of Lords, and of the expulsion or resignation of
Earl Grey, etc., etc., convinced me that I have not as yet lost all
my penchant for politics. I am extremely glad that aunt has
consented to take in Eraser's Magazine, for though I know from
your description of its general contents it will be rather un-
interesting when compared with Blackwood, still it will be better
than remaining the whole year without being able to obtain a
sight of any periodical publication whatever ; and such would
1 Letter from Mary Taylor to Mrs. Gaskell, dated January 18, 1856, and written from
New Zealand.
2 There are only two letters of Charlotte's written at Roe Head that are known to me.
One is dated May 1831, and was written to Mrs. Franks (Mis', Elizabeth Firth). It
should rightly be Letter 3 of this Collection, but it seems more natural to place it in
Appendix n. with the other material kindly supplied by Professor Moore Smith. The
other, to her brother, appears m this chapter.
84 THE BRONTES
assuredly be our case, as in the little wild, moorland village where
we reside, there would be no possibility of borrowing or obtaining
a work of that description from a circulating library. 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.
With love to all, Believe me, dear Branwell, to remain your
affectionate sister, CHARLOTTE.
There is absolutely nothing more to add, and so I offer
no apology for reproducing Ellen Nussey's narrative, which,
unlike Mary Taylor's, has never been reprinted in book
form. It first appeared in an American magazine. 1 It is
thus she writes :
Arriving at school about a week after the general assembly
Ellen f the pupils, I was not expected to accompany them
Nussey's when the time came for their daily exercise, but while
Narrative, were Qut> j wag j e( j j ntQ ^ sc hoolroom, and
quietly left to make my observations. I had come to the con-
clusion that it was very nice and comfortable for a schoolroom,
though I had little knowledge of schoolrooms in general, when,
turning to the window to observe the look-out, I became aware
for the first time that I was not alone ; there was a silent, weeping,
dark little figure in the large bay-window; she must, i thought,
have risen from the floor. As soon as I had recovered from my
surprise, I went from the far end of the room, where the book-
shelves were, the contents of which I must have contemplated
with a little awe in anticipation of coming studies. A crimson
cloth covered the long table down the centre of the room, which
helped, no doubt, to hide the shrinking little figure from my
view. I was touched and troubled at once to see her so sad and
so tearful.
I said shrinking, because her attitude, when I saw her, was that
of one who wished to hide both herself and her grief. She did
not shrink, however, when spoken to, but in very few words con-
fessed she was 4 homesick.' After a little of such comfort as
could be offered, it was suggested to her that there was a possi-
1 Scrifaifr's Ma^azifit t 'Reminiscences of Charlotte Bronte,' by 'E./vol. ii. 1871.
Reprinted in the Bronte Society's 7*ransafttons, Part x. 1899.
SCHOOL-DAYS AT ROE HEAD 85
bility of her too having to comfort the speaker by-and-by for the
same cause. A faint quivering smile then lighted her face ; the
tear-drops fell ; we silently took each other's hands, and at once
we felt that genuine sympathy which always consoles, even
though it be unexpressed. We did not talk or stir till we heard
the approaching footsteps of other pupils coming in from their
play ; it had been a game called ' French and English/ which
was always very vigorously played, but in which Charlotte
Bronte never could be induced to join. Perhaps the merry
voices contesting for victory, which reached our ears in the
schoolroom, jarred upon her then sensitive misery, and caused
her ever after to dislike the game ; but she was physically
unequal to that exercise of muscle, which was keen enjoyment to
strong, healthy girls, both older and younger than herself. Miss
Wooler's system of education required that a good deal of her
pupils' work should be done in classes, and to effect this, new
pupils had generally a season of solitary study ; but Charlotte's
fervent application made this period a very short one to her she
was quickly up to the needful standard, and ready for the daily
routine and arrangement of studies, and as quickly did she out-
strip her companions, rising from the bottom of the classes to the
top, a position which, when she had once gained, she never had
to regain. She was first in everything but play, yet never was a
word heard of envy or jealousy from her companions ; every one
felt she had won her laurels by an amount of diligence and hard
labour of which they were incapable. She never exulted in her
successes or seemed conscious of them ; her mind was so wholly
set on attaining knowledge that she apparently forgot all
else.
Charlotte's appearance did not strike me at first as it did
others. I saw her grief, not herself particularly, till afterwards.
She never seemed to me the unattractive little person others
designated her, but certainly she was at this time anything but
pretty ; even her good points were lost. Her naturally beautiful
hair of soft silky brown being then dry and frizzy-looking,
screwed up in tight little curls, showing features that were all
the plainer from her exceeding thinness and want of complexion,
she looked * dried in.' A dark, rusty green stuff dress of old-
fashioned make detracted still more from her appearance; but
let her wear what she might or do what she would, she had ever
the demeanour of a born gentlewoman ; vulgarity was an element
86 THE BRONTES
that never won the slightest affinity with her nature. Some of
the elder girls, who had been years at school, thought her ignor-
ant This was true in one sense ; ignorant she was indeed in
the elementary education which is given in schools, but she far
surpassed her most advanced school -fellows in knowledge of
what was passing in the world at large, and in the literature of
her country. She knew a thousand things unknown to them.
She had taught herself a little French before she came to
school ; this little knowledge of the language was very useful to
her when afterwards she was engaged in translation or dictation.
She soon began to make a good figure in French lessons.
Music she wished to acquire, for which she had both ear and taste,
but her near-sightedness caused her to stoop so dreadfully in
order to see her notes, she was dissuaded from persevering in the
acquirement, especially as she had at this time an invincible
objection to wearing glasses. Her very taper fingers, tipped with
the most circular nails, did not seem very suited for instrumental
execution ; but when wielding the pen or the pencil, they appeared
in the very office they were created for.
Her appetite was of the smallest ; for years she had not tasted
animal food ; she had the greatest dislike to it; she always had
something specially provided for her at our midday repast.
Towards the close of the first half-year she was induced to take,
by little and little, meat gravy with vegetable, and in the second
half-year she commenced taking a very small portion of animal
food daily. She then grew a little bit plumper, looked younger
and more animated, though she was never what is called lively at
this period She always seemed to feel that a deep responsibility
rested upon her; that she uas an object of expense to those at
home, and that she must use every moment to attain the purpose
for which she was sent to school, i.e. to fit herself for governess
life. She had almost too much opportunity for her conscientious
diligence ; we were so little restricted in our doings, the industrious
might accomplish the appointed tasks of the day and enjoy a little
leisure, but she chose in many things to do double lessons when
not prevented by class arrangement or a companion. In two of
her studies she was associated with her friend, and great was her
distress if her companion failed to be ready, when she was, with
the lesson of the day. She liked the stated task to be over, that
she might be free to pursue her self-appointed ones. Such, how-
ever, was her conscientiousness that she never did what some girls
SCHOOL-DAYS AT ROE HEAD 87
think it generous to do ; generous and unselfish though she was,
she never whispered help to a companion in class (as she might
have done) to rid herself of the trouble of having to appear again.
All her school-fellows regarded her, I believe, as a model of high
rectitude, close application, and great abilities. She did not play
or amuse herself when others did. When her companions were
merry round the fire, or otherwise enjoying themselves during the
twilight, which was always a precious time of relaxation, she would
be kneeling close to the window busy with her studies, and this
would last so long that she was accused of seeing in the dark ; yet
though she did not play, as girls style play, she was ever ready
to help with suggestions in those plays which required taste or
arrangement.
When her companions formed the idea of having a coronation
performance on a half-holiday, it was Charlotte Bronte who drew
up the programme, arranged the titles to be adopted by her com-
panions for the occasion, wrote the invitations to those who were
to grace the ceremony, and selected for each a title, either for
sound that pleased the ear or for historical association. The
preparations for these extra half-holidays (which were very rare
occurrences) sometimes occupied spare moments for weeks before
the event. On this occasion Charlotte prepared a very elegant
little speech for the one who was selected to present the crown.
Miss Wooler's younger sister consented after much entreaty to
be crowned as our queen (a very noble, stately queen she made), and
did her pupils all the honour she could by adapting herself to the
r61e of the moment. The following exquisite little speech shows
Charlotte's aptitude, even then, at giving fitting expression to her
thoughts :
1 Powerful Queen ! Accept this Crown, the symbol of dominion,
from the hands of your faithful and affectionate subjects ! And
if their earnest and united wishes have any efficacy, you will long
be permitted to reign over this peaceful, though circumscribed,
empire.
'(Signed, etc., etc.),
1 Your loyal subjects/
The little fete finished off with what was called a ball ; but for
lack of numbers we had to content ourselves with one quadrille
and two Scotch reels. Last of all there was a supper, which
was considered very rechercht, most of it having been coaxed out
88 THE BRONTfiS
of yielding mammas and elder sisters, in addition to some wise
expenditure of pocket-money. The grand feature, however, was
the attendance of a mulatto servant We descended for a
moment from our assumed dignities to improvise this distinguish-
ing appanage. The liveliest of our party, ' Jessie Yorke,' volun-
teered this office, and surpassed our expectations. Charlotte
evidently enjoyed the fun, in her own quiet way, as much as any
one, and ever after with great zest helped, when with old school-
fellows, to recall the performances of the exceptional half-holidays.
About a month after the assembling of the school, one of the
pupils had an illness. There was great competition among the
girls for permission to sit with the invalid. Charlotte was never
of the number, though she was as assiduous in kindness and
attention as the rest in spare moments : but to sit with the patient
was indulgence and leisure, and these she would not permit herself.
It was shortly after this illness that Charlotte caused such a
panic of terror by her thrilling relations of the wanderings of a
somnambulist. She brought together all the horrors her imagina-
tion could create, from surging seas, raging breakers, towering
castle walls, high precipices, invisible chasms and dangers. Having
wrought these materials to the highest pitch of effect, she brought
out, in almost cloud-height, her somnambulist, walking on shaking
turrets, all told in a voice that conveyed more than words alone
can express. A shivering terror seized the recovered invalid ; a
pause ensued ; then a subdued cry of pain came from Charlotte
herself, with a terrified command to others to call for help. She
was in bitter distress. Something like remorse seemed to linger
in her mind after this incident ; for weeks there was no prevailing
on her to resume her tales, and she never again created terrors for
her listeners. Tales, however, were made again in time, till Miss
W. discovered there was ' late talking.' That was forbidden ; but
understanding it was 'late talk' only which was prohibited, we
talked and listened to tales again, not expecting to hear Miss
Wooler say one morning, ' All the ladies who talked last night
must pay fines. I am sure Miss Bronte and Miss Nussey were not
of the number/ Miss Bronte and Miss Nussey were, however, trans-
gressors like the rest, and rather enjoyed the fact of having to pay
like them, till they saw Miss Wooler's grieved and disappointed
look. It was then a distress that they had failed where they were
reckoned upon, though unintentionally. This was the only school-
fine that Charlotte ever incurred. At the close of the first half-
SCHOOL-DAYS AT ROE HEAD 89
year, Charlotte bore off three prizes. For one she had to draw
lots with her friend a moment of painful suspense to both, for
neither wished to deprive the other of her reward. Happily,
Charlotte won it, and so had the gratifying pleasure of carrying
home three tangible proofs of her goodness and industry. Miss
Wooler had two badges of conduct for her pupils which were won-
derfully effective, except with the most careless. A black ribbon,
worn in the style of the Order of the Garter, which the pupils
passed from one to the other for any breach of rules, unladylike
manners, or incorrect grammar. Charlotte might, in her very
earliest school-days, have worn * the mark,' as we styled it, but I
never remember her having it. The silver medal, which was the
badge for fulfilment of duties, she won the right to in her first
half-year. This she never afterwards forfeited, and it was
presented to her on leaving school. 1 She was only three half-years
at school. In this time she went through all the elementary
teaching contained in our school-books/ She was in the habit of
committing long pieces of poetry to memory, and seemed to do
so with real enjoyment and hardly any effort.
In these early days, when she was certain of being quite alone
with her friend, she would talk much of her two dead sisters,
Maria and Elizabeth. Her love for them was most intense; a
kind of adoration dwelt in her feelings, which, as she conversed,
almost imparted itself to her listener.
She described Maria as a little mother among the rest, super-
human in goodness and cleverness. But the most touching of all
were the revelations of her sufferings how she suffered with the
sensibility of a grown-up person, and endured with a patience and
fortitude that were Christ-like. Charlotte would still weep and
suffer when thinking of her. She talked of Elizabeth also, but
never with the anguish of expression which accompanied her
recollections of Maria. When surprise was expressed that she
should know so much about her sisters when they were so young,
and she herself still younger, she said she began to analyse char-
acter when she was five years old, and instanced two guests who
were at her home for a day or two, and of whom she had taken
stock, and of whom after-knowledge confirmed first impressions.
During one of our brief holidays Charlotte was guest in a family
who had known her father when he was a curate in their parish.
They were naturally inclined to show kindness to his daughter,
1 It is now in the Bronte Museum at Haworth.
90 THE BRONTES
but the kindness here took a form which was little agreeable.
They had had no opportunity of knowing her abilities or disposi-
tion, and they took her shyness and smallness as indications of
extreme youth. She was slow, very slow, to express anything
that bordered on ingratitude, but here she was mortified and hurt.
4 They took me for a child, and treated me just like one/ she said.
I can now recall the expression of that honest face as she added,
'one tall lady would nurse me/
The tradition of a lady ghost who moved about in rustling silk
in the upper stones of Roe Head had a great charm for Charlotte.
She was a ready listener to any girl who could relate stones of
others having seen her ; but on Miss Wooler hearing us talk of our
ghost, she adopted an effective measure for putting our belief in
such an existence to the test, by selecting one or other from
among us to ascend the stairs after the dimness of evening hours
had set in, to bring something down which could easily be found.
No ghost made herself visible even to the frightened imaginations
of the foolish and the timid ; the whitened face of apprehension
soon disappeared, nerves were braced, and a general laugh soon
set us all right again.
It was while Charlotte was at school that she imbibed the germ
of many of those characters which she afterwards produced in
Shirley ; but no one could have imagined that, in the unceasing
industry of her daily applications, she was receiving any kind of
impress external to her school-life.
She was particularly impressed with the goodness and saintli-
ness of one of Miss Wooler's guests the Miss Ainley of Shirley^
long since gone to her rest. The character is not, of course, a
literal portrait, for the very reasons Charlotte herself gave. She
said : ' You are not to suppose any of the characters in Shirley
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. Qualities I have seen, loved, and
admired, are here and there put in as decorative gems, to be
preserved in that setting.' I may remark here that nothing
angered Charlotte more, than for any one to suppose they could
not be in her society without incurring the risk of * being put in
her books.' She always stoutly maintained she never thought of
persons in this light when she was with them.
In the seldom-recurring holidays Charlotte made sometimes
short visits with those oi her companions whose homes were
SCHOOL-DAYS AT ROE HEAD 91
within reach of school. Here she made acquaintance with the
scenes and prominent characters of, the Luddite period; her
father materially helped to fix her impressions, for he had held
more than one curacy in the very neighbourhood which she de-
scribes in Shirley. He was present in some of the scenes, an
active participator as far as his position permitted. Sometimes
on the defensive, sometimes aiding the sufferers, uniting his
strength and influence with Mr. Helstone of Shirley. Between
these two men there seems to have been in some respects a strik-
ing affinity of character which Charlotte was not slow to perceive,
and she blended the two into one, though she never personally
beheld the original of Mr. Helstone, except once when she was
ten years old. He was a man of remarkable vigour and energy,
both of mind and will. An absolute disciplinarian, he was some-
times called ' Duke Ecclesiastic,' a very Wellington in the Church.
Mr. Bronte used to delight in recalling the days he spent in
the vicinity of this man. Many a breakfast hour he enlivened by
his animated relations of his friend's unflinching courage and
dauntless self-reliance how the ignorant and prejudiced popula-
tion around misunderstood and misrepresented his worthiest
deeds. In depicting the Luddite period, Charlotte had the power
of giving an almost literal description of the scenes then enacted,
for in addition to her father's personal acquaintance with what
occurred, she had likewise the aid of authentic records of the
eventful time, courteously lent to her by the editors of the Leeds
Mercury.
I must not forget to state that no girl in the school was equal
to Charlotte in Sunday lessons. Her acquaintance with Holy
Writ surpassed others in this as in everything else. She was very
familiar with all the sublimest passages, especially those in
Isaiah, in which she took great delight. Her confirmation took
place while she was at school, and in her preparation for that, as
"in all other studies, she distinguished herself by application and
proficiency.
At school she acquired that habit which she and her sisters
kept up to the very last, that of pacing to and fro in the room.
In days when out-of-door exercise was impracticable, Miss
Wooler would join us in our evening hour of relaxation and con-
verse (for which she had rare talent) ; her pupils used to hang
about her as she walked up and down the room, delighted to
listen to her, or have a chance of being nearest in the walk. The
92 THE BRONTES
last day Charlotte was at school she seemed to realise what a
sedate, hard-working season it had been to her. She said, C I
should for once like to feel out and out a schoolgirl ; let us run
round the fruit garden (running was what she never did) ; perhaps
we shall meet some one, or we may have a fine for trespass/
She evidently was longing for some never-to-be-forgotten incident
Nothing, however, arose from her little enterprise. She had to
leave school as calmly and quietly as she had lived there.
HAWORTH, 1882-1835 98
CHAPTER VI
HAWORTH, 1832-1835
AFTER eighteen months of school-life at Roe Head Char-
lotte Bronte returned to her home once more. But the
world had changed for her. She had enlarged her know-
ledge of life. She could write to one or other of her two
friends, and she could continue her interest in some other
of her old schoolfellows ' little Miss Boisterous' or Martha
Taylor, for example, to whom there is a reference in the
following letter written during the Christmas holidays :
Letter 4
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH,/rtflry '3^ 1832.
DEAR ELLEN, The receipt of your letter gave me an agree-
able surprise, for, notwithstanding your faithful promises, you
must excuse me if I say that I had little confidence in their
fulfilment, knowing that when schoolgirls once get home they
willingly abandon every recollection which tends to remind them
of school, and, indeed, they find such an infinite variety of circum-
stances to engage their attention, and employ their leisure hours,
that they are easily persuaded that they have no time to fulfil
promises made at school. It gave me great pleasure, however, to
find that you and Miss Taylor are exceptions to the general rule.
I am sorry to hear that has been ill ; likewise that Miss
Wooler has suffered from bad colds. The cholera still seems slowly
advancing, but let us yet hope, knowing that all things are under
the guidance of a Merciful Providence. England has hitherto
been highly favoured, for the disease has neither raged with the
astounding violence, nor extended itself with the frightful rapidity
which marks its progress in many of the continental countries.
9* THE BRONTfiS
I am glad to hear Mr. was pleased with Mercy's drawings.
Tell her I hope she will derive benefit from the perusal of
Cobbett's lucubrations, but I beg she will on no account burden
her memory with passages to be repeated for my edification, lest
I should not appreciate either her kindness or their merit, since
that worthy personage and his principles (whether private or
political) are no great favourites of mine. Remember me to ,
give my love to dear Mary Taylor and little Miss Boisterous, and
accept the same, dearest Ellen, from your affectionate friend,
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
Letter 5
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, July 2IJ/, 1832.
MY DEAREST ELLEN, Your kind and interesting letter gave
me the sincerest pleasure. I have been expecting to hear from
you almost every day since my arrival at home, and I at length
began to despair of receiving the wished-for letter. You ask me
to give you a description of the manner in which I have passed
every day since I left school ; this is soon done, as an account of
one day is an account of all. In the mornings from 9 o'clock
to half-past 12, I instruct rny sisters and draw, then we walk till
dinner, after dinner I sew till tea time, and after tea I either read,
write, do a little fancy work, or draw, as I please. Thus in one
delightful, though somewhat monotonous course, my life is passed.
I have only been out to tea twice since I came home. We are
expecting company this afternoon, and on Tuesday next we shall
have all the female teachers of the Sunday-school to tea. I do
hope, my dearest, 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 of
correspondence 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 under that
general term. I was very much disappointed by your not sending
HAWORTH, 1832-1835 95
the hair ; you may be sure, my dearest, 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, CHARLOTTE BRONT&.
P S. Remember the mutual promise we made of a regular
correspondence with each other. Excuse all faults in this
wretched scrawl. Give my love to the Miss Taylors, when you
see them. Farewell my dear, dear, dear Ellen.
Letter 6
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, September 5^, 1832.
DEAREST ELLEN, I am really very much indebted to you
for your well-filled and interesting letter; it forms a striking
contrast to my brief, meagre epistles, but I know you will ex-
cuse the utter dearth ot news visible in them when you consider
the situation in which I am placed, quite out of the reach of all
intelligence except what I obtain through the medium of the
newspapers, and I believe you would not find much to interest
you in a political discussion or a summary of the accidents of the
week. Papa was sorry to hear that his old friend Mr. Roberson
has suffered from an attack of paralysis ; I should think his age
precludes all hope of his ultimate recovery. It gave me pleasure
to learn that you take lessons at Roe Head once a week, as I
have no doubt your improvement will be rapid in those two im-
portant branches of education. Your account of Miss Martha
Taylor's fit of good behaviour amused me exceedingly; I only
hope it may be permanent. En passant, is Polly yet in the
larrd of the living? If she is, I wish you would tell her the first
time you have an opportunity that I should be glad to receive a
letter from her. I am sorry, very sorry that Miss H. has turned
out to be so different from what you thought her, but, my dearest
Ellen, you must never expect perfection in this world, and I
know your naturally confiding and affectionate disposition had
led you to imagine that Miss H. was almost faultless. I now
come to the latter part of your letter ; I feel greatly obliged to
96 THE BRONTES
your mother and yourself for the very kind invitation therein
contained. When I consulted Papa and Aunt about it, they both
said they could not possibly have any objection to my accepting
it. It is therefore with great pleasure that I am enabled to return
an affirmative to your kind and pressing request. I think, dearest
Ellen, our friendship is destined to form an exception to the
general rule regarding school friendships. At least I know that
absence has not in the least abated the sisterly affection which I
feel toward you. Remember me to your mother and sisters, and
accept every profession of genuine regard which the English
tongue affords, from your friend, CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
P.S. Do not criticise the execrable penmanship visible in this
letter. Adieu pour le present.
And so in this same month of September 1832 we find
Charlotte Bronte paying her first visit to her school-fellow
at Rydings, a handsome house near Birstall, standing in
many acres of ground. The house has battlements, a
rookery, and all that a country gentleman's seat might
aspire to. It shares with Norton Conyers near Ripon the
credit of having inspired the picture of ' Thornfield Hall'
in Jane Eyre.
The latter house may at any time have been seen by
Charlotte Bronte, as she was governess in a family that
once rented the place. It has further the advantage of a
story of a mad woman being associated with it, besides
corresponding with Thornfield in many important details.
That Rydings played some part in her word-picture is
not, however, to be doubted, and she had much more
intimate associations with this smaller house. 1
Rydings at this time was the property of an uncle of
Ellen Nussey's Reuben Walker, a distinguished court
physician. The family in that generation and in this has
given many of its members to high public service in
various professions one in our own generation has served
many years in Parliament. Two Nusseys, and two
1 The subject is discussed at length in The Literary Shtines of Yorkshire^ by J. A.
Erskine Stuart. Longmans, 1892.
HA WORTH, 1882-1885 97
Walkers, were court physicians in their day. When Earl
Fitzwilliam was canvassing for the county in 1 809, he was
a guest at Rydings for two weeks, and on his election was
chaired by the tenantry. Reuben Walker, this uncle of
Miss Nussey 's, was the only Justice of the Peace for the
district which included Leeds, Bradford, Huddersfield, and
Halifax, during the Luddite riots a significant reminder
of the growth of population since that day. Ellen
Nussey's home was at Rydings, then tenanted by her
brother John, until 1837, and she then removed to Brook-
royd, where she lived until long after Charlotte Bronte
died.
Charlotte travelled from Haworth to Rydings in a
two-wheeled gig, the only conveyance to be had in Ha-
worth, except the covered cart that brought her to school.
Branwell accompanied his sister. He was then a red-
haired boy of fifteen, full of enthusiasm, and told Char-
lotte that he 'was leaving her in Paradise.' 1 The visit
passed, says Miss Nussey, * without much to mark it except
that we crept away together from household life as much
as we could. Charlotte liked to pace the plantations or seek
seclusion in the fruit-garden ; she was safe from visitors in
these retreats. She was so painfully shy, she could not
bear any special notice. One clay, on being led in to
dinner by a stranger, she trembled and nearly burst into
tears.'
One of the good resolutions of the continuation of friend-
ship evoked by this visit seems to have been a desire on
the part of Charlotte to improve her facility in French
through correspondence in that language. Hence the
next letter announcing her safe arrival at home. The
letter is full of errors in punctuation, and even in spelling.
Herein it offers an interesting contrast to that proficiency
that she was to attain to at a later date.
1 Ellen Nussey in Scribner's Magazine^ vol. ii. 1871.
VOL. I. G
98 THE BRONTES
Letter 7
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
A HAWORTH, le 18 Octobre, 1832.
MA TRfcS CHfcRE AMIE, Nous sommcs encore partu et il y a
entre nous dix sept milles de chemin ; le bref quinzaine pendant
lequel je fus chez vous c'est envol& et desormais il faut compter
ma visite agreable parmi le nombre de choses passes. J'arrivait
a Haworth en parfaite sauvetd sans le moindre accident ou mal-
heur. Mes petites soeurs couraient hors de la maison pour me
rencontrer aussit6t que la voiture se fit voir, et elles m'embras-
saient avec autant d'empressement et de plaisir comme si j'avais
6t& absente pour plus d'un an. Mon Papa ma Tante, et le
Monsieur dont mon frcre avait parl, furent tons assembles dans
le salon, et en peu de temps je m'y rendis aussi. C'est souvent
1'ordre du Ciel que quand on a perdu un plaisir il y en a un autre
prt a prendre sa place. Ainsi je venois de partir de tr&s chers
amis, mais tout a 1'heure je revins ik des parens aussi chers et bons
dans le moment. Meme que vous me perdiez (ose-je croire que
mon depart vous tait un chagrin?) vous attendites 1'arrivde de
votre frere, et de votre soeur. J'ai donn a mes soeurs les pom-
mes que vous leur envoyiez avec tant de bont : elles disent
qu'elles sont stir que Mademoiselle Nussey est trds aimable et
bonne : Tune et 1'autre sont extremement impatientes de vous
voir: j'esp^re que dans peu de mois elles auront ce plaisir. Je
n'ai plus de temps et pour le present il faut conclure. Donnez
mes plus sincdres amitids a Mademoiselle Mercy et maintenant
ma bien aimee, ma pr<5cieuse Ellen mon amie chere, Croyez-moi
de rester a vous pour la vie, CHARLOTTE.
P.S. You cannot imagine in what haste I have written this.
If you do not like me to write French letters tell me so, and I
will desist, but I beg and implore your reply may be in the
universal language, never mind a few mistakes at first, the attempt
will contribute greatly to your improvement. Farewell, Write
soon, very soon ; I shall be all impatience till I hear from you.
HA WORTH, 1832-1835 99
Letter 8
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, January ist, 1833.
DEAR ELLEN, I believe we agreed to correspond once a
month ; that space of time has now elapsed since I received your
last interesting letter, and I now therefore hasten to reply.
Accept my congratulations on the arrival of the ' New Year,'
every succeeding day of which will, I trust, find you wiser and
better in the true sense of those much-used words. The first day
of January always presents to my mind a train of very solemn
and important reflections, and a question more easily asked than
answered, frequently occurs, viz. : How have I improved the past
year, and with what good intentions do I view the dawn of its
successor? These, my dearest Ellen, are weighty considerations
which (young as we are) neither you nor I can too deeply or too
seriously ponder. I am sorry your two great diffidences, arising,
I think, from the want of sufficient confidence in your own capa-
bilities, prevented you from writing to me in French, as I think
the attempt would have materially contributed to your improve-
ment in that language. You very kindly caution me against
being tempted by the fondness of my sisters to consider myself
of too much importance, and then in a parenthesis you beg me
not to be offended. O ! Ellen, do you think I could be offended
by any good advice you may give me? No, I thank you heartily,
and love you, if possible, better for it. I had a letter about a fort-
night ago from Miss Taylor, in which she mentions the birth of
Mrs. Clapham's little boy, and likewise tells me you had not been
at Roe Head for upwards of a month, but does not assign any reason
for your absence. I hope it does not arise from ill-health. I am
glad you like Kenilworth ; it is certainly a splendid production,
more resembling a Romance than a Novel, and in my opinion
one of the most interesting works that ever emanated from the
great Sir Walter's pen. I was exceedingly amused at the charac-
teristic and nafve manner in which you expressed your detestation
of Varney's character, so much so, indeed, that I could not forbear
laughing aloud when I perused that part of your letter ; he is
certainly the personification of consummate villainy, and in the
delineation of his dark and profoundly artful mind, Scott exhibits
a wonderful knowledge of human nature, as well as surprising
100 THE BRONTES
skill in embodying his perceptions so as to enable others to
become participators in that knowledge. Excuse the want of
news in this very barren epistle, for I really have none to com-
municate. Emily and Anne beg to be kindly remembered to you.
Give my best love to your mother and sisters, and as it is very
late permit me to conclude with the assurance of my unchanged,
unchanging, and unchangeable affection for you. Adieu, my
sweetest Ellen ; I am, ever yours, CHARLOTTE.
Letter 9
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH,/tf<? 20M, 1833.
DEAR ELLEN, I know you will be very angry because I have
not written sooner ; my reason, or rather my motive for this
apparent neglect was, that I had determined not to write until I
could ask you to pay us your long-promised visit. Aunt thought
it would be better to defer it till about the middle of summer, as
the winter and even the spring seasons are remarkably cold and
bleak among our mountains. Papa now desires me to present his
respects to Mrs. Nussey, and say that he would feel greatly obliged
if she would allow us the pleasure of your company for a few
weeks at Haworth. I will leave it to you to fix whatever day
may be most convenient, but, dear Ellen, let it be an early one.
I received a letter from Poll Taylor yesterday ; she was in high
dudgeon at my inattention at not promptly answering her last
epistle. I, however, sat down immediately and wrote a very
humble reply, candidly confessing my faults and soliciting for-
giveness. I hope it has proved successful. Have you suffered
much from that troublesome though not (I am happy to hear)
generally fatal disease, the Influenza? We have so far steered
clear of it, but I know not how long we may continue to escape.
Miss Taylor tells me that H. Pi. has been elevated to the office of
housekeeper at Colne Bridge ; doubtless she will fulfil its duties
with great self-complacency. Do you not think Mrs. Bradbury
has made excellent choice of a partner for life ? Your last letter
revealed a state of mind which seemed to promise much. As I
read it I could not help wishing that my own feelings more nearly
resembled yours ; but unhappily all the good thoughts which
enter my mind evaporate almost before I have had time to ascer-
HA WORTH, 1882-1835 101
tain their existence ; every right resolution which I form is so
transient, so fragile, and so easily broken, that I sometimes fear I
shall never be what I ought ; earnestly hoping that this may not
be your case, that you may continue steadfast till the end, I
remain, dearest Ellen, your ever faithful friend.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
P.S. Write soon and let the answer be favourable.
Ellen Nussey's promised visit was paid this summer, and
her description of it is interesting :
My first visit to Haworth was full of novelty and freshness.
The scenery for some miles before we reached Haworth
was wild and uncultivated, with hardly any popula- Nussey's
tion ; at last we came to what seemed a terrific hill, Reminis-
such a deep declivity no one thought of riding down cences *
it ; the horse had to be carefully led. We no sooner reached
the foot of this hill than we had to begin to mount again, over
a narrow, rough, stone-paved road ; the horse's feet seemed to
catch at the boulders as if climbing. When we reached the
top of the village there was apparently no outlet, but we were
directed to drive into an entry which just admitted the gig ; we
wound round in this entry and then saw the church close at hand,
and we entered on the short lane which led to the parsonage
gateway. Here Charlotte was waiting, having caught the sound
of the approaching gig. When greetings and introductions were
over, Miss Branwell (the aunt of the Brontes) took possession of
their guest and treated her with the care and solicitude due to a
weary traveller. Mr. Bronte, also, was stirred out of his usual re-
tirement by his own kind consideration, for not only the guest
but the man-servant and the horse were to be made comfortable.
He made inquiries about the man, of his length of service, etc.,
with the kind purpose of making a few moments of conversation
agreeable to him.
Even at this time, Mr. Bronte struck me as looking very vener-
able, with his snow-white hair and powdered coat-collar. His
manner and mode of speech always had the tone of high-bred
courtesy. He was considered somewhat of an invalid, and always
lived in the most abstemious and simple manner. His white
cravat was not then so remarkable as it grew to be afterwards.
He was in the habit of covering this cravat himself. We never
102 THE BRONTES
saw the operation, but we always had to wind for him the white
sewing-silk which he used. Charlotte said it was her father's one
extravagance he cut up yards and yards of white lute-string (silk)
in covering his cravat ; and, like Dr. Joseph Woolflfe (the renowned
and learned traveller), who, when on a visit and in a long fit of
absence, 'went into a clean shirt every day for a week, without
taking one off/ so Mr. Bronte's cravat went into new silk and
new size without taking any off, till at length nearly half his
head was enveloped in cravat. His liability to bronchial attacks,
no doubt, attached him to this increasing growth of cravat.
Miss Branwell, their aunt, was a 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 had a horror of the climate so far north, and
of the stone floors of the parsonage. She amused us by clicking
about in pattens whenever she had to go into the kitchen or look
after household operations.
She talked a great deal of her younger days ; the gaieties of
her native town, Penzance, in Cornwall ; the soft, warm climate
etc. The social life of her younger days she used to recall with
regret; she gave one the idea that she had been a belle among
her own home acquaintances. She took snuff out of a very pretty
gold snuff-box, which she sometimes presented to you with a little
laugh, as if she enjoyed the slight shock and astonishment visible
in your countenance. In summer she spent part of the afternoon
in reading aloud to Mr. Bronte. In the winter evenings she must
have enjoyed this ; for she and Mr. Bronte had often to finish
their discussions on what she had read when we all met for tea.
She would be very lively and intelligent, and tilt arguments against
Mr. Bronte without fear.
* Tabby/ the faithful, trustworthy old servant, was very quaint
in appearance very active, and, in these days, the general servant
and factotum. We were all 'childer ' and 4 bairns/ in her estima-
tion. She still kept to her duty of walking out with the 'childer'
if they went any distance from home, unless Branwell were sent
by his father as a protector. Poor ' Tabby ' in later days, after
she had been attacked with paralysis, would most 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
inspection which the younger eyes of her fellow-servant bestowed
on his deliveries. She jealously seized them when she could, and
HAWORTH, 1832-1885 108
carried them off with hobbling step, and shaking head and hand,
to the safe custody of Charlotte.
Emily Bronte had by this time acquired a lithesome, graceful
figure. She was the tallest person in the house, except her father.
Her hair, which was naturally as beautiful as Charlotte's, was in
the same unbecoming tight curl and frizz, and there was the same
want of complexion. She had very beautiful eyes kind, kindling,
liquid eyes ; but she did not often look at you : she was too
reserved. Their colour might be said to be dark grey, at other
times dark blue, they varied so. She talked very little. She and
Anne were like twins inseparable companions, and in the very
closest sympathy, which never had any interruption.
Anne dear, gentle Anne was quite different in appearance
from the others. She was her aunt's favourite. Her hair was a
very pretty light brown, and fell on her neck in graceful curls.
She had lovely violet-blue eyes, fine pencilled eyebrows, and clear,
almost transparent complexion. She still pursued her studies,
and especially her sewing, under the surveillance of her aunt.
Emily had now begun to have the disposal of her own time.
Branwell studied regularly with his father, and used to paint in
oils, which was regarded as study for what might be eventually
his profession. All the household entertained the idea of his
becoming an artist, and hoped he would be a distinguished one.
In fine and suitable weather delightful rambles were made
over the moors, and down into glens and ravines that here and
there broke the monotony of the moorland. The rugged bank
and rippling brook were treasures of delight. Emily, Anne,
and Branwell used to ford the streams, and sometimes placed
stepping-stones for the other two ; there was always a lingering
delight in these sports every moss, every flower, every tint and
form, were noted and enjoyed. Emily especially had a glee-
some delight in these nooks of beauty her reserve for the time
vanished. One long ramble made in these early days was far
away over the moors, to a spot familiar to Emily and Anne,
which they called * The Meeting of the Waters. 1 It was a small
oasis of emerald green turf, broken here and there by small clear
springs ; a few large stones served as resting-places; seated here,
we were hidden from all the world, nothing appearing in view but
miles and miles of heather, a glorious blue sky, and brightening
sun. A fresh breeze wafted on us its exhilarating influence ; we
laughed and made mirth of each other, and settled we would call
104 THE BRONTES
ourselves the quartette. Emily, half reclining on a slab of stone,
played like a young child with the tadpoles in the water, making
them swim about, and then fell to moralising on the strong and
the weak, the brave and the cowardly, as she chased them with
her hand. No serious care or sorrow had so far cast its gloom on
nature's youth and buoyancy, and nature's simplest offerings were
fountains of pleasure and enjoyment.
The interior of the now far-famed parsonage lacked drapery of
all kinds. Mr. Bronte's horror of fire forbade curtains to the
windows ; they never had these accessories to comfort and appear-
ance till long after Charlotte was the only inmate of the family
sitting-room, she then ventured on the innovation when her
friend was with her ; it did not please her father, but it was not
forbidden.
There was not much carpet anywhere except in the sitting-
room, and on the study floor. The hall floor and stairs were done
with sandstone, always beautifully clean, as everything was about
the house ; the walls were not papered, but stained in a pretty
dove-coloured tint; hair-seated chairs and mahogany tables, book-
shelves in the study, but not many of these elsewhere. Scant
and bare indeed, many will say, yet it was not a scantness that
made itself felt. Mind and thought, I had almost said elegance,
but certainly refinement, diffused themselves over all, and made
nothing really wanting.
A little later on there was the addition of a piano. Emily,
after some application, played with precision and brilliancy.
Anne played also, but she preferred soft harmonies and vocal music.
She sang a little ; her voice was weak, but very sweet in tone.
Mr. Bronte's health caused him to retire early. He assembled
his household for family worship at eight o'clock ; at nine he
locked and barred the front door, always giving, as he passed
the sitting-room door, a kindly admonition to the ' children ' not
to be late ; half-way up the stairs he stayed his steps to wind up
the clock.
Every morning was heard the firing of a pistol from Mr. Bronte's
room window ; it was the discharging of the loading which was
made every night. Mr. Bronte's tastes led him to delight in the
perusal of battle-scenes, and in following the artifice of war; had
he entered on military service instead of ecclesiastical, he would
probably have had a very distinguished career. The self-denials
and privations of camp-life would have agreed entirely with his
HA WORTH, 1882-1885 105
nature, for he was remarkably independent of the luxuries and
comforts of life. The only dread he had was of fire, and this
dread was so intense it caused him to prohibit all but silk or
woollen dresses for his daughters ; indeed, for any one to wear
any other kind of fabric was almost to forfeit his respect
Mr. Bronte at times would relate strange stories, which had
been told to him by some of the oldest inhabitants of the parish,
of the extraordinary lives and doings of people who had resided
in far-off, out-of-the-way places, but in contiguity with Haworth
stories which made one shiver and shrink from hearing ; but they
were full of grim humour and interest to Mr. Bronte and his
children, as revealing the characteristics of a class in the human
race, and as such Emily Bronte has stereotyped them in her
Wuthering Heights.
During Miss Branwell's reign at the parsonage, the love of
animals had to be kept in due subjection. There was then but
one dog, which was admitted to the parlour at stated times.
Emily and Anne always gave him a portion of their breakfast,
which was, by their own choice, the old north country diet of
oatmeal porridge. Later on, there were three household pets
the tawny, strong-limbed c Keeper,' Emily's favourite : he was so
completely under her control, she could quite easily make him
spring and roar like a lion. She taught him this kind of
occasional play without any coercion. ' Flossy ' long, silky-
haired, black and white ' Flossy ' was Anne's favourite ; and
black 'Tom,' the tabby, was everybody's favourite. It received
such gentle treatment it seemed to have lost cat's nature, and
subsided into luxurious amiability and contentment. The
Brontes' love of dumb creatures made them very sensitive of the
treatment bestowed upon them. For any one to offend in this
respect was with them an infallible bad sign, and a blot on the
disposition.
The services in church in these days were such as can only be
seen (if ever seen again) in localities like Haworth. The people
assembled, but it was apparently to listen. Any part beyond
that was quite out of their reckoning. All through the prayers,
a stolid look of apathy was fixed on the generality of their faces.
There they sat, or leaned, in their pews ; some few, perhaps, were
resting, after a long walk over the moors. The children, many of
them in clogs (or sabots), pattered in from the school after
service had commenced, and pattered out again before the ser-
106 THE BRONTES
mon. The sexton, with a long staff, continually walked round
in the aisles, * knobbing ' sleepers where he dare, shaking his head
at and threatening unruly children ; but when the sermon began
there was a change. Attitudes took the listening forms, eyes
were turned on the preacher. It was curious, now, to note the
expression. A rustic, untaught intelligence gleamed in their
faces ; in some, a daring, doubting, questioning look, as if they
would like to offer some defiant objection. Mr. Bronte always
addressed his hearers in extempore style. Very often he selected
a parable from one of the Gospels, which he explained in the
simplest manner sometimes going over his own words and
explaining them also, so as to be perfectly intelligible to the
lowest comprehension.
Letter 10
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, September ii///, 1833.
DEAR ELLEN, I have hitherto delayed answering your last
letter because from what you said I imagined you might be from
home. Since you were here Emily has been very ill ; her ailment
was Erysipelas in the arm, accompanied by severe bilious attacks,
and great general debility. Her arm was obliged to be cut in
order to relieve it; it is now, I am happy to say, nearly healed,
her health is, in fact, almost perfectly re-established ; the sickness
still continues to recur at intervals. 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 Miss
Nussey/ and Tabby talks a great deal more nonsense about you
than I choose to report. You must read this letter, dear Ellen,
without thinking of the writing, for I have indited it almost all
in the twilight. It is now so dark, that notwithstanding 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. All the family unite with me in wishes for your welfare.
Remember me respectfully to your mother and sisters, and supply
all those expressions of warm and genuine regard which the
increasing darkness will not permit me to insert.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
HAWORTH, 1832-1835 107
Letter 11
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, February iiM, 1834,
DEAR ELLEN, My letters are scarcely worth the postage, and
therefore I have, till now, delayed answering your last com-
munication ; but upwards of two months having elapsed since I
received it, I have at length determined to take up my pen in
reply lest your anger should be roused by my apparent negligence.
It grieved me extremely to hear of your precarious state of health.
I trust sincerely that your medical adviser is mistaken in suppos-
ing y u have any tendency to a pulmonary affection. Dear
Ellen, that would indeed be a calamity. I have seen enough of
consumption to dread it as one of the most insidious and fatal
diseases incident to humanity. But I repeat it, I hope> nay pray y
that your alarm is groundless. If you remember, I used fre-
quently to tell you at school that you were constitutionally
nervous guard against the gloomy impressions which such a
state of mind naturally produces. Take constant and regular
exercise, and all, I doubt not, will yet be well. What a remark-
able winter we have had ! Rain and wind continually, but an
almost total absence of frost and snow. Has general ill-health
been the consequence of wet weather at Birstall or not ? With
us an unusual number of deaths have lately taken place. Accord-
ing to custom I have no news to communicate, indeed I do not
write either to retail gossip or to impart solid information; my
motives for maintaining our mutual correspondence are, in the
first place, to get intelligence from you, and in the second that we
may remind each other of our separate existences ; without some
such medium of reciprocal converse, according to the nature of
things, you, who are surrounded by society and friends, would
soon forget that such an insignificant being as myself ever lived.
/, however, in the solitude of our wild little hill village, think of
my only unrelated friend, my dear ci-devant school companion
daily nay, almost hourly. Now Ellen, don't you think I have
very cleverly contrived to make up a letter out of nothing?
Good-bye, dearest. That God may bless you is the earnest
prayer of your ever faithful friend, CHARLOTTE BRONTfi.
P. S. Write to me very soon.
108 THE BRONTES
Letter 12
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, February 2oM, 1834.
DEAREST ELLEN, Your letter gave me real and heartfelt
pleasure, mingled with no small degree of astonishment. Mary
previously informed me of your departure for London, and I had
not ventured to calculate on receiving 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, placed for the first time in a situation so well calcu-
lated 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 presented to her view. Your kind, interesting,
and most welcome epistle showed me, however, that I had been
both mistaken and uncharitable in my supposition. I was greatly
amused at the tone of nonchalance which you assumed while
treating of London, and its wonders, which seem to have excited
anything rather than surprise in your mind ; did you not feel
awed while gazing at St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey ? Had
you no feeling of ardent and intense interest, when in St. James'
you saw the Palace where so many of England's kings have held
their court, and beheld the representations of their persons on the
walls? The magnificence of London has drawn exclamations ot
astonishment from travelled men, experienced in the world, its
wonders and beauties. Have you yet seen any of the great
personages whom the sitting of Parliament now detains in
London? The Duke of Wellington, Sir Robert Peel, Earl de
Grey, Mr. Stanley, Mr. O'Connell, etc. If I were you, Ellen, I
would not be anxious to spend my time in reading while in town.
Make use of your own eyes for the purpose of observation, now
and for a time at least lay aside the spectacles with which authors
would furnish us in their works. It gives me more pleasure than I
can express to hear of your renewed health. About a week before
I received yours I had written to you, supposing you to be still at
Birstall ; fearing that letter may be sent in mistake for the present
one, I have hastened to return an answer with as little delay as
possible. I shall be quite impatient, dear Ellen, till I receive
HAWORTH, 1832-1885 109
another letter from you. Pray continue to remember me. Give
my love to your sisters, and accept the kindest wishes from your
affectionate friend, C. BRONTE.
P.S. Will you be kind enough to inform me of the number of
performers in the King's Military Band ? Branwell wishes for
this information.
Letter 13
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, June 19^, 1834.
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 to me is almost apocryphal as Babylon or
Nineveh, or ancient Rome. You are withdrawing 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 because
I can read my own mind, but the minds of the rest of men and
women kind are to me as sealed volumes, hieroglyphical, which I
cannot easily either unseal or decipher. Yet time, careful study,
long acquaintance, overcome most difficulties ; 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 of human nature. Mow many after having, as they
thought, discovered the word friend in the mental volume, have
afterwards found they should have read /#/.$ friend ! I have long
seen ' friend ' in your mind, in your words, in your actions, but
now distinctly visible, and clearly written in characters that can-
not-be distrusted, I discern true friend! I am really grateful for
your mindfulness of so obscure a person as myself, and I hope the
pleasure is not altogether selfish ; I trust it is partly derived 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 display of London, with dispositions so
unchanged, hearts so uncontaminated. I see no affectation in your
letter, no trifling, no frivolous contempt of plain, and weak admira-
110 THE BRONTfiS
tion of showy persons and things. I do not say this in flattery
but in genuine sincerity. Put such an one as A. W. in the
same situation, and mark what a mighty difference there would be
in the result ! I say no more ; remember me kindly to your
excellent sisters, accept the good wishes of my Papa, Aunt,
Sisters, and Brother, and continue to spare a corner of your warm,
affectionate heart for your true and grateful friend,
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
Letter 14
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH,////)/ 4/$, 1834.
DEAR ELLEN, You will be tired of paying the postage of my
letters, but necessity must plead my excuse for their frequent
recurrence. I must thank you for your very handsome present.
The bonnet is pretty, neat, and simple, as like the giver as
possible ; it brought Ellen Nussey, with her fair quiet face, brown
eyes, and dark hair, full to my remembrance. I wish I could find
some other way to thank you for your kindness than words. The
load of obligation under which you lay me is positively over-
whelming, and I make no return. In your last you tell me to tell
you of your faults and cease flattering you. Now, really, Ellen,
how can you be so foolish ! I won't tell you of your faults,
because I don't know them. What a creature 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 upon 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, you are continually bringing forth your
goodness in the most prominent light. Then, too, there are
friends always round you who can much better discharge that
unpleasant office. I have no doubt their advice is completely at
your service; why then should I intrude mine? Let us have no
more nonsense about flattery, Ellen, if you love me. Mr. R.
Nussey is going to be married, is he? Well, his wife elect
HA WORTH, 1882-1835 111
appeared to me a clever and amiable lady, as far as I could
judge from the little I saw of her, and from your account,
Now to this 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 woodland,
speaking of past times, and suggesting to me, at least, happy
feelings, it would be smooth and easy ; but it is the living in
other people's houses, the estrangement from one's real character,
the adoption of a cold, frigid, apathetic exterior, that is painful.
Martha Taylor thought you grown less, did she ? That 's like
Martha. I am not grown a bit, but as short and dumpy as
ever. I wrote to Mary, but have as yet received no answer. You
ask me to recommend 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 gieat men, and their works
are like themselves. You know how to choose the good and
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 comedies of Shakespeare and the Don
Juan, perhaps the Cain of Byron, though the latter is a mag-
nificent poem, and read the rest fearlessly ; that must indeed be
a depraved mind which can gather evil from Henry VI 11. , Richard
III., from Macbeth, and Hamlet, and Julius C&sar. Scott's sweet,
wild, romantic poetry can do you no harm. Nor can Words-
worth's, nor Campbell's, nor Southey 's the greatest part at
least of his ; some is certainly objectionable. For history, read
Hume, Rollin, 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, Boswell's 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 Goldsmith,
and White's History of Selbornc. For divinity your brother
Henry will advise you there. I can only say adhere to standard
authors, and avoid novelty. If you can read this scrawl it will be
to the credit of your patience. With love to your sisters, believe
me to be, for ever yours, CHARLOTTE BRONT.
112 THE BRONTES
Letter 15
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, November io//&, 1834.
DEAR ELLEN, I have been a long while, a very long while
without writing to you. A letter I received from Mary Taylor
this morning reminded me of my neglect, and made me instantly
sit down to atone for it, if possible. She tells me your Aunt
Nussey, of Brookroyd, is dead, and that poor Sarah is very ill ;
for this I am truly sorry, but I hope her case is not yet without
hope. You should however remember that death, should it
happen, will undoubtedly be great gain to her. Can you give
me any particulars respecting the failure of Huliby, Brooke & Co.?
I am thus particular in my inquiries, because papa is anxious to
hear the details of a matter so seriously affecting his old friends
at Dewsbury, and because I cannot myself help feeling interested
in a misfortune, which must fall heavily on some of my late school-
fellows. Poor Leah and Maria Brooke ! In your last, dear Ellen,
you ask my opinion respecting the amusement of dancing, and
whether I thought it objectionable when indulged in for an hour
or two in parties of boys and girls. I should hesitate to express
a difference of opinion from Mr. Allbut, 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 itnamely, 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 people (who surely
may without any breach of God's commandments be allowed a
little light-heartedness), these consequences cannot follow. Ergo
(according to my manner of arguing), the amusement is at such
times perfectly innocent. Having nothing more to say, I will
conclude with the expression of my sincere and earnest attach-
ment for, Ellen, your own dear self.
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
Pray write soon ; forgive mistakes, erasures, bad writing, etc.
Farewell.
HAWORTH, 1882-1835 113
Letter 16
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, January iith, 1835.
DEAREST ELLEN, I thought it better not to answer your very
kind letter too soon, lest I should (in the present fully occupied
state of your time) appear intrusive. I am happy to inform you
papa has given me permission to accept the invitation it conveyed,
and ere long I hope once more to have the pleasure of seeing
almost the only and certainly the dearest friend I possess (out of
our own family). I leave it to you to fix the time, only requesting
you not to appoint too early a day ; let it be a fortnight or three
weeks at least from the date of the present letter. I am greatly
obliged to you for your kind offer of meeting me at Bradford,
but papa thinks that such a plan would involve uncertainty, and
be productive of trouble to you. He recommends that I should
go direct in a gig from Haworth at the time you shall determine,
or, if that day should prove unfavourable, the first subsequent
fine one. Such an arrangement would leave us both free, and if
it meets with your approbation would perhaps be the best we
could finally resolve upon. Excuse the brevity of this epistle,
dear Ellen, for I am in a great hurry, and we shall, I trust, soon
see each other face to face, which will be better than a hundred
letters. Give my respectful love to your mother and sisters,
accept the kind remembrances of all our family, and Believe
me in particular to be, your firm and faithful friend,
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
PS. You ask me to stay a month when I come, but as I do
not wish to tire you with my company, and as, besides, papa
and aunt both think a fortnight amply sufficient, I shall not
exceed that period. Farewell, dearest, dearest.
Letter 17
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, March itfh, 1835.
DEAR ELLEN, I suppose by this time you will be expecting
to hear from me. You did not fix any precise period when I
VOL i. H
114 THE BRONTfiS
should write, so I hope you will not be very angry on the score of
delay, etc. Well, here I am, as completely separated from you as
if a hundred instead of seventeen miles intervened between us. I
can neither hear you, nor see you, nor feel you, you are become a
mere thought, an unsubstantial impression on the memory which,
however, is happily incapable of erasure. My journey home was
rather melancholy, and would have been very much so, but for the
presence and conversation of my worthy companion. I found K.
a very intelligent man and really not unlike Cato (you will under-
stand the allusion). He told me the adventures of his sailor's life,
his shipwreck, and the hurricane he had witnessed in the West
Indies, with a much better flow of language than many of far
greater pretensions are masters of. I thought he appeared a little
dismayed by the wildness of the country round Haworth, and I
imagine he has carried back a pretty report of it. He was very
inquisitive, and asked several questions respecting the names of
places, directions of roads, etc., which I could not answer. I fancy
he thought me very stupid.
What do you think of the course Politics are taking? I make
this inquiry because I now think you have a wholesome interest in
the matter ; formerly you did not care greatly about it. Brougham
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 opposition
is divided, red hots, and luke warms ; and the Duke (par
excellence the Duke) and Sir Robert Peel show no sign of
insecurity, though they have already been twice beat(en) ; so
* courage, mon amie/ Heaven defend the right ! as the old
chevaliers used to say, before they joined battle Now Ellen, laugh
heartily at all this rodomontade, but you have brought it on your-
self ; don't you remember telling me to write such letters to you as
I write to Mary Taylor? Here's a specimen; hereafter should
follow a long disquisition on books, but I '11 spare you that. Give
my sincerest love to your mother and sisters. Every soul in this
house unites with me in best wishes to yourself. I am, dear Ellen,
thy friend, CHARLOTTE.
p S. Did Kelly request you to send the umbrella I left to the
Bull's Head Inn, Bradford ? Our carrier called for it on Thursday,
but it was not there. Happily it was of no great value, so it does
not much signify.
HAWORTH, 1882-1835 115
Letter 18
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, May 8M, 1835.
DEAREST ELLEN,Judging by the date of your letter pre-
viously, one month and four days intervened between the period
in which it was written and that which brought it to my hands. I
received it last Monday, and till that time it continued to lie
snugly enclosed in the umbrella at the Bull's Head Inn at Brad-
ford, our carrier having neglected to inquire for it. Poor Mr.
Buckmaster, who was only ill when you wrote, is now dead and
buried. He had a troubled sojourn in Dewsbury, but undoubtedly
he has now found rest in Heaven. Mr. T. Allbut, according to the
papers, has succeeded him. Will Miss Marianne Wooler change her
name soon ? I should suppose all cause of delay is now removed.
The Election ! The Election ! That cry has rung even amongst
our lonely hills like the blast of a trumpet ; how has it roused the
populous neighbourhood of Birstall ? Under what banner have
your brothers ranged themselves ? The Blue or the Yellow ? Use
your influence with them, entreat them, if it be necessary, on your
knees to stand by their country and religion in this day of danger.
Oh ! I wish the whole West Riding of our noble Yorkshire would
feel the necessity of exertion. Oh, how I wish Stuart Wortley,
the son of the most patriotic Patrician Yorkshire owns, would be
elected the representative of his native Province ; Lord Morpeth
was at Haworth last week, and I saw him. My opinion of his
Lordship is recorded in a letter I wrote yesterday to Mary Taylor ;
it is not worth writing over again, so I will not trouble you with
it here. Give my regards, tender and true, to your sister Mercy.
Surely Mr. Harrison is not going to leave for ever. Believe me,
my own dear Ellen, that I remain, yours with true affection,
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
P.S. Aunt and my sisters beg their kind love to you.
Letter 19
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, July 6th, 1835.
DEAREST ELLEN, I had hoped to have had the extreme plea-
sure of seeing you at Haworth this summer, but human affairs are
116 THE BRONTES
mutable, 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 I
should have to take the step sometime, 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 your-
self, dearest, at a place neither of us is unacquainted with, being
no other than the identical Roc Head mentioned 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 very sad at the thought of leaving home ; but duty
necessity these are stern mistresses, who will not be dis-
obeyed. Did I not once say, Ellen 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 29th of this month ;
the idea of being together consoles us both somewhat, and, in
truth, since I must enter a situation, * My lines have fallen in
pleasant places.' I both love and respect Miss Wooler. What did
you mean, Ellen, by saying that you knew the reason why I
wished to have a letter from your sister Mercy ? The sentence
hurt me, though I did not quite understand it. My only reason
was a desire to correspond with a person I have a regard for.
Give my love both to her and to Sarah, and Miss Nussey.
Remember me respectfully to Mrs. Nussey, and believe me, my
dearest friend, Affectionately, warmly yours, C. BRONTE.
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 117
CHAPTER VII
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD AND DEWSBURY MOOR
A DISTINGUISHED critic, when visiting Dewsbury to address
the Bronte Society, 1 complained that he could find but little
to guide him as to Charlotte Bronte's association with the
place. That most just complaint may be extended by the
biographer to Roe Head. Many pupils who were at
school at both places when Charlotte Bronte was governess
there, were proud to boast of it in after life, but not one
would seem to have been of the writing fraternity, and so
we are thrown back entirely on Charlotte's letters for any
account of those three years of but very moderate happi-
ness, eilthough it is clear that the headmistress, Margaret
Wooler, and her sisters treated her entirely as a friend,
and that her evenings at least, when free from the strain
of teaching, were not disagreeably passed with these
ladies. One glimpse we have from Mary Taylor, who
wrote thus to Mrs. Gaskell : 2
I heard that she had gone as a teacher to Miss Wooler's.
I went to see her, and asked how she could give so Ma
much for so little money, when she could live without Taylor's
it. She owned that, after clothing herself and Anne, Narrati .
there was nothing left, though she had hoped to be able to save
something. She confessed it was not brilliant, but 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
1 ' The Challenge of the Brontes.' An Address delivered at the Annual Meeting of
the Bionte Society at Dewsbury, March 28, 1903, by Edmund Gosse. Bronte Society's
Transactions, Part XIV. Also thirty copies printed by the author for private
distribution.
a Mrs. Gaskell's Life of Charlotte Bronte^ Haworth edition, pp. 140-142.
118 THE BRONTES
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.
From that time her imaginations became gloomy or fright-
ful ; she could not help it, nor help thinking. 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 :
4 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 1 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 repeated a verse of Isaiah, which she
said had inspired them, and which I have forgotten. Whether
the lines were recollected or invented, the tale proves such
habits of sedentary, monotonous solitude of thought as would
have shaken a feebler mind.
Cowper'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 de-
pression was the result of his faults, it was in no other respect
different from hers. Both were not mental but physical illnesses.
She was well aware of this, and would ask how that mended
matters, as the feeling was there all the same, and was not re-
moved by knowing the cause. She had a larger religious tolera-
tion than a person would have who had never questioned, and her
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 a view
of getting me for a partisan), and that I had said that that was
between God and me. Emily (who was lying on the hearthrug)
exclaimed, * That's right.' This was all I ever heard Emily say
on religious subjects. Charlotte was free from religious depres-
sion 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
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 119
(or whatever organ it is that inflicts such misery in sedentary
people) will let them. I have heard her condemn Socinianism,
Calvinism, and many other ' isms ' inconsistent with Church of
Englandism. I used to wonder at her acquaintance with such
subjects.
But it is to the letters to her friend Ellen Nussey alone
that we are able to turn for any real knowledge of this
period :
Letter 20
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
ROE HEAD, May xoM, 1836.
MY DEAREST ELLEN, Just now I am not at all comfortable;
for if you are thinking of me at all at this moment I know you
are thinking of me as an ungrateful and indifferent being. You
imagine I do not appreciate the kind, constant heart whose
feelings were revealed in your last letter ; but I do. Why then
did I not answer it ? you will say. Because I was waiting to
receive a letter from Miss Wooler that I might know whether or
not I should have time enough to give you an invitation to
Haworth, before the School reopened, but Miss Wooler's letter,
when it came, summoned me immediately away, and I had no
time to write. Do you forgive me? I know you do ; you could
not persevere in anger against me long ; if you would, I defy you.
You seemed kindly apprehensive about my health ; I am perfectly
well now, and never was very ill. I was struck with the note you
sent me with the umbrella; it showed a degree of interest about
my concerns, which 1 have no right to expect from any earthly
creature. I won't play the hypocrite, I won't answer your kind,
gentle, friendly questions in the way you wish me to. Don't deceive
yourself by imagining that I have a bit of real goodness about me.
My Darling, if I were like you, I should have to face Zionward,
though prejudice and error might occasionally fling a mist over
the glorious vision before me, for with all your single-hearted
sincerity you have your faults, but I am not like you. If you knew
my thoughts ; the dreams that absorb me; and the fiery imagina-
tion that at times eats me up and makes me feel society, as it is,
wretchedly insipid, you would pity me and I dare say despise me.
But, Ellen, I know the treasures of the Bible, and love and adore
120 THE BRONTfiS
them. I can see the Well of Life in all its clearness and bright-
ness ; but when I stoop down to drink of the pure waters, they fly
from my lips as if I were Tantalus. I have written like a fool.
Remember me to your mother and sisters. Good-bye.
CHARLOTTE.
Come and see me soon ; don't think me mad. This is a silly
letter.
Letter 21
TO ELLEN NUSSEV
ROE HEAD.
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; it contains sentiments unrestrained by
human motives, prompted by the pure God himself; it expresses
a noble sympathy which I do not, cannot deserve. Ellen, Religion
has indeed elevated your character. I thank you with energy
for this kindness. I will no longer shrink from your questions.
I do wish to be better than I am. I pray fervently sometimes
to be made so. I have stings of conscience visitings of remorse
glimpses of Holy, inexpressible things, which formerly I used
to be a stranger to. It may all die away, I may be in utter
midnight, but I implore a Merciful Redeemer that if this be the
real dawn of the Gospel, it may still brighten to perfect day.
Do not mistake me, Ellen, do not think I am good, I only wish
to be so, I only hate my former flippancy and forwardness. O!
I am no better than I ever 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 enjoy-
ment and be tottering on the verge of the grave, if 1 could only
thereby ensure the prospect of reconcilement to God and Re-
demption through His Son's merits. I never was exactly care-
less of these matters, but I have always taken a clouded and
repulsive view of them ; and now, if possible, the clouds are
gathering darker, and a more oppressive despondency weighs
continually 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 wretched and hopeless as ever. This very night I will
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 121
pray as you wish me. May the Almighty hear me compassion-
ately ! and I humbly trust He will for you will strengthen my
polluted petition with your own pure requests. All is bustle and
confusion round me, the ladies pressing with their sums and their
lessons. Miss Wooler is at Rouse Mill. She has said every day
this week, I wonder Miss Ellen does not come. 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 your brother George as he whirled
past toss your little packet over the wall. I dare write no more,
I am neglecting my duty. Love to your mother and both your
sisters. Thank you again a thousand times for your kindness
farewell, my blessed Ellen, CHARLOTTE.
Letter 22
TO ELLEN NUSSEV
ROE HEAD.
Weary with a day's hard work, during which an unusual degree
of stupidity has been displayed by my promising pupils, I am
sitting down to write a few hurried lines to my dear Ellen.
Excuse me if I say nothing but nonsense, for my mind is
exhausted and dispirited. It is a stormy evening, and the wind
is uttering a continual moaning sound that makes me feel very
melancholy. At such times, in such moods as these, Ellen, 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, your pale,
marble-like face, looking so serene and kind 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 Ellen Nussey.
If I like people it is my nature to tell them so, and I am not afraid
of offering incense to your vanity. It is from religion you derive
your chief charm, and may its influence always preserve you as
pure, as unassuming, and as benevolent in thought and deed as
you are now. What am I compared to you ? I feel my own utter
122 THE BRONTES
worthlcssness when I make the comparison. I am a very coarse,
commonplace wretch, Ellen. I have some qualities which make
me very miserable, some feelings that you can have no participa-
tion in, that few, very few people in the world can understand.
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 those who see the explosion despise me, and I hate myself
for days afterwards. We are going to have prayers, so I can
write no more of this trash, yet it is too true. I must send this
note for want of a better. I don't know what to say. I have just
received your epistle and what accompanied it. I can't tell what
should induce your sisters to waste their 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.
Give my love to both your sisters, and my thanks. The bonnet
is too handsome for me. I dare write no more. When shall we
meet again ? C. BRONTE.
Letter 23
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
ROE HEAD.
MY DEAR ELLEN, 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 mel^e of the Repetitions.
I was hearing the terrible fifth section when your note arrived.
But Miss Wooler says I must go to Gomersall next Friday as she
promised for me on Whit-Sunday ; and on Sunday morning I
will join you at church if it be convenient, and stay at Rydings
till Monday morning. There's a free and easy proposal ! Miss
Wooler has driven me to it ; she says her character is implicated !
I am very sorry to hear that your mother has been ill, I do hope
she is better now, and that all the rest of the family are well.
Will you be so kind as to deliver the accompanying note to Miss
Taylor when you see her at church on Sunday. Dear Ellen,
excuse the most horrid scrawl ever penned by mortal hands.
Remember me to your mother and sisters, and believe me,
Ellen Nussey's friend, CHARLOTTE.
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 128
Letter 24
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
ROE HEAD, 1836,
Last Saturday afternoon being in one of my sentimental
humours, I sat down and wrote to you such a note as I ought to
have written to none but Mary, who is nearly as mad as myself;
to-day, when I glanced it over, it occurs to me that Ellen's calm eye
would look at this with scorn, so I determined to concoct some
production more fit for the inspection of common-sense. I will
not tell you all I think and feel about you, Ellen. I will preserve
unbroken that reserve which alone enables me to maintain a decent
character for judgment ; but for that, I should have long ago
been set down by all who know me as a Frenchified fool. You
have been very kind to me of late, and gentle, and you have
spared me those little sallies of ridicule, which, owing to my
miserable and wretched touchiness of character, used formerly to
make me wince, as if I had been touched with 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.
I 'm an idiot ! I am informed that your brother George was at
Mirfield Church last Sunday. Of course I did not see him, though
guessed his presence because I heard him cough ; my short-
sightedness makes my ears very acute. The Miss Woolers told
me he was there. They were quite smitten ; he was the sole
subject of their conversation during the whole of the subsequent
evening. Miss Eliza described to me every part of his dress, and
likewise that of a gentleman who accompanied him, with astonish-
ing minuteness. I laughed most heartily at her graphic details,
and so would you if you had been with me.
Ellen, I wish I could live with you always. I begin to cling to
you more fondly than ever I did. If we had but a cottage and a
competency of our own, I do think we might live and love on till
Death without being dependent on any third person for happiness.
Farewell, my own dear Ellen.
124 THE BRONTES
Letter 25
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, , 1836.
MY DEAR ELLEN, Every day during the last fortnight I have
been expecting to hear from you, but seeing that no intelligence
arrives, I begin to get a little anxious. When will you come? But
three weeks now remain of the holidays, and you seem resolved to
defer your visit till nearly the last. I hope no whim has got into
your head which makes you consider your presence indispensable
at home. I do think they could do without you for a little while ;
and above all and seriously, Ellen, I hope no little touch of anger
is still lingering in your mind. Write to me very soon, and dispel
my uncertainty, or I shall get impatient, almost irritable. When
I was at Huddersficld, whom do you think I saw? Amelia
and her sister, and mamma, papa, and brother were all at the
vicarage when we arrived there on Friday. They were wondrously
gracious. Amelia was almost enthusiastic in her professions of
friendship ; she is taller, thinner, paler, and more delicate-looking
than she used to be, very pretty still, very ladylike and polished,
but spoilt, utterly spoilt by the most hideous affectation. I wish
she would copy her sister, who is indeed an example that affable,
unaffected manners and a sweet disposition may fascinate power-
fully without the aid of beauty. We spent the Tuesday at Lascelles
Hall, and had on the whole a very pleasant day. Miss Amelia
changed her character every half-hour ; now she assumed the
sweet sentimentalist, now the reckless rattler. Sometimes the
question was, ' Shall I look prettiest lofty ? ' and again, * Would
not tender familiarity suit me better?' At one moment she
affected to inquire after her old school-acquaintance, the next she
was detailing anecdotes of high life. At last I got so sick of this,
I turned for relief to her brother ; but W., though now grown a
tall, well-built man, is an incorrigible booby. From him I could
not extract a word of sense.
Papa, aunt, and all the rest unite in kind regards to you.
Remember me affectionately and respectfully to your mother and
sisters. I hope the former is now quite well. Write soon, very
soon, fix the day, and believe me, Yours truly,
CHARLOTTE.
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 125
Letter 26 ,
TO ELLEN NUSSEY, CLEVELAND ROW, LONDON
Rob HhAD, 1836.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I have long been waiting an opportunity
of sending a letter to you, as you wished, but as no such oppor-
tunity offers itself, I have at length determined to write by post,
fearing if I delayed any longer you would attribute my tardiness
to indifference. I can scarcely realise the distance that lies
between, or the length of time that may elapse before we meet
again. Now, Ellen, I have no news to tell you, no changes to
communicate. My life since I saw you last has passed on as
monotonously and unvaryingly 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 a call from the Taylors, or by
meeting with a pleasant new book. T/ie Life of Oberlin and
Leigh Richmond's Domestic Portraiture are the last of this
description I have perused. The latter work strongly attracted,
and strangely fascinated, my attention. Beg, borrow, or steal it
without delay; and read the Memoir of Wilberforcc, that short
record of a brief, uneventful life, I shall never forget ; it is beauti-
ful, not on account of the incidents it details, but because of the
simple narration it gives of the life and death of a young, talented,
and sincere Christian. Get the book, Ellen (I wish I had it to
give you), read it, and tell me what you think of it. Yesterday I
heard you had been ill since you were in London. What has
been your complaint? Are you happier than you were? Try to
reconcile your mind to circumstances, and exert the quiet forti-
tude of which I know you are not destitute. Your absence leaves
a sort of vacancy in my feeling which nothing has yet offered
of sufficient interest to supply. I do not forget ten o'clock, I
remember it every night, and if a sincere petition for your welfare
will do you any good, you will be benefited. I know the Bible
says, ' The prayer of the Righteous availeth much/ and I am not
righteous, nevertheless I believe God despises no supplication that
is uttered in sincerity. Give my most affectionate love to your
sister, and a kiss for me to your little favourite niece Georgina,
whom I never saw, but whom I almost love in idea for her aunt's
sake. My own dear Ellen, good-bye ; I can write no more, for I
am called to a less pleasant avocation. Do return before winter.
126 THE BRONTfiS
I don't know how I shall get over next half-year without the hope
of seeing you. Write soon, a long, long letter. Excuse my
scrawl.
Letter 27
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Monday Morning, &OE HEAD.
Return me a scrap by the bearer if it be only a single line, to
satisfy me that you have got your bag safely. I met your brother
George on the road this afternoon. I did not know it was he until
after he was passed, and then Anne told me he would think me
amazingly stupid in not moving. Can't help it. I wish I could
come to Brookroyd for a single night, but I don't like to ask
Miss Wooler. She is at Dewsbury, and I am alone at this
moment, eleven o'clock on Tuesday night. I wish you were here.
C. B.
In the Christmas holidays of the year 1836 she wrote
to Robert Southey, the Poet Laureate, a letter which I
regret does not appear to have been preserved. Southey's
reply was printed in his son's Life l of him :
Mrs. Gaskell, who prints only a portion of it, tells us
that she was with Charlotte at the time Mr. Cuthbert
Southey's letter arrived asking permission to insert this
letter in his father's Life. She said to Mrs. Gaskell,
' Mr. Southey's letter was kind and admirable ; a little
stringent, but it did me good. 1 I reproduce the letter as
it appears in the biography. A footnote states that ' the
lady to whom this and the next letter are addressed is
now well known as a prose-writer of no common powers/
Letter 28
TO
KESWICK, March 1837.
MADAM, You will probably, ere this, have given up all
expectation of receiving an answer to your letter of December 29.
1 The Life and Correspondence of the late Robert Southey, in six volumes, edited by his
son, the Rev. Charles Cuthbert Southey. Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1850.
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 127
I was on the borders of Cornwall when the letter was written ;
it found me a fortnight afterwards in Hampshire. During my
subsequent movements in different parts of the country, and a
tarriance of three busy weeks in London, I had no leisure for
replying to it ; and now that I am once more at home, and am
clearing off the arrears of business which have accumulated during
a long absence, it has lain unanswered till the last of a numerous
file, not from disrespect or indifference to its contents, but because,
in truth, it is not an easy task to answer it, nor a pleasant one to
cast a damp over the high spirits and the generous desires of youth.
What you are I can only infer from your letter, which appears to
be written in sincerity, though I may suspect that you have used
a fictitious signature. Be that as it may, the letter and the verses
bear the same stamp ; and I can well understand the state of
mind they indicate. What I am you might have learnt by such
of my publications as have come into your hands ; and had you
happened to be acquainted with me, a little personal knowledge
would have tempered your enthusiasm. You might have had
your ardour in some degree abated by seeing a poet in the decline
of life, and witnessing the effect which age produces upon our
hopes and aspirations ; yet I am neither a disappointed man nor
a discontented one, and you would never have heard from me any
chilling sermons upon the text 'All is vanity.'
It is not my advice that you have asked as to the direction of
your talents, but my opinion of them ; and yet the opinion may
be worth little, and the advice much. You evidently possess, and
in no inconsiderable degree, what Wordsworth calls the 'faculty
of verse.' I am not depreciating it when I say that in these times
it is not rare. Many volumes of poems are now published every
year without attracting public attention, any one of which, if it
had appeared half a century ago, would have obtained a high
reputation for its author. Whoever, therefore, is ambitious of
distinction in this way ought to be prepared for disappointment.
But it is not with a view to distinction that you should cultivate
this talent, if you consult your own happiness. I, who have made
literature my profession, and devoted my life to it, and have never
for a moment repented of the deliberate choice, think myself,
nevertheless, bound in duty to caution every young man who
applies as an aspirant to me for encouragement and advice against
taking so perilous a course. You will say that a woman has no
need of such a caution ; there can be no peril in it for her. In a
128 THE BRONTfiS
certain sense this is true ; but there is a danger of which I would,
with all kindness and all earnestness, warn you. The day dreams
in which you habitually indulge are likely to induce a distempered
state of mind ; and, in proportion as all the ordinary uses of the
world seem to you flat and unprofitable, you will be unfitted for
them without becoming fitted for anything else. Literature
cannot be the business of a woman's life, and it ought not to be.
The more she is engaged in her proper duties, the less leisure will
she have for it, even as an accomplishment and a recreation. To
those duties you have not yet been called, and when you are you
will be less eager for celebrity. You will not seek in imagination
for excitement, of which the vicissitudes of this life, and the
anxieties from which you must not hope to be exempted, be your
state what it may, will bring with them but too much.
But do not suppose that I disparage the gift which you possess,
nor that I would discourage you from exercising it. I only exhort
you so to think of it, and so to use it, as to render it conducive to
your own permanent good. Write poetry for its own sake ; not
in a spirit of emulation, and not with a view to celebrity ; the less
you aim at that the more likely you will be to deserve and finally
to obtain it. So written, it is wholesome both for the heart and
soul ; it may be made the surest means, next to religion, of
soothing the mind, and elevating it. You may embody in it your
best thoughts and your wisest feelings, and in so doing discipline
and strengthen them.
Farewell, madam. It is not because I have forgotten that I was
once young myself, that I write to you in this strain ; but because
I remember it. You will neither doubt my sincerity, nor my good-
will ; and, however ill what has here been said may accord with
your present views and temper, the longer you live the more
reasonable it will appear to you. Though I may be an un-
gracious adviser, you will allow me, therefore, to subscribe myself,
with the best wishes for your happiness here and hereafter, your
true friend, ROBERT SOUTHEY.
The original of this letter was sold at Sotheby's Sale
Rooms seventy years later. On the cover were the words
in Charlotte Bronte's handwriting ' Southey's advice to
be kept for ever. My twenty-first birthday. Roe Head,
April 21, 1837.' Here is her reply:
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 129
Letter 29
TO ROBERT SOUTHEY
ROE HEAD, March i6M, 1837.
I cannot rest till I have answered your letter, even
though by addressing you a second time I should appear a little
intrusive ; but I must thank you for the kind and wise advice you
have condescended to give me. I had not ventured to hope for
such a reply ; so considerate in its tone, so noble in its spirit.
I must suppress what I feel, or you will think me foolishly
enthusiastic.
At the first perusal of your letter I felt only shame and regret
that I had ever ventured to trouble you with my crude rhapsody ;
I felt a painful heat rise to my face when I thought of the quires
of paper I had covered with what once gave me so much delight,
but which now was only a source of confusion ; but after I had
thought a little, and read it again and again, the prospect seemed
to clear. You do not forbid me to write ; you do not say that
what I write is utterly destitute of merit. You only warn me
against the folly of neglecting real duties for the sake of imagina-
tive pleasures ; of writing for the love of fame ; for the selfish
excitement of emulation. You kindly allow me to write poetry
for its own sake, provided I leave undone nothing which I ought
to do, in order to pursue that single, absorbing, exquisite gratifica-
tion. I am afraid, sir, you think me very foolish. I know the
first letter I wrote to you was all senseless trash from beginning
to end ; but I am not altogether the idle, dreaming being it would
seem to denote.
My father is a clergyman of limited though competent income,
and I am the eldest of his children. He expended quite as much
in my education as he could afford in justice to the rest. I
thought it therefore my duty, when I left school, to become a
governess. In that capacity I find enough to occupy my thoughts
all day long, and my head and hands too, without having a
moment's time for one dream of the imagination. In the evenings,
I confess, I do think, but I never trouble any one else with my
thoughts. I carefully avoid any appearance of preoccupation 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 counselled me, just in the wise arid friendly
VOL. i. I
180 THE BRONTES
tone of your letter I have endeavoured not only attentively to
observe all the duties a woman ought to fulfil, but to feel deeply
interested in them. I don't always succeed, for sometimes when
I 'm teaching or sewing I would rather be reading or writing ; but
I try to deny myself ; and my father's approbation amply rewarded
me for the privation. Once more allow me to thank you with
sincere gratitude. I trust I shall never more feel ambitious to see
my name in print ; if the wish should rise, I '11 look at Southey's
letter, and suppress it. It is honour enough for me that I have
written to him, and received an answer. That letter is conse-
crated ; no one shall ever see it but papa and my brother and
sisters. Again I thank you. This incident, I suppose, will be
renewed no more ; if I live to be an old woman, I shall remember
it thirty years hence as a bright dream. The signature which
you suspected of being fictitious is my real name. Again, there-
fore, I must sign myself C BRONTE.
P.S. Pray, sir, excuse me for writing to you a second time ; I
could not help writing, partly to tell you how thankful I am for
your kindness, and partly to let you know that your advice shall
not be wasted, however sorrowfully and reluctantly it may at first
be followed. C. B.
Letter 30
TO CHARLOTTE BRONTfi
KESWICK, March 22nd, 1837.
DEAR MADAM, Your letter has given me great pleasure, and
I should not forgive myself if 1 did not tell you so. You have
received admonition as considerately and as kindly as it was
given. Let me now request that, if you ever should come to
these Lakes while I am living here, you will let me see you. You
would then think of me afterwards with the more good-will,
because you would perceive that there is neither severity nor
moroseness in the state of mind to which years and observation
have brought me.
It is, by God's mercy, in our power to attain a degree of self-
government, which is essential to our own happiness, and contri-
butes 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 can be given you) : your moral
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 181
and spiritual improvement will then keep pace with the culture of
your intellectual powers.
And now, madam, God bless you !
Farewell, and believe me to be your sincere friend,
ROBERT SOUTHEY.
Meanwhile Branwell Bronte had been cherishing similar
ambitions for literary fame. There is one letter of his or
a fragment of a letter, that tells of his art ambitions.
Letter 31
TO THE SECRETARY, ROYAL ACADEMY OF ARTS
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 Secretary to the Institution, an answer to the questions
When am I to present my drawings?
At what time?
and especially,
Can I do it in August or September?
Your obedient servant, BRANWELL BRONTE.
Branwell never seems to have studied at the Royal
Academy. He went up to London, but soon returned to
Haworth, and had lessons in portrait - painting from
William Robinson of Leeds. This was in 1835. In that
year we have the first external glimpse of his literary
ambitions. In the History of the Publishing House of
Blackwood, by Mrs. Oliphant, the famous novelist, there
are three letters from Branwell. 1
Branwell is only eighteen years old when he addresses
a long letter to the editor of Blackwood 's Magazine with
the words, * SIR, READ WHAT I WRITE,' in large letters on
his opening page.
1 See Annals of a Publishing House, William Blackwood and His Sons, Their
Magazine and Friends, by Mrs. Oliphant, 2 vols. (W. Blackwood & Sons, 1897). I
have to thank the courtesy of the present Mr. William Blackwood for permission to
publish these three Branwell letters.
182 THE BRONTfiS
Letter 32
TO THE EDITOR OF * BLACK WOOD'S MAGAZINE*
HAWORTH, NEAR BRADFORD,
YORKS., December 1835.
And would to Heaven you would believe in me, for then you
would attend to and act upon it !
I have addressed you twice before, and now I do it again. But
it is not from affected hypocrisy that I begin my letter with the
name of James Hogg ; for the writings of that man in your
numbers, his speeches in your Nodes, when I was a child, laid a
hold on my mind which succeeding years have consecrated into a
most sacred feeling. I cannot express, though you can under-
stand, the heavenliness of associations connected with such articles
as Professor Wilson's, read and re-read while a little child, with
all their poetry of language and divine flights into that visionary
region of imagination which one very young would believe
reality, and which one entering into manhood would look back
upon as a glorious dream. I speak so, sir, because as a child
1 Blackwood ' formed my chief delight, and I feel certain that no
child before enjoyed reading as I did, because none ever had such
works as The Noctes, Christmas Dreams, Christopher in his
Sporting Jacket to read. And even now, * Millions o' reasonable
creatures at this hour na', no at this hour,' etc. ' Long, long ago
seems the time when we danced hand in hand with our golden-
haired sister, whom all who looked on loved. Long, long ago,
the day on which she died. That hour so far more dreadful than
any hour than can darken us on earth, when she, her coffin and
that velvet pall descended, and descended slowly, slowly into the
horrid clay, and we were borne deathlike, and wishing to die, out
of the churchyard that from that moment we thought we could
never enter more.' Passages like these, sir (and when that last
was written my sister died) passages like these, read then and re-
membered now, afford feelings which, I repeat, I cannot describe.
But one of those who roused these feelings is dead, and neither
from himself nor yourself shall I hear him speak again. I quiver
for his death, because to me he was a portion of feelings which I
suppose nothing can rouse hereafter : because to you he was a
contributor of sterling originality, and in the Nodes a subject for
your unequalled writing. He and others like him gave your
Magazine the peculiar character which made it famous ; as these
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 183
men die it will decay unless their places are supplied by others
like them. Now, sir, to you I appear writing with conceited
assurance : but / am not ; for I know myself so far as to believe
in my own originality, and on that ground to desire admittance
into your ranks. And do not wonder that I demand so de-
terminedly : for the remembrances I spoke of have fixed you and
your Magazine in such a manner upon my mind that the idea of
striving to aid another periodical is horribly repulsive. My resolu-
tion is to devote my ability to you, and for God's sake, till you
see whether or not I can serve you, do not coldly refuse my aid.
All, sir, that I desire of you is : that in answer to this letter you
would request a specimen or specimens of my writing, and I even
wish that you would name the subject on which you would wish me
to write. In letters previous to this I have perhaps spoken too
openly in respect to the extent of my powers. But I did so
because I determined to say what I believed. I know that I am
not one of the wretched writers of the day. I know that I
possess strength to assist you beyond some of your own contri-
butors ; but I wish to make you the judge in this case and give
you the benefit of its decision.
Now, sir, do not act like a commonplace person, but like a man
willing to examine for himself. Do not turn from the native
truth of my letters, but prove me ; and if I do not stand the proof,
I will not further press myself on you. If I do stand it why
You have lost an able writer in James Hogg, and God grant you
you may get one in PATRICK BRANWELL BRONTE.
This letter was unanswered, as hundreds of such letters
from youthful aspirants fail of answers to-day. Four
months later came another letter inscribed with large
printed characters * Sir, Read Now At Least.' Mrs.
Oliphant suggests that Mr. Robert Blackwood probably
thought the writer was crazy.
Letter 33
TO THE EDITOR OF ' BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE*
HAWORTH, April %th, 1836.
The affair which accompanies my letter is certainly sent for
insertion in * Blackwood ' as a Specimen which, whether bad or
184 THE BRONTES
good, I earnestly desire you to look over ; it may be disagree-
able, but you will thus KNOW whether, in putting it into the
fire, you would gain or lose. It would now be impudent in me
to speak of my powers, since in five minutes you can tell whether
or not they are fudge or nonsense. But this I know, that if they
are such, I have no intention of stooping under them. New
powers I will get if I can, and provided I keep them, you, sir,
shall see them.
But don't think, sir, that I write nothing but Miseries. My
day is far too much in the morning for such continual shadow.
Nor think either (and this I entreat) that I wish to deluge you
with poetry. I send it because it is soon read and comes from
the heart. If it goes to yours, print it, and write to me on the
subject of contribution. Then I will send prose. But if what I
now send is worthless, what I have said has only been conceit and
folly, yet CONDEMN NOT UNHEARD.
Letter 34
TO THE EDITOR OF ' BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE*
<)th January 1837.
In a former letter I hinted that I was in possession of some-
thing, the design of which, whatever might be its execution, would
be superior to that of any series of articles which has yet appeared
in BlackwoocTs Magazine. But being prose, of course, and of
great length, as well as peculiar in character, a description of it
by letter would be quite impossible. So surely a journey of three
hundred miles shall not deter me from a knowledge of myself
and a hope of utterance into the open world.
Now, sir, all I ask you is to permit this interview, and in
answer to this letter to say that you will see me, were it only
for one half-hour. The fault be mine if you have reason to repent
your permission.
Now, is the trouble of writing a single line to outweigh the
certainty of doing good to a fellow-creature and the possibility of
doing good to yourself? Will you still so wearisomely refuse me
a word when you can neither know what you refuse nor whom
you are refusing ? Do you think your Magazine so perfect that
no addition to its power would be either possible or desirable ?
Is it pride which actuates you or custom or prejudice? Be a
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 185
man, sir ! and think no more of these things. Write to me :
tell me that you will receive a visit ; and rejoicingly will I take
upon myself the labour, which if it succeed, will be an advantage
both to you and me, and if it fail, will still be an advantage,
because I shall then be assured of the impossibility of suc-
ceeding.
Mrs. Oliphant tells us that not one of these letters was
ever answered, but that in spite of the chilling reception
Branwell wrote again in September 1842, * begging most
respectfully to offer the accompanying lines for insertion
in Blackwood's Edinbtirgh Magazine'
Meanwhile Branwell was writing to Wordsworth, but it
is probable with even less success :
Letter 35
TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
HAWORTH, NEAR BRADFORD,
YORKSHIRE,/tff/d77 JQ///, 1837.
Sir, I most earnestly entreat you to read and pass your
judgment upon what I have sent you, because from the day of
my birth to this the nineteenth year of my life I have lived
among secluded hills, where I could neither know what I was or
what I could do. I read for the same reason that I ate or drank,
because it was a real craving of nature. I wrote on the same
principle as I spoke out of the impulse and feelings of the mind ;
nor could I help it, for what came, came out, and there was the
end of it. For as to self-conceit, that could not receive food from
flattery, since to this hour not half-a-dozen people in the world
know that I have ever penned a line.
But a change has taken place now, sir ; and I am arrived at an
age wherein I must do something for myself; the powers I
possess must be exercised to a definite end, and as I don't know
them myself I must ask of others what they are worth. Yet
there is not one here to tell me ; and still, if they are worthless,
time will henceforth be too precious to be wasted on them.
Do pardon me, sir, that I have ventured to come before one
whose works I have most loved in our literature, and who most
has been with me a divinity of the mind, laying before him one
136 THE BRONTES
of my writings, and asking of him a judgment of its contents.
I must come before some one from whose sentence there is no
appeal ; and such a one is he who has developed the theory of
poetry as well as its practice, and both in such a way as to claim
a place in the memory of a thousand years to come.
My aim, sir, is to push out into the open world, and for this I
trust not poetry alone ; that might launch the vessel, but could
not bear her on. Sensible and scientific prose, bold and vigorous
efforts in my walk in life, would give a further title to the notice
of the world ; and then again poetry ought to brighten and crown
that name with glory. But nothing of all this can be ever begun
without means, and as I don't possess these I must in every shape
strive to gain them. Surely, in this day, when there is not a
writing poet worth a sixpence, the field must be open, if a better
man can step forward.
What I send you is the Prefatory Scene of a much longer
subject, in which I have striven to develop strong passions and
weak principles struggling with a high imagination and acute
feelings, till, as youth hardens towards age, evil deeds and short
enjoyments end in mental misery and bodily ruin. Now, to
send you the whole of this would be a mock upon your patience ;
what you see does not even pretend to be more than the descrip-
tion of an imaginative child. But read it, sir; and, as you would
hold a light to one in utter darkness as you value your own
kind-heartedness return me an answer, if but one word, telling
me whether I should write on, or write no more. Forgive undue
warmth, because my feelings in this matter cannot be cool ; and
believe me, sir, with deep respect, your really humble servant,
P. B. BRONTE.
Letter 36
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Roi' HEAD, February 2o///, 1837.
I read your letter with dismay, Ellen what shall I do without
you? Why are we so to be denied each other's society? It is
an inscrutable fatality. I long to be with you because it seems
as if two or three days or weeks spent in your company would
beyond measure strengthen me in the enjoyment of those feelings
which I have so lately begun to cherish. You first pointed out
to me that way in which I am so feebly endeavouring to travel,
GOVERNESS AT ROE HEAD 187
and now I cannot keep you by my side, I must proceed sorrow-
fully alone.
Why are we to be divided? Surely, Ellen, it must be because
we are in danger of loving each other too well of losing sight of
the Creator in idolatry of the creature. At first I could not say,
* Thy will be done/ I felt rebellious ; but I know it was wrong
to feel so. Being left a moment alone this morning, I prayed
fervently to be enabled to resign myself to every decree of God's
will though it should be dealt forth with a far severer hand than
the present disappointment. Since then, I have felt calmer and
humbler and consequently happier. Last Sunday I took up my
Bible in a gloomy frame of mind ; I began to read ; a feeling
stole over me such as I have not known for many long years a
sweet, placid sensation like those that I remember used to visit
me when I was a little child, and on Sunday evenings in summer
stood by the open window reading the life of a certain French
nobleman who attained a purer and higher degree of sanctity
than has been known since the days of the early Martyrs. I
thought of my own Ellen I wished she had been near me that
I might have told her how happy I was, how bright and glorious
the pages of God's holy word seemed to me. But the ' foretaste'
passed away, and earth and sin returned. I must see you before
you go, Ellen ; if you cannot come to Roe Head I will contrive
to walk over to Brookroyd, provided you will let me know the
time of your departure. Should you not be at home at Easter, I
dare not promise to accept your mother's and sisters' invitation.
I should be miserable at Brookroyd without you, yet I would
contrive to visit them for a few hours if I could not for a few days.
I love them for your sake. I have written this note at a venture.
When it will reach you I know not, but I was determined not to
let slip an opportunity for want of being prepared to embrace it.
Farewell ; may God bestow on you all His blessings. My darling
Farewell. Perhaps you may return before midsummer do
you think you possibly can? I wish your brother John knew
how unhappy I am ; he would almost pity me.
C. BRONTE.
The next letter is from Dewsbury Moor whither Miss
Wooler's school was now removed. The new school was
in a house that has had interesting associations. Heald's
House, Dewsbury Moor, had been used by the followers
188 THE BRONTES
of George Fox, the Quaker, as a meeting-place in an
earlier period, and later it was the birthplace of the Rev.
W. M. Heald, the clergyman who is supposed to have
possessed many of the characteristics of the Rev. Cyril
Hall of Shirley. ' Dewsbury is a poisonous place for me,'
was Charlotte Bronte's comment long afterwards.
Letter 37
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
DEWSBURY MOOR, April ind, 1837.
DEAR, DEAR ELLEN, I should have written to you a week ago,
but my time has of late been so wholly taken up that till now I
have really not had an opportunity of answering your last letter.
I assure you I feel the kindness of so early a reply to my late,
tardy correspondence it gave me a sting of self-reproach. A
day or two after I received your last letter, I took a walk over to
Brookroyd for the purpose of seeing your sister Mercy, who, you
will have heard, has been very ill. I found her much better, and
altogether occupied with her poultry-yard, dove-cote, hen-coop,
and more especially a batch of nearly-hatched chickens. Mercy
has a kindness of heart about her which I like. Your sister A.
seemed very dejected. Your mother I thought in somewhat
better spirits than usual. All were anxious for your return. The
Taylors have got home after their Welsh tour. They spent three
weeks at Aberystwyth on the coast. I have not seen Mary since,
but Martha rode over a few days ago to give me an account of
their proceedings, and r rom what she said of her sister, I fear her
health is not materially improved. The medical men, however,
are of opinion that her complaints do not arise from disease in the
lungs, but from a disordered stomach. This seems to afford
ground for hope. My sister Emily is gone into a situation as
teacher in a large school of near forty pupils, near Halifax. I
have had one letter from her since her departure ; it gives an
appalling account of her duties hard labour from six in the
morning until near eleven at night, with only one half-hour of
exercise between. This is slavery. I fear she will never stand it.
It gives me sincere pleasure, my dear Ellen, to learn that you have
at last found a few associates of congenial minds. I cannot con-
ceive a life more dreary than that passed amidst sights, sounds,
GOVERNESS AT DEWSBURY MOOR 139
and companions all alien to the nature within us. From the
tenour of your letter it seems your mind remains fixed as it ever
was ; in no wise dazzled by novelty or warped by evil example.
I am thankful for it. I could not help smiling at the paragraphs
which related to ; there was in them a touch of genuine,
unworldly simplicity. Ellen, depend upon it, all people have their
dark side though some possess the power of throwing a fair veil
over the defects ; close acquaintance slowly removes the screen,
and one by one the blots appear, till at length we sometimes see
the pattern of perfection all slurred over with blots, that even
partial affection cannot efface. I hope my next communication
with you will be face to face, and not as through a letter darkly.
Commending you to the care of One above us all, I remain, still,
my dear Ellen, Your friend, C. BRONTE.
Of Emily's stay near Halifax there is even less to
record than of Charlotte's stay near Dewsbury, because
there are not even her letters. The school at Law Hill
was kept at first by Elizabeth and Maria Patchet, but
Maria had married before Emily became governess.
Elizabeth also married and abandoned the school shortly
after Emily had left her. Charlotte in the above letter
gives us practically our one glimpse of her sister in this
school, and it is a tragic picture.
Letter 38
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH,///^ 8///, 1837.
MY DEAREST ELLEN, The enclosed, as you will perceive, was
written before I received your last. I had intended to send it by
this; what you said altered my intention. I scarce dare build
a hope upon the foundation your letter lays we have been dis-
appointed so often and I fear I shall not be able to prevail on
them to part with you ; but I will try my utmost, and, at any rate,
there is a chance of our meeting soon ; with that thought I will
comfort myself. You do not know how selfishly glad I am that
you still continue to dislike London and the Londoners : it seems
to afford a sort of proof that your affections are not changed.
Shall we really stand once again together on the moors of
140 THE BRONTES
Haworth? I dare not flatter myself with too sanguine an
expectation. I see many doubts, and difficulties. But, with
Miss Wooler's leave, which I have asked and in part obtained,
I will go to-morrow and try to remove them. Give my love to
my little sweet correspondent Georgina, and believe me, my own
Ellen, Yours always, and truly, C. BRONTE.
Letter 39
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
MY DEAR ELLEN, You will excuse a very brief and meagre
answer to your kind note, when I tell you that at the moment
it reached me, and that just now whilst I am scribbling a reply,
the whole house is in the bustle of packing and preparation, for
on this day we all go HOME.
Your palliation of my defects is kind and charitable, but I dare
not trust its truth ; few would regard them with so lenient an eye
as you do. Your consolatory admonitions are kind, and when
I can read them over in quietness and alone, I trust I shall derive
comfort from them ; but just now, in the unsettled, excited state
of mind which I now feel, I cannot enter into the pure scriptural
spirit which they breathe. It would be wrong of me to continue
the subject, my thoughts are distracted and absorbed by other
ideas. You do not mention your visit to Haworth. Have you
spoken of it to the family? Have they agreed to let you come?
but I will write when I get home. Ever since last Friday I have
been as busy as I could be in finishing up the half-year's lessons,
which concluded with a terrible fag in Geographical Problems
(think of explaining that to Misses M. and L.), and subsequently
in mending Miss E. L.'s clothes. I am very sorry to hear that
poor is ill again. Give my love to her, etc. Miss Wooler
is calling for me something about my protge*'s nightcaps.
Good-bye. We shall meet again ere many days, I trust.
C. BRONTE.
Letter 40
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
I am sure, Ellen, you will conclude that I have taken a final
leave of my senses, to forget to send your bag when I had had it
GOVERNESS AT DEWSBURY MOOR 141
hanging before my eyes in the dressing-room for a whole week. I
stood for ten minutes considering before I sent the boy off; I felt
sure I had something else to intrust to him besides the books, but
I could not recollect what it was. These aberrations of memory
warn me pretty intelligibly that I am getting past my prime.
I hope you will not be much inconvenienced by my neglect. I '11
wait till to-morrow, to see if George will call for it on his way to
Huddersfield, and if he does not, I '11 try to get a person to go
over with it to Brookroyd on purpose. I am most grieved lest
you should think me careless, but I assure you it was merely a
temporary fit of absence. I wish exceedingly that I could come
to see you before Christmas ; but I trust ere another three weeks
elapse I shall again have my comforter beside me under the roof
of my own dear quiet home. If I could always live with you,
if your lips and mine could at the same time drink the same
draught at 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 past Saints of God often attained to. My eyes fill with tears
when I contrast the bliss of such a state, brightened with hopes of
the future, with the melancholy state I now live in ; uncertain that
I have ever felt true contrition, wandering in thought and deed,
longing for holiness which I shall never, never attain, smitten at
times to the heart with the conviction that ghastly Calvinistic
doctrines are true, darkened, in short, by the very shadows of
Spiritual Death! If Christian perfections be necessary to Salva-
tion, I shall never be saved. My heart is a real hot-bed for sinful
thoughts, and as to practice, 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 gratification of my own desires. I forget God, and
will not God forget me ? and meantime I know the greatness of
Jehovah. I acknowledge the truth, the perfection of His Word.
I adore the purity of the Christian faith. My theory is right, my
practice horribly wrong. Good-bye, Ellen, C. BRONTE.
Write to me again, if you can. Your notes are meat and drink
to me. Remember me to the family. I hope Mercy is better.
142 THE BRONTES
Letter 41
TO ELLEN NUSSEY, BATHEASTON, BATH
ROE HEAD, 1837.
My notes to you, Ellen, are written in a hurry I am now
snatching an opportunity. Mr. J. Wooler is here, and by his
means this will be transmitted to you. I do not blame you for
not coming to see me, for I am sure you have been prevented by
sufficient reasons, but I do long to see you, and I hope I shall be
gratified momentarily at least ere long. Next Friday, if all be
well, I shall go to Gomersall ; on Sunday, I shall at least catch a
glimpse of you. Week after week I have lived on the expecta-
tion of your coming. Week after week I have been disappointed.
I have not regretted what I said in my last note to you ; the con-
fession was wrung from me by sympathy and kindness such as I
can never be sufficiently thankful for. I feel in a strange state of
mind, still gloomy but not despairing. I keep trying to do right,
checking wrong feelings, repressing wrong thoughts but still,
every instant, 1 feel myself going astray. I have a constant
endency to scorn people who are far better than I am, horror at
the idea of becoming one of a certain set a dread lest, if I made
the slightest profession, I should sink at once into Fhariseeism,
merge wholly into the rank of the self-righteous. In writing at
this moment I feel an irksome disgust at the idea of using a single
phrase that sounds like religious cant. I abhor myself I despise
myself; if the doctrine of Calvin be true, I am already an outcast.
You cannot imagine how hard, rebellious, and intractable all my
feelings are. When I begin to study on the subject, I almost
grow blasphemous, atheistical in my sentiments. Don't desert
me, don't be horrified at me. You know what I am. I wish I
could see you, my darling ; I have lavished the warmest affec-
tions of a very hot, tenacious heart upon you if you grow cold, it
is over. Love to your mother and sisters. C. BRONTE.
Letter 42
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
DEWSBURY MOOR, August 24^, 1837.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I have determined to write lest you should
begin to think I have forgotten you, and in revenge resolve to
GOVERNESS AT DEWSBURY MOOR 148
forget me. As you will perceive by the date of this letter, I am
again engaged in the old business teach, teach, teach. Miss Eliza
Wooler and Mrs. Wooler are coming here next Christmas. Miss
Wooler will then relinquish the school in favour of her sister 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. When
will you come home ? Make haste, you have been at Bath long
enough for all purposes. 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 old 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 Nussey 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 quite wear away. I have nothing at all to tell
you now but that poor Mary Taylor is better, and that she and
Martha are gone to take a tour in Wales. Patty came on her
pony about a fortnight since to inform me that this important
event was in contemplation. She actually began to fret about
your long absence, and to express the most eager wishes for your
return. I heard something from your sister about Mr. and Mrs.
John Nussey wishing you to stay over the winter ; don't be per-
suaded by them, Ellen, you've been from home long enough
come back. I 've just had a visit from Ann Carter. She has stayed
at home some weeks longer than the regular vacation ; during this
time I have seen a great deal of her, and I don't think her at all
altered except that her carriage, etc., is improved. She is still the
same warm-hearted, affectionate, prejudiced, handsome girl as ever.
Write to me as soon as ever you get this scrawl. I should be
ashamed of such writing as this, only I am past all shame. My
own dear Ellen, good-bye. If we are all spared I hope soon to
see you again. God bless you, C. BRONTE.
Miss Wooler is from home or she would send her love, I am
sure. Little Edward Carter and his baby sister are staying with
us, so that between nursing and teaching I have my time pretty
well occupied. So far my health keeps up very well.
144 THE BRONTES
Letter 43
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
December igfJf, 1837.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I am sure you will have thought me very
remiss in not sending my promised letter long before now ; but 1
have a sufficient and very melancholy excuse in an accident 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 attracted the attention of a passer-by. She was
lifted up and carried into the druggist's near ; and, after the
examination, it was discovered that she had completely shattered
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 circumstance, 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 conse-
quently the whole work of the house, as well as the additional
duty of nursing Tabby, falls on ourselves. Under these circum-
stances 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 1 myself kept putting
it off from day to day, most bitterly reluctant 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 advantage 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 pleasure again ; it seems as
GOVERNESS AT DEWSBURY MOOR 145
if some fatality 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 thousand ways the con-
sciousness of that mortifies and disappoints 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. I hope your sister is better, and
that all the rest of the family are well. Give my love to your
brothers and sisters, and believe me, vexed and grieved, your
friend, C. BRONTE.
If you don't write soon, in my crabbed state of mind I shall
conclude that you 've cut me.
Letter 44
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January tfh, 1838.
Your letter, Ellen, was a welcome surprise, even though it
contains something like a reprimand. I had not, however, for-
gotten our agreement ; I had prepared a note to be forthcoming
against the arrival of your messenger, but things so happened
that it was of no avail. You were right in your conjectures
respecting the cause of my sudden departure. Anne continued
wretchedly ill neither the pain nor the difficulty of breathing left
her and how could I feel otherwise than very miserable? I
looked upon her case in a different light to what I could wish or
expect any uninterested person to view it in. Miss Wooler
thought me a fool, and by way of proving her opinion treated me
with marked coldness. We came to a little claircissement one
evening. I told her one or two rather plain truths, which set her
a-crying, and the next day, unknown to me, she wrote to papa,
telling him that I had reproached her bitterly taken her
severely to task, etc., etc. Papa sent for us the day after he had
received her letter. Meantime, I had formed a firm resolution
to quit Miss Wooler and her concerns for ever but just before I
went away she took me into her room, and giving way to her
VOL. I. K
146 THE BRONTES
feelings, which in general she restrains far too rigidly, gave me to
understand that in spite of her cold repulsive manners she had a
considerable regard for me and would be very sorry to part with
me. If anybody likes me I can't help liking them, and
remembering that she had in general been very kind to me, I
gave in and said I would come back if she wished me so
we're settled again for the present; but I am not satisfied. I
should have respected her far more if she had turned me out
of doors instead of crying for two days and two nights
together. I was in a regular passion; my ' warm temper' quite
got the better of me of which I don't boast, for it was a weak-
ness ; nor am I ashamed of it, for I had reason to be angry.
Anne is now much better, though she still requires a great deal
of care. However, I am relieved from my worst fears respecting
her.
I approve highly of the plan you mention, except as it regards
committing a verse of the psalms to memory ; I do not see the
direct advantage to be derived from that. We have entered on a
new year ; will it be stained as darkly as the last, with all our
sins, follies, secret vanities, and uncontrolled passions and pro-
pensities? I trust not, but I feel in nothing better neither
humbler nor purer. It will want three weeks next Monday to
the termination of the holidays. Come to see me, my dear Ellen,
as soon as you can. However bitterly I sometimes feel towards
other people, the recollection of your mild, steady friendship
consoles and softens me. I am glad you are not such a weak fool
as myself. Give my best love to your mother and sisters, excuse
the most hideous scrawl that ever was penned, and believe me
always tenderly yours, C. BRONTE.
Letter 45
TO ELLEN NUSSEY, 4 CLEVELAND ROW, ST. JAMES'S, LONDON
DEWSIHJRY MOOR, May s///, 1838.
MY DEAREST ELLEN, Yestei day I heard that you were ill.
Mr. and Miss Heald were at Dewsbury Moor, and it was from
them I obtained the information. This morning I set off to
Brookroyd to learn further particulars, from whence I am but just
leturned. Your mother is in great distress about you; she can
GOVERNESS AT DEWSBURY MOOR 147
hardly mention your name without tears; and both she and
Mercy wish very much to see you at home again. Poor girl, you
have been a fortnight confined to your bed ; and while I was
blaming you in my own mind for not writing, you were suffering
in sickness without one kind female friend to watch over you. I
should have heard all this before and have hastened to express
my sympathy with you in this crisis had I been able to visit
Brookroyd in the Easter holidays, but an unexpected summons
back to Dewsbury Moor, in consequence of the illness and death
of Mr. Wooler, prevented it. Since that time I have been a
fortnight and two days quite alone, Miss Wooler being detained
in the interim at Rouse Mill. You will now see, Ellen, that it
was not neglect or failure of affection which has occasioned my
silence, though I fear you will long ago have attributed it to those
causes. If you are well enough, do write to me just two lines
just to assure me of your convalescence ; not a word, however, if
it would harm you not a syllable. They value you at home.
Sickness and absence call forth expressions of attachment which
might have remained long enough unspoken if their object had
been present and well. I wish your friends (I include myself in
that word) may soon cease to have cause for so painful an excite-
ment of their regard. As yet I have but an imperfect idea of the
nature of your illnessof its extent or of the degree in which it
may now have subsided. When you can let me know all, no
particular, however minute, will be uninteresting to me. How
have your spirits been ? I trust not much overclouded, for that is
the most melancholy result of illness. You are not, I understand,
going to Bath at present ; they seem to have arranged matters
strangely. When I parted from you near White-lee Bar, I had a
more sorrowful feeling than ever I experienced before in our
temporary separations. It is foolish to dwell too much on the
idea of presentiments, but I certainly had a feeling that the time
of our reunion had never been so indefinite or so distant as then.
I doubt not, my dear Ellen, that amidst your many trials, amidst
the sufferings that you have of late felt in yourself, and seen in
several of your relations, you have still been able to look up and
find support in trial, consolation in affliction, and repose in
tumult, where human interference can make no change. I think
you know in the right spirit how to withdraw yourself from the
vexation, the care, the meanness of life, and to derive comfort
from purer sources than this world can afford. You know how to
148 THE BRONTES
do it silently, unknown to others, and can avail yourself of that
hallowed communion the Bible gives us with God. I am charged
to transmit your mother's and sister's love. Receive mine in the
same parcel ; I think it will scarcely be the smallest share. Fare-
well my dear Ellen. C. BRONTE.
MRS. SIDGWICK'S NURSERY GOVERNESS 149
CHAPTER VIII
MRS. SIDGWICK'S NURSERY GOVERNESS
IF Charlotte Bronte found her whole soul in revolt at the
life of a governess in a small school where the two head-
mistresses looked upon themselves as her personal friends,
she was not likely to meet with a happier lot when she
elected to try the life of a private governess. Yet it
seemed to be the only career that offered itself to Miss
Bronte aged twenty-two at this time. Anne was with
her at Haworth, back from Miss Wooler's school, but
eager for independence. Emily had had enough of such
* independence ' ; she had left the hateful discipline of Miss
Patchett's uncongenial 'Academy.' Branwell, although
of an age when he should have been earning money, had
already begun that restless, ill-judged career of dissipation
that was so soon to wreck his life. He alternated
between Haworth and Bradford, where he rented a studio
in Fountain Street ; painting now and again a portrait,
one, for example, of his uncle, the Rev. William Morgan,
but lounging for the most part in the bar of the George
Hotel in this latter town, where among his cronies were
John James, the future historian of Bradford; Wilson
Anderson, a landscape-painter ; Geller, the mezzotinto-
engraver; Richard Waller, a portrait-painter, and occa-
sionally Leyland the sculptor. 1 Branwell clearly was
costing his father money, and Charlotte and Anne had to
think of a plan to help. Meanwhile a way of escape for the
elder sister had presented itself. Charlotte Bronte received
1 The Bronte Family, with special reference to Patrick Branwell Brontt, by Francis
A. Leyland. 2 vols. Hurst and Biackett. 1886.
150 THE BRONTES
an offer of marriage. The lover was her friend Ellen
Nussey's brother Henry. He was at this time a curate
at Donnington in Sussex. He afterwards became rector
of Earnley, near Chichester, and later of Hathersage in
Derbyshire. 1 The next five letters prior to her leaving
Haworth explain themselves.
1 I have read a volume of Mr. Nussey's Diary and Sermons in manuscript. It is
in the possession of Mr. J. J. Stead, of Ileckmondwike, Yorkshire. Mr. Nussey
has one point at least in common with Rivers, in Jane Eyre, that during his days
at Cambridge he more than once records in his diary that he has heard Mr. Simeon
preach ; and Simeon was the great Evangelical light of that epoch. Mr. Nussey
certainly did not lack for rigour, for even when an undergraduate he recalls with satisfac-
tion, ' This evening at a full meeting Mr. Heald exhorted from 2 Corinthians vi. 14, on
the action of a rm mbcr having married a worldly-minded man ' ; on another occasion,
that * Stayed to supper ; never asked to take family prayers nor to say grace. Much
hurt that they did not see the propriety and feel the necessity of this line of conduct';
and once more, Mr. Nussey writes in his diary : * Friday, II June 1839. Obtained an
advance of l from Mr. Wake ford, a farmer and coal-merchant m Earnley, with whom
I spent the evening at his house. He unfortunately became offended at something Mr.
Browne once uttered in the pulpit, and thereupon left the Church and joined the
Dissenters at Cluchester, where he still continues. There seem some good traits in the
man, and I think he errs through ignorance rather than wilfulness. May he be brought
back again, wandering sheep ! ' Side by side with such quotations as these we have
Mr. Nussey's matter-of-fact attempts to get a wife. lie first asked the daughter of his
former vicar, Lutwiggc, whom he characterises as * a steady, intelligent, sensible and, I
trust, good girl, named Mary ' ; she refused him, and we have the following lines in his
diary : * On Tuesday last received a decisive reply from M A. L.'s papa ; a loss, but I
trust a pi evidential one. Believe not her will, but her father's. All right, but God
knows best what is good for us, for His church, and for His own glory. Write to a
Yorkshire friend, C. B ' A little later on, March 8, 1839, we find the record
* Received an unfavourable reply from " C. B." The will of the Lord be done.'
1 C. B.,' of course, is Charlotte Bronte, and some might find satisfaction in the fact that
the marriage which this matter-of-fact individual attained to a very few months later
should have turned out unhappily. In Mr. Nussey, however, we have not in the least
Charlotte Bronte's creation, St. John Kiveis. There are a few references to missionary
work in Mr. Nussey's diary, but on the whole it is the chary ol a dull, uninspired person,
with not sufficient biams to be a high-smiled fanatic ; and it is a high-souled fanatic
that Miss Bronte depicts in her book That is why I am inclined to think that the real
prototype of Rivers existed for her not in life but in literature ; that she had read from
the Keighley Library Sat gent's Memoir of Henry Afaityn, that devoted missionary from
Cornwall, of whom her aunt must have constantly spoken to her, and her father also,
for he was practically contemporaneous with him at St. John's College, Cambridge, a
fact which probably led her to give Rivers his Christian name of St. John. It was
Charles Simeon again, her father's favourite preacher, who led Martyn to become a
missionary. Martyn, it will be remembered, translated the New Testament into Hindu-
stani. There are points also in the relations with Miss Lydia Grenfell, whom he had hoped
to take back with him to India when he died of the plague, that unquestionably recall
St. John Rivers. Martyn has been described by Sir James Stephen as 'the one heroic
name which adorns the Church of England from the days of Queen Elizabeth to our own.'
From CharlotU Brontt and Her Sisters. Literary Lives Series (Hodder and Stoughton).
MRS. SIDGWICK'S NURSERY GOVERNESS 151
Letter 46
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, June ;M, 1838.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I received your packet of despatches on
Wednesday. It was brought me by Mary and Martha Taylor,
who have been staying at Haworth for a few days. They leave
us to-day, and I am hastily scrawling this letter to be ready for
transmission by them to your friends when they return. You
will be surprised when you see 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, if I valued my life, to go home.
So home I went ; 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, Ellen, 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, some-
thing like tranquillity and ease began to dawn again. I will not
enlarge on the subject ; to me, every recollection of the past half-
year is painful to you it cannot be pleasant. Mary Taylor is
far from well. I have watched her narrowly during her visit to
us. Her lively spirits and bright colour might delude you into
a belief that all was well, but she breathes short, has a pain in her
chest, and frequent flushings of fever. I cannot tell you what
agony these symptoms give me. They remind me strongly of my
two sisters whom no power of medicine could save. I trust she
may recover ; her lungs certainly are not ulcerated yet, she has
no cough, no pain in the side, and perhaps this hectic fever may
be only the temporary effects of a severe winter and a late spring
on a delicate constitution. Martha is now very well ; she has
kept in a constant flow of good-humour during her stay here,
and has consequently been very fascinating. I fear from what
you say I cannot rationally entertain hopes of seeing you before
winter. For your own sake, I am glad of it. I do not now fear
that society will estrange your heart, and I know it will so polish
you externally, that the mind will be generally appreciated through
the medium of the manners. They are making such a noise
about me I cannot write any more. Mary is playing on the
152 THE BRONTES
piano ; Martha is chattering as fast as her little tongue can run ;
and Branwell is standing before her, laughing at her vivacity.
My dear Ellen, good-bye. Aunt and my sisters unite in best love
to you. Good-bye, love.
P.S. Write to me as often as you can find time.
Letter 47
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January \ith, 1839.
MY DEAR, KIND ELLEN, I can hardly help laughing when I
reckon up the number of urgent invitations I have received from
you during the last three months. Had I accepted all or even
half of them, the Birstallians would certainly have concluded that
I had come to make Brookroyd my permanent residence. When
you set your mind upon it, you have a peculiar way of edging one
in with a circle of dilemmas, so that they hardly know how to
refuse you ; however, I shall take a running leap and clear them
all. Frankly, my dear Ellen, I cannot come. Reflect for yourself
a moment. Do you see nothing absurd in the idea of a person
coming again into a neighbourhood within a month after they
have taken a solemn and formal leave of all their acquaintance ?
However, I thank both you and your mother for the invitation,
which was most kindly expressed. You give no answer to my
proposal that you should come to Haworth with the Taylors.
I still think it would be your best plan. I wish you and the
Taylors were safely here ; there is no pleasure to be had without
toiling for it. You must invite me no more, my dear Ellen, until
next Midsummer at the nearest. All here desire to be remem-
bered to you, aunt particularly. Angry though you are, I will
venture to sign myself as usual (no, not as usual, but as suits
circumstances). Yours, under a cloud, C. BRONT.
Letter 48
TO THE REV. HENRY NUSSEY
HAWORTH, March tfh, 1839.
MY DEAR SIR, Before answering your letter I might have
spent a long time in consideration of its subject ; but as from the
first moment of its reception and perusal I determined on what
MRS. SIDGWICK'S NURSERY GOVERNESS 158
course to pursue, it seemed to me that delay was wholly unneces-
sary. You are aware that I have many reasons to feel grateful to
your family, that I have peculiar reasons for affection towards one
at least of your sisters, and also that I highly esteem yourself do
not therefore accuse me of wrong motives when I say that my
answer to your proposal must be a decided negative. In forming
this decision, I trust I have listened to the dictates of conscience
mo/e than to those of inclination. I have no personal repugnance
to the idea of a union with you, but I feel convinced that mine is
not the sort of disposition calculated to form the happiness of a
man like you. It has always been my habit to study the charac-
ters of those amongst whom I chance to be thrown, and I think
I know yours and can imagine what description of woman would
suit you for a wife. The character should not be too marked,
ardent, and original, her temper should be mild, her piety un-
doubted, her spirits even and cheerful, and her personal attractions
sufficient to please your eyes and gratify your just pride. As for
me, you do not know me ; I am not the serious, grave, cool-
headed individual you suppose ; you would think me romantic
and eccentric ; you would say I was satirical and severe. How-
ever, I scorn deceit, and I will never, for the sake of attaining the
distinction of matrimony and escaping the stigma of an old maid,
take a worthy man whom I am conscious I cannot render happy.
Before I conclude, let me thank you warmly for your other pro-
posal regarding the school near Donnington. It is kind in you to
take so much interest about me ; but the fact is, I could not at
present enter upon such a project because I have not the capital
necessary to insure success. It is a pleasure to me to hear that
you are so comfortably settled and that your health is so much
improved. I trust God will continue His kindness towards you.
Let me say also that I admire the good sense and absence of
flattery and cant which your letter displayed. Farewell. I shall
always be glad to hear from you as a friend. Believe me, yours
truly, C. BRONTE.
Letter 49
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, March iith, 1839.
MY DEAREST ELLEN, When your letter was put into my
hands, I said, * She is coming at last, I hope,' but when I opened
154 THE BRONTES
it and found what the contents were, I was vexed to the heart.
You need not ask me to go to Brookroyd any more. Once for
all, and at the hazard of being called the most stupid little wretch
that ever existed, I wont go till you have been to Haworth. I
don't blame you, I believe you would come if you might; perhaps
I ought not to blame others, but I am grieved.
Anne goes to Blake Hall on the 8th of April, unless some further
unseen cause of delay should occur. I Ve heard nothing more
from Mrs. Thos. Brooke as yet. Papa wishes me to remain at
home a little longer, but I begin to be anxious to set to work
again ; and yet it will be hard work after the indulgence of so
many weeks, to return to that dreary ' gin-horse' round.
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
intention 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. Altogether 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 conscience answered no to both these questions.
I felt that though I esteemed, though I had a kindly leaning
towards him, because he is an amiable and well-disposed man, yet
1 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 1 shall never have the chance again ; but n'importe.
Moreover, I was aware that Henry 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 enthusiast indeed. I could not sit
all day long making a grave face before my husband. I would
MRS. SIDGWICK'S NURSERY GOVERNESS 155
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. Could I, knowing my mind to be such as that, con-
scientiously say that I would take a grave, quiet, young man like
Henry? No, it would have been deceiving him, and deception
of that sort is beneath me. So I wrote a long letter back, in
which I expressed my refusal as gently as I could, and also
candidly avowed my reasons for that refusal. I described to
him, too, the sort of character that would suit him for a wife.
Write to me soon and say whether you are angry with me or not.
Good-bye, my dear Ellen. C BRONTE.
Letter 50
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, April ij///, 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 allowed 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 children alone are under her care, the rest are confined to
the nursery, with which and its occupants she has nothing to
do. Both her pupils are desperate little dunces ; neither of them
can read, and sometimes they profess a profound ignorance of
their alphabet. The worst of it is they are excessively indulged,
and she is not empowered to inflict any punishment. She is
requested, when they misbehave themselves, to inform their
mamma, which she says is utterly out of the question, as in that
case she might be making complaints from morning till night.
So she alternately scolds, coaxes, and threatens, sticks always
to her first word, and gets on as well as she can. 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 of speech. For my own part,
156 THE BRONTES
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, etc. ;
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. Setting aside nonsense, I was very glad, my dear
Ellen, to learn by your last letter that some improvement had
taken place in your health, for occasionally I have felt more
uneasy about you than I would willingly confess to yourself. I
verily believe that a visit to Haworth would now greatly help to
restore you, and there can be no objection on account of cold
when the weather is so much milder. However angry you are, I
still stick to my resolution that I will go no more to Brookroyd
till you have been to Haworth. I think I am right in this deter-
mination, and I '11 abide by it. It does not arise from resent-
ment, but from reason. I have never for a moment supposed that
the reluctance of your friends to allow you to leave home arose
from any ill-will to me. It was quite natural, in your precarious
state of health, to desire to keep you at home, but that argument
does not now hold good. With regard to my visit to Gomersall,
I have as yet received no invitation ; but if I should be asked,
though I should 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 Taylors is one of the most rousing pleasures I have ever
known. I wish you good-bye, my darling Ellen, and I tell you
once more that I want to see you. Strike out that word darling,
it is humbug, where 's the use of protestations? We've known
each other, and liked each other a good while> that 's enough.
C. BRONTE.
Behold Charlotte Bronte then at Stonegappe, some four
miles from Skipton. The house, * a commodious but plain
residence/ is beautifully situated on the side of a hill looking
down into the valley of a little stream called Lothersdale
Beck. It was built at the end of the eighteenth century
by Mr. William Sidgwick of Skipton, father of Mr. John
Benson Sidgwick, to whose children Charlotte Bronte
MRS. SIDGWICK'S NURSERY GOVERNESS 157
acted as governess. 1 Mr. Sidgwick was a cousin of Arch-
bishop Benson, who, although a frequent visitor to
Stonegappe, did not apparently meet Charlotte Bronte.
His son and biographer, Mr. A. C. Benson, says :
Charlotte Bronte acted as governess to my cousins at Stone-
gappe for a few months in 1839. Few traditions of her connection
with the Sidgwicks survive. She was, according to her own account,
very unkindly 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. 2
Elsewhere Mr. Benson tells us that one of the children
told him that if Miss Bronte was desired to accompany
them to church 'Oh, Miss Bronte, do run up and put
on your things, we want to start' she was plunged in
dudgeon because she was being treated as a hireling. If,
in consequence, she was not invited to accompany them,
she was infinitely depressed because she was treated as
an outcast and a friendless dependent.
This is to show the other side of the shield to the one
presented by the unhappy governess. The two views are
not necessarily conflicting, and it would embody but half
the truth to assert that Charlotte Bronte saw everything
through a distorted vision. The attitude of many kindly
1 The house is two and a half miles from Cononley Station on the mam line of the
Midland Railway. See for a fuller description Mr. Herbert E. Wroot's Persons and
Places of the Bronte Novels. 'Jane Eyre.' Bronte Society Publications.
2 The Life of Edward White Benson, sometime Archbishop of Canterbury, 2 vols.
Macmillan. Two clever members of this gifted family, Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick the novelist,
and Miss G. E. Mitton the biographer and essayist, have also written to me as to the
lovable qualities of Mrs. John Sidgwick.
158 THE BRONTES
and humane people towards their dependants differs entirely
from that adopted towards their equals, and there is much
significance in the story related by Mrs. Gaskell of one
of the little boys when heard saying, ' I love 'ou, Miss
Bronte/ being remonstrated with by his mother, who
exclaimed before all the children, ' Love the governess,
my dear !
Letter 51
TO EMILY J. BRONTfi
STONEGAPPE, June $>th, 1839.
DEAREST LAVINIA, I am most exceedingly obliged to you
for the trouble you have taken in seeking up my things and
sending them all right. The box and its contents were most
acceptable. I only wish I had asked you to send me some letter-
paper. This is my last sheet but two. When you can send the
other articles of raiment now manufacturing, I shall be right
down glad of them.
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, winding white paths, green lawns,
and blue sunshiny sky and not having a free moment or a free
thought left to enjoy them in. The children are constantly with
me, and more riotous, perverse, unmanageable cubs never grew.
As for correcting them, I soon quickly found that was entirely
out of the question : they are to do as they like. A complaint to
Mrs. Sidgwick brings only black looks upon oneself, and unjust,
partial excuses to screen the children. I have tried that plan
once. It succeeded so notably that I shall try it no more. I
said in my last letter that Mrs. Sidgwick did not know me. I
now begin to find that she does not intend to know me, that she
cares nothing in the world about me except to contrive how the
greatest possible quantity of labour may be squeezed out of me,
and to that end she overwhelms me with oceans of needlework,
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 hitherto been by strange and constantly
MRS. SIDGWICK'S NURSERY GOVERNESS 159
changing faces. I see now more clearly than I have ever done
before that a private governess has no existence, is not considered
as a living and rational being except as connected with the
wearisome duties she has to fulfil. While she is teaching the
children, working for them, amusing them, it is all right. If she
steals a moment for herself she is a nuisance. Nevertheless,
Mrs. Sidgwick is universally considered an amiable woman. Her
manners are fussily affable. She talks a great deal, but as it
seems to me not much to the purpose. Perhaps I may like her
better after a while. At present I have no call to her. Mr.
Sidgwick is in my opinion a hundred times better less profession,
less bustling condescension, but a far kinder heart. It is very
seldom that he speaks to me, but when he does I always feel
happier and more settled for some minutes after. He never asks
me to wipe the children's smutty noses or tie their shoes or fetch
their pinafores or set them a chair. One of the pleasantest after-
noons 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 behind. As he strolled on through his
fields with his magnificent Newfoundland dog at his side, he
looked very like what a frank, wealthy, Conservative gentleman
ought to be. 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.
I am getting quite to have a regard for the Carter family. At
home I should not care for them, but here they are friends.
Mr. Carter was at Mirfield yesterday and saw Anne. He says
she was looking uncommonly well. Poor girl, she must indeed
wish to be at home. As to Mrs. Collins' report that Mrs. Sidg-
wick intended to keep me permanently, I do not think that such
was ever her design. Moreover, I would not stay without some
alterations. For instance, this burden of sewing would have to be
removed. It is too bad for anything. I never in my whole life
had my time so fully taken up. Next week we are going to
Swarcliffe, Mr. Greenwood's place near Harrogate, to stay three
weeks or a month. After that time I hope Miss Hoby will
return. Don't show this letter to papa or aunt, only to Branwell.
They will think I am never satisfied, wherever I am. I complain
to you because it is a relief, and really I have had some un-
expected mortifications to put up with. However, things may
160 THE BRONTES
mend, but Mrs. Sidgwick expects me to do things that I cannot
do to love her children and be entirely devoted to them. I am
really very well. I am so sleepy that I can write no more. I
must leave off. Love to all. Good-bye.
Direct your next despatch J. Greenwood, Esq., Swarcliffe, near
Harrogate. C. BRONTE.
Letter 52
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July u/, 1839.
MY DEAREST ELLEN, I am writing a letter to you with
pencil because I cannot just now procure ink without going into
the drawing-room where I do not wish to go. I only received
your letter yesterday, for we are not now residing at Stonegappe,
but at Swarcliffe, a summer residence of Mr. Greenwood's, Mrs.
Sidgwick's father. It is near Harrogate and Ripon ; a beautiful
place in a beautiful country rich and agricultural. I should have
written to you long since, and told you of every detail of the
utterly 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 remember it was
your turn. I must not bother you too much with my sorrows,
Ellen, of which I fear you have heard an exaggerated account ;
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
Governess' 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 proud as
peacocks and wealthy as Jews at a time when they were particu-
larly gay, when the house was full of company all strangers,
people whose faces I had never seen before in this state of
things having the charge given me of a set of pampered, spoilt,
and turbulent children, whom I was expected constantly to
amuse as well as 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 stress 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
MRS. SIDGWICK'S NURSERY GOVERNESS 161
my best strained every nerve to please her and to be treated in
that way merely because I was shy and sometimes melancholy
was too bad. At first I was for giving all up and going home,
but after a little reflection 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 Dependent 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 I trust now the storm
is blowing over me. Mrs. Sidgwick is generally considered an
agreeable woman ; so she is, I dare say, in general Society. Her
health is sound, her animal spirits are good ; consequently she
is cheerful in company. But, oh ! Ellen, does this compensate for
the absence of every fine feeling, of every gentle and delicate
sentiment ?
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. Do not communicate the con-
tents of this letter to any one I have no wish to be pitied,
except by yourself do not even clatter with Martha Taylor
about it. If I were talking to you I would tell you much more ;
but I hope my term of bondage will soon be expired, and then I
can go home and you can come to see me ; and I hope we shall
be happy. Good-bye, dear, dear Ellen.
Write to me again veiy soon and tell me how you are ; direct
J. Greenwood, Esquire, SwarclifTe, Nr. Harrogate. Perhaps, though
I may be at home before you write again. I don't intend to stay
long after they leave SwarclifTe, which they expect shortly to do.
Letter 53
TO EMILY J. F,RONTfi
July , 1839.
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
VOL T. L
162 THE BRONTES
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 feel mental
liberty. I could like this weight of restraint to be taken off. But
the holidays will come. Corragio*
Charlotte Bronte was rather less than three months in
the Sidgwick family, and more than half the time was
spent at Swarcliffe whence she accompanied the house
party to see Norton Conyers, and heard the story of the
mad woman associated with the mansion that she used to
good purpose in Jane Eyre.
THE ART OF LOVE 168
CHAPTER IX
THE ART OF LOVE
THE experiment of governess to Mrs. Sidgwick having
failed, there was nothing for it but to begin again. And
so the weary round of applications went on, some of which
are reflected in the following letters. The correspondence
is here enlivened by a second proposal of marriage and
above all by much sound advice on the part of Charlotte
Bronte on the whole theory and practice of love and the
relations of a wife to her husband.
Letter 54
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, /w/x 26M, 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 any-
where, 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 I'm 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 Birstall would be to me a very serious increase
of expense, and I happen to be very low in cash. Oh ! Ellen,
rich people seem to have many pleasures at their command which
we are debarred from! However, no repining. If I could take
the coach from Keighley to Bradford, and thence to Leeds, and
you could meet me at the inn, it would be the most convenient
plan for me. I left Stonegappe a week since. I never was so glad
164 THE BRONTES
to get out of a house in my life, but I '11 trouble you with no
complaints at present. Write to me directly ; explain your
plans more fully.
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
I 'm set upon it I '11 be obstinate and bear down all opposition.
Good-bye, yours faithfully, C. BRONTE.
P.S. If I find it impossible to stay for longer than a week,
could you get some one else to bear you company for the remain-
ing fortnight? Since writing the above I find that aunt and papa
have determined to go to Liverpool for a fortnight, and take
us all with them. It is stipulated, however, that I should give up
the Cleathorpe scheme. I yield reluctantly. But 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 assistant will not be ready to undertake his
duties.
Letter 55
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
August 4/^, 1839
MY DEAREST ELLEN, The Liverpool journey is yet a matter
of talk, a sort of castle in the air ; but, 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 practice, 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 people. I have got leave to accompany
you for a week, at the utmost stretch a fortnight. Where do
you wish to go? Burlington, I should think from what Mary
Taylor says, would be as eligible a place as any. When do you
wish to set off? Arrange all these things according to your own
convenience ; 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,
THE ART OF LOVE 165
Ellen Nussey, whom I like, and who know and like me. I have
an odd circumstance to relate to you prepare for a hearty laugh!
The other day Mr. Hodgson, papa's former curate, now a vicar,
came over to spend the day with us, bringing with him his own
curata The latter gentleman, by name, Mr. Bryce, 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 home. His character
quickly appeared in his conversation : witty, lively, ardent, clever
too, but deficient in the dignity and discretion of an Englishman.
At home, you know, Ellen, 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 con-
versed with this Irishman and laughed at his jests, and though I
saw faults in his character, excused them because of the amuse-
ment his originality afforded. I cooled a little, indeed, 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. However, they went away, and no
more was thought about them. A few days after I got a letter,
the direction of which puzzled me, it being in a hand I was not
accustomed to see. Evidently, it was neither from you nor Mary
Taylor, my only correspondents. Having opened and read it, it
proved to be a declaration of attachment and proposal of matri-
mony, expressed in the ardent language of the sapient young
Irishman! 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. When we meet I '11 show you the letter. I hope you are
laughing heartily. This is not like one of my adventures, is it?
It more resembles Martha Taylor'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. Write soon. C. BRONTE.
Letter 56
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Augustqth, 1839.
MY DEAREST ELLEN, In the greatest haste I scrawl an
answer to your letter I am very sorry to throw you back in
your arrangements, but I really cannot go to-morrow I could
166 THE BRONTES
not get my baggage and myself to Leeds by 10 o'clock to-morrow
morning if I was to be hanged for it. You must write again, and
fix a day which will give me a little more time for preparation.
Haworth, you know, is such an out-of-the-way place, one should
have a month's warning before they stir from it You were very
kind to try to get me fetched but indeed Ellen, it was wrong
of you do you think I could comfortably have accepted so
unreasonable a favour ? my best plan will certainly be to come to
Brookroyd the day before we start. I '11 try to manage it. Good-
bye, my dearest Ellen. The Post is just going. Friday morning.
C. B.
Letter 57
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, August 14^, 1839.
I have in vain packed my box, and prepared everything for
our anticipated journey. It so happens that I can get no con-
veyance this week or the next. The only gig let out on hire in
Haworth is at Harrogate, and likely to remain there, for aught I
can hear. Papa decidedly objects to my going by the coach, and
walking to Birstall, though I am sure I could manage it. Aunt
exclaims 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 hieroglyphics 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 1
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 acquiesced 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 settled between
you and myself. Reckon on me no more ; leave me out in your
THE ART OF LOVE 167
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 disappointing you. I did not intend it,
and have only one thing more to say if you do not go immedi-
ately to the sea, will you come and see us at Haworth? This
invitation is not mine only, but papa's and aunt's. Dear Ellen,
do come. If you could come here I would go back with you to
Birstall for a few days if you could have me and your return
should be no expense to you. This would be, of course, cheaper
than the sea scheme if it would only be as effectual. How is Mr.
Taylor? Any better? Good-bye. C. BRONX ,
Letter 58
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, October 24^, 1839.
MY DEAR ELLEN, 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 contrived 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 felt exceedingly
obliged to him. I had a long letter from your brother Henry,
giving an account of his bride elect. Have you forgot the sea
by this time? 1 Is it grown dim in your mind? Or still can you
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 ?
How is your health? Have good effects resulted from the
change? I am as well as need be, and very fat. I think of
Easton very often, and of worthy Mr. Hudson, and his kind-hearted
helpmate, and of our pleasant walks to Harlequin Wood, to
Boynton ; our merry evenings, our romps with little Hancheon,
etc., etc. If we both live, this period of our lives will long be a
theme of pleasant recollection. Did you chance in your letter to
Mrs. Hudson to mention my spectacles? I am sadly inconvenienced
by the want of them. I can neither read, write, nor draw with
1 ' Charlotte sobbed bitterly and was overwhelmed with emotion when she first saw
the sea.' Note by Ellen Nusscy.
168 THE BRONTfiS
comfort in their absence. I hope Madame Booth won't refuse
to give them up. I wonder when we shall meet again. Have
you yet managed to get any definite period for your visit to us ?
Excuse the brevity of this letter, for I have been drawing all day,
and my eyes are so tired it is quite a labour to write. Give my
best love to your mother and sister. Believe me, your old friend,
C. BRONTE.
The above letter reveals a pleasant episode in Char-
lotte's life: her sojourn with Mr. John Hudson, a farmer
at Easton near Bridlington. Little Hancheon was his
niece or adopted daughter, Fanny Whipp, then about
eight years of age. She married a Mr. North and died
in 1866 aged thirty-five. Mr. Hudson died at Bridlington
in 1878 and his wife two years earlier. Charlotte had
very little acquaintance with children, and we may fairly
assume that Fanny Whipp inspired the ' Pauline Mary '
of Villette. 1
Miss Ellen Nussey has left us an interesting account
of this first visit to the seaside of what was clearly the
most glorious September holiday that Charlotte Bronte
ever spent.
Charlotte's first visit to the sea-coast deserves a little more
Ellen notice than her letters give of the circumstances it
Nussey's was an event eagerly coveted, but hard to attain.
Narrative. ^ r Bronte and Miss Branwell had all manners of
doubts and fears and cautions to express, and Charlotte was
sinking into despair there seemed only one chance of securing
her the pleasure ; her friend must fetch her ; this she did
through the aid of a dear relative, who sent her to Haworth
under safe convey, and in a carriage that would bring both
Charlotte and her luggage this step proved to be the very best
thing possible, the surprise was so good in its effects, there was
nothing to combat everybody rose into high good humours,
Branwell was grandiloquent, he declared ' it was a brave defeat,
that the doubters were fairly taken aback. 1 You have only to
will a thing to get it, so Charlotte's luggage was speedily prepared,
and almost before the horse was rested there was a quiet but
1 Transactions of the Brontt Society ', Part iv., Charlotte Bronte and the East Riding.
THE ART OF LOVE 169
triumphant starting; the brothers and sisters at home were not
less happy than Charlotte herself in her now secured pleasure. It
was the first of ical freedom to be enjoyed either by herself or
her friend, a first experience in railway travelling, which however,
only conveyed them through half of the route, the stage-coach
making the rest of the journey. Passengers being too numerous
for this accommodation, Charlotte and her friend were sent on in
an open ' Fly ' ; the weather was most delightful, the drive was
enjoyed immensely, but they were unconsciously hastening on to
a disappointment. Friends in the vicinity of the coast whither
they were bound had been informed of their coming, and were
ready to seize upon them ; they met the coach, but it did not
bring their expected young friends, and they had to depart, but
not without leaving orders at the Hotel where the coach stopped
for the capture of the occupants of the ' Fly ' ; a post-chaise was in
readiness, in which they were to be driven off not to the bourne
they were longing for (the seaside) but two or three miles away
from it, here they were (though most unwilling) hospitably enter-
tained and detained for a month. The day but one after their
capture they walked to the sea, and as soon as they were near
enough for Charlotte to see it in its expanse, she was quite over-
powered, she could not speak till she had shed some tears she
signed to her friend to leave her and walk on ; this she did for a
few steps, knowing full well what Charlotte was passing through,
and the stern effoits she was making to subdue her emotions her
friend turned to her as soon as she thought she might without
inflicting pain ; her eyes were red and swollen, she was still
trembling, but submitted to be led onwards where the view was
less impressive ; for the remainder of the day she was very quiet,
subdued, and exhausted. Distant glimpses of the German Ocean
had been visible as the two friends neared the coast on the day of
their arrival, but Charlotte being without her glasses, could not
seje them, and when they were described to her, she said, ' Don't
tell me any more. Let me wait/ Whenever the sound of the
sea reached her ears in the grounds around the house wherein she
was a captive guest, her spirit longed to rush away and be close
to it. At last their kind and generous entertainers yielded to
their wishes and permitted them to take wing and go into lodgings
for one week, but still protecting them by every day visits, and
bounteous provision from their dairy. What Charlotte and her
friend had desired for themselves was, to be their own providers,
170 THE BRONTES
believing in their inexperience that they could do great things
with the small sum of money they each had at their disposal, but
at the end of the week when bills were asked for, they were
thoroughly enlightened as to the proprietors of the kind care
which had guarded them they discovered that moderate appetites
and modest demands for attendance were of no avail as regarded
the demands made upon their small finances. A week's experi-
ence sufficed to show them the wisdom of not prolonging their
stay, though the realisation of enjoyment had been as intense as
anticipation had depicted.
The conventionality of most of the seaside visitors amused
Charlotte immensely. The evening Parade on the Pier struck
her as the greatest absurdity. It was an old Pier in those days,
and of short dimensions, but thither all the visitors seemed to as-
semble in such numbers, it was like a packed ball-room ; people had
to march round and round in regular file to secure any movement
whatever. Charlotte and her friend thought they would go away
from this after making one essay to do as others did ; they took
themselves off to the cliffs to enjoy the moonlight, but they had
not done this long, ere some instinct as to safety warned them to
return ; on entering their lodgings another novelty impressed it-
self upon them, they encountered sounds which came from a
Ranters' meeting-house across the street, there was violent excite-
ment within its walls, and Charlotte was wild to go in amongst
the congregation and see as she said, 'What they were up to';
but was restrained by the reflection that those people who were
making such awful noises were acting as they believed on religious
impulse, and ought neither to be criticised nor ridiculed in their
midst. Charlotte's impressions of the sea never wore off; she
would often recall her views of it, and wonder what its aspect
would be just at the time she was speaking of it.
Letter 59
TO THE REV. HENRY NUSSEY
HAWORTH, October it>th, 1839.
DEAR SIR, I have delayed answering your last communication
in the hopes of receiving a letter from Ellen, that I might be able
to transmit to you the latest news from Brookroyd ; however, as
she does not write, I think I ought to put off my reply no longer
THE ART OF LOVE 171
lest you should begin to think me negligent As you rightly
conjecture, I had heard a little hint of what you allude to before,
and the account gave me pleasure, coupled as it was with the
assurance that the object of your regard is a worthy and estimable
woman. The step no doubt will by many of your friends be
considered scarcely as a prudent one, since fortune is not amongst
the number of the young lady's advantages. For my own part,
I must confess that I esteem you the more for not hunting after
wealth if there be strength of mind, firmness of principle, and
sweetness of temper to compensate for the absence of that usually
all-powerful attraction. The wife who brings riches to her husband
sometimes also brings an idea of her own importance and a
tenacity about what she conceives to be her rights, little calcu-
lated to produce happiness in the married state. Most probably
she will wish to control when nature and affection bind her to
submit in this case there cannot, I should think, be much
comfort.
On the other hand, it must be considered that when two
persons marry without money, there ought to be moral courage
and physical exertion to atone for the deficiency there should
be spirit to scorn dependence, patience to endure privation, and
energy to labour for a livelihood. If there be these qualities, I
think, with the blessing of God, those who join heart and hand
have a right to expect success and a moderate share of happiness,
even though they may have departed a step or two from the stern
maxims of worldly prudence. The bread earned by honourable
toil is sweeter than the bread of idleness ; and mutual love and
domestic calm are treasures far preferable to the possessions rust
can corrupt and moths consume away.
I enjoyed my late excursion with Ellen with the greater zest
because such pleasures have not often chanced to fall in my way.
I will not tell you what I thought of the sea, because I should
fall into my besetting sin of enthusiasm. I may, however, say
that its glories, changes, its ebbs and flow, the sound of its rest-
less waves, formed a subject for contemplation that never wearied
either the eye, the ear, or the mind. Our visit at Easton was
extremely pleasant ; I shall always feel grateful to Mr. and Mrs.
Hudson for their kindness. We saw Agnes Burton, during our
stay, and called on two of your former parishioners Mrs. Brown
and Mrs. Dalton. I was pleased to hear your name mentioned
by them in terms of encomium and sincere regard. Ellen will
172 THE BRONTES
have detailed to you all the minutia of our excursion ; a recapitu-
lation from me would therefore be tedious. I am happy to say
that her health appeared to be greatly improved by the change
of air and regular exercise. I am still at home, as I have not yet
heard of any situation which meets with the approbation of my
friends. I begin, however, to grow exceedingly impatient of a
prolonged period of inaction. I feel I ought to be doing some-
thing for myself, for my health is now so perfectly re-established
by this long rest that it affords me no further pretext for indo-
lence. With every wish for your future welfare, and with the
hope that whenever your proposed union takes place it may
contribute in the highest sense to your good and happiness,
Believe me, your sincere friend, C. BRONTE.
PS. Remember me to your sister Mercy, who, I understand,
is for the present your companion and housekeeper.
Letter 60
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
December list) 1839.
DEAR ELLEN, 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 com-
fortable, 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 ironing, 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 absence.
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 happier black-leading the stoves
making the beds, and sweeping 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
THE ART OF LOVE 178
quite forgot I was a subscriber. I intend to force myself to take
another situation when I can get one, though I hate and abhor 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.
Good-bye, my dear Ellen ; may you have a happy Christmas,
and may the next year be pleasanter to you than the last has
been. C. BRONTE.
Letter 61
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January \2th, 1840.
Your letter, which I received this morning, was one of painful
interest. Anne Carter it seems, is dead; when I saw her last she
was a young, beautiful, and happy girl; and now 'life's 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 fruitless and I try not to
repine.
I have not repeated my invitation to you, because aunt has
taken it into her head to object to having any visitors during the
winter. I did not at first like to tell you of this, but candour is
the best plan after all ; the matter has weighed on my mind a
long while and made me uncomfortable now that I have fairly
written it down I feel far more easy.
I intend ta take full advantage of this penny postage, 1 and to
write to you often whether I continue at home or 'go out,' that is,
as often as I have time. All send their love to you, papa has just
been telling me that I am to be sure and say I am much obliged
to you for your intimations respecting Mrs. H . I told him on
1 This was one of the last letters written by Charlotte Bronte under the
old order. It was folded in the usual style before envelopes were adopted,
and there was no stamp only the circular as here reproduced, with post-
mark, Bradford, Yorks , Jan. 13, 1840 Postage adhesive stamps were
introduced in Jan. 10, 1840, and the uniform penny rate of postage came
into operation in the United Kingdom, May 6, 1840.
174 THE BRONTfiS
the contrary, that I should scold you well for their vagueness,
and for the very illegible writing in which they were conveyed
in solid truth, Ellen, I believe I was half an hour in making
out the letter. Pray write immediately, as Mrs. H is daily
expecting my reply, and I cannot write till I hear from you.
I shall be sure not to mention your name or anything you
may say. I have written to Miss Wooler also for information.
Good-bye, dear Ellen, C. BRONTE.
P.S. As far as I can judge, the resolution you mention is a
right one, and I wish you may be able to carry it into execution.
You seem to doubt your own abilities you need not.
Letter 62
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January 24^, 1840.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I have given Mrs. Edward her coup de
l\&A. 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 adrift, 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 great obstacle. If you
could obtain a situation like Mary Brooke 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.
I am miserable when 1 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 oneself comfortable and at home where-
ever we may chance to be qualities in which all our family are
singularly deficient I know I cannot 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
THE ART OF LOVE 175
Death, too, at least in this neighbourhood. 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 concerned 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 you,
Ellen, for writing illegibly and badly, and I think you may repay
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. BRONT.
Letter 63
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March i;M, 1840.
MY DEAR MRS. ELEANOR, I wish to scold you with a forty-
horse power for having told Mary Taylor that I had requested
you not to tell her everything, which piece of information has
thrown her into tremendous ill-humour, besides setting the teeth
of her curiosity on edge. Tell her forthwith every individual
occurrence, including Valentine's, ' Fair Ellen, Fair Ellen/ etc. ;
1 Away fond love,' etc. ; ' Soul divine/ and all ; likewise the paint-
ing of * Miss Celia Amelia' Weightman's portrait, and that young
lady's frequent and agreeable visits. By the bye, I inquired into
the opinion of that intelligent and interesting young person
respecting you. It was a favourable one. 'She' thought you a
fine-looking girl, and a very good girl into the bargain. Have
you received the newspaper which has been despatched, contain-
ing a notice of 'her' lecture at Keighley? Mr. Morgan came
and stayed three days. By Miss Weightman's aid, we got on
pretty well. It was amazing to see with what patience and
good-temper the innocent creature endured that fat Welshman's
prosing, though she confessed afterwards that she was almost
done up by his long stories. We feel very dull without you. I
wish those three weeks were to come over again. Aunt has been
at times precious cross since you went however, she is rather
better now. I had a bad cold on Sunday and stayed at home
most of the day. Anne's cold is better, but I don't consider her
176 THE BRONTES
strong yet. What did your sister Ann say about my omitting
to send a drawing for the Jew basket ? I hope she was too much
occupied with the thoughts of going to Earnley to think of it.
I am obliged to cut short my letter. Everybody in the house
unites in sending their love to you. Miss Celia Amelia Weight-
man also desires to be remembered. Write soon again and
Believe me, yours unalterably, CHARIVARI.
P.S. To your hand and Mary Taylor's do I resign myself in
the spirit of a martyr, that is to say, with much the same feeling
that I should experience if I were sitting down on the plat to
have a tooth drawn.
From this next letter it will be seen that the curate-
bating which henceforth was to make up a page of Char-
lotte Bronte's life, had commenced. Mr. Bronte's new
curate, William Weightman, is playfully nicknamed * Celia
Amelia/ 1 presumably on account of a certain effeminacy of
appearance. Ellen Nussey hints that the young curate is
in love with her friend, but the suggestion is repudiated
Emily seems to have had a more tolerant feeling for this
young curate than for any one of his successors.
1 Celia Amelia, Mr. Bronte's curate, a lively, handsome young man fresh from Durham
University, an excellent classical scholar. He gave a very good lecture on the Claries
at Keighlcy. The young ladies at the Parsonage must hear his lecture, so he went off
to a married clergyman to get him to write to Mr. Bronte and invite the young ladies to
tea, and offer his escort to the lecture, and back again to the Parsonage. Great fears
were entertained that permission \\ould not be given it was a walk of four miles each
way. The Parsonage was not leached till 12 r. M The two clergymen lushed in with
their charges, deeply disturbing Miss Branwell, who had prepared hot coffee for the
home party, which of course fell short when two more were to be supplied. Poor Miss
Branwell lost her temper, Charlotte was troubled, and Mr. Weightman, who enjoyed
teasing the old lady, was very thirsty. The great spmts of the walking party had a
trying suppression, but twinkling fun sustained some of the party
There was also a little episode as to valentines. Mr. Weightman discovered that
none of the party had ever received a valentine a great discovery ! Whereupon he
indited verses to each one, and walked ten miles to post them, lest Mr. Bronte should
discover his dedicatory nonsense, and the quiet liveliness going on under the sedate
espionage of Miss Branwell and Mr. Bronte himself. Then I recall the taking of Mr.
Weightman *s portrait by Charlotte. The sittings became alarming for length of time
required, and the guest had to adopt the gown, whuh the owner was very proud to
exhibit, amusing the jwrty with his critical remarks on the materials used, and pointing
out the adornments, silk velvet, etc. Footnote b) Mis>s Ellen Nussey in the privately
printed volume.
THE ART OF LOVE 177
Letter 64
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 9M, 1840.
MY DEAR MRS. MENELAUS, I think I am exceedingly good
to write to you so soon, indeed I am quite afraid you will begin
to consider me intrusive with my frequent letters. I ought by
right to let an interval of a quarter of a year elapse between each
communication, and I will, in time ; never fear me. I shall
improve in procrastination as I get older.
My hand is trembling like that of an old man, so I don't expect
you will be able to read my writing ; never mind, put the letter
by and I '11 read it to you the next time I see you.
Little Haworth has been all in a bustle about church rates
since you were here. We had a most stormy meeting in the
schoolroom. Papa took the chair, and Mr. Collins and Mr. Weight-
man acted as his supporters, one on each side. There was violent
opposition, which set Mr. Collins's 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. Weightman 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 afternoon by
Mr. Weightman, and one in the evening by Mr. Collins. 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. Miss Celia Amelia delivered a noble, eloquent, High-
Church, Apostolical-Succession discourse, in which he banged the
Dissenters most fearlessly 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. Collins 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 enemies and no dread of
consequences. His sermon lasted an hour, yet I was sorry when
VOL. I. M
178 THE BRONTES
it was done. I do not say that I agree either with him or
Mr. Weightman, either in all or half their opinions. I consider
them bigoted, intolerant, and wholly unjustifiable on the ground
of common-sense. My conscience will not lot me be either a
Puseyite or a Hookist ; nay, 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 religion and its
teachers. But in spite of all this, I admired the noble integrity
which could dictate so fearless an opposition against so strong
an antagonist.
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 plaything. Good-bye to you, let me have no more of your
humbug about Cupid, etc. You know as well as I do, it is all
groundless trash. Mr. Weightman has given another lecture at
the Keighley Mechanics' Institute, and papa has also given a
lecture ; both are spoken of very highly in the newspaper, and it
is mentioned as a matter of wonder that such displays of intellect
should emanate from the village of Haworth, situated amongst
the bogs and mountains, and, until very lately, supposed to be in
a state of semi-barbarism. Such are the words of the newspaper.
C. BRONTE.
At this point we return to Branwell, whose portrait-
painting talent has proved unremunerative. All the work
by him that we have seen is crude and ineffective. His
best-known picture is the family group that has been much
reproduced in photography, the portrait of Emily having
been separately ' worked up ' for an edition of her great
novel. The group lacks all but a sentimental value. There
is no character in it or quality of any kind. When looked
at long years afterwards by those who knew the family, it
was averred that it contained a suggestion of likeness, the
type in each separate case being recognisable. But as any
index to the actual appearance of the three sisters, such
as can be obtained from a very moderately competent paint-
ing of any individual, it is worthless. Branwell, then, was
a failure as an artist, and he had to look out for other work.
THE ART OF LOVE 179
An opportunity came in tutorship, and he entered the
family of Mr. Postlethwaite of Rroughton-in-Furness in
January 1840. A few weeks later on March 13, 1840
he recounted his experiences to the master of the Lodge
of the Three Graces at Haworth a masonic lodge of
which Branwell had for a time been secretary in 1837.
Letter 65
OLD KNAVE OF TRUMPS, Don't think I have forgotten you,
though I have delayed so long in writing to you. It was my
purpose to send you a yarn as soon as I could find materials to
spin one with, and it is only just now that I have had time to turn
myself round and know where I am. If you saw me now, you would
not know me, and you would laugh to hear the character the people
give me. Oh, the falsehood and hypocrisy of this world ! I am
fixed in a little retired town by the sea-shore, among wild, woody
hills that rise round me huge, rocky, and capped with clouds.
My employer is a retired County magistrate, a large landowner,
and of a right hearty and generous disposition. His wife is a quiet,
silent, and amiable woman, and his sons are two fine, spirited lads.
My landlord is a respectable surgeon, two days out of seven is as
drunk as a lord ! His wife is a bustling, chattering, kind-hearted
soul ; and his daughter ! oh ! death and damnation ! Well, what
am I ? That is, what do they think I am ? A most calm,
sedate, sober, abstemious, patient, mild-hearted, virtuous, gentle-
manly philosopher, the picture of good works, and the treasure-
house of righteous thoughts. Cards are shuffled under the
table-cloth, glasses are thrust into the cupboard if I enter the
room. I take neither spirits, wine, nor malt liquors. I dress in
black, and smile like a saint or martyr. Everybody says, ' what
a good young gentleman is Mr. Postlethwaite's tutor ! ' This is
a fact, as I am a living soul, and right comfortably do I laugh at
them. I mean to continue in their good opinion. I took a half-
year's farewell of old friend whisky at Kendal on the night after
I left. There was a party of gentlemen at the Royal Hotel, and
I joined them. We ordered in supper and whisky-toddy as ( hot
as hell ! ' They thought I was a physician, and put me in the
chair. I gave sundry toasts, that were washed down at the same
180 THE BRONTES
time, till the room spun round and the candles danced in our
eyes. One of the guests was a respectable old gentleman with
powdered head, rosy cheeks, fat paunch, and ringed fingers. He
gave ' The Ladies/ . . . after which he brayed off with a speech ;
and in two minutes, in the middle of a grand sentence, he stopped,
wiped his head, looked wildly round, stammered, coughed,
stopped again, and called for his slippers. The waiter helped
him to bed. Next a tall Irish squire and a native of the land of
Israel began to quarrel about their countries; and, in the warmth
of argument, discharged their glasses, each at his neighbour's
throat instead of his own. I recommended bleeding, purging,
and blistering ; but they administered each other a real ' Jem
Warder/ so I flung my tumbler on the floor, too, and swore I 'd
join 'Old Ireland!' A regular rumpus ensued, but we were
tamed at last. I found myself in bed next morning, with a bottle
of porter, a glass, and a corkscrew beside me. Since then I have
not tasted anything stronger than milk-and-water, nor, I hope,
shall, till I return at Midsummer ; when we will see about it. I
am getting as fat as Prince William at Springhead, and as godly
as his friend, Parson Wintcrbotham. My hand shakes no longer.
I ride to the banker's at Ulverston with Mr. Postlethwaite, and
sit drinking tea and talking scandal with old ladies. As to the
young ones ! I have one sitting by me just now fair-faced, blue-
eyed, dark-haired, sweet eighteen she little thinks the devil is so
near her !
I was delighted to see thy note, old squire, but I do not
understand one sentence you will perhaps know what I mean.
. . . How are all about you? I long to hear and see them again.
How is the ' Devil's Thumb/ whom men call , and the
* Devil in Mourning/ whom they call . How are
1 and , and the Doctor ; and him who will be used
as the tongs of hell he whose eyes Satan looks out of, as from
windows I mean , esquire? How are little ,
* Longshanks/ , and the rest of them ? Are they
married, buried, devilled, and damned ? When I come I '11
give them a good squeeze of the hand ; till then I am too godly
for them to think of. That bow-legged devil used to ask me
impertinent questions which I answered him in kind. Beelzebub
will make of him a walking-stick ! Keep to thy teetotalism, old
squire, till I return ; it will mend thy old body. . . . Does ' Little
Nosey 1 think I have forgotten him? No, by Jupiter! nor his
THE ART OF LOVE 181
clock either. 1 I '11 send him a remembrance some of these days !
But I must talk to some one prettier than thee ; so good-night,
old boy, and believe me thine, THE PHILOSOPHER.
Write directly. Of course you won't show this letter; and,
for Heaven's sake, blot out all the lines scored with red ink.
This letter 2 is sufficient to explain how it was that
Branwell held his position as guide to the two young
Postlethwaites only for a few months. He returned to
Haworth in June. A letter that he had forwarded to
Hartley Coleridge while in Broughton indicates a worthier
ambition. The letter has an additional interest because it
was addressed to one whose infirmity of purpose was
almost as marked as that of Branwell Bronte, and who was
destined to die a few months after his correspondent and
from much the same cause. 8
Letter 66
TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE
BkOUGHTON-IN-FURNESS,
LANCASHIRE, April 2oth> 1840.
SIR, It is with much reluctance that I venture to request, for
the perusal of the following lines, a portion of the time of one
upon whom I can have no claim, and should not dare to intrude ;
but I do not, personally, know a man on whom to rely for an
answer to the questions I shall put, and I could not resist my
longing to ask a man from whose judgment there would be little
hope of appeal.
Since my childhood I have been wont to devote the hours I
could spare from other and very different employments to efforts
at literary composition, always keeping the results to myself, nor
1 The clock mentioned by Branwell was one that stood in a corner of the * Snug' at
'The Bull,' inside the door of which the landlord ' Little Nosey' used to chalk up
the ' shots ' of his guests.
2 The letter is reprinted from Leyland's The Brontt Family. It may be found in
segments m Miss Mary F. Robinson's Emily Bronte. It was long in the possession of
Mr. William Wood of Haworth, who lent it to Miss Robinson.
3 Branwell Bronte died September 24th, 1848 ; Hartley Coleridge on the 6th of
January 1849.
182 THE BRONTES
have they in more than two or three instances been seen by any
other. But I am about to enter active life, and prudence tells
me not to waste the time which must make my independence ;
yet, sir, I like writing too well to fling aside the practice of it
without an effort to ascertain whether I could turn it to account,
not in wholly maintaining myself, but in aiding my maintenance,
for I do not sigh after fame, and am not ignorant of the folly or
the fate of those who, without ability, would depend for their
lives upon their pens ; but I seek to know, and venture, though
with shame, to ask from one whose word I must respect: whether,
by periodical or other writing, 1 could please myself with writing,
and make it subservient to living.
I would not, with this view, have troubled you with a composi-
tion in verse, but any piece I have in prose would too greatly
trespass upon your patience, which, I fear, if you look over the
verse, will be more than sufficiently tried.
I feel the egotism of my language, but I have none, sir, in my
heart, for I feel beyond all encouragement from myself, and I
hope for none from you.
Should you give any opinion upon what I send, it will, however
condemnatory, be most gratefully received by, Sir, your most
humble servant, P. B. BRONTE.
P.S. The first piece is only the sequel of one striving to depict
the fall from unguided passion into neglect, despair, and death.
It ought to show an hour too near those of pleasure for repent-
ance, and too near death for hope. The translations are two out
of many made from Horace, and given to assist an answer to the
question would it be possible to obtain remuneration for transla-
tions for such as those from that or any other classic author ?
A second letter from Branwell makes it clear that he
met Hartley Coleridge at the Lakes :
Letter 67
TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE
//, 1840.
SIR, You will, perhaps, have forgotten me, but it will be long
before I forget my first conversation with a man of real intellect,
in my first visit to the classic lakes of Westmoreland.
THE ART OF LOVE 188
During the delightful day which I had the honour of spending
with you at Ambleside, I received permission to transmit to you,
as soon as finished, the first book of a translation of Horace, in
order that, after a glance over it, you might tell me whether it
was worth further notice or better fit for the fire.
I have I fear most negligently, and amid other very different
employments striven to translate two books, the first of which I
have presumed to send to you. And will you, sir, stretch your
past kindness by telling me whether I should amend and pursue
the work or let it rest in peace ?
Great corrections I feel it wants, but till I feel that the work
might benefit me, I have no heart to make them ; yet if your
judgment prove in any way favourable, I will re-write the whole,
without sparing labour to reach perfection.
I dared not have attempted Horace but that I saw the utter
worthlessness of all former translations, and thought that a better
one, by whomsoever executed, might meet with some little
encouragement. I long to clear up my doubts by the judgment
of one whose opinion I should revere, and but I suppose I am
dreaming one to whom I should be proud indeed to inscribe
anything of mine which any publisher would look at, unless, as
is likely enough, the work would disgrace the name as much as
the name would honour the work.
Amount of remuneration I should not look to as anything
would be everything and whatever it might be, let me say that
my bones would have no rest unless by written agreement a
division should be made of the profits (little or much) between
myself and him through whom alone I could hope to obtain a
hearing with that formidable personage, a London bookseller.
Excuse my unintelligibility, haste, and appearance of pre-
sumption, and Believe me to be, sir, your most humble and
grateful servant, P. B. BRONTE.
If anything in this note should displease you, lay it, sir, to
the account of inexperience and not impudence.
At this time, also, Charlotte was trying to win the ver-
dict of the literary giants of her age. She would seem to
have sent Wordsworth the beginnings of a story. He
replied, and her answer has been preserved. 1
1 In Mrs. Gaskell's Life, p. 189-190 of Haworth Edition.
184 THE BRONTES
Letter 68
TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Authors are generally very tenacious of their productions, 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 inhabit-
ants, who are so many Mclchisedecs, and have no father nor
mother but your own imagination. ... I am sorry I did not
exist fifty or sixty years ago, when the ladies' Magazine' was
flourishing like a green bay tree. In that case, I make no doubt,
my aspirations after literary fame would have met with due
encouragement, 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 childhood, and childhood has a very strong faculty of
admiration, 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 ladylike 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 ' C. TV meant
Charles Timms or Charlotte Tomkins.
THE ART OF LOVE 185
Letter 69
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 3oM, 1840.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I am not ungrateful for the gift, not
unmindful of the giver. I wished before I wrote to finish my bag
and send it with the letter of thanks for the very pretty Turkish-
looking thing you sent me, but I can get no cord and tassels at
Keighley, and as I have no opportunity of going elsewhere, I
must continue to let it lie by a time longer. I read the letters you
sent me with real interest. Amelia's character is indeed developed.
I see something in the whole spirit of that letter which makes me
thankful you are unlike some of your friends. Fashion, wealth,
standing-in-society, seem to be the sole standard for measuring the
worth of a character. Amelia thinks she has given up the world,
but some of the most absurd notions of that world cling to her
like a pestilence. I trust you will ever eschew those doctrines,
still keep your truth about you. Amelia has been originally a
clever woman, but her judgment has been corrupted. She has
utterly lost the power of discriminating character. Her feelings,
once perhaps warm, have been weakened and perverted, and
heartless ambition has done it all ; the wish to rise in the world,
to be distinguished by those to whose opinion wealth and fashion
have, in her eyes, given great value. Aunt was vastly pleased
with the knitting-needle case.
Letter 70
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May 15^, 1840.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I read your last letter with a great deal of
interest. Perhaps it is not always well to tell people when we
approve of their actions, and yet it is very pleasant to do so ; and
as, if you had done wrongly, I hope I should have had honesty
enough to tell you so, so now, as you have done rightly, I shall
gratify myself by telling you what I think.
If I made you my Father Confessor I could reveal weaknesses
which you do not dream of. I do not mean to intimate that I
attach a high value to empty compliments, but a word of pane-
gyric has often made me feel a sense of confused pleasure which
186 THE BRONTfiS
it required my strongest effort to conceal and on the other
hand, a hasty expression which I could construe into neglect or
disapprobation has tortured me till I have lost half a night's rest
from its rankling pangs.
Do not be over-persuaded to marry a man you can never
respect I do not 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 convinced 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, perhaps,
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.
C. BRONTE.
P.S. Don't talk any more of sending for me when I come I
will send myself. All send their love to you. I have no prospect
of a situation any more than of going to the moon. Write to me
again as soon as you can.
Letter 71
TO THE REV. HENRY NUSSEY
HAWORTH, May i6tk, 1840.
DEAR SIR, In looking over my papers this morning I found
a letter from you of the date of last February with the mark upon
it unanswered. Your sister Ellen often accuses me of want of
punctuality in answering letters, and I think her accusation is here
justified. However, I give you credit for as much considerateness
as will induce you to excuse a greater fault than this, especially
as I shall hasten directly to repair it.
The fact is, when the letter came Ellen was staying with me,
and I was so fully occupied in talking to her that I had no time
to think of writing to others. This is no great compliment, but
it is no insult either. You know Ellen's worth, you know how
seldom I see her, you partly know my regard for her ; and from
THE ART OF LOVE 187
these premises you may easily draw the inference that her
company, when once obtained, is too valuable to be wasted for
a moment. One woman can appreciate the value of another
better than a man can do. Men very often only see the outside
gloss which dazzles in prosperity, women have opportunities for
closer observation, and they learn to value those qualities which
are useful in adversity.
There is much, too, in that mild even temper and that placid
equanimity which keep the domestic hearth always bright and
peaceful this is better than the ardent nature that changes
twenty times a day. I have studied Ellen and I think she would
make a good wife that is, if she had a good husband. If she
married a fool or a tyrant there is spirit enough in her composition
to withstand the dictates of either insolence or weakness, though
even then I doubt not her sense would teach her to make the best
of a bad bargain.
You will see my letters are all didactic. They contain no news,
because I know of none which I think it would interest you to
hear repeated. I am still at home, in very good health and spirits,
and uneasy only because I cannot yet hear of a situation.
I shall always be glad to have a letter from you, and I promise
when you write again to be less dilatory in answering. I trust
your prospects of happiness still continue fair ; and from what
you say of your future partner I doubt not she will be one who
will help you to get cheerfully through the difficulties of this
world and to obtain a permanent rest in the next ; at least I hope
such may be the case. You do right to conduct the matter with
due deliberation, for on the step you are about to take depends
the happiness of your whole lifetime.
You must not again ask me to write in a regular literary way
to you on some particular topic. I cannot do it at all. Do you
think I am a blue-stocking? I feel half inclined to laugh at you
for the idea, but perhaps you would be angry. What was the
topic to be? Chemistry? or astronomy? or mechanics? or
conchology? or entomology? or what other ology? I know
nothing at all about any of these. I am not scientific ; I am not
a linguist. You think me far more learned than I am. If I told
you all my ignorance, I am afraid you would be shocked ; how-
ever, as I wish still to retain a little corner in your good opinion,
I will hold my tongue. Believe me, yours respectfully,
C BRONT.
188 THE BRONTES
Letter 72
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
June 2nd, 1840,
MY DEAR ELLEN, Mary Taylor 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 Gomersall 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 should be glad to
see you, so I know you will be glad to see me. This arrange-
ment will not allow much time, but it is the only practical one
which, considering the circumstances, I can effect. Do not urge
me to stay more than two or three days, because I shall be
obliged to refuse you. I intend to walk to Keighley, then to take
the coach as far as Bradford, then to get some one to carry my
box, and to walk the rest of the way to Gomersall. If I manage
this I think I shall contrive very well. I shall reach Bradford
by about 5 o'clock, and then I shall have the cool of the evening
for the walk. I have communicated the whole of the arrange-
ments to Mary. I desire exceedingly to see both her and you.
Good-bye.
If you have any better plan to suggest I am open to conviction,
provided your plan is practical. C. B.
C. B.
C. B.
C. B.
Letter 73
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July \tfh, 1840.
MY DEAR ELLEN, Will you be so kind as to deliver the
enclosed to Martha Taylor do not go up to Gomersall on
purpose with it, do not on any account send, but give it her
yourself when you see her at church. You will think it extra-
ordinary that I should send a letter to Martha under a cover
addressed to you. I have a reason for so doing of course, but
it is not my own reason, and therefore I do not think I have any
right to communicate it. Martha will, of course, please herself.
Do not suppose from this apparent mystery that there is anything
THE ART OF LOVE 189
of importance in the business ; it is, I assure you, the veriest
trifle but trifles are sometimes magnified into matters of con-
sequence.
I am very glad you continue so heart-whole. I rather feared
our mutual nonsense might have made a deeper impression on
you than was safe. Mr. Weightman left Haworth this morning ;
we do not expect him back again for some weeks. I am fully
convinced, Ellen, that he is a thorough male-flirt ; his sighs are
deeper than ever, and his treading on toes more assiduous. I
find he has scattered his impressions far and wide. Keighley has
yielded him a fruitful field of conquest. Sarah Sugden is quite
smitten, so is Caroline Dury. She, however, has left, and his
Reverence has not yet ceased to idolise her memory. I find he
is perfectly conscious of his irresistibleness, and is as vain as a
peacock on the subject. I am not at all surprised at all this ; it
is perfectly natural ; a handsome, clever, prepossessing, good-
humoured young man will never want troops of victims amongst
young ladies so long as you are not among the number it is all
right. He has not mentioned you to me, and I have not men-
tioned you to him. I believe we fully understand each other on
the subject. I have seen little of him lately, and talked precious
little to him ; and when he was lonely and rather melancholy I
had a great pleasure in cheering and amusing him. Now that he
has got his spirits up and found plenty of acquaintances, I don't
care, and he does not care either.
I have no doubt he will get nobly through his examinations ;
he is a clever lad.
Letter 74
MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
August I4///, 1840.
Mv DEAR ELLEN, As you only sent me a note I shall only
send you one, and that not out of revenge, but because, like you,
I have but little to say. The freshest news in our house is that
we had about a fortnight ago a visit from some of our South of
England relations John Branwell Williams and his wife and
daughter. They have been staying about a month with Uncle
Fennell at Crosstone. They reckon to be very grand folks
indeed, and talk largely I thought assumingly. I cannot say
I much admired them ; to my eyes there seemed to be an attempt
190 THE BRONTfiS
to play the great Mogul down in Yorkshire. Mr. Williams him-
self was much less assuming than the womenites ; he seemed a
frank, sagacious kind of man, very tall and vigorous, with a keen,
active look. The moment he saw me he explained that I was
the very image of my aunt Charlotte. Mrs. Williams sets up for
being a woman of great talents, tact, and accomplishment; I
thought there was more noise than work. My cousin Eliza is
a young lady intended by Nature to be a bouncing, good-looking
girl ; Art has trained her to be a languishing, affected piece of
goods. I would have been friendly to her, but I could get no
talk except about the Low Church Evangelical Clergy, the
Millennium, Baptist Noel, botany, and her own conversion. A
mistaken education has utterly spoiled the lass ; her face tells
that she is naturally good-natured, though perhaps indolent; in
manner she is something of a sanctified Amelia Ringrose, affect-
ing at times a saintly, childlike innocence so utterly out of
keeping with her round rosy face and tall bouncing figure that
I could hardly refrain from laughing as I watched her. Write a
long letter to me next time, and I '11 write you ditto. Good-bye.
Letter 75
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
August 20th, 1840.
DEAR MRS. 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) l was never imagined.
By the bye, speaking of Mr. Weightman, 1 told you he was gone
to pass his examination 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 certain 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 returning. 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
1 The curate had sent Ellen Nussey a present of ducks.
THE ART OF LOVE 191
parson ; certainly he ought not. I told Branwell all you said in
your last ; he said little, but laughed. The name you gave him
was Tastril. I am glad you have not broken your heart because
John B. 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. I hope George will be
better soon ; did Mr. Heald accompany him to Scotland? 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. I have got another bale of French books from
Gomersall, 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.
I 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 exquisite all brilliant black
blots and utterly illegible letters. CALIBAN.
Letter 76
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
September zqth, 1840.
4 The wind bloweth where it listeth. Thou nearest the sound
thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth.'
That, I believe, is Scripture, though in what chapter or book, or
whether it be correctly quoted, I can't justly say. However, it
behoves me to write a letter to a young woman of the name of
Ellen Nussey, with whom I was once acquainted, 'in life's morn-
ing march, when my spirit was young.' This young woman asked
me to write to her some time since, though having 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 pro-
duction, she will find herself miserably disappointed. I shall
192 THE BRONTfiS
dress her a dish of salmagundi, I shall cook a hash, compound
a stew, toss up an omelette souffl6e a la Franchise, and send it to
her with my respects. The wind, which is very high up in our
hills of Judea, though, I suppose, down in the Philistine flats of
Batley 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 couleur 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.
A woman of the name of Mrs. Brooke, it seems, wants a teacher.
I wish she would have me ; and I have written to another woman
denominated Peg 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 fable or other about grasshoppers
and ants by a scrubby old knave, yclept ^Esop ; the grasshoppers
sung all the summer and starved all the winter.
A distant relation of mine, one Patrick Boanerges, has set off
to seek his fortune in the wild, wandering, adventurous, romantic,
knight-errant-hke capacity of clerk on the Leeds and Manchester
Railroad. Leeds and Manchester, where are they? Cities in a
wilderness like Tadmor, alias Palmyra are they not? I know
Mrs. Ellen is burning with eagerness to hear something about
Wm. Weightman, whom she adores in her heart, and whose
image she cannot efface from her memory. I think I '11 plague
her by not telling her a word. To speak Heaven's truth, I have
precious little to say, inasmuch 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 conversa-
tion since his return from Westmoreland, when he poured out his
whole, warm, fickle soul in fondness 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 pro-
digious 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. There is one little
trait respecting him which lately came to my knowledge, whicn
THE ART OF LOVE 193
gives a glimpse 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? 1 'Susan Bland, the
daughter of John Bland, the Superintendent. 1 Now Susan Bland
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 very ill and weak,
and seemingly far on her way to that bourne 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. Weightman was last there he had sent them a bottle of wine
and a jar of preserves. She added that he was always good to
poor folks, and seemed to have a deal of feeling and kind-
heartedness about him. This proves that he is not all selfishness
and vanity. 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. Weightman and I are on very amiable terms ; we are not at
all. We are cold, distant, and reserved. We seldom speak ; and
when we do, it is only to exchange the most commonplace
remarks. 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, and that on further acquaintance
he found me of a capricious, changeful temper, never to be
reckoned on. He does not know that I have regulated 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 was very painful to me. I find this reserve
very convenient, and consequently I intend to keep it up.
Branwell, it will be seen, was at Mr. Postlethwaite's
VOL. I. N
194 THE BRONTES
from January to June 1840. He obtained his post as a
booking clerk at Sowerby Bridge in September 1840, and
was here until his transfer in 1841 to the station at
Luddenden Foot. There he remained twelve months.
Letter 77
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
November I2tk, 1840.
MY DEAR NELL, You will excuse this scrawled sheet of paper,
inasmuch 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
delectable 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 discern that the eye is a little too elevated
in the horse's head, otherwise I can assure you it is no such bad
attempt. It shows taste and something 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 afterwards 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
herself pleased with the style of my application with its candour,
etc. (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 singing. J can't give her music and singing, so of
course the negotiation is null and void. Being once up, however,
1 don't mean to sit down 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 Wooler's school is in a con-
sumptive 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 Bradford.
You remember Mr. and Mrs. C ? Mrs. C came here the
other day, with a most melancholy tale of her wretched husband's
drunken, extravagant, profligate habits. She asked papa's advice ;
THE ART OF LOVE 195
there was nothing, she said, but ruin before them. They owed
debts which they could never pay. She expected Mr. C '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 resolved to do; and she
Vould 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.C .
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 occasions, treated him with as much civility as I was mistress
of. I was struck with Mary's expression of a similar feeling at
first sight; she said, when we left him, 'That is a hideous man,
Charlotte!' I thought, ' He is indeed.' In what precise way he
has committed himself in Ireland I know not, but Mrs. C says
he dare not follow her there.
This is a very disagreeable letter on account of the subject, and
you must necessarily owe me a grudge for writing such a one ;
but never mind, I '11 send you a better one another time (if all is
well ) C. BRONTE.
Letter 78
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
November 2O//5, 1840.
MY DEAREST NELL, That last letter of thine treated of
matters so high and important I cannot delay answering it for
a day. Now I am about to write thee a discourse, and a piece
of advice which thou must take as if it came from thy grand-
mother. But in the first place, before I begin with thee, I have
196 THE BRONTES
a word to whisper in the ear of Mr. Vincent, and I wish it could
reach him.
In the name of St. Chrysostom, St. Simon, and St. Jude, why
does not that amiable young gentleman come forward like a man
and say all that he has to say personally, instead of trifling with
kinsmen and kinswomen. * Mr. Vincent/ I say, ' walk or ride
over to Brookroyd some fine morning, when you will find Miss
Ellen sitting in the drawing-room making a little white frock
for the Jew's basket, and say: "Miss Ellen, I want to speak to
you." Miss Ellen will of course civilly answer : "I am at your
service, Mr. Vincent." And then, when the room is cleared of
all but yourself 'and herself, just take a chair near her, insist upon
her laying down that silly Jew basket-work, and listening to you.
Then begin, in a clear, distinct, deferential, but determined voice :
"Miss Ellen, I have a question to put to you a very important
question to put to you : * Will you take me as your husband, for
better, for worse ? I am not a rich man, but I have sufficient to
support us. I am not a great man, but I love you honestly and
truly. Miss Ellen, if you knew the world better you would see
that this is an offer not to be despised a kind attached heart and
a moderate competency.'" Do this, Mr. Vincent, and you may
succeed. Go on writing sentimental and love-sick letters to
Henry and I would not give sixpence for your suit.'
So much for Mr. Vincent. Now, Nell, your turn comes to swallow
the black bolus, called a friend's advice. Here I am under difficulties
because I don't know Mr. Vincent. If I did, I would give my
opinion roundly in two words. ' Is the man a fool ? is he a knave?
a humbug, a hypocrite, a ninny, a noodle ? If he is any or all of
these, of course there is no sense in trifling with him. Cut him
short at once blast his hopes with lightning rapidity and keen-
ness. Is he something better than this? has he at least common-
sense, a good disposition, a manageable temper? Then, Nell,
consider the matter.' Say further: 'You feel a disgust towards
him now an utter repugnance. Very likely. But be so good as
to remember you don't know him ; you have only had three or
four days' acquaintance with him. Longer and closer intimacy
might reconcile you to a wonderful extent. And now I '11 tell
you a word of truth, at which you may be offended or not as you
like.' Say to her : * From what I know of your character, and I
think I know it pretty well, I should say you will never love before
marriage. After that ceremony is over, and after you have had
THE ART OF LOVE 197
some months to settle down, and to get accustomed to the
creature you have taken for your worse half, you will probably
make a most affectionate and happy wife ; even if the individual
should not prove all you could wish you will be indulgent
towards his little follies and foibles, and will not feel much
annoyance at them. This will especially be the case if he should
have sense sufficient to allow you to guide him in important
matters/ Say also : * I hope you will not have the romantic folly
to wait for what the French call " une grande passion." My good
girl, "une grande passion" is "une grande folie." I have told
you so before and I tell it you again, moderation in all things is
wisdom ; moderation in the sensations is superlative wisdom.
When you are as old as I am, Nell (I am sixty at least, being
your grandmother), you will find that the majority of those worldly
precepts, whose seeming coldness shocks and repels us in youth,
are founded in wisdom/
Did you not once say to me in all childlike simplicity, ' I
thought, Charlotte, no young lady should fall in love till the offer
was actually made ? ' I forget what answer I made at the time, but
I now reply, after due consideration, Right as a glove, the maxim
is just, and I hope you will always attend to it. I will even
extend and confirm it : No young lady should fall in love till the
offer has been made, accepted, the marriage ceremony performed,
and the first half-year of wedded life has passed away. A woman
may then begin to love, but with great precaution, very coolly,
very moderately, very rationally If she ever loves so much that
a harsh word or a cold look cuts her to the heart she is a fool. If
she ever loves so much that her husband's will is her law, and
that she has got into a habit of watching his looks in order that
she may anticipate his wishes, she will soon be a neglected fool.
Did I not once tell you of an instance of a relative of mine who
cared for a young lady until he began to suspect that she cared
more for him and then instantly conceived a sort of contempt for
her? You know to whom I allude never, as you value your ears,
mention the circumstance but I have two studies, you are my
study for the success, the credit, and the respectability of a quiet,
tranquil character. Mary is my study for the contempt, the
remorse, the misconstruction which follow the development of
feelings in themselves noble, warm, generous, devoted, and
profound ; but which being too freely revealed, too frankly
bestowed, are not estimated at their real value. God bless her.
198 THE BRONTfiS
I never hope to see in this world a character more truly noble ;
she would die willingly for one she loved ; her intellect and her
attainments are of the highest standard. Yet I doubt whether
Mary will ever marry.
I think I may as well conclude the letter, for after all I can
give you no advice worth receiving; all I have to say may be
comprised in a very brief sentence. On one hand, don't accept
if you are certain you cannot tolerate the man ; on the other hand,
don't refuse because you cannot adore him. As to little William
Weightman, I think he will not die for love of anybody ; you might
safely coquette with him a trifle if you were so disposed, without
fear of having a broken heart on your conscience. His reverence
expresses himself very strongly on the subject of young ladies
saying 'No' when they mean 'Yes.' He assures me he means
nothing personal. I hope not. I tried to find something
admirable in him and failed.
Assuredly I quite agree with him in his disapprobation of such
a senseless course. It is folly indeed for the tongue to stammer
a negative, when the heart is proclaiming an affirmative. Or
rather, it is an act of heroic self-denial of which I for one confess
myself wholly incapable. / would not tell such a lie to gain a
thousand pounds. Write to me again soon and let me know how
all goes on. What made you say I admired Hippocrates? It is
a confounded ' fib.' I tried to find something in him and failed.
Ellen, Helen, Eleonora, Helena, Nell, Nelly Mrs. Vincent.
Does it sound well, Nell ? I think it does. I '11 never come to
see you after you are married.
Letter 79
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January 3^, 1841.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I received the news in your last with no
surprise, and with the feeling that this removal must be a relief
to Mr. Taylor himself and even to his family. The bitterness of
death was past a year ago, when it was first discovered that his
illness must terminate fatally ; all between has been lingering
suspense. This is at an end now, and the present certainty, how-
ever sad, is better than the former doubt. What will be the
consequence of his death is another question ; for my own part,
THE ART OF LOVE 199
I look forward to a dissolution and dispersion of the family,
perhaps not immediately, but in the course of a year or two. It
is true, causes may arise to keep them together awhile longer,
but they are restless, active spirits, and will not be restrained
always. Mary alone has more energy and power in her nature
than any ten men you can pick out in the united parishes of
Birstall and Gomersall. It is vain to limit a character like hers
within ordinary boundaries she will overstep them. I am morally
certain Mary will establish her own landmarks, so will the rest of
them. C. BRONTE.
Letter 80
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January loth, 1841.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I promised to write to you, and therefore
I must keep my promise, though I have neither much to say nor
much time to say it in.
Mary Taylor's visit has been a very pleasant one to us, and
I believe to herself also. She and Mr. Weightman have had
several games at chess, which generally terminated in a species of
mock hostility. Mr. Weightman is better in health ; but don't set
your heart on him, I 'm afraid he is very fickle not to you in
particular, but to half-a-dozen other ladies. He has just cut his
inamorata at Swansea, and sent her back all her letters. His
present object of devotion is Caroline Dury, to whom he has just
despatched a most passionate copy of verses. Poor lad, his
sanguine temperament bothers him grievously.
That Swansea affair seems to me somewhat heartless as far
as I can understand it, though I have not heard a very clear ex-
planation. He sighs as much as ever. I have not mentioned your
name to him yet, nor do I mean to do so until I have a fair
opportunity of gathering his real mind. Perhaps I may never
mention it at all, but on the contrary carefully avoid all allusion
to you. It will just depend upon the further opinion I may form
of his character. I am not pleased to find that he was carrying
on a regular correspondence with this lady at Swansea all the
time he was paying such pointed attention to you ; and now the
abrupt way in which he has cut her off, and the evident wandering
instability of his mind is no favourable symptom at all. I shall not
have many opportunities of observing him for a month to come.
200 THE BRONTES
As for the next fortnight, he will be sedulously engaged in pre-
paring for his ordination, and the fortnight after he will spend at
Appleby and Crackenthorp with Mr. and Miss Walton. Don't
think about him ; I am not afraid you will break your heart, but
don't think about him.
Give my love to Mercy and your mother, and, Believe me,
yours sincerely, A IRA.
Letter 81
TO THE REV. H. NUSSEY, EARNLEY RECTORY, NR. CHICHESTER
January n///, 1841.
DEAR SIR, It is time I should reply to your last or I shall
fail in fulfilling my promise of not being so dilatory as on a former
occasion. I think I told you I had heard something of Mr.
Vincent's affair before, but I thought from the long interval that
had elapsed between his visit to Brookroyd and his late declara-
tion that some impediment had occurred to prevent his proceeding
further. I own I am glad to hear that this is not the case, for I
know few things that would please me better than to hear of
Ellen's being well married. This little adverb ivell is, however,
a condition of importance ; it implies a great deal fitness of
character, temper, pursuits, and competency of fortune. Your
description of Mr. Vincent seems to promise all these things ;
there is but one word in it that appears exceptionable you say
he is eccentric. If his eccentricity is not of a degrading or ridi-
culous character, if it does not arise from weakness of mind, I
think Kllen would hardly be justified in considering it a serious
objection ; but there is a species of eccentricity which, showing
itself in silly and trifling forms, often exposes its possessor to
ridicule this, as it must necessarily weaken a wife's respect for
her husband, may be a great evil. I have advLsed Ellen as strongly
as my limited knowledge of the business gives me a right to do,
to accept Mr. Vincent in case he should make decided proposals.
In consequence of this advice she seems to suspect that I have
had some hand in helping ( to cook a certain hash which has been
concocted at Earnley.' I use her own words which I cannot
interpret, for I do not comprehend them you can clear me of
any such underhand and meddling dealings. What I have had
to say on the subject has been said entirely to herself, and it
THE ART OF LOVE 201
amounted simply to this: ' If Mr. Vincent is a good, honourable,
and respectable man, take him, even though you should not at
present feel any violent affection for him ; the folly of what the
French call "une grande passion " is not consistent with your tranquil
character do not therefore wait for such a feeling. If Mr. Vincent
be sensible and good-tempered, I do not doubt that in a little
while you would find yourself very happy and comfortable as his
wife.'
You will see by these words that I am no advocate for the false
modesty which you complain of, and which induces some young
ladies to say * No ' when they mean * Yes ' ; but if I know Ellen,
she is not one of this class she ought not therefore to be too
closely urged. Let her friends state their opinion and give their
advice, and leave it to her own sense of right and reason to do the
rest. It seems to us better that she should be married but if she
thinks otherwise, perhaps she is the best judge. We know many
evils are escaped by eschewing matrimony, and since so large a
proportion of the young ladies of these days pursue that rainbow-
shade with such unremitting eagerness, let us respect one excep-
tion who turns aside and pronounces it only a coloured vapour
whose tints will fade on a close approach.
I shall be glad to receive the poetry which you offer to send
me; you ask me to return the gift in kind. How do you know
that I have it in my power to comply with that request? Once
indeed, I was very poetical, when I was sixteen, seventeen, eigh-
teen, and nineteen years old, but I am now twenty-four, approach-
ing twenty-five, and the intermediate years are those which begin
to rob life of some of its superfluous colouring. At this age it is
time that the imagination should be pruned and trimmed that
the judgment should be cultivated, and a few, at least, of the
countless illusions of early youth should be cleared away. I have
not written poetry for a long while.
You will excuse the dulness, morality, and monotony of this
epistle, and believe me, with all good wishes for your welfare
here and hereafter, Your sincere friend, C. BRONTE.
202 THE BRONTES
CHAPTER X
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON MARCH TO
DECEMBER 1841
RAWDON is still a village, six miles from Bradford, con-
sisting largely of the residences of wealthy Bradford
merchants. Woodhouse Grove School, where the Rev.
John Fennell was headmaster, is very near by. Upper-
wood House, where Charlotte Bronte was governess for
a few months in 1841, no longer exists; some years ago
it was pulled down, and the gardens contributed to
add further glories to the neighbouring residence of
Ashfield.
Rawdon has yet another interest in addition to the fact
of Charlotte Bronte's brief governess-ship to the children
of Mr. John White. Five years later Mr. William Edward
Forster took a residence which is known as Lane Head,
Rawdon, and several letters in his biography are dated
from here at this period. 1
Perhaps the most interesting point of Forster's residence
here was the visit to him of Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle in the
summer of 1847 and of the constant visits to him at
Rawdon of Mr. Richard Monckton Milnes, who became
Lord Hough ton. A story is told by Sir Wemyss Reid
of Forster driving Mrs. Carlyle, when both were thrown
out of the gig.
Of Charlotte Bronte's sojourn at Upperwood House,
Rawdon, I can find only one slight record apart from her
1 See The Life of the Rt. Hon. William Edward Forster, by T. Wemyss Reid.
2 vols. (Chapman and Hall, 1888.) Vol. i., Chapter 7.
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 203
letters. It is contained in a communication to the West-
minster Gazette. The writer says :
My mother, Mrs. Glade of Hastings, now in her seventy-ninth
year, distinctly remembers meeting the afterwards distinguished
authoress at the house of Mr. White, a Bradford merchant . . .
something like sixty years ago. At that time Miss Bronte was
acting as governess to Mr. White's children, and my mother
has a vivid recollection of seeing her sitting apart from the
rest of the family in a corner of the room, poring, in her short-
sighted way, over a book. The impression she made on my
mother was that of a shy nervous girl, ill at ease, who desired to
escape notice and to avoid taking part in the general conversation. 1
Letter 82
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March yd, 1841.
I told you some time since that I meant to get a situation,
and when 1 said so my resolution was quite fixed. I felt that,
however often I was disappointed, I had no intention of relin-
quishing 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. It is in the family of Mr. White of Upperwood
House, Rawdon.
The house is not very large, but exceedingly comfortable and
well regulated ; the grounds are fine and extensive. 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 per annum, though it is nominally 20, but
the expense of washing will be deducted therefrom. 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 yesterday.
I have not the faculty of telling an individual's disposition at
1 Mr. Strickland of Halsteads, Hastings, in The Westminster Gazette^ May 1901.
204 THE BRONTES
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 governess's work is to me
for no one but myself is aware how utterly averse my whole
mind and nature are to the employment. Do not think that I
fail to blame myself for this, or that I leave any means un-
employed to conquer this feeling. Some of my greatest diffi-
culties lie in things that would appear to you 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 to me to endure
the greatest inconvenience than 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 absolute 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 Rawdon is only
nine miles from Brookroyd.
I dare say you have received a valentine this year from our
bonny-faced friend the curate of Haworth. 1 I got a precious
1 Valentines were of course very much the vogue in those days, and one sent by
Charlotte Bronte to a clergyman of a neighbouring parish was religiously preserved by
his family and printed a few years ago in the Whitchavcn News-.
A Roland for your Oliver
We think you 've justly earned ;
You sent us such a valentine,
Youi gift is now returned.
\Ve cannot write or talk like you ;
We're plain folks every one ;
You 've played a clever jest on ui,
We thank you for the fun.
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 205
specimen a few days before I left home, but I knew better how to
treat it than I did those we received a year ago. I am up to the
dodges and artifices of his lordship's character. He knows I
know him, and you cannot conceive how quiet and respectful he
has long been. Mind I am not writing against him I never
will do that. I like him very much. I honour and admire his
generous, open disposition, and sweet temper but for all the
Believe us when we frankly say
(Our words, though blunt, are true),
At home, abroad, by night or day,
We all wish well to you.
And never may a cloud come o'er
The sunshine of your mind ;
Kind friends, warm hearts, and happy hours
Through life we trust you Ml find.
Where'er you go, however far
In future years you stray,
There shall not want our earnest prayer
To speed you on your way.
A Granger and a pilgrim here
We know you sojourn now ;
But brighter hopes, with brighter wreaths,
Are doomed to bind your brow.
Not always in these lonely hills
Your humble lot shall he ;
The oracle of fate fortells
A worthier destiny.
And though her words are veiled in gloom
Though clouded her decree,
Yet doubt not that a juster doom
She keeps in store for thee.
Then cast hope's anchor near the shore,
'Twill hold your vessel fast,
And fear not for the tide's deep roar,
And dread not for the blast.
For though this station now seems near,
'Mid land-lorkcd creeks to be,
The helmsman soon his ship will steer,
Out to the wide blue sea.
W r ell officered and staunchly manned,
Well built to meet the blast ;
With favouring winds, the bark must land
On glorious shores at last.
CHARLOTTE ERONT&.
February 1840.
206 THE BRONTES
tricks, wiles, and insincerities of love, the gentleman has not his
match for twenty miles round. He would fain persuade every
woman under thirty whom he sees that he is desperately in love
with her. I have a great deal more to say, but I have not a
moment's time to write it in. My dear Ellen, do write to me
soon, don't forget. Good-bye.
Letter 83
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March 2isf, 1841.
MY DEAREST ELLEN, You must excuse a very short answer
to your most welcome letter ; for my time is entirely occupied,
Mrs. White expects a good deal of sewing from me. I cannot sew
much during the day, on account of the children, who require the
closest attention. I am obliged, therefore, to devote the evenings
to this business. You are depressed and unhappy, I see, whatever
your uneasiness is owing to. You give me no further explanation
of Mary's behaviour. Take comfort, Nell write to me often very
long letters. It will do both of us good. This place is far
better than Stonegappe, 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 afflicts me sorely. I like Mr. White extremely.
Respecting Mrs. White I am for the present silent. I am trying
hard to like her. The children are not such little devils incarnate
as the Sidgwicks', but they are over-indulged, and at times hard to
manage. Do, do, do come to see rne ; if it be a breach of etiquette,
never mind. If you can only stop an hour, come. Talk no more
about my forsaking you ; my dear Nell, I could not afford to do
so. I find it is not in my nature to get on in this weary world
without sympathy and attachment 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. I do not know how to wear
your pretty little handcuffs. When you come you shall explain
the mystery. I send you the precious valentine. Make much of
it. Remember the writer's blue eyes, auburn hair, and rosy
cheeks. You may consider the concern addressed to yourself, for
I have no doubt he intended it to suit anybody. Fare-thee-well
Nell.
UPPER WOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 207
Letter 84
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, April isf, 1841.
MY DEAR NELLY, It is twelve o'clock at night, but I must just
write to you a word before I go to bed. If you think I am going
to refuse your invitation, or if you sent it me with that idea,
you're mistaken. As soon as I read your shabby little note, I
gathered up my spirits directly, walked on the impulse of the
moment into Mrs. White's presence, popped the question, and for
two minutes received no answer. Will she refuse me when I work
so hard for her? thought I. ( Ye-e-es' was said in a reluctant,
cold tone. * Thank you, ma'am,' said I, with extreme cordiality,
and was marching from the room when she recalled me with :
* You 'd better go on Saturday afternoon then, when the children
have holiday, and if you return in time for them to have all their
lessons on Monday morning, I don't see that much will be lost.'
You are a genuine Turk, thought I, but again I assented. Satur-
day after next, then, is the day appointed not next Saturday^
mind. I do not quite know whether the offer about the gig is not
entirely out of your head or, if George has given his consent to it,
whether that consent has not been wrung from him by the most
persevering and irresistible teasing on the part of a certain young
person of my acquaintance. I make no manner of doubt that if
he does send the conveyance (as Miss Wooler used to denominate
all wheeled vehicles) it will be to his own extreme detriment and
inconvenience, but for once in my life I '11 not mind this, or bother
my head about it. I '11 come God knows with a thankful and
joyful heart glad of a day's reprieve from labour. If you don't
send the gig I '11 walk. Now mind, I am not coming to Brookroyd
with- the idea of dissuading Mary Taylor from going to New
Zealand. I 've said everything I mean to say on that subject, and
she has a perfect right to decide for herself. I am coming to taste
the pleasure of liberty, a bit of pleasant congenial talk, and a
sight of two or three faces I like. God bless you. I want to
see you again. Huzza for Saturday afternoon after next ! Good-
night, my lass. C. BRONTE.
Have you lit your pipe with Mr. Weightman's valentine?
208 THE BRONTES
Letter 85
TO EMILY J. BRONTfi
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, April 2nd, 1841.
DEAR E. J., I received your last letter with delight as usual
I must write a line to thank you for it and the inclosure, which
however is too bad you ought not to have sent me those packets,
I had a letter from Anne yesterday ; she says she is well. I hope
she speaks absolute truth. I had written to her and Branwell a
few days before. I have not heard from Branwell yet. It is to
be hoped that his removal to another station will turn out for the
best. As you say, it looks like getting on at any rate.
I have got up my courage so far as to ask Mrs. White to grant
me a day's holiday to go to Birstall to see Ellen Nussey, who has
offered to send a gig for me. My request was granted, but so
coldly and slowly. However, I stuck to my point in a very
exemplary and remarkable manner. I hope to go next Saturday.
Matters are progressing very strangely at Gomersall. Mary
Taylor and Waring have come to a singular determination, but I
almost think under the peculiar circumstances a defensible one,
though it sounds outrageously odd at first. They are going to
emigrate to quit the country altogether. Their destination
unless they change is Port Nicholson, in the northern island of
New Zealand ! ! ! Mary has made up her mind she can not and
will not be a governess, a teacher, a milliner, a bonnet-maker nor
housemaid. She sees no means of obtaining employment she
would like in England, so she is leaving it. I counselled her to
go to France likewise and stay there a year before she decided on
this strange unlikely-sounding plan of going to New Zealand, but
she is quite resolved. I cannot sufficiently comprehend what her
views and those of her brothers may be on the subject, or what is
the extent of their information regarding Port Nicholson, to say
whether this is rational enterprise or absolute madness. With
love to papa, aunt, Tabby, etc. Good-bye. C. B.
. I am very well ; I hope you are. Write again soon.
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 209
Letter 86
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, May 4^, 1841.
DEAR NELL, I have been a long time without writing to you ;
but I think, knowing as you do how I am situated in the matter
of time, you will not be angry with me. Your brother George
will have told you that he did not go into the house when we
arrived at Rawdon, for which omission of his Mrs. White was very
near blowing me up. She went quite red in the face with vexation
when she heard that the gentleman had just driven within the
gate and then back again, for she is very touchy in the matter of
opinion. Mr. White also seemed to regret the circumstance from
more hospitable and kindly motives. I assure you, if you were
to come and see me you would have quite a fuss made over you.
During the last three weeks that hideous operation called ' a
thorough clean ' has been going on in the house. It is now nearly
completed, for which I thank my stars, as during its progress I-
have fulfilled the twofold character of nurse and governess, while
the nurse has been transmuted into cook and housemaid. That
nurse, by the bye, is the prettiest lass you ever saw, and when
dressed has much more the air of a lady than her mistress. Well
can I believe that Mrs. White has been an exciseman's daughter,
and I am convinced also that Mr. White's extraction is very low.
Yet Mrs. White talks in an amusing strain of pomposity about
his and her family connections, and affects to look down with
wondrous hauteur on the whole race of tradesfolk, as she terms
men of business I was beginning to think Mrs. White a good
sort of body in spite of all her bouncing and boasting, her bad
grammar and worse orthography, but I have had experience of
one little trait in her character which condemns her a long way
with me. After treating a person in the most familiar terms of
equality for a long time, if any little thing goes wrong she does
not scruple to give way to anger in a very coarse, unladylike
manner. I think passion is the true test of vulgarity or refine-
ment.
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
VOL I o
210 THE BRONTES
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. Somehow, I have managed to get a
good deal more control over the children 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. Come and see me if you can in any way get, I want
to see you. It seems Martha Taylor is fairly gone. Good-bye,
my lassie. Yours insufferably, C. BRONTE.
Letter 87
TO THE REV. HENRY NUSSEY, EARNLEY RECTORY
UPPER WOOD HOUSE, RAWDON,
May gth, 1841.
DEAR SIR, I am about to employ part of a Sunday evening
in answering your last letter. You will perhaps think this hardly
right, and yet I do not feel that I am doing wrong. Sunday
evening is almost my only time of leisure. No one would blame
me if I were to spend this spare hour in a pleasant chat with a
friend is it worse to spend it in a friendly letter?
I have just seen my little noisy charges deposited snugly in
their cribs, and I am sitting alone in the school-room with the
quiet of a Sunday evening pervading the grounds and gardens
outside my window. I owe you a letter can I choose a better
time than the present for paying my debt ? Now, Mr. Nussey,
you need not expect any gossip or news, I have none to tell
you even if I had I am not at present in the mood to com-
municate them. You will excuse an unconnected letter. If I
had thought you critical or captious I would have declined the
task of corresponding with you. When I reflect, indeed, it seems
strange that I should sit down to write without a feeling of
formality and restraint to an individual with whom I am person-
ally so little acquainted as I am with yourself; but the fact is, I
cannot be formal in a letter if I write at all I must write as I
think. It seems Ellen has told you that I am become a governess
again. As you say, it is indeed a hard thing for flesh and blood
to leave home, especially a good home not a wealthy or splendid
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 211
one. My home is humble and unattractive to strangers, but to
me it contains what I shall find nowhere else in the world the
profound, the intense affection which brothers and sisters feel
for each other when their minds are cast in the same mould, their
ideas drawn from the same source when they have clung to each
other from childhood, and when disputes have never sprung up to
divide them.
We are all separated now, and winning our bread amongst
strangers as we can my sister Anne is near York, my brother
in a situation near Halifax, I am here. Emily is the only one
left at home, where her usefulness and willingness make her
indispensable. Under these circumstances should we repine ?
I think not our mutual affection ought to comfort us under
all difficulties. If the God on whom we must all depend will
but vouchsafe us health and the power to continue in the strict
line of duty, so as never under any temptation to swerve from
it an inch, we shall have ample reason to be grateful and
contented.
I do not pretend to say that I am always contented. A
governess must often submit to have the heartache. My em-
ployers, Mr. and Mrs. White, are kind worthy people in their
way, but the children are indulged. I have great difficulties to
contend with sometimes. Perseverance will perhaps conquer
them. And it has gratified me much to find that the parents
are well satisfied with their children's improvement in learning
since I came. But I am dwelling too much upon my own con-
cerns and feelings. It is true they are interesting to me, but it is
wholly impossible they should be so to you, and, therefore, I hope
you will skip the last page, for I repent having written it.
A fortnight since I had a letter from Ellen urging me to go
to Brookroyd for a single day. I felt such a longing to have a
respite from labour, and to get once more amongst ' old familiar
faces,' that I conquered diffidence and asked Mrs. White to let
me go. She complied, and I went accordingly, and had a most
delightful holiday. I saw your mother, your sisters, Mercy, Ellen,
and poor Sarah, and your brothers Richard and George all were
well. Ellen talked of endeavouring to get a situation somewhere.
I did not encourage the idea much. I advised her rather to go
to Earnley for a while. I think she wants a change, and I dare
say you would be glad to have her as a companion for a few
months. I remain, yours respectfully, C. BRONTE.
212 THE BRONTES
Letter 88
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
UPPLRWOOD HOUSE, June lofk, 1841.
DEAR NELL, If I don't scrawl you a line of some sort I know
you will begin to fancy that I neglect you, in spite of all I said
last time we met. You can hardly fancy it possible, I dare say,
that I cannot find a quarter of an hour to scribble a note in ; but
when a note is written it is to be carried a mile to the post, and
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 ; they are now at Hexham. No time is fixed for
their return, but I hope it will not be delayed 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' holidays, because the family she is with are going to
Scarborough. / should like to see her to judge for myself of the
state of her health. 1 cannot trust any other person's report, no
one seems minute enough in their observations. I should also
very much have liked you to see 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 feeling of being without a companion. I offered the Irish
concern to Mary Taylor, but she is so circumstanced that she
cannot accept it. Her brothers, like George, have a feeling of
pride that revolts at the thought of their sister 'going out.' I
hardly knew that it was such a degradation till lately.
Your visit did me much good. I wish Mary Taylor would
cornc, and yet I hardly know how to find time to be with her.
Good-bye. God bless you. C. BRONTE.
I am very well, and I continue to get to bed before twelve
o'clock P.M. I don't tell people that I am dissatisfied with my
situation. I can drive on ; there is no use in complaining. I
have lost my chance of going to Ireland.
Letter 89
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July \st, 1841.
DEAR NELL, I was not at home when I got your letter, but
I am at home now, and it feels like Paradise. I came last night.
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 218
When I asked for a vacation, Mrs. White offered me a week or
ten days, but I demanded three weeks, and stood to my tackle
with a tenacity worthy of yourself, lassie. I gained the point, but
I don't like such victories. I have gained another point. You
are unanimously requested to come here next Tuesday and stay
as long as you can. Aunt is in high good-humour. I need not
write a long letter. Good-bye, dear Nell. C. B.
P.S. I have lost the chance of seeing Anne. She is gone
back to ' the land of Egypt and the house of Bondage. 1 Also,
little black Tom is dead ; every cup, however sweet, has its drop
of bitterness in it. Probably you will be at a loss to ascertain the
identity of black Tom, but don't fret about it, I '11 tell you when
you come. Keeper is as well, big, and grim as ever. I'm too
happy to write. Come, come, lassie.
Letter 90
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July
MY DEAR ELLEN, 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, eyeglass in hand, and
sometimes spectacles on nose. However, you are not to blame ;
I believe you have done right in going to Earnley ; and as to the
disappointment, why, all must suffer disappointment 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 fine 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 occurrence,
though, in Delphic style, I wrap up the information in figures
of speech concerning eggs, chickens, etcetera, etceterorum. 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 much I wished such a thing ; but
214 THE BRONTES
I never could conceive where the capital was to come from for
making such a speculation, 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 obtained,
etc. 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 risk more than 150 on such a
venture ; and would it be possible to establish 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 Ann, if you think she can answer it ; or 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 minds to for a moment. We
do not care how modest, how humble a commencement be, so it
be made on sure ground, and have a safe foundation. In think-
ing of all possible and impossible places where we could establish
a school, I have thought of Burlington, or rather of the neigh-
bourhood of Burlington. Do you remember whether there was
any other school there besides that of Miss J ? 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 con-
nections, no acquaintances there ; it is far from here, etc. 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.
Our revered friend, William Weightman, is quite as bonny,
pleasant, light-hearted, good-tempered, generous, careless, fickle,
and unclerical as ever. He keeps up his correspondence with
Agnes Walton. During the last spring he went to Appleby, and
stayed upwards of a month.
Write as soon as you can. I shall not leave my present situa-
tion till my future prospects assume a more fixed and definite
aspect. Good-bye, dear Ellen. C. B.
I here come to some manuscripts of exceptional value
the only autobiographical glimpses of the sisters Emily and
Anne. They came to me in a little black box some two or
three inches long, of a kind that one might use for pins or
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 215
perhaps for snuff. 1 Here were four little pieces of paper
neatly folded to the size of a sixpence. These papers
were covered with handwriting, two of them by Emily,
and two by Anne Bronte. They revealed a pleasant if
eccentric arrangement on the part of the sisters, which
appears to have been settled upon even after they had
passed their twentieth year. They had agreed to write a
kind of reminiscence every four years, to be opened by
Emily on her birthday. The papers, however, tell their
own story, and I give here the two which were written
in 1841. Emily writes at Haworth, and Anne from her
situation as governess to Mr. Robinson's children at Thorp
Green. At this time, at any rate, Emily was fairly happy
and in excellent health ; and although it is five years from
the publication of the volume of poems, she is full of
literary projects, as is also her sister Anne. The Gonda-
land Chronicles, to which reference is made, must remain
a mystery for us. They were doubtless destroyed, with
abundant other memorials of Emily, by the heart-broken
sister who survived her. We have plentiful material in
the way of childish effort by Charlotte and by Branwell,
but there is hardly a scrap in the early handwriting of
Emily and Anne.
A PAPER to be opened
when Anne is
25 years old,
or my next birthday after
if
all be well.
Emily Jane Bronte. July the y^th, 1841.
// is Friday evening, near 9 o'clock wild rainy weather. I am
stated in the dining-room, having just concluded tidying our desk
1 ' The four small scraps of Emily and Anne's MSS. I found in the small box I send
you. They are sad reading, poor girls ! ' Letter from the Rev. A. B. Nicholls to the
author, 4th January 1895. See page 19.
216 THE BRONTES
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., Upperwood House, Rawdon; the second
is at Luddenden Foot ; and the third is, I believe, at Scarborough,
inditing 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
present condition or established to our hearts' content. Time will
show.
I guess that at the time appointed for the opening of this paper we
i.e. Charlotte, Anne, and 1, shall be all merrily seated in our own
sitting-room in some pleasant and flourishing seminary, having just
gathered in for the midsummer lady day. Our debts will be paid off,
and we sJtall have cash in hand to a considerable amount. Papa,
aunt, and Branwell will cither have been or be coming to visit us.
It ivill 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.
The Gondaland are at present in a threatening state, but there is
no open rupture as yet. All the princes and princesses of the Royalty
are at t/if Palace of Instruction. 1 have a good many books on
hand, but I am sorry to say that as usual I make small progress with
any. However, I have just made a new regularity paper ! and I
must verb sap to do great things. And now I must close, sending
from far an exhortation, * Courage, boys / courage} to exiled and
harassed Anne, wishing she was here.
Anne, as I have said, writes from Thorp Green.
July the 3O///, A.D. 1841.
This is Emily's birthday. She has now completed her
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 family of Mr. Robinson.
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 217
I dislike the situation and wish to change it for another. I am now
at Scarborough. My pupils are gone to bed and / 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 knoiv whet/ier we shall
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 25 years and 6 months
old, Emily will be 27 years old, Branwell 28 years and \ month,
and Charlotte 29 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 liveli-
hood 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 art
How less what we may be !
Four years ago I was at school. Since then I have been a gover-
ness at Blake Hall, left it, come to Thorp Green, and seen the sea
and York Minster. Emily has been a teacher at Miss Patchefs
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
0/183 7. 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 1 had then, only I have
more wisdom and experience, and a little more self-possession than I
tJicn enjoyed. How will it be when we open this paper and the one
Emily has written f I wonder whether the Gond aland will still be
flourishing, and what ivill be their condition. I am now engaged in
writing the fourth volume 0/"Solala Vernon's Life.
For some time I have looked upon 25 as a sort of era in my
existence. It may prove a true presentiment, or it may be. only
a superstitious fancy ; the latter seems most likely, but time will
show.
Anne Brontf.
218 THE BRONTES
Letter 91
TO ELLEN NUSSKY, EARNLEY RECTORY,
CHICHESTER, SUSSEX
UPPLRWOOD HOUSE, August 7^, 1841,
MY DEAR ELLEN, This is Saturday evening ; I have put the
children to bed ; now I am going to sit down and answer your
letter. I am again by myself housekeeper and governess for
Mr. and Mrs White are staying with a Mrs. Duncan of Bleak
Hall, near Tadcaster. To speak the truth, though I am solitary
while they are away, it is still by far the happiest part of my
time. The children are at least under decent control, the servants
are very observant and attentive 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, it ap-
pears, is in the way of enjoying great advantage ; so is Mary, for
you will be surprised to hear that she is returning immediately
to the Continent with her brother John ; not, however, to stay
there, but to take a month's tour and recreation. I have had a
long letter from Mary, and a packet containing a present of a very
handsome black silk scarf, and a pair of beautiful kid gloves, bought
at Brussels. Of course I was in one sense pleased with the gift
pleased that they should think of me so far off, amidst the excite-
ments of one of the most splendid capitals of Europe ; and yet it
felt irksome to accept it. I should think they have not more than
sufficient pocket-money to supply themselves. I wish they had
testified their regard by a less expensive token. Mary's letters
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 earnest thirst
to see, to know, to learn ; something internal seemed to expand
boldly for a minute. I was tantalised with the consciousness of
faculties unexercised ; then all collapsed, and I despaired. My
dear, I would hardly make that confession to any one but your-
self; and to you, rather in a letter than vivd voce. These rebellious
and absurd emotions were only momentary ; 1 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
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 219
to you, nor probably will be for the present ; but Emily, and
Anne, and I, keep it in view. It is our polar star, and we look
to it under 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 sometimes, 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 people's houses, the estrange-
ment from one's real character, the adoption of a cold, frigid,
apathetic exterior, that is painful. . . . On the whole I am glad
you went with Henry to Sussex. Our disappointment was bitter
enough. You will not mention our school scheme at present.
A project not actually commenced is always uncertain. Write
to me often, dear, you know your letters are valued. Give my
regards to your brother and sister and believe me, your ' loving
child ' (as you choose to call me so). C. B.
P.S. 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 have. 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.
Letter 92
TO ELIZABETH BRANWELL, HA WORTH
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON, 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 concluding the bargain. Meantime,
a plan has been suggested and approved by Mr. and Mrs. White,
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
220 THE BRONTES
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, moreover, that
the loan of 100, 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
repayment both of interest and principal.
I would not go to France or to Paris. I would go to Brusseli,
in Belgium. The cost of the journey there, at the dearest rate
of travelling, would be $ ; living is there little more than half as
dear as it is in England, and the facilities for education are equal
or superior to any other place in Europe. In half a year, I could
acquire a thorough familiarity 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. Martha Taylor is now
staying in Brussels, at a first-rate establishment there. I should
not think of going to the Chateau de Kockleberg, 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
Consul, would be able to secure me a cheap and 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 assistance of her cousins, I should probably
in time be introduced to connections far more improving, polished,
and cultivated, than any I have yet known.
These are advantages which would turn to vast account, when
we actually commenced a school and, if Emily could share them
with me, only for a single half-year, we could take a footing in
the world afterwards which we can never do now. I say Emily
instead 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 it $o, or 100, 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 your-
self. I feel an absolute conviction that, if this advantage were
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 221
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 go 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. With love to all, and the hope that
you are all well, Believe me, dear aunt, your affectionate niece,
C BRONTE.
Letter 93
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, October i;M, 1841.
DEAR NELL, It is a cruel thing of you to be always upbraiding
me when I am a trifle remiss or so in writing a letter. I see I
can't make you comprehend that I have not quite as much time
on my hands as Miss Harris of S. Lane, or Mrs. Mills. I never
neglect you on purpose. I could not do it, you little teasing,
faithless wretch.
The humour 1 am in is worse than words can describe. I have
had a hideous dinner of some abominable spiced-up indescribable
mess, and it has exasperated me against the world at large. So
you are coming home, are you ? Then don't expect me to write
a long letter. I am not going to Dewsbury Moor, as far as I can
see at present. It was a decent friendly proposal on Miss Wooler's
part, and cancels all or most of her little foibles, in my estimation ;
but Dewsbury Moor is a poisoned place to me ; besides, I burn to
go somewhere else. I think, Nell, I see a chance of getting to
Brussels. 1 Mary Taylor advises me to this step. My own mind
and feelings urge me. I can't write a word more. C. B.
1 The following note shows the manner in which Brussels first became a place of
interest to Miss Bronte it is from the 'Jessie' who died there, as described in Shirley,
and is written to Miss Nussey :
MY DEAR ELLEN, I received your letter from Mary, and you say I am to write
tho' I have nothing to say. My sister will tell you all about me, for she has more time
to write than I have.
Whilst Mary and John have been with me, we have been to Liege and Spa where we
staid eight days. I found my little knowledge of French very useful in our travels. I
222 THE BRONTES
Letter 94
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
RAW DON, November 2, 1841.
Let us discuss business matters first and then quarrel like cat
and dog afterwards. Mr. White has already five applications
from ex-governesses under consideration. Now let us begin
to quarrel. In the first place, I must consider whether I will
commence operations on the defensive 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 de-
liberating 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 confession 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, perplexed with contradic-
tory 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
am going to begin working again very hard, now that John and Mary are going away,
I intend beginning German directly. I would write some more, but this pen of Mary's
won't write, you must scold hei for it and tell her to write you a long account of my
proceedings. You must write to me sometimes. George Dixon is coming here the last
week in September, and you must send a letter for me to Mary to be forwarded by him.
Good-bye. May you be happy. MARTHA TAYLOR.
BRUSSELS, bepbr. yh y 1841.
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 228
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 in-
crease my attainments to become something better than I am ; 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, for it is an obscure, dreary
place, not adapted for a school. 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 advantage
that shall come within my reach. When the half-year is expired
I will do what I can.
.. .
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.
Write to say all is forgiven ; I 'm fit to cry.
C. B.
Letter 95
TO EMILY J. IJKONTE
UPPER WOOD HOUSE, RAWDON,
November 7///, 1841.
DEAR E. J., You are not to suppose that this note is written
with a view of communicating any information on the subject we
both have considerably at heart. I have written letters, but I
have received no letters in reply yet. Belgium is a long way off,
224 THE BRONTES
and people are everywhere hard to spur up to the proper speed,
Mary Taylor says we can scarcely expect to get off before
January. I have wished and intended to write to both Anne and
Branwell, but really I have not had time.
Mr. Jenkins I find was mistakenly termed the British Consul
at Brussels ; he is in fact the English Episcopal clergyman.
I think perhaps we shall find that the best plan will be for
papa to write a letter to him by-and-by, but not yet. I will give
an intimation when this should be done, and also some idea of
what had best be said. Grieve not over Dewsbury Moor. You
were cut out there to all intents and purposes, so in fact was
Anne; Miss Wooler would hear of neither for the first half-
year.
Anne seems omitted in the present plan, but if all goes right
I trust she will derive her full share of benefit from it in the
end. I exhort all to hope. I believe in my heart this is acting
for the best ; my only fear is lest others should doubt and be dis-
mayed. Before our half-year in Brussels is completed, you and I
will have to seek employment abroad. It is not my intention
to retrace my steps home till twelve months, if all continues well
and we and those at home retain good health.
I shall probably take my leave of Upperwood about the I5th
or I7th of December. When does Anne talk of returning?
How is she? What does William Weightman say to these
matters? How are papa and aunt, do they flag? How will
Anne get on with Martha? Has William Weightman been seen
or heard of lately? Love to all. Write quickly. Good-bye.
C. BRONTE.
I am well.
Letter 96
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
RAWPON, December loth, 184!
MY DEAR ELLEN, I hear from Mary Taylor that you are
come home, and also that you have been ill. If you are able to
write comfortably, let me know the feelings that preceded your
illness and also it* effects. I wish to see you. Mary Taylor
reports that your looks are much as usual. I expect to get
back to Haworth in the course of a fortnight or three weeks. I
hope I shall then see you. I would rather you came to Haworth
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 225
than I went to Brookroyd My plans advance slowly and I am
not yet certain where I shall go, or what I shall do when I leave
Upperwood House. Brussels is still my promised land, but there
is still the wilderness of time and space to cross before I reach it
I am not likely, I think, to go to the Chateau de Kockleberg.
I have heard of a less expensive establishment. So far I had
written when I received your letter. I was glad to get it.
Why don't you mention your illness? I had intended to have
got this note off two or three days past, but I am more straitened
for time than ever just now. We have gone to bed at twelve
or one o'clock during the last three nights. I must get this
scrawl off to-day or you will think me negligent. The new
governess, that is to be, has been to see my plans, etc. My
dear Ellen, Good-bye. Believe me, in heart and soul, your
sincere friend, C. B.
Letter 97
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
December 17 'M, 1841.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I am yet uncertain when I shall leave
Upperwood, but of one thing I am very certain : when I do
leave I must go straight home. It is absolutely necessary that
some definite arrangement should be commenced for our future
plans before I go visiting anywhere. That I wish to see you I
know, that I intend and hope to see you before long I also know ;
that you will at the first impulse accuse me of neglect, I fear ;
that upon consideration you will acquit me, I devoutly trust.
Dear Ellen, come to Haworth if you can ; if you cannot, I will
endeavour to come for a day at least to Brookroyd, but do
not depend on this come to Haworth. I thank you for Mr.
Jenkins' address. You always think of other people's con-
venience, however ill and affected you are yourself. How very
much I wish to see you, you do not know ; but if I were to go
to Brookroyd now, it would deeply disappoint those at home.
I have some hopes of seeing Branwell at Xmas, and when
I shall be able to see him afterwards I cannot tell. He has
never been at home for the last five months. Good-night, dear
Ellen. C. B.
VOL. I. p
226 THE BRONTES
Letter 98
TO MERCY NUSSEY
RAWDON, December 17 th, 1841.
MY DEAR MISS MERCY, Though I am very much engaged
I must find time to thank you for the kind and polite contents
of your note. I should act in the manner most consonant with
my own feelings if I at once, and without qualification, accepted
your invitation. I do not, however, consider it advisable to indulge
myself so far at present. When I leave Upperwood I must go
straight home. Whether I shall afterwards have time to pay
a short visit to Brookroyd I do not yet know circumstances
must determine that. I would fain see Ellen at Haworth in-
stead ; our visitations are not shared with any show of justice.
It shocked me very much to hear of her illness may it be the
first and last time she ever experiences such an attack! Ellen,
I fear, has thought I neglected her, in not writing sufficiently
long or frequent letters. It is a painful idea to me that she
has had this feeling it could not be more groundless. I know
her value, and I would not lose her affection for any probable
compensation I can imagine. Remember me to your mother.
I trust she will soon regain her health. Believe me, my dear
Miss Mercy, yours sincerely, C. BRONTE.
Letter 99
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, January loth, 1842.
MY DEAR ELLEN, Will you write as soon as you get this and
fix your own day for coming to Haworth? I got home on
Christmas Eve. The parting scene between me and my late
employers was such as to efface the memory of much that
annoyed me while I was there, but indeed, during the whole of
the last six months they only made too much of me. Anne has
rendered herself so valuable in her difficult situation that they
have entreated her to return to them, if it be but for a short time.
I almost think she will go back, if we can get a good servant who
will do all our work. We want one about forty or fifty years old,
good-tempered, clean, and honest You shall hear all about
UPPERWOOD HOUSE, RAWDON 227
Brussels, etc., when you come. Mr. Weightman is still here, just
the same as ever. I have a curiosity to see a meeting between
you and him. He will be again desperately in love, I am con-
vinced. Come. C. B.
Letter 100
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
MY DEAR ELLEN, I had forgotten when I asked you to come
on Tuesday that there is no coach from Birstall to Bradford
except on Thursday. Moreover, Aunt is proposing to pay a visit
to Uncle Fenneli, at Cross-stone, who is very ill. She has fixed
next Thursday to go, and as she will probably stay a week or
two, she will leave her room at liberty, which will be much more
comfortable for you than being crowded into our little closet. I
wish therefore, my dear Ellen, you could make it convenient to
come on that day it will be a real pleasure both to Emily and
myself to have you with us, and a great disappointment if you
fail to come. Believe me, vours sincerely, C. B.
Write by return of post.
Letter 101
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January 2oM, 1 842.
DEAR ELLEN, I cannot quite enter into your friends' reasons
for not permitting you to come to Haworth ; 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 ex-
pect to leave England in less than three weeks, but we are not yet
certain of the day, as it will depend upon the convenience 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 Insti-
tution in Lille, in the North of France, was recommended by
Baptist 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.
I considered it kind in aunt to consent to an extra sum for a
228 THE BRONTES
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 Taylor. Mary has been inde-
fatigably 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
repair. I have been, every week since I came home, expecting to
see Branwell, and he has never been able to get over yet. We
fully expect him, however, next Saturday. Under these circum-
stances how can I go visiting? You tantalise me to death with
talking of conversations by the fireside. Depend upon it, we are
not to have any such for many a long month to come. I get an
interesting impression of old age upon my face, and when you see
me next I shall certainly wear caps and spectacles.
Write long letters to me, and tell me everything you can think
of, and about everybody. * His young reverence,' as you tenderly
call him, is looking delicate and pale ; poor thing, don't you pity
him ? I do from my heart ! When he is well, and fat and jovial,
I never think of him, but when anything ails him I am always
sorry. He sits opposite to Anne at church, sighing softly, and
looking out of the corners of his eyes to win her attention, and
Anne is so quiet, her look so downcast, they are a picture. Yours
affectionately, C. B.
//> .(><'//.///////// . fL&
THE PENSIONNAT H&GER, BRUSSELS 229
CHAPTER XI
THE PENSIONNAT HEGER, BRUSSELS
HAD not the impulse come to Charlotte Bronte to add
somewhat to her scholastic accomplishments by a sojourn
in Brussels, our literature would have lost that powerful
novel Villette, and the singularly charming Professor. The
impulse came, as we have seen, from the persuasion that
without * languages ' the school project was an entirely
hopeless one. Mary and Martha Taylor were at Brussels,
staying with friends, and thence, as one of Charlotte's
letters tells us, they had sent kindly presents to her, at
this time fretting under the yoke of governess at Upperwood
House. Charlotte wrote the diplomatic letter to her aunt
which ended so satisfactorily. The good lady Miss
Branwell was then about sixty years of age behaved
handsomely by her nieces, and it was agreed that Charlotte
and Emily were to go to the Continent, Anne retaining
her post of governess with Mrs. Robinson at Thorp
Green. But Brussels schools did not seem at the first
blush to be very satisfactory. Something better promised
at Lille.
The Mr. Jenkins referred to in the last letter was
chaplain to the British Embassy at Brussels, and not
Consul, as Charlotte had at first supposed. The brother of
his wife was a clergyman living in the neighbour-
hood of Haworth. Mr. Jenkins, whose English Episcopal
chapel Charlotte attended during her stay in Brussels,
finally recommended the Pensionnat H^ger in the Rue
230 THE BRONTES
d'Isabelle. 1 Madame H6ger wrote, accepting the two
girls as pupils, and to Brussels their father escorted them
in February 1842, staying one night at the house of
Mr. Jenkins and then returning to Haworth.
The life of Charlotte Bronte at Brussels has been
mirrored for us with absolute accuracy in Villttte and
The Professor. That, indeed, from the point of view of
local colour, is made sufficiently plain to the casual visitor
of to-day who calls in the Rue d'Isabelle. The house,
it is true, has been dismantled and incorporated into some
city buildings in the background. But when I was there
one might still eat pears from the * old and huge fruit-trees '
which flourished when Charlotte and Emily walked under
I The circulai issued by Madame Iltgcr ran as follows :
MAISON D'toUCATION
Pour les feune\ Demoiselles.
SOU 1 . LA DIRECTION
DE MADAME HtXiER-PARENT,
Kuf d'lsabellt & Prvveltts
Get e*tablissement est situ6 dans Tendroit le plus salubre de la ville.
Le cours destruction, base* sur la Religion, comprend essentiellcment la Langne
Francaise, 1'Histoire, TAnthm^tique, la Geographic, 1'Fcriture, amsi que tous les ouvrnges
a 1'aiguille que doit connaitre vine demoiselle bien tlevee.
La sante" des eM^ves est 1'objet d'une surveillance active ; les parents peuvent se
reposer avec se'curite sur les mesures qui ont M prises cet <?gard dans l'e'tablise-
ment.
Le prix de la pension est de 650 frnncs, celui de la demi-pension est de 350 francs,
payables par quai tiers et d'a\ance. II n'y a d'autres frais accessoires que les etrennes
des domestiques.
II n'est fait aucune deduction pour le temps que les Sieves passent che? elles dans le
courant de I'anncfe. Le nombre des Sieves etant limite, les parents qui desireraient
repiendre leurs cnfants sont tenus d'en preVenir la directnce trois mois d'avance.
Les Ie9ons de musique, de langues etrangeres, etc. etc., sont au compte des parents.
Lc costume des pensionnaires est uniforme.
La directnce s'engage a repondre a toutes les demandes qui pourraicnt lui etre
adress^es par les parents relativement aux autres details de son institution.
OBJETS X FOURNIR.
Lit complet, bassin, aiguiere et draps de lit.
Serviettes de table.
Une malle fermant a clef.
Un couvert d'argent
Un gobelet.
Si les Sieves ne sont pas de Bruxelles, on leur foumira un lit garni moyennant 34
francs par an.
THE PENSIONNAT HfiGER, BRUSSELS 281
them sixty-six years ago. One might still wander through
the school-rooms, the long dormitories, and into the ' vine-
draped berceau' little enough is changed within and
without Here was the dormitory with its twenty beds,
the two end ones being occupied by Emily and Charlotte,
they alone securing the privilege of age or English eccen-
tricity to curtain off their beds from the gaze of the
eighteen girls who shared the room with them. The
crucifix, indeed, had been removed from the niche in the
Oratoire where the children offered up prayer every
morning ; but with a copy of Villette in hand it was possible
to restore every feature of the place, not excluding the
adjoining Ath6n6e with its small window overlooking the
garden of the Pensionnat and the alltfe d^f endue. It was
from this window that Mr. Crimsworth of The Professor
looked down upon the girls at play. It was here, indeed,
at the Royal Ath6nee, that M. Hger was Professor of
Latin. Externally, then, the Pensionnat H6ger remains
practically the same as it appeared to Charlotte and Emily
Bronte in February 1842, when they made their first
appearance in Brussels. The Rue Fossette of Villette,
the Rue d' Isabella of The Professor, are the veritable Rue
d'Isabelle of Currer Bell's experience.
What, however, shall we say of the people who wandered
through these rooms and gardens the fifty or more chil-
dren, the three or four governesses, the professor and his
wife? Here there has been much speculation and not a
little misreading of the actual facts. Charlotte and Emily
went to Brussels to learn. They did learn with energy.
It was their first experience of foreign travel, and it came
too late in life for them to enter into it with that breadth
of mind and tolerance of the customs of other lands, lack-
ing which the Englishman abroad is always an offence.
Charlotte and Emily hated the country and people. They
had been brought up ultra- Protestants. Their father was
an Ulster man, and his one venture into the polemics of
232 THE BRONTES
his age was to attack the proposals for Catholic emancipa-
tion. With this inheritance of intolerance, how could
Charlotte and Emily face with kindliness the Romanism
which they saw around them ? How heartily Charlotte
disapproved of it many a picture in Villette has made
plain to us.
Charlotte had been in Brussels three months when
she made the friendship to which I am indebted for any-
thing that there may be to add to this episode in her
life. Miss Laetitia Wheelwright was one of five sisters,
the daughters of a doctor in Lower Phillimore Place,
Kensington. Dr. Wheelwright went to Brussels for his
health and for his children's education. The girls were
day boarders at the Pensionnat, but they lived in the
house for a full month or more at a time when their father
and mother were on a trip up the Rhine. Otherwise their
abode was a flat in the Hotel Clusyenaar in the Rue
Royale, and there during her later stay in Brussels
Charlotte frequently paid them visits. In this earlier
period Charlotte and Emily were too busy with their books
to think of * calls ' and the like frivolities, and it must be con-
fessed also that at the beginning of their friendship Laetitia
Wheelwright would have thought it too high a price to pay
for a visit from Charlotte to receive as a fellow-guest the
apparently unamiable Emily. Miss Wheelwright, who
was herself fourteen years of age when she entered the
Pensionnat H6ger, recalls the two sisters, thin and sallow-
looking, pacing up and down the garden, friendless and
alone. It was the sight of Laetitia standing up in the
class-room and glancing round with a semi-contemptuous
air at all these Belgian girls which attracted Charlotte
Bronte to her. ' It was so very English,' Miss Bronte
laughingly remarked at a later period to her friend.
There was one other English girl at this time of sufficient
age to be companionable; but with Miss Maria Miller,
whom Charlotte Bronte has depicted under the guise of
THE PENSIONNAT HEGER, BRUSSELS 288
Ginevra Fanshawe, she had less in common. In later
years Miss Miller became Mrs. Robertson, the wife of an
author in one form or another. 1
To Miss Wheelwright, and those of her sisters who are
still living, the descriptions of the Pensionnat H6ger which
are given in Villette and The Professor are perfectly
accurate. M. Hger, with his heavy black moustache and
his black hair, entering the class-room of an evening to
read to his pupils, was a sufficiently familiar object, and
his keen intelligence amounting almost to genius had
affected the Wheelwright girls as forcibly as it had done
the Brontes. Mme. H6ger, again, for ever peeping from
behind doors and through the plate-glass partitions which
separate the passages from the school-rooms, was a
constant source of irritation to all the English pupils.
This prying and spying is, it is possible, more of a fine
art with the school-mistresses of the Continent than
with those of our own land. Much may doubtless be
said for it. In any case, Mme. H6ger, we are informed,
was an accomplished spy, and in the midst of the most
innocent work or recreation the pupils would suddenly
see a pair of eyes pierce the dusk and disappear. This,
and a hundred similar trifles, went to build up an antipathy
on both sides, which had, however, scarcely begun when
Charlotte and Emily were suddenly called home by their
aunt's death in October. Meanwhile, the first letter from
Brussels after Charlotte and Emily had arrived there is
V There was also a certain Susanna Mills, as the following letter, addressed to the
Editor of the South Wales Echo in May 1901, will indicate :
DEAR SIR, Referring to your article of the loth inst. re Charlotte Bronte : If it be
a matter of interest, I may state that I, also, was a pupil at the Pensionnat He*ger at
the same time as Charlotte and her sister Emily, also the Miss Wheelrights, and it was
only last summer (during my annual visit to Brussels) that I had the pleasure of meeting
again Mademoiselle Louise Heger (daughter of the late celebrated professor), with whom
I had a long chat, referring to days gone by, and our conversation naturally turned upon
the two ladies in question, whom I remember perfectly well, although quite a young
girl at the tire. Believe me, dear sir, yours truly, SUSANNA BANDY (nc MILLS).
284 THE BRONTES
from Mary Taylor to Ellen Nussey. Mary is at the
Chateau de Kockleberg with with her sister.
Letter 102
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS, March 1842.
MY DEAR ELLEN, Do not think that I have forgotten you
because I have so many things to do that I can no more write to
you now and then than I used to be able to run down to Brook-
royd every other day. As for Miss Bronte, I have not seen her
since I came here, so that you may judge I do not spend my time
just as I like. Before breakfast I draw, after breakfast I practise,
say German lessons and draw y after dinner walk out, learn German
and draw> go to bed sometimes at nine o'clock heartily tired and
without a word to throw at any one. If it were not Sunday, I
could not write to you ; fortunately the weather is too wet for us
to go to church, so I have time for everything. In the enumera-
tion of my employments I have forgotten the writing of French
compositions. This is the plague of Kockleberg schoolroom.
* Avez-vous fait votre composition ? ' ' Oui, mais je ne puis pas
put a beginning to it? ' Pouvez-vous m'aider ? ' Silence ! ' What 's
the French for " invite " ? It is eight hours ! When shall we have
the tea? How many years have you?' This is a French girl
talking English the Germans make an equal mess of both
languages, the German teacher worst of all. I must now tell you
of our teachers. Miss Evans is a well-educated Englishwoman
who has been eight years in France, whom I should like very well
if she were not so outrageously civil, that I every now and then
suspect her of hypocrisy. The French teacher we have not yet
got, so I can tell you nothing of her except that she is coming in
a few days (which she has been doing ever since Christmas).
Madame Ferdinand, the music-mistress, is a little, thin, black,
talkative Frenchwoman ; Monsieur her husband a tall, broad-
shouldered man with a tremendous mouth, who is constantly
telling his pupils that the voice has but a very little hole to get
out at, and that there are both tongue and teeth to interrupt it in
its road, and that the orifice ought by all means to be opened as
wide as possible. Then comes M. Gaune, a little black old
THE PENSIONNAT HEGER, BRUSSELS 235
Frenchman with his history written on his face, and a queer one
it is I speak either of the face or the history which you please.
He has a good appreciation of the literature of his own country
and speaks some curious English. I think him a good master.
Mons. Huard, the drawing-master, is a man of some talent, a good
judgment, and an intelligible manner of teaching. He would be
my favourite if he did not smell so of bad tobacco. Last and
least is Mons. Sciere", not that he appears to me to want sense,
and being a dancing-master he ought not to want manner but
he has the faults of a French puppy, and they make it advisable
not to exchange more words with him than the everlasting ' Oui,
monsieur Non, monsieur.' Martha is considerably improved. I
can't put out my feet Allongez ! plus long! more! All our
awkwardnesses, however, are thrown into the shade by those of a
Belgian girl who does not know right foot from left, and obsti-
nately dances with her mouth open. There is also a Mons. Hisard,
who makes strange noises in the back schoolroom teaching
gymnastics to some of the girls, and I had nearly forgotten a grin-
ning, dirty, gesticulating Belgian who teaches cosmography, and
says so often * Ainsi done! c'est bien compris ! n'est-ce pas?' that
he has earned himself the names of * Ainsi done ' and ' Mr. Globes.'
Amongst all the noise and bustle we have every possible oppor-
tunity of learning if we choose. I must except French, in which
we make very little progress owing to the want of a governess.
There are more English and Germans than French girls in the
school, consequently very little French is spoken and that little is
bad. I will write no more till I have seen the Bronte*?.
MARY TAYLOR.
March ibth, 1842.
DEAR ELLEN, Mary Taylor says I am to write to you on this
side of her letter. You will have heard that we have settled at
Bjussels instead of Lille. I think we have done well we have
got into a very good school and are considerably comfortable.
Just now we are at Kockleberg spending the day with Mary and
Martha Taylor to us such a happy day for one's blood requires
a little warming, it gets cold with living amongst strangers. You
are not forgotten as you feared you would be. I will write
another letter sometime and tell you how we are placed and
amongst what sort of people. Mary and Martha are not changed ;
I have a catholic faith in them that they cannot change. Good-
236 THE BRONTES
bye. Remember me to your mother and Mercy. Write to me,
Ellen, as soon as you can.
C. BRONTE.
April 4*6, 1842.
DEAR ELLEN, I am going to add my bit to this newspaper
which you are going to have sometime, but no one knows when.
We have had holiday for the last ten days, and I don't feel at all
inclined to begin lessons again. I am tired of this everlasting
German, and long for the day after to-morrow when our new
French mistress will come and we shall continue our French. I
have the cousin of the Mr. Jenkins who took tea with my brother
Joe atBrookroyd sitting by me, chattering like a magpie, and hoping
it may be true that her cousin will come to Brussels before July.
Mary is on the other side of me staring into a German dictionary,
and looking as fierce as a tiger. There is a very sweet, ladylike,
elegant girl here, who has undertaken to civilise our dragon,zx\& she
is actually improving a little under her hands. Would you like
to be here cracking your head with French and German ? By the
way, you must excuse me if I send you some unintelligible
English, for in attempting to acquire other languages I have
almost forgotten the little I knew of my own.
But I believe we are going to have prayers, so I must put this
away, but I will write some more some day. Good-night.
MARTHA TAYLOR.
Lest you should think yourself forgotten, I take the first oppor-
tunity of sending you a letter. Keep up your spirits and look
forward to crossing the Channel sometime. Send me particulars
of your mother by my brothers and anything else you may have
to say. MARY TAYLOR.
April 5, '42.
And send me news about every one that I know. It is all the
fashion for gentlemen to paint themselves. Shall I send you some
paint for George? When you see my brother Joe, have the
kindness to pull him his hair right well for me and give John
a good pinch.
Remember me to your Mother and Sisters, and believe me to
be still MARTHA TAYLOR.
All the five letters or apparent letters printed above
were contained on one large sheet of notepaper. We may
THE PENSIONNAT H&GER, BRUSSELS 237
imagine the high spirits that prevailed when the three
friends wrote thus in playful mood.
Letter 103
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS, May 1842.
DEAR ELLEN, It is the fashion nowadays for persons to send
shoals of blank paper instead of letters to their friends in a foreign
land.
I was twenty-six years old a week or two since, and at this
ripe time of life I am a schoolgirl, a complete 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 pensionnaires or boarders. Madame
Hger, 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 disappointed, and consequently soured. In a
word, she is a married instead of a maiden lady. There are three
teachers in the school Mademoiselle Blanche, Mademoiselle
Sophie, and Mademoiselle Marie. The two first have no par-
ticular 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 enemies. No less than seven
masters attend to teach the different branches of education
French, Drawing, Music, Singing, Writing, Arithmetic, and
German. All in the house are Catholics except ourselves, one
other girl, and the gouvernante of Madame's children, an English-
woman, 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 com-
pletely isolated in the midst of numbers. Yet I think I am never
unhappy ; my present life is so delightful, so congenial to my own
nature, compared with that of a governess. My time, constantly
288 THE BRONTES
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. Hdger, the husband of Madame. He is professor of rhetoric,
a man of power as to mind, but very choleric and irritable in
temperament; 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 perilous attractions and assumes
an air not above 100 degrees removed from mild and gentleman-
like. He is very angry with me just at present, because I have
written a translation which he chose to stigmatise *s peu correcte.
He did not tell me so, but wrote the accusation 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 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. When he is very
ferocious with me I cry ; that sets all things straight. 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 considerable 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 M. Hger has vouch-
safed to give us are, I suppose, to be considered a great favour,
and I can perceive they have already 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. Do
write to me and cherish Christian charity in your heart ! Re-
member me to Mercy and your Mother, and believe me, my dear
Ellen, Yours, sundered by the sea, C. BRONTE.
THE PENSIONNAT HfiGER, BRUSSELS 289
Letter 104
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS, 1842.
DEAR ELLEN, I began seriously to think you had no par-
ticular intention of writing to me again. However, let me make
no reproaches, thanking you for your letter. I consider it
doubtful whether I shall come home in September or not.
Madame Hger 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, etc., 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 demands 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 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 H^ger 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 running 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 Continent ;
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 consider Papistry in any other
light than a most feeble, childish piece of humbug, let them turn
240 THE BRONTfiS
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
better than many Protestants, Believe me present occasionally
in spirit when absent in the flesh. C. B.
Mary and Martha Taylor apparently were home again
in August as the following brief note implies. They re-
turned to Brussels, however, and Martha died there in
October.
Letter 105
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HUNSWORTH MILLS,
Friday, August 19, 1842.
MY DEAR ELLEN, We have just returned from Leeds, where
we have fixed that we will have the house warmed next Wednes-
day, and my cousins, my uncle, and my Aunt Sarah are coming
over. ... My brothers and I shall be exceedingly gratified if
you, your sister Mercy, and your brothers will come to tea on
that day to meet them. Now, will you come? or you will be
stupid as you were about going to Brier Hall, and if you refuse
you will make me seriously angry with you, and you had better
not, or I will tell all kinds of things of you to Miss Bronte.
We leave here for Birmingham on Thursday next, so you must
bring your letters with you. I remain conditionally, yours truly,
MARTHA TAYLOR.
Merely because it comes here in order of date I give
a glimpse of Branwell Bronte, who had made friends with
one Francis H. Grundy, an engineer on the railway while
he was engaged as booking-clerk at Luddenden Foot
Station Grundy says as station-master. Grundy had
been one of the pioneers of the railways between Leeds
and Bradford. His picture of the Bronte family is inter-
esting though inaccurate :
That Rector of Haworth little knew how to bring up and bring
out his clever family, and the boy least of all. He was a hard,
THE PENSIONNAT HEGER, BRUSSELS 241
matter-of-fact man. So the girls worked their own way to fame
and death, the boy to death only! I knew them all. The
father, upright, handsome, distantly courteous, white-haired,
tall ; knowing me as his son's friend, he would treat me in the
grandisonian fashion, coming himself down to the little inn to
invite me, a boy, up to his house, where I would be coldly
uncomfortable until I could escape with Patrick Branwell to the
moors. The daughters, distant and distrait, large of nose, small
of figure, red of hair, prominent of spectacles ; showing great
intellectual development, but with eyes constantly cast down,
very silent, painfully retiring. This was about the time of
their first literary adventures, I suppose say 1843 or I844. 1
When it is considered that the sisters had not red hair,
that only one Charlotte wore spectacles, and that their
' literary adventures ' did not begin until two or three years
after this, it will be seen that Mr. Grundy is not a very
accurate purveyor of information. But the following letters
from Branwell to him give us a glimpse of yet another
tragedy that affected the Bronte family in the autumn of
1842.
Letter 106
TO FRANCIS H. GRUNDY
HAWORTH, tyhjunc 1842.
DEAR SIR, Any feeling of disappointment which the perusal
of your letter might otherwise have caused, was allayed by its
kindly and considerate tone ; but I should have been a fool, under
present circumstances, to entertain any sanguine hopes respecting
situations, etc. You ask me why I do not turn my attention
elsewhere ; and so I would have done, but that most of my
relatives and more immediate connections are clergymen, or by a
private life somewhat removed from this busy world. As for the
Church I have not one mental qualification, save, perhaps,
hypocrisy, which would make me cut a figure in its pulpits. Mr.
James Montgomery and another literary gentleman who have
lately seen something of my ' head work ' wish me to turn my
1 Pictures of the Past. Memoirs of Men I have Met, and Places I have Seen. By
Francis H. Gnindy, C.E. Griffith and Fauen 1870
VOL. I. Q
242 THE BRONTES
attention to literature, and along with that advice, they give me
plenty of puff and praise. All very well, but I have little conceit
of myself, and great desire for activity. You say that you write
with feelings similar to those with which you last left me ; keep
them no longer. I trust I am somewhat changed, or should not
be worth a thought ; and though nothing could ever give me your
buoyant spirits and an outward man corresponding therewith, I
may, in dress and appearance, emulate something like ordinary
decency. And now, wherever coming years may lead Green-
land's snows or sands of Afric I trust, etc., PATRICK B. BRONTE.
Letter 107
TO FRANCIS H. GRUNDY
October 2$th, 1842.
MY DEAR SIR, There is no misunderstanding. I have had
a long attendance at the death-bed of the Rev. Mr. Weightman,
one of my dearest friends, and now I am attending at the death-
bed of my aunt, who has been for twenty years as my mother.
I expect her to die in a few hours.
As my sisters are far from home, I have had much on my mind,
and these things must serve as an apology for what was never
intended as neglect of your friendship to us.
I had meant not only to have written to you, but to the
Rev. James Martineau, gratefully and sincerely acknowledging
the receipt of his most kindly and truthful criticism at least in
advice, though too generous far in praise ; but one sad ceremony
must, I fear, be gone through first. Give my most sincere respects
to Mr. Stephenson, and excuse this scrawl my eyes are too dim
with sorrow to see well. Believe me, your not very happy but
obliged friend and servant, P. B. BRONTE.
Letter 108
TO FRANCIS H. GRUNDY
2<)th October 1842.
MY DEAR SlR,~ As I don't want to lose a real friend, I write
in deprecation of the tone of your letter. Death only has made
me neglectful of your kindness, and I have lately had so much
experience with him, that your sister would not now blame me
THE PENSIONNAT HEGER, BRUSSELS 248
for indulging in gloomy visions either of this world or another.
I am incoherent, I fear, but I have been waking two nights
witnessing such agonising suffering as 1 would not wish my worst
enemy to endure ; and I have now lost the guide and director
of all the happy days connected with my childhood, I have
suffered such sorrow since I last saw you at Ha worth, that I do
not now care if I were fighting in India or , since, when the
mind is depressed, danger is the most effectual cure. But you
don't like croaking, I know well, only I request you to understand
from my two notes that I have not forgotten you, but myself.
Yours, etc., P. B. BRONTiL
Letter 109
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
1 1 RUE DE LA RGENCE, BRUSSELS,
October 30/7/, 1842.
MY DEAR ELLEN, You will have heard by this time the end
of poor Martha ; and with my head full of this event and still
having nothing to say upon it, or rather not feeling inclined to
say it, I scarcely know why I write to you. But I don't wish you
to think that this misfortune will make me forget you more than
the rest did ; having the opportunity of sending you a letter
postage free, I just write to tell you I think of you. You will wish
to hear the history of Martha's illness I will give you it in a few
months if you have not heard it then ; till then you must excuse
me. A thousand times I have reviewed the minutest circum-
stances of it, but I cannot without great difficulty give a regular
account of them. There is nothing to regret, nothing to recall
not even Martha. She is better where she is. But when I recall
the sufferings that have purified her, my heart aches I can't help
it, and every trivial accident, sad or pleasant, reminds me of her
and of what she went through.
I am going to walk with Charlotte and Emily to the Protestant
cemetery this afternoon (Sunday, 3<Dth October). It is long since
I have seen them, and we shall have much to say to each other.
I am now staying with the Dixons in Brussels. I find them very
different to what I expected. They are the most united, affec-
tionate family I ever met with. They have taken me as one of
themselves, and made me such a comfortable happy home that
I should like to live here all my life.
244 THE BRONTES
This I could do if I had not a counter liking (so consistent we
are) to go into Germany and another to live at Hunsworth. I
have finally chosen to go to Germany activity being in my
opinion the most desirable state of existence both for my spirits,
health, and advantage.
I shall finish my letter after I have seen Charlotte.
1st November 1842.
Well, I have seen her and Emily. We have walked about six
miles to see the cemetery and the country round it. We then
spent a pleasant evening with my cousins, and in presence of my
uncle and Emily, one not speaking at all, the other once or
twice.
I like to hear from you, and thank you much for your letter.
Remember me to your sister Mercy and your mother, and to all
who enquire about me, if you think they do it more from kindness
than curiosity. To Miss Cockhill, Mary Carr, the Misses Wooler,
particularly to Miss Wooler, Miss Bradbury, and the Healds.
MARY TAYLOR.
If this letter should not reach you for some time after the date,
it will not be because it has been delayed on the road, but because
an opportunity did not occur of sending it sooner by a private
hand.
Mary Dixon wishes me to begin again to express her kind
remembrances to you and your sister.
The culminating trouble for Charlotte and Emily was
the death of their aunt, news of which reached them
as they were preparing to start for England. Miss
Branwell's death changed many things for her two nieces,
and put each of them in possession of a small income. A
perusal of her will is not without interest.
Extracted from the District Probate Registry at York
attached to Her Majesty's High Court of Juatice.
Depending on the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost for peace here, and
glory and bliss forever liereafter, I leave this my last Will and Testa-
ment : Should I die at Haworth, I request that my remains may be
deposited in the churcli in that place as near as convenient to the
remains of my dear sister ; I moreover will that all my just debts
and funeral expenses be paid out of my property, and that my funeral
THE PENSIONNAT HEGER, BRUSSELS 245
shall be conducted in a moderate and decent manner. My Indian
workbox I leave to my niece, Charlotte Bronte ; my workbox with a
china top I leave to my niece, Emily Jane Bronte, together with my
ivory fan ; my Japan dressing-box I leave to my nephew, Patrick
Branwell Bronte ; to my niece Anne Bronte, I leave my watch with
all that belongs to it ; as also my eye-glass and its chain, my rings,
silver-spoons, books, clothes, etc., etc., I leave to be divided between my
above-named three nieces, Charlotte Bronte, Emily Jane Bronte, and
Anne Bronte, according as their father shall think proper. And 1
will that all the money that shall remain, including twenty-five
pounds sterling, being the part of the proceeds of the sale of my goods
which belong to me in consequence of my having advanced to my
sister Kingston the sum of twenty-five pounds in lieu of her share oj
the proceeds of my goods aforesaid, and deposited in the bank of
Bo lit ho Sons and Co., Esqrs., of Chiandower, near Penzance, after
the aforesaid sums and articles shall have been paid and deducted,
shall be put into some safe bank or lent on good landed security, and
there left to accumulate for the sole benefit of my four nieces, Charlotte
Bronte, Emily Jane Bronte, Anne Bronte, and Elizabeth Jane
Kingston ; and this sum or sums, and whatever other property I may
have, shall be equally divided between them when the youngest of
them then living shall have arrived at the age of twenty-one years.
And should any one or more of tJiesc my four nieces die, her or their
part or parts shall be equally divided amongst the survivors; and if
but one is left, all shall go to that one : And should they all die before
the age of tiventy-one years, all their parts shall be given to my
sister, Anne Kingston ; and should she die before that time specified,
I will tJiat all that was to have been hers shall be equally divided
between all the surviving children of my dear brother and sisters.
I appoint my brother-in-law, the Rev. P Bronte, A.B , now Incum-
bent of Haworth, Yorkshire ; the Rev. John Fennell, now Incumbent
of Cross Stone, near Halifax ; the Rev. Theodore Dury, Rector of
Keighley, Yorkshire ; and Mr. George Taylor of Stanbury, in the
chapelry of Haworth aforesaid, my executors. Written by me,
ELIZABETH BRANWELL, and signed, sealed, and delivered on the
3<D/// of April, in the year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred
and thirty-three, ELIZABETH BRANWELL. Witnesses present,
William Brown, John Tootill, William Brown, Junr.
The twenty -eighth day of December, 1842, the Will of ELIZABETH
BRANWELL, late of Haworth, in the parish of Bradford, in
the county of York, spinster (having bona notabilia within
246 THE BRONTES
the province of York), Deceased \ was proved in the prerogative
court of York by the oaths of the Reverend Patrick Bronte,
clerk) brother-in-law ; and George Taylor, two of the executors
to whom administration was granted (the Reverend Theodore
Dury, another of the executors, having renounced), they having
been first sworn duly to administer.
Effects sworn under ^1500.
Testatrix died 29th October 1842,
Letter no
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, November loth, 1842.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I was not yet returned to England when
your letter arrived. We received the first news of aunt's illness,
Wednesday, Nov. 2nd. We decided to come home directly.
Next morning a second letter informed us of her death. We
sailed from Antwerp on Sunday ; we travelled day and night
and got home on Tuesday morning and of course the funeral
and all was over. We shall see her no more. Papa is pretty
well. We found Anne at home ; she is pretty well also. You
say you have had no letter from me for a long time. I wrote to
you three weeks ago. When you answer this note, I will write
to you more in detail. Martha Taylor's illness was unknown to
me till the day before she died. I hastened to Kockleberg the
next morning unconscious that she was in 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 tenderly, 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. 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 obstruction;
she also was ill a fortnight.
Good-bye, my dear Ellen. C. BRONTE.
THE PENSIONNAT HEGER, BRUSSELS 247
A few facts more about the first sojourn of Charlotte
Bronte in Brussels we may learn from a letter written from
New Zealand to Mrs. Gaskell by Mary Taylor.
Letter in
TO MRS. GASKELL
The first part of her time at Brussels was not uninteresting.
She spoke of new people and characters, and foreign ways of the
pupils and teachers. She knew the hopes 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 ! ' 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. 1 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 people could
bear the constant pressure of misery, and never to change except
to a new form of it. It would be impossible to keep one's natural
feelings. I promised her a better 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 I 'm dead ; I don't want to walk about
so.' Here we always differed. I thought the degradation of
nature she feared was a consequence 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
248 THE BRONTES
her position, 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, 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 Brussels 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 service, 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 10 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. 1 I should think 10 was a quarter of her income.
The ' service ' was mentioned as an apology, but kindness was the
real motive.
As the two girls were returning home from Brussels
M. Hger wrote a letter to their father.
Letter 112
AU RVREND MONSIEUR BRONTE, PASTEUR VANGLIQUE,
ETC., ETC.
SAMEDI, 5 Obrc.
Monsieur, Un 6ve*nement bien triste decide mesdemoiselles
vos filles a retourner brusquement en Angleterre. Ce depart qui
nous afflige beaucoup a cependant ma complete approbation ; il
est bien naturel qu'elles cherchent a vous consoler de ce que le
THE PENSIONNAT H&GER, BRUSSELS 249
ciel vient de vous oter, en se serrant autour de vous, pour mieux
vous faire appr6cier ce que le ciel vous a donn ct ce qu'il vous
laisse encore. J'espere que vous me pardonnerez, monsieur, de
profiler de cette circonstance pour vous faire parvenir Texpression
de mon respect ; je n'ai pas Thonneur de vous connaitre person-
nellement, et cependant j'eprouve pour votre personne un senti-
ment de sincere veneration, car en jugeant un pere de famille par
ses enfants on ne risque pas de se tromper, et sous ce rapport
1'education et les sentiments que nous avons trouvds dans mesde-
moiselles vos filles n'ont pu que nous donner une tres haute idee
de votre m^rite et de votre caract&re. Vous apprendrez sans
doute avec plaisir que vos enfants ont fait du progres tr&s remar-
quable dans toutes les branches de 1'enseignement, et que ces
progres sont cntierement dus leur amour pour le travail et a leur
perseverance ; nous n'avons eu que bien peu a faire avec de
pareilles ei&ves ; leur avancement est votre ceuvre bien plus que
la ndtre ; nous n'avons pas eu a leur apprendre le prix du temps
et de 1'instruction, 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 puisne dans votre exemple
et dans vos lemons. Puissent les eioges m^ritds que nous donnons
a vos enfants vous ctre 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 Sieves, nous ne devons pas vous
cachcr que nous eprouvons a la fois et du chagrin et de 1'in-
quietude ; nous sommes afflig6s parce que cette brusque separa-
tion vient briser 1'affection presque paternelle que nous leur
avons vouee, ct notre peine s'augmente a. la vue de tant de tra-
vaux interrompus, de tant de choses bien commencees, et qui ne
dcmandent que quelque temps encore pour etre menes a bonne
fin. Dans un an chacune de vos demoiselles eut ete entierement
premunie contre les cventualites de 1'avenir ; chacune d'elles
acqurait a la fois et 1'instruction et la science d'enseignement ;
Mile Emily allait apprendre le piano ; recevoir des leons du
meilleur professeur que nous ayons en Belgique, et deja elle avait
elle-meme de petites eieves ; elle perdait done a la fois un reste
d'ignorance et un reste plus genant encore de timidite ; Mile
Charlotte commengait a donner des lemons en fran^ais, et d'ac-
250 THE BRONTES
que*rir cette assurance, cet aplomb si n^cessaire dans 1'enseigne-
ment ; encore un an tout au plus et Poeuvre tait achev^e et bien
achev^e. Alors nous aurions pu, si cela vous eut convenu, offrir a
mesdemoiselles vos filles ou du moins a Tune des deux une
position qui eut e*t dans ses gouts, et qui lui eut donn cette
douce inddpendance si difficile a trouver pour une jeune personne.
Ce n'est pas, croyez-le bien, monsieur, ce n'est pas ici pour nous
une question d'inte>t personnel, c'est une question d'affection ;
vous me pardonnerez si nous vous parlons de vos enfants, si nous
nous occupons de leur avenir, comme si elles faisaient partie de
notre famille ; leurs qualite"s personnelles, leur bon vouloir, leur
zele extreme sont les seules causes qui nous poussent a nous
hasarder de la sorte. Nous savons, monsieur, que vous peserez
plus murement et plus sagement que nous la consequence qu'au-
rait pour 1'avenir une interruption complete dans les Etudes de
vos deux filles ; vous de"ciderez ce qu'il faut faire, et vous nous
pardonnerez notre franchise, si vous daignez consideYer que le
motif qui nous fait agir est une affection bien de\sint6resse"e et qui
s'affligerait beaucoup de devoir deja se rsigner a n'tre plus utile
a vos chers enfants.
Agreez, je vous prie, monsieur, 1'expression respectueuse de
mes sentiments de haute consideration. C. HfiGER.
All thing's considered, by the light of this letter, there
was nothing strange in the fact that Charlotte should
determine to return once more to Brussels, that she should
aspire to a greater proficiency in many of the subjects
which she had begun to study under such satisfactory
auspices. A quiet Christmas at Haworth with her father,
brother and sisters, and Charlotte returned to Brussels.
One or two letters to her friend Ellen Nussey fill up the
intervening days.
Letter 113
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, November 2otk, 1842.
DEAR ELLFN, I hope your brother George is sufficiently
recovered now to dispense with your constant attendance. Papa
desires his compliments to you, and says he should be very glad
THE PENSIONNAT HfiGER, BRUSSELS 251
if you could give us your company at Haworth a little while.
Can you come on Friday next? I mention so early a day
because Anne leaves us to return to Y6rk on Monday, and she
wishes very much to see you before her departure. I think
George is too good-natured to object to your coming. There is
little enough pleasure in this world, and it would be truly unkind
to deny to you and me that of meeting again after so long a
separation. Do not fear to find us melancholy or depressed. We
are all much as usual. You will see no difference from our former
demeanour. Send an immediate answer.
My love and best wishes to your sister and mother.
C. BRONT.
Letter 114
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
November 25/7/, 1842.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I hope that invitation of yours was given
in real earnest, for I intend to accept it. I wish to see you, and
as in a few weeks I shall probably again leave England, I will
not be too delicate and ceremonious and so let the present
opportunity pass.
Something says to me that it will not be too convenient to
have a guest at Brookroyd while there is an invalid there. How-
ever, I listen to no such suggestions. I find, however, that I
cannot come on Monday, because Anne's present arrangements
will not suit that day. She leaves Haworth on Tuesday at six
o'clock in the morning, and we should reach Bradford at half-
past eight an early hour for you to be there with the gig.
If Tuesday will not suit you write immediately and tell me so.
The circumstances of its being Leeds market-day may perhaps
render it inconvenient. If so, I will defer my visit to any day
you please.
There are many reasons why I should have preferred your
coming to Haworth ; but as it appears there are always obstacles
which prevent that I '11 break through ceremony, or pride, or
whatever it is, and like Mahomet go to the mountain which won't
or can't come to me.
The coach stops at the Bowling-Green Inn in Bradford.
Give my love to Mercy and your Mother. C. BRONTfi.
252 THE BRONTfiS
Letter 115
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
No date.
ANN 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 ?
I should like to make Ann sorne small present. Give me a
hint what would be acceptable.
I suppose you have not yet heard anything more of poor
Mr. Graham, since you do not mention him. Does Rosy Ringrose
continue to improve ? How are Mrs. Atkinson and Mrs. Charles
Carr? I am glad to hear that Miss Heald continues tolerable
but, as you say, it really seems wonderful. I hope Mercy will
derive benefit from her excursion.
Good-bye for the present. Write to me again soon.
C B.
With what remains after paying for the furs you must buy
something for yourself to make your bridesmaid gear.
Letter 116
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, January io//fc, 1843.
DEAR NELL, It is a singular state of things to be obliged to
write and have nothing worth reading to say. I am glad you
got home safe. You are an excellent good girl for writing to me
two letters, especially as they were such long ones. Branwell
wants to know why you carefully exclude all mention of him
when you particularly send your regards to every other member
of the family. He desires to know whether and in what he has
offended you, or whether it is considered improper for a young
lady to mention the gentlemen of a house. We have been one
walk on the moors since you left. We have been to Keighley,
where we met a person of our acquaintance, who uttered an
interjection of astonishment on meeting us, and when he could
get his breath, informed us that he had heard I was dead and
buried. You say nothing about Mr. 's pocket-book. Has he
THE PENSIONNAT HEGER, BRUSSELS 253
found it? I don't know what to think about Joe coming so often
to Brookroyd. There exists a tragedy entitled The Rival Brothers.
I have got down into the realms of nonsense, so I '11 drop it.
I have been as solid as a large dumpling since you left. F 's
note I return because it must be precious. Anne's I keep.
Alas for O. P. V. ! Alas ! Alas ! C. BRONTE.
Letter 1 1 7
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, January, 1843.
DEAR NELL, My striped dress is not cut crossways. I am
much obliged to you for transferring the roll of muslin. I found
the brush under the sofa, and last Saturday I found the bustle
for which you deserve smothering.
I will deliver Branwell your message. You have left your
Bible; how can I send it? I cannot tell precisely what day I
shall leave home, but it will be the last week in this month. Are
you going with me ?
I admire exceedingly the costume you have chosen to appear
in at the Birstall rout. I think you say pink petticoat, black
jacket, and a wreath of roses beautiful! For a change I would
advise a black coat velvet stock and waistcoat white pantaloons
and smart boots !
I have addressed you in this note as plain Ellen for though I
know it will soon be Mrs. J. Taylor I can't for the life of
me tell whether the initial J. stands for John or Joe. It is a
complete enigma. When I have time I mean to write Mr.
Vincent's elegy. Poor man ! the manufacturers are beating him
hollow.
My address is Miss Bronte, Chez M de Heger-Parent, No. 32
Rue d'Isabelle, Bruxelles, Belgium.
~Write to me again ; that 's a good girl. Very soon in a
fortnight, you know there will be no more scribbling.
Respectful remembrances to your mother and Mercy.
C. BRONTE.
254 THE BRONTES
CHAPTER XII
SECOND SOJOURN IN BRUSSELS
MUCH needless ink has been wasted over a discussion of
the causes which led Charlotte Bronte to return to Brussels
alone. The village gossips of that day of course suggested
that there was a lover there. The city gossips of a later
day have insisted that M. Constantin H^ger was the hero
of this episode. If the fictitious characters of an author's
creation are to be taken for realities in his or her eyes,
there is sufficient excuse for this view. Paul Emanuel of
Villette was undoubtedly M. H6ger in many pleasant and
unpleasant characteristics, and if Lucy Snowe be assumed
to be Charlotte Bronte, and here also there were certain
indisputable points of likeness then the passionate love
that Charlotte Bronte felt for her professor is beyond
dispute. But this attitude towards an artist's work is, as
it seems to me, a very mean one on the part of the critics.
It is in a way an act of treachery to a great writer's
memory to attempt to pry too closely into his heart. A
perusal of these letters, now brought together for the first
time with any completeness, reveals in Charlotte Bronte
an entirely good and honourable nature. If there were
moments during that sad year at Brussels when the neurotic
little woman permitted herself to think of the might-have-
beens of life, to imagine to herself what a wife she would
have made to the brilliant little professor, she kept all such
thoughts well in subjection, and with speculation concerning
them the world has nothing to do. The censorious reader
may discover in Charlotte Bronte an occasional aptitude for
a too severe judgment on men and women, a cruel severity
SECOND SOJOURN IN BRUSSELS 255
towards the manners of curates faults she had, as all of
us have ; but her inherent purity of nature cannot for a
moment be impugned. That is granted, I admit, by the
successive writers who have emphasised this episode in
Charlotte Bronte's life by Sir Wemyss Reid, Mr.
Augustine Birrell, Dr. Robertson Nicoll, 1 and Mr. Angus
MacKay. In a striking essay 2 Mr. MacKay has sum-
marised the point of view of those who think that all the
passionate devotion that Lucy Snowe feels for her professor
Paul Emanuel is but a reflection of a similar devotion
felt by Charlotte Bronte for Constantin H6ger. A few
lines contained in a letter to Ellen Nussey are most relied
upon for this view :
I returned to Brussels after aunt's death against my conscience,
prompted by what then seemed an irresistible impulse. I was
punished for my selfish folly by a withdrawal for more than two
years of happiness and peace of mind.
Miss Nussey and Mr. Nicholls interpreted this to mean
that she had left her father to over-conviviality which her
influence would have modified, and that her brother took
some further steps towards the precipice over which he
was destined to fall. Mr. MacKay and the other critics
discover a secret in her life :
We see her sore wounded in her affections, but unconquerable
in her will. The discovery . . . does not degrade the noble figure
we know so well ; it adds to it a pathetic significance. The moral
of her greatest works that conscience must reign absolute at
whatever cost acquires a greater force when we realise how she
herself came through the furnace of temptation with marks of
torture on her, but with no stain on her soul.
To continue the discussion of this subject is scarcely
within my province. Madame Heger and her family, it
must be admitted, have kept the impression afloat that is
1 See his two brilliant essays, the one as an Introduction to Jane Eyre (Hodder and
Stoughton), the other in Chambers's Cyclopedia of English Literature.
2 The Brontes, Fact and Fiction, by Angus M. MacKay. Service and Paton, 1897.
260 THE BRONTES
schoolroom, without the supervision of Madame or M. H6ger.
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 indebted 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 henceforward she was
called Mademoiselle Charlotte by M. Hger's orders. She con-
tinued her own studies, principally 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 alUe dtfendue, where she was secure from intrusion.
The solitude was a perilous luxury to one of her temperament, so
liable as she was to morbid and acute mental suffering. 1
Letter 118
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS, January 30^, 1843.
DEAR ELLEN, I left Leeds for London last Friday at nine
o'clock ; owing to delay we did not reach London till ten at night
two hours after time, I took a cab the moment I arrived at
Euston Square, and went forthwith to London Bridge Wharf.
The packet lay off that wharf, and I went on board the same
night. Next morning we sailed. We had a prosperous and
speedy voyage, and landed at Ostend at seven o'clock next
morning. I took the train at twelve and reached Rue d'Isabelle
at seven in the evening. Madame Hger received me with great
kindness. I am still tired with the continued excitement of three
days' travelling. I had no accident, but of course some anxiety.
Miss Dixon called this afternoon. Mary Taylor had told her I
should be in Brussels the last week in January. You can tell Joe
Taylor she looks very elegant and ladylike. I am going there
on Sunday, D.V. Address Miss Bronte, Chez Mme. H6ger,
32 Rue d'Isabelle, Bruxelles.- Good-bye, dear. C. B.
1 Lift of Charlotte Bronte^ by Mrs. Gaskell, Haworth Edition, pp. 252-3.
SECOND SOJOURN IN BRUSSELS 261
Letter 119
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
[GERMANY], Feb. 16, 1843.
DEAR ELLEN, Your descriptions and opinions of the Miss
Woolers, etc. etc., are more interesting than you imagine. Why
do you not send me more of them ? It is something very interest-
ing to me [to] hear the remarks, exclamations, etc., that people
make when they see any one from * foreign parts.' I know well
how you would spend the month you talk of when Miss Bronte
was with you, and how you would discuss all imaginable topics
and all imaginable people all day and half the night. Tell me
something about Emily Bronte. I can't imagine how the newly
acquired qualities can fit in, in the same head and heart that is
occupied by the old ones. I imagine Emily turning over prints
or ' taking wine ' with any stupid pup and preserving her temper
and politeness ! Do you know, your specimens of * people with
good taste ' who admire The Sea shocks me by its vulgarity. The
Sea is but a simple air! You should admire elaborate fantasias
made on elaborate subjects, that want three hands or twelve
fingers to play them when you are left to invent now and then
a Brilliant appogiatura, cadence, harfenspiel, or what not, to
modulate through the fifth into the next key, or from a minor
seventh close to a' the devil knows what! If you can't under-
stand it all remember I 've been learning German and how is
it possible to keep one's brain clear in this land of Swedenborg,
philosophy, abstract ideas, and cabbaged This last word is a
literal translation of a German one, always applied to anything
very confused my letter, for instance. However, I thrive with
it all. I am decidedly better, better than I have been since I left
England. Brussels, or perhaps my moral condition there, did not
agree with me. I felt overpowered with weakness; now I am
cheerful and active. Do not think if I don't write to you often
that I forget you. I write a public letter, which I hope you see ;
and when I have written all the news I have, what can I put in
your letter ? I will wait a day or two, and if I find a great secret
I will put it at the bottom of this page.
262 THE BRONTES
Feb.
I find nothing to-day that I have not said in the public letter,
and I must close my packet to-day for fear an estafette comes to
know why I don't write. I have heard from Charlotte since her
arrival ; she seems content at least, but fear her sister's absence
will have a bad effect. When people have so little amusement
they cannot afford to lose any. However, we shall see. Present
my remembrances to Miss Heald if she sent any to me, and I
have really forgotten, and your letters are so abominably written
that I cannot afford time to read it over again. Cannot you take
pains and write neatly as I do? I fully understand your regrets
at being forced to remain at home, but there is always your
Mother for a reason, and perhaps if you left her you might regret
as much that you had not remained by her. Remember me to
her and your sister, Miss Wooler, and the Cockhills.
MARY TAYLOR.
Letter 120
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS, March 6, 1843.
DEAR NELL, Whether you received my last billet or not I
do not know, but as an opportunity offers of despatching to you
another I will avail myself of it.
I am settled by this time, of course. I am not too much over-
loaded 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 fortune. 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
Madame Hger are the only two persons in the house for whom
I really experience regard and esteem, and, of course, I cannot
always be with them, nor even often. They told me, when I first
returned, that I was to consider their sitting-room my sitting-room
also, and to go there whenever I was not engaged in the school-
room. 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 intrude
SECOND SOJOURN IN BRUSSELS 263
on M. and Madame Hger 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. Hger and
his brother-in-law, M. Chapelle. M. Roger's first wife was sister
of M. Chapelle's present wife. They get on with wonderful
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 Englishmen, 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. H6ger 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 been twice to the Dixons.
They are very kind to me. This letter will probably go by
Mr. Tom. Miss Dixon is certainly an elegant and accomplished
person. When she leaves Bruxelles I shall have nowhere to go.
I shall be very sorry to lose her society. I hear that Mary W. is
going to be married, and that Mr. J. Taylor has been and is very
poorly. 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 happi-
ness. She has nobody to be as good to her as M. Hger is to me ;
to lend her books, to converse with her sometimes, etc. Tell me
if any chances or changes have happened.
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. Good-bye. C. B.
Letter 121
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS, April u/, 1843.
DEAR ELLEN, That last letter of yours merits a good dose of
panegyric it was both long and interesting ; send me quickly
such another, longer still if possible. You will have heard of
264 THE BRONTES
Mary Taylor's resolute and intrepid proceedings. Her public
letters will have put you in possession of all details nothing is
left for me to say except perhaps to express my opinion upon it.
I have turned the matter over on all sides, and really I cannot
consider it otherwise than as very rational. Mind, I did not
jump to this opinion at once, but was several days before I formed
it conclusively.
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 acknowledge that there
are certain disadvantages in my present position, what position
on earth is without them ? And, whenever I turn back to com-
pare what I am with what I was my place here with my place
at Mrs. Sidgwick's or Mrs. White's 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 tyoux 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 H6ger's.
I must have some more powerful motive than respect for my
master and mistress, gratitude for their kindness, etc., to induce
me to refuse a salary of 5O/. in England and accept one of i6/. in
Belgium. I must, forsooth, have some remote hope of entrapping
a husband somehow, or somewhere. If these charitable people
knew the total seclusion of the life I lead that I never exchange
a word with any other man than Monsieur Hger, and seldom
SECOND SOJOURN IN BRUSSELS 265
indeed with him they would, perhaps, cease to suppose that any
such chimerical and groundless notion had influenced my pro-
ceedings. 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 imbecility, which I reject with con-
tempt, for women, who have neither fortune nor beauty, to make
marriage the principal 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. I hope sincerely that all at
Brookroyd are well. Remember me to your Mother and Mary.
Any news of Ann yet ? Good-bye. Write to me soon, nicely and
pleasantly. Don't cut me up with any second-hand nonsense.
Yours, C. B.
Letter 122
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May , '43.
DEAR Miss NUSSEY, I should be wanting in common civility
if I did not thank you for your kindness in letting me know of an
opportunity to send postage free.
I have written as you directed, though if next Tuesday means
to-morrow, I fear it will be too late to go with Mr. . Charlotte
has never mentioned a word about coming home. If you would
go over for half a year, perhaps you might be able to bring her
back with you, otherwise she might vegetate there till the age of
Methusaleh for mere lack of courage to face the voyage.
All here are in good health ; so was Anne according to her last
account. The holidays will be here in a week or two, and then,
if she be willing, I will get her to write you a proper letter, a feat
that I have never performed. With love and good wishes,
EMILY J. BRONTE.
Letter 123
TO BRANWELL BRONTfi
BRUSSELS, May ist, 1843.
DEAR BRANWELL, I hear you have written a letter to me.
This letter, however, as usual, I have never received, which I am
266 THE BRONTES
exceedingly sorry for, as I have wished very much to hear from
you. Are you sure that you put the right address and that you
paid the English postage, is. 6d.? Without that, letters are never
forwarded. I heard from papa a day or two since.- All appears
to be going on reasonably well at home. I grieve only that Emily
is so solitary; but, however, you and Anne will soon be returning
for the holidays, which will cheer the house for a time. Are you
in better health and spirits, and does Anne continue to be pretty
well? I understand papa has been to see you. Did he seem
cheerful and well ? Mind when you write to me you answer these
questions, as I wish to know. Also give me a detailed account
as to how you get on with your pupil and the rest of the family.
I have received a general assurance that you do well and are in
good odour, but I want to know particulars.
As for me, I am very well and wag on as usual. I perceive,
however, that I grow exceedingly misanthropic and sour. You
will say that this is no news, and that you never knew me possessed
of the contrary qualities philanthropy and sugariness. Das ist
wahr (which being translated means, that is true) ; but the fact is,
the people here are no go whatsoever. Amongst 120 persons
which compose the daily population of this house, I can discern
only one or two who deserve anything like regard. This is not
owing to foolish fastidiousness on my part, but to the absence of
decent qualities on theirs. They have not intellect or politeness
or good-nature or good-feeling. They are nothing. I don't hate
them hatred would be too warm a feeling. They have no sensa-
tions themselves and they excite none. But one wearies from
day to day of caring nothing, fearing nothing, liking nothing,
hating nothing, being nothing, doing nothing yes, I teach and
sometimes get red in the face with impatience at their stupidity.
But don't think I ever scold or fly into a passion. If I spoke
warmly, as warmly as I sometimes used to do at Roe Head, they
would think me mad. Nobody ever gets into a passion here.
Such a thing is not known. The phlegm that thickens their
blood is too gluey to boil. They are very false in their relations
with each other, but they rarely quarrel, and friendship is a folly
they are unacquainted with. The black Swan, M. Hger, is the
only sole veritable exception to this rule (for Madame, always
cool and always reasoning, is not quite an exception). But I
rarely speak to Monsieur now, for not being a pupil I have little
or nothing to do with him. From time to time he shows his
SECOND SOJOURN IN BRUSSELS 267
kind-heartedness by loading me with books, so that I am still
indebted to him for all the pleasure or amusement I have.
Except for the total want of companionship I have nothing to
complain of. I have not too much to do, sufficient liberty, and
I am rarely interfered with. I lead an easeful, stagnant, silent
life, for which, when I think of Mrs. Sidgwick, I ought to be very
thankful. Be sure you write to me soon, and beg of Anne to
inclose a small billet in the same letter ; it will be a real charity
to do me this kindness. Tell me everything you can think of.
It is a curious metaphysical fact that always in the evening
when I am in the great dormitory alone, having no other company
than a number of beds with white curtains, I always recur as
fanatically as ever to the old ideas, the old faces, and the old
scenes in the world below.
Give my love to Anne. And believe me, yourn
DEAR ANNE, Write to me. Your affectionate Schwester,
C. B.
Letter 124
TO EMILY J. BRONTfi
BRUSSELS, May 29^, 1843.
DEAR E. J., The reason of the unconscionable demand for
money is explained in my letter to papa. Would you believe it,
Mdlle. Muhl demands as much for one pupil as for two, namely,
10 francs per month. This, with the 5 francs per month to the
Blanchisseuse, 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 Mdlle. Blanche and Mdlle. Hausse are at
present on a system of war without quarter. They hate each
other like two cats. Mdlle. Blanche frightens Mdlle. Hausse* by
her white passions (for they quarrel venomously). Mdlle. Hausse*
complains that when Mdlle. Blanche is in fury, ' elle ria pas de
levres! I find also that Mdlle. Sophie dislikes Mdlle. 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. Hger, to whom she reports everything.
Also she invents which I should not have thought. I have now
the entire charge of the English lessons. I have given two lessons
to the first class. Hortense Jannoy was a picture on these occa-
sions ; her face was black as a ' blue-piled thunder-loft/ and her
268 THE BRONTS
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. Of late days, M. and Mde. He*ger
rarely speak to me, and I really don't pretend to care a fig for
any body else in the establishment. You are not to suppose by
that expression that I am under the influence of warm affection
for Mde. Hdger. I am convinced 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. Hger is wonderously 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 universal
bienveillancC) and, perceiving that I don't improve in consequence.
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 sub-
stantial to complain of, nor is even this a cause for complaint.
Except the loss of M. H^ger'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.
I have written to Branwell, though I never got a letter from
him.
Letter 125
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS, August 6th, 1843.
DEAR ELLEN, You never answered my last letter ; but, how-
ever, forgiveness is a part of the Christian Creed, and so having an
opportunity to send a letter to England, I forgive you and write
to you again. 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
SECOND SOJOURN IN BRUSSELS 269
few days our vacation will begin ; everybody is joyous and ani-
mated at the prospect, because everybody is to go home. I know
that I am to stay here during the five weeks that the holidays last,
and that I shall be much alone during that time, and consequently
get downcast, and find both days and nights of a weary length.
It is the first time in my life that I have really dreaded the
vacation. Last Sunday afternoon, being at the Chapel Royal, in
Brussels, I was surprised to hear a voice proceed from the pulpit
which instantly brought all Birstall and Batley before my mind's
eye. I could see nothing, but certainly thought that that unclerical
little Welsh pony, Jenkins, was there. I buoyed up my mind with
the expectation of receiving a letter from you, but as, however, I
have got none, I suppose I must have been mistaken.
Since I wrote the preceding pages, Mr. Jenkins has called. He
brought no letter from you, but said you were at Harrogate, and
that they could not find the letter you had intended to send. He
informed me of two melancholy events. Poor Sarah, when I last
bid her good-bye I little thought I should never see her more.
Certainly, however, she is happy where she is gone far happier
than she was here. When the first days of mourning are past, you
will see that you have reason rather to rejoice at her removal than
to grieve for it. Your mother will have felt her death much and
you also. I fear from the circumstance of your being at Harro-
gate that you are yourself ill. Write to me soon.
Alas ! I can hardly write, I have such a dreary weight at my
heart; and I do so wish to go home. Is not this childish?
Pardon me, for I cannot help it. However, though I am not
strong enough to bear up cheerfully, I can still bear up; and I will
continue to stay (D.v.) some months longer, till I have acquired
German ; and then I hope to see all your faces again. Would
that the vacation were well over ! it will pass so slowly. Do have
the Christian charity to write me a long, long letter ; fill it with
the minutest details ; nothing will be uninteresting. Do not think
it is because people are unkind to me that I wish to leave
Belgium ; nothing of the sort. Everybody is abundantly civil, but
home-sickness keeps creeping over me. I cannot shake it off.
You may scold me or say what you like about this being a scanty,
shabby letter ; if you had answered my last I might perhaps have
had courage to write more. As it is I am incapable. Remember
me to your mother and Mercy, and believe me, very merrily,
vivaciously, gaily yours, C. B.
270 THE BRONTfiS
Letter 126
TO EMILY J. BRONTE
BRUX?;LLES, September 2nd, 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 holidays 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 Mdlle. Blanche, who is returned from
Paris, I am always alone except at meal-times, for Mdlle. Blanche's
character is so false and so contemptible I can't force myself to
associate with her. She perceives my utter 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
sometimes 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 still kept threading
the streets in the neighbourhood of the Rue d'Isabelle and avoid-
ing it. I found myself opposite 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 begun. 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
interest. 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 them-
selves they have singular fancies. A penitent was occupied in
confessing. They do not go into the sort of pew or cloister which
the priest occupies, but kneel down on the steps and confess
SECOND SOJOURN IN BRUSSELS 271
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 return, 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 commence
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 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 con-
vince me of the error and enormity of being a Protestant ! ! ! 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, 1 and hoping you will write to me immediately,
I am, yours, C. B.
Letter 127
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS, October 13^, 1843
DEAR ELLEN, 1 was glad to receive your last letter; but
when I read it, its contents gave me some pain. It was melan-
choly indeed that so soon after the death of a sister you should
be called from a distant county by the news of the severe illness
of a brother, and, after your return home, your sister Ann should
fall ill too. Mary Dixon informs me your brother is scarcely
expected to recover is this true? I hope not, for his sake and
yours. His loss would indeed be a blow a blow which I hope
1 A playful reference to the curates.
272 THE BRONTES
Providence may avert. Do not, my dear Ellen, fail to write to
me soon of affairs at Brookroyd. I cannot fail to be anxious on
the subject, your family being amongst the oldest and kindest
friends I have. I trust this season of affliction will soon pass. It
has been a long one.
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 Brussels and go to her ; but at
present, however tempted to take such a step, I should not feel
justified in doing so. To leave a certainty for a complete un-
certainty, would be to the last degree imprudent. Notwithstand-
ing that, Brussels is indeed desolate to me now. Since Mary
Dixon left, I have had no friend. I had, indeed, some very kind
acquaintances in the family of 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 as anything.
Madame Hger is a politic, plausible, and interested person. I
no longer trust to her. It is a curious position to be so utterly
solitary in the midst of numbers. Sometimes the solitude oppresses
me to an excess. One day, lately, I felt as if I could bear it no
longer, and I went to Madame Hger and gave her notice. If it
had depended on her I should certainly have soon been at liberty ;
but M. Hger, 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 passion ; so I promised to stay
a little while longer. How long that will be I do not know. I
should not like to return to England to do nothing. I am too old
for that now ; but if I could hear of a favourable opportunity for
commencing a school, I think I should embrace it I have much
to say many little odd things, queer and puzzling enough
which I do not like to trust to a letter, but which one day perhaps, or
rather one evening if ever we should find ourselves by the fire-
side at Haworth or at Brookroyd, with our feet on the fender,
curling our hair I may communicate to you. We have as yet no
fires here, and I suffer much from cold ; otherwise I am well in
health. Mr. George Dixon will take this letter to England. He
is a pretty-looking and pretty-behaved young man, apparently
constructed without a backbone ; by which I don't allude to his
corporal spine, which is all right enough, but to his character.
Farewell, dear Ellen. Give my love to your mother and sisters,
SECOND SOJOURN IN BRUSSELS 273
and good wishes to Mr. George; anything you like to yourself,
dear Nell. C. B.
Letter 128
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS, Nov. 1843.
DEAR ELLEN, What a little sturdy body you are, and your
sturdiness is a good thing, if you are quite sure you are in the
right. ... I get on here after a fashion ; but now that Mary Dixon
has left Brussels, I have nobody to speak to, for I count the Belgians
as nothing. Sometimes I ask myself, How long shall I stay here ?
but as yet I have only asked the question ; I have not answered
it. However, when I have acquired as much German as I think
fit, I think I shall pack up bag and baggage, and depart. Twinges
of home-sickness cut me to the heart, every now and then. I do
not give to the (I am forced to take a pencil my pen is un-
manageable) I say, I do not give to the step Mary Taylor has
taken the unqualified approbation you do. It is a step proving
an energetic and active mind, proving the possession of courage,
independence, talent, but it is not a prudent step. Often genius,
like Mary's, triumphs over every obstacle without the aid of
prudence, and I hope she may be successful hitherto she is so,
but opinion and custom run so strongly against what she does,
that I see there is danger of her having much uneasiness to suffer.
If her pupils had been girls, it would be all well ; the fact of their
being boys, or rather young men, is the stumbling-block. This
opinion is for YOU only, mind.
The portrait you sent of Henry is like, but not a likeness worth
preserving. His notion of being a Missionary is amusing; he
would not live a year in the climates of those countries where
Missionaries are wanted.
None of your family have much stamina in the constitution ; on
the contrary, all are delicate, and he one of the most so.
To-day the weather is gloomy, and I am stupefied with a bad cold
and headache. I have nothing to tell you, my dear Ellen. One day
is like another in this place. I know you, living in the country, can
hardly believe it possible life can be monotonous in the centre of
a brilliant capital like Brussels ; but so it is. I feel it most on
holidays, when all the girls and teachers go out to visit, and it
sometimes happens that I am left, during several hours, quite
VOL. I. S
274 THE BRONTfiS
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 Hger (good and kind as I have described her) never
comes near me on these occasions. I own, I was astonished the
first time I was left alone thus ; when everybody else was enjoy-
ing the pleasures of a fte-day with 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 Brussels. You
remember the letter she wrote me, when I was in England ? How
kind and affectionate that was? Is it not odd ? I fancy I begin
to perceive the reason of this mighty distance and reserve ; it some-
times makes me laugh, and at other times nearly cry. When I am
sure of it, I will tell it you. In the meantime, the complaints I make
at present are for your car only a sort of relief which I permit
myself. In all other respects I am well satisfied with my posi-
tion, and you may say so to people who inquire after me (if any
one does). Write to me, dear Nell, whenever you can. You do a
good deed when you send me a letter, for you comfort a very
desolate heart. Good-bye. Love to your mother and sisters.
C. B.
Letter 129
TO EMILY J. BRONTE
BRUSSELS, December 19^, 1843.
DEAR E, J., I have taken my determination. I hope to be
at home the day after New Year's Day. I have told Mme. H^ger.
But in order to come home I shall be obliged to draw on my cash
for another 5. I have only 3 at present, and as there are
several little things I should like to buy before I leave Brussels
which you know cannot be got as well in England 3 would not
suffice. Low spirits have afflicted me much lately, but I hope all
will be well when I get home above all, if I find papa and you
and B. and A. well. I am not ill in body. It is only the mind
which is a trifle shaken for want of comfort.
I shall try to cheer up now. Good-bye. C. B.
A QUIET YEAR AT HA WORTH 275
CHAPTER XIII
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH
UPON Charlotte Brontes return to England in January
1844, she immediately took up once again the project of
a school. Leaving Haworth was now out of the question.
Her father wanted her care. So it was determined that
the school should be in the Haworth parsonage, and a
circular was widely circulated among her friends. 1
1 The circular ran as follows :
THE MISSES BRONTE'S ESTABLISHMENT
FOR
THE BOARD AND EDUCATION
OF A LIMITED NUMBER OF
YOUNG LADIES,
THE PARSONAGE, IIAU'ORTH,
NFAR BRADFORD.
TERMS.
' *
Board and Education, including Writing, Arithmetic, History,
Grammar, Geography, and Needle Work, per Annum . 35 o O
French \
German j> each per Quarter I I O
Latin J
Music | eac h per Quarter I I o
Drawing J
Use of Piano Forte, per Quarter ... ..050
Washing, per Quarter 0150
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.
276 THE BRONTES
Letter 130
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, January , 1844.
DEAR ELLEN, I cannot tell what occupies your thoughts and
time. Are you ill? Is some one of your family ill ? Are you
married? Are you dead? If it be so, you may as well write a
word and let me know for my part, I am again in old England
I shall tell you nothing further till you write to me.
C. BRONTE.
Write to me directly, that is a good girl ; I feel really anxious,
and have felt so for a long time, to hear from you.
Letter 131
TO ELLEN NUSSEY, EARNLEY RECTORY, CHICHESTER
HAWORTH, January 2$rd, 1844.
MY DEAR ELLEN, It was a great disappointment to me to
hear that you were in the south of England. I had counted upon
seeing you soon, as one of the great pleasures of my return ; now, I
fear, our meeting will be postponed for an indefinite time.
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 Branwell 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 matter, and to wait.
I suffered much before I left Brussels. I think, however long I
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 277
live, I shall not forget what the parting with M. H6ger 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 abilities as a teacher, sealed with the seal
of the Athne"e 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. When do you think I shall see you ? I
have, of course, much to tell you, and 1 dare say you have much
also to tell me, of things which we should neither of us wish to
commit to paper. I am much disquieted at not having heard
from Mary Taylor for so long a time. Joe called at Rue d'Isabelle
with a letter from you, but I was already gone. 1 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
affections, are changed from what they used to be ; something 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 braving 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. Write to me soon, my
dear Ellen, and believe as far as regards yourself, your unchanged
friend, C. BRONTE.
Remember me with kindness to your brother Henry. Anne
and Branwell have just left us to return to York. They are both
wondrously valued in their situations.
Letter 132
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March i$th, 1844.
DEAR NELL, I got home safely, and was not too much tired
on arriving at Haworth. I feel rather better to-day than I have
been, and in time I hope to regain more strength. I found Emily
and Papa well, and a letter from Branwell intimating that he and
Anne are pretty well too. Emily is much obliged to you for the
flower seeds. She wishes to know if the Sicilian pea and crimson
278 THE BRONTfiS
corn-flower are hardy flowers, or if they are delicate, and should
be sown in warm and sheltered situations ? Write to me, and let
me know how you are, and if George is better. Tell me also if
you went to Mrs. John Swain's on Friday, and if you enjoyed
yourself; talk to me, in short, as you would do if we were
together. Good morning, dear Nell ; I shall say no more to you
at present. C, BRONTE.
P.S. 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.
Letter 133
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 5/A, 1844.
DEAR NELL, We were all very glad to get your letter this
morning. We> I say, as both Papa and Emily were anxious to
hear of the safe arrival of yourself and the little varmint*
As you conjecture, Emily and I set to shirt-making the very
day after you left, and we have stuck to it pretty closely ever
since. We miss your society at least as much as you miss ours,
depend upon it. Would that you were within calling distance,
that you could as you say burst in upon us in an afternoon, and,
being despoiled of your bonnet and shawl, be fixed in the rocking-
chair for the evening once or twice every week. I certainly
cherished a dream during your stay that such might one day be
the case, but the dream is somewhat dissipating. I allude of
course to Mr. Smith, to whom you do not allude in your letter,
and I think you foolish for the omission. I say the dream is
dissipating, because Mr. Smith has not mentioned your name
since you left, except once when papa said you were a nice girl,
he said, ' Yes, she is a nice girl rather quiet. I suppose she has
money/ and that is all. I think the words speak volumes ; they
do not prejudice one in favour of Mr. Smith. I can well believe
what papa has often affirmed, and continues to affirm, i.e. y that
Mr. Smith is a very fickle man, that if he marries he will soon get
tired of his wife, and consider her as a burden, also that money
will be a principal consideration with him in marrying.
1 A little dog, called 'Flossy, junr.,' which indicates its parentage. Flossy was the
little dcg given by the Robinsons to Anne.
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 279
Papa has two or three times expressed a fear that since Mr.
Smith paid you so much attention he will perhaps have made an
impression on your mind which will interfere with your comfort.
I tell him I think not, as I believe you to be mistress of yourself
in those matters. Still, he keeps saying that I am to write to you
and dissuade you from thinking of him. I never saw papa make
himself so uneasy about a thing of the kind before ; he is usually
very sarcastic on such subjects.
Mr. Smith be hanged ! I never thought very well of him, and
I am much disposed to think very ill of him at this blessed
minute. I have discussed the subject fully, for where is the use
of being mysterious and constrained ? it is not worth while.
Be sure you write to me and immediately, and tell me whether
you have given up eating and drinking altogether. I am not sur-
prised at people thinking you looked pale and thin. I shall
expect another letter on Thursday don't disappoint me.
My best regards to your mother and sisters. Yours, somewhat
irritated, C. B.
Letter 134
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April -]th, 1844.
DEAR NELL, I have received your note. It communicated a
piece of good news which 1 certainly did not expect to hear. I
want, however, further enlightenment on the subject. Can you
tell me what has caused the change in Mary's plans, and brought
her so suddenly back to England ? Is it on account of Mary
Dixon ? Is it the wish of her brother, or is it her own determina-
tion ? I hope, whatever the reason be, it is nothing which can
give her uneasiness or do her harm. Do you know how long she
is likely to stay in England ? or when she arrives at Hunsworth ?
You ask how I am. I really have felt much better the last
week I think my visit to Brookroyd did me good. What
delightful weather we have had lately. I wish we had had such
while I was with you. Emily and I walk out a good deal on the
moors, to the great damage of our shoes, but I hope to the benefit
of our health.
Good-bye, dear Ellen. Send me another of your little notes
soon. Kindest regards to all, C. B.
280 THE BRONTES
Letter 135, much mutilated
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
BRUSSELS [1844].
DEAR ELLEN, I am just now in a terribly talking humour,
and if you were here I should entertain you for hours with
interesting trifles ; interesting to me, and if they were not to
you, why, you would have to bear it ! But as I can't enter into
a long circumstantial explanation of the state of things here, and
there is nothing important going forward, I have just nothing to
say. I am alone and melancholy. We sometimes take it into
our heads at least I do to wonder what we live for, to look all
round and see nothing in this world worth getting up for in the
morning. I am particularly apt to be of this opinion when some-
thing has occurred to show me that those things which I value,
those virtues I strive after, that moral beauty which makes the
charm of everyday life all that is worth living for, in fact, is
despised ... by other people. This sometimes gives me the
idea that . . . taken, and always makes me feel alone in the world.
. . . very have I lately made. Persons whom I considered
. . . their conduct that they had no more . . . sider virtue and
morality than if they had . . . particulars cannot be written or
are not . . . you them when I see you, and if I never tell . . .
self the repetition of a vexatious history. . . . you when my
outlandish friends . . . what Charlotte is doing? I think of her
too. . . . since I left England. What is the . . . nervous? I
have heard of your being . . . you for a full account of her state
of health and occupations. I can easily imagine that she is
grown low-spirited with solitude and want of interesting employ-
ment. Pray write write sooner than I have done to you and
tell me how she goes on. I half expect Joe this Autumn, but if
M. Dixon and Wilfram come as they talk of doing, perhaps he
will think that is enough. In any case write to me, particularly
about Miss Bronte. I have neglected writing to Miss Corkhill.
Tell her I will do it shortly. The reason is, we have had neither
earthquake nor revolution here, so I have nothing to say. My
own affairs go on as usual. I teach and practise music. You
must have heard this till you are tired of it, Yours truly,
M. TAYLOR.
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 281
Letter 136
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
CHAD ROAD, April 1844.
DEAR ELLEN, Many thanks for your welcome to England.
How did you smell out so speedily that I was come? I shall
see you and ask you this and a thousand other questions in about
a fortnight, and then I hope to see C. B. too. I am going to
stretch the house at Hunsworth and make it hold three or four
people to sleep, whereas I understand that now it only holds
two (strangers). Wish M. Carr much happiness for me ; she will
be married before I see her again. I have nothing to write, and
live in hopes of seeing you, so I will not crack my brain to find
anything.
Remember me to your Mamma and sisters. Yours,
M. TAYLOR.
Letter 137
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May 1 844.
I did not * swear at the postman ' when I saw another letter
from you, Nell. And I hope you will not 'swear* at me when
I tell you that I cannot think of leaving home at present, even
to have the pleasure of joining you at H arrogate, but I am
obliged to you for thinking of me. Thank you, 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 to
seek in good earnest for pupils. I wrote to Mrs. White, not
asking her for her daughter, I cannot do that, but informing her
of my intentions. I received an answer from Mr. White expres-
sive 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 Stott's, but that
now both were promised to Miss Corkhill. I was partly dis-
appointed 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 written
282 THE BRONTES
also to Mrs. Busfeild, of Keighley, and have enclosed the diploma
which M. Hger gave me before I left Brussels. 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. Un-
fortunately, 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 ,25 per annum. I have nothing
new about Rev. Lothario Lovelace Smith ; I think I like him a
little bit less every day. Mr. Weightman was worth 200 Mr.
Smiths tied in a bunch. Good-bye. I fear by what you say,
' Flossy jun. 1 behaves discreditably, and gets his mistress into
scrapes. C. BRONTE.
Letter 138
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
June 9/>fc, 1 844.
MY DEAR ELLEN, Anne and Branwell are now at home, and
they and Emily add their request to mine, that you will join us
at the beginning of next week. Write and let us know what
day you will come, and how if by coach, we will meet you at
Keighley. Do not let your visit be later than the beginning of
next week, or you will see little of Anne and Branwell, as their
holidays are very short. They will soon have to join the family
at Scarborough. Remember me kindly to your mother and
sisters. I hope they are all well. C. B.
Letter 139
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July 2QM, 1844.
DEAR NELL, I am very glad to hear of Henry's good fortune.
It proves to me what an excellent thing perseverance is for
getting on in the world. Calm self-confidence (not impudence,
for that is vulgar and repulsive) is an admirable quality ; but how
are those not naturally gifted with it to attain it? 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 slightest claim, and to some on
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 283
whom I have no claim Mrs. Busfeild, 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 situation. 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
moderateMrs. Busfeild 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 curious 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 35, which I think is the just medium, considering
advantages and disadvantages. What does your wisdom think
about it? We all here get on much as usual. Papa wishes
he could hear of a curate, that Mr. Smith may be at liberty to
go. Good-bye, dear Ellen. I wish to you and yours happiness,
health, and prosperity.
Write again before you go to Burlington. My best love to
Mary. C. BRONTE.
Letter 140
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
August 15/7*, 1844.
DEAR NELL, I send you two additional circulars, and will
send you two more, if you desire it, when I write again. I have
no news to give you. Mr. Smith leaves in the course of a fort-
night. He will spend a few weeks in Ireland previously to
settling at Keighley. He continues just the same: often anxious
and bad-tempered, sometimes rather tolerable just supportable.
How did your party go off? How are you? Write soon, and
at length, for your letters are a great comfort to me. We are
all pretty well. Remember me kindly to each member of the
household at Brookroyd. Yours, C. B.
284 THE BRONTES
Letter 141
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Sept. 1 6#, 1844.
DEAR ELLEN, I received your kind note last Saturday, and
should have answered it immediately, but in the meantime I
had a letter from Mary Taylor, and had to reply to her, and
to write sundry letters to Brussels to send by opportunity. My
sight will not allow me to write several letters per day, so I was
obliged to do it gradually.
I send you two more circulars because you ask for them, not
because I hope their distribution will produce any result I hope
that if a time should come when Emily, Anne, or I shall be able
to serve you, we shall not forget that you have done your best to
serve us.
Mr. Smith has gone hence, He is in Ireland at present, and
will stay there six weeks. He has left neither a bad nor a good
character behind him. Nobody regrets him, because nobody
could attach themselves to one who could attach himself to
nobody. 1 thought once he had a regard for you, but I do not
think so now. He has never asked after you since you left, nor
even mentioned you in my hearing, except to say once when I
purposely alluded to you, that you were 'not very locomotive.'
The meaning of the observation I leave you to divine.
Yet the man is not without points that will be most useful to
himself in getting through life. His good qualities, however, are
all of the selfish order, but they will make him respected where
better and more generous natures would be despised, or at least
neglected.
Mr. Grant fills his shoes at present decently enoughbut one
cares naught about these sort of individuals, so drop them.
Mary Taylor is going to leave our hemisphere. To me it is
something as if a great planet fell out of the sky. Yet, unless she
marries in New Zealand, she will not stay there long.
Write to me again soon, and I promise to write you a regular
long letter next time. C. BRONTE.
These references to Mr. Smith and Mr. Grant bring
us face to face with two of the curates made famous in
Shirley. Of these gentlemen I shall have more to say
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 285
later. The point of immediate interest is the advent in
this year of Mr. Arthur Bell Nicholls as Mr. Bronte's
curate upon Mr. Smith's promotion to a curacy at the
Parish Church of Keighley. Miss Bronte's first impression
of Mr. Nicholls was not, it will be seen, very favourable.
Letter 142
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Oct. 2, '44.
DEAR ELLEN, I, Emily, and Anne are truly obliged to you
for the efforts you have made on 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, because it teaches us experience and
an additional knowledge of the world.
Miss Ringrose's letters are distressing indeed. It appears
to me most desirable that either you should go to her or she
should come to you. It would seem as if there was no one
to look after her no one to take care of her at home. If her
mother is so absorbed in her wretched cravings and indulgences
as to be incapable of perceiving her daughter's state has the
father no eyes and no understanding? The poor girl is more to
be pitied than many a beggar's child, and it is hard indeed that
one who deserves all affection and care should be so solitary, so
neglected, as she apparently is.
Probably by this time you will know more of her condition,
and such a plan would, I am morally certain, be most efficient
for her welfare and it is a pity there is not some one to suggest
it to him.
We are getting on here the same as usual only that Branwell
has been more than ordinarily troublesome and annoying of late ;
he leads Papa a wretched life. Mr. Nicholls is returned just the
same ; I cannot for my life see those interesting germs of good-
ness in him you discovered ; his narrowness of mind always strikes
me chiefly. I fear he is indebted to your imagination for his
hidden treasure.
I am sorry to hear that Mercy occasionally spits blood, but 1
286 THE BRONTfiS
should think it is more likely to proceed from the lungs than
from the stomach. She ought, however, to be ... [the rest lost}
Yours faithfully, C. BRONTE.
Letter 143
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
November i4//%, 1844.
DEAR ELLEN, Your letter came very apropos, as, indeed,
your letters always do ; but this morning I had something of a
headache, and was consequently rather out of spirits, and the
epistle (scarcely legible though it be excuse a rub) cheered me.
In order to evince my gratitude, as well as to please my own
inclination, I sit down to answer it immediately. I am glad, in
the first place, to hear that Henry is going to be married, and still
more so to learn that his wife-elect has a handsome fortune
not that I advocate marrying for money in general, but I think
in many cases (and this is one) money is a very desirable con-
tingent of matrimony.
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 aspect of the place would
frighten her, and she would probably 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.
I wonder when Mary Taylor is expected in England. It sur-
prises me to hear of Joe being in Switzerland. Probably she is
with him. I trust you will be at home while she is at Hunsworth,
and that you, she, and I may meet again somewhere under the
canopy of heaven. I cannot, dear Ellen, make any promise about
myself and Anne going to Brookroyd at Christmas ; her vacations
are so short she would grudge spending any part of them from
home.
The catastrophe, which you related so calmly, about your book-
muslin dress, lace bertha, etc., convulsed me with cold shudderings
of horror. You have reason to curse the day when so fatal a
present was offered you as that infamous little ' varmint. 1 The
perfect serenity with which you endured the disaster proves most
fully to me that you would make the best wife, mother, and
A QUIET YEAR AT HA WORTH 287
mistress in the world. You and Ann are a pair for marvellous
philosophical powers of endurance ; no spoilt dinners, scorched
linen, dirtied carpets, torn sofa-covers, squealing brats, cross
husbands, would ever discompose either of you. You ought
never to marry a good-tempered man ; it would be mingling honey
with sugar, like sticking white roses upon a black-thorn cudgel.
With this very picturesque metaphor I close my letter. Good-
bye, and write very soon. C. BRONTE.
Letter 144
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Monday M r orning \ 1844.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I received your note this morning. I shall
have great pleasure in accepting the kind invitation which it
conveys from your mother. I know nothing which can prevent
me from coming on the day you fix, viz. Thursday next. If,
therefore, Mr. George will be kind enough to meet me at Bradford,
I shall (D.v.) be at the Talbot Inn at half-past four P.M., the time
the mail-coach arrives from Keighley. How glad shall I be to
see you once more in good health, but I shall try to meet you
gravely and quietly. No enthusiasm, mind ; all that shall be put
by for our evenings, when we curl our hair. Good-bye, dear Nell ;
there 's a warm corner remains in my heart for you at any rate.
Remember me kindly to your mother, sisters, and brothers.
C. BRONT.
Letter 145
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January , 1845.
MY DEAR ELLEN, We were at breakfast when your note
reached me, and I consequently write in great hurry. Your trials
seem to thicken. I trust God will either remove them, or give
you strength to bear them. If I could but come to you and
offer you all the little assistance either my head or my hands
could afford, but that is impossible. I scarcely dare offer to
comfort you about W., lest my consolation should seem like
mockery. I know that in cases of sickness, strangers cannot
measure what relations feel. One thing, however, I need not
remind you of. You will have repeated it over and over to your-
288 THE BRONTfiS
self before now. ' God does all for the best/ and even should the
worst happen, and death seem finally to destroy hope, remember,
Ellen, that this will be but a practical test of the strong faith
and calm devotion which have marked you a Christian so long.
I would hope, however, the time for this test is not yet come, that
your brother may recover and all be well. It grieves me to hear
that your own health is so indifferent ; once more I wish I were
with you, to lighten at least by sympathy the burden that seems
so unsparingly laid upon you. Let me thank you, Ellen, for
remembering me in the midst of such hurry and affliction. We
are all apt to grow selfish in distress. This, so far as I have
found, is not your case. When shall I see you again? The
uncertainty in which the answer to that question must be involved
gives me a bitter feeling. Through all changes, and through all
chances, I trust I shall love you as I do now. We can pray 1 for
each other, and think of each other. Distance is no bar to
recollection. You have promised to write to me soon, and I do
not doubt that you will keep your word. Give my love to M. and
your mother. Take with you my blessing and affection, all the
warmest wishes of a warm heart for your welfare. Miss W. sends
her love. C. BRONTE.
Letter 146
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January i$th, 1845.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I have often said and thought that you
have had many and heavy trials to bear in your still short life.
You have always borne them with great firmness and calm so far
I hope fervently you will still be enabled to do so. Yet there
is something in your letter that makes me fear the present is
the greatest trial of all, and the most severely felt by you. I
hope it will soon pass over and leave no shadow behind it. A
certain space of time, complete rest, such care as you will give to
George, must, with God's blessing, produce the best results. I do
earnestly desire to be with you, to talk to you, to give you what
comfort I can. I cannot go with you to Harrogate, but in a letter
I had from Mary Taylor this morning, she tells me George will
probably soon be going with Henry to , and you will be
returning to Brookroyd. Branwell and Anne leave us on Satur-
day. Branwell has been quieter and less irritable on the whole
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 289
this time than he was in summer. Anne is as usual always good,
mild, and patient. I think she too is a little stronger than she
was. Shortly after Branwell and Anne leave I shall go to
Hunsworth for a week, if all be well. If you are likely to come
home shortly, I will put off my visit till that time. Write to me
as soon as you can, and tell me how George and yourself are.
Good-bye, dear Ellen, C. BRONTE.
Letter 147
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Undated, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, I have lately wondered very much why you did
not write to me. I now know the cause. Mary Taylor is staying
with us at present, and she has told me the distressing circum-
stances which absorb both your time and thought at present.
Poor Mr. George ! I am very sorry for him, very sorry ; he did
not deserve this suffering. I know, too, what a calamity his severe
illness will be to all the family, and most especially for you.
This morning (Monday) Mary has had a letter from one of her
brothers, which informs us that Mr. George is rather better.
Do not write to me, Ellen, till you have time and composure
to write without too much trouble. What can be the cause of
these severe attacks to which Mr. George has been subjected ?
Does his medical attendant treat him properly?
When you do write, inform me how you all bear the fatigue of
body and anxiety of mind you have had to go through.
Mary Taylor is looking very well, and is in good spirits. Good-
bye, dear Ellen. C. BRONTE.
Letter 148
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Feb. 2oth, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, You ought to have written to me before now
you promised I should hear from you soon and the non-fulfil-
ment of this promise makes me rather afraid that some disagree-
able event or other is the occasion of the delay. I hope George
continues to improve in health ; write soon and let me know
whether such is the case or not. I spent a week at Hunsworth
not very pleasantly ; headache, sickliness, and flatness of spirits
made me a poor companion, a sad drag on the vivacious and
VOL. I. T
290 THE BRONTES
loquacious gaiety of all the other inmates of the house. I never
was fortunate enough to be able to rally, for so much as a single
hour, while I was there. I am sure all, with the exception perhaps
of Mary, were very glad when I took my departure. I begin to
perceive that I have too little life in me, nowadays, to be fit com-
pany for any except very quiet people. Is it age, or what else,
that changes one so ? I had a note from Mary yesterday. She
said she was to leave Hunsworth on Friday. She asked for your
address. I did not know the address of the lodgings, so I gave
her that of Mr. , where I shall also send this note. If you
have any French newspapers send them soon. I had one sent,
I think, direct from Hunsworth to-day; but there is one missed
between, and I should like to read that one first Write to me, if
possible, immediately. C. BRONTE.
Letter 149
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Mar. tfh, '45.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I must just acknowledge your last note,
though I have not, this morning, time to write a long letter.
From what you say of George's state of health, it seems to me
that decidedly the best plan would be (if possible) to isolate him
for a time from all his relations yourself included, and let him
travel with a judicious and conscientious medical man ; such a
mode of cure would be expensive, but certainly it would be the
surest and speediest.
It is an unvarying symptom in cases of diseased brain, for the
patient to feel irritation in the presence of his relations, and to be
averse to receive their services, and I believe they often feel most
antipathy to those whom, in health, they were most attached to.
If you stay with George you will probably suffer much in mind,
be worn down in body, and do no real good. Take the advice of
the medical man you have consulted at Burlington, and let your
other relations take it otherwise they will probably repent here-
after. I believe it is of great importance not to lose time in such
cases. All of course depends upon what resources there are for
meeting expense, and of that you can judge.
Remember me very kindly to Mrs. Hudson, to whom I shall
again direct this letter not knowing your address at the Quay.
Tell her that our stay at Easton is one of the pleasant recollections
of my life one of the green spots that I look back on with real
A QUIET YEAR AT HA WORTH 291
pleasure. I often think it was singularly good of her to receive
me, a perfect stranger, so kindly as she did.
I know of no new books unless it be The Chimes, by Dickens,
which I have not read. I have had no news from Huns worth since
I last wrote to you. I should like to hear whether Mary is actually
gone. Write to me a^ain soon, dear Ellen, as I am truly anxious
to hear of you and of George, both for your sake and his own.
Yours, C. BRONTE.
Letter 150
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March 2U/, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, I received the enclosed letters from Mary this
morning, with directions from Joe Taylor to send them on to you
as soon as I had read them, and request you to despatch instanter
back to Hunsworth.
He likewise says I ought by all means to have sent you the
French newspapers, and no doubt thinks me exquisitely stupid
because I did not.
Mary is in her element now. She has done right to go out to
New Zealand. C. BRONTE.
Letter 151
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March 24^, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, I repeat what you say sometimes to me
'Take care of yourself; you are not strong enough to travel
seventy miles in an open gig in very cold weather. Don't do it
again. . . . You have done quite right to leave George for a
time : your absence cannot harm him, and a total estrangement
from the presence and things that were about him in his illness
will do him good. Do not, dear Ellen, be disheartened because
his improvement in health is slow. When one thinks of the
nature of his illness, of the extreme delicacy of the organ affected,
the brain, it is obvious that that organ after the cessation of fever
and inflammation cannot all at once regain its healthy state.
Have you heard any particulars of Mary Taylor's departure, what
day she sailed, etc. ?
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 physiognomies. Sunday
292 THE BRONTES
baking day, and Saturday are the only ones that have any dis-
tinctive 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 behind me. Vet it is wrong and
foolish to repine. Undoubtedly 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 messengers they are. Do
you know anything about Miss Wooler? Write very soon, dear
Ellen. Good-bye. I shall be sorry when you are gone to Hather-
sage, you will be so far off again. How long will Mary want you
to stay? C. BRONT&
Letter 152
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 2nd, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, I send you herewith a French newspaper which,
however, will be of little interest, as you have missed so many in
consequence of your absence. You should ask Joe Taylor to give
you those you have missed. I should think he still has them in
his possession. I am greatly obliged to your mother for her
kindness in asking me to come to see you now, but I would much
rather put off my visit till after all stirs are over, till your brides-
maid duties are all discharged; and when you are quite alone,
quite settled and quiet, somewhere about the beginning of autumn,
I will, if all be well, make shift to toddle over and see you. 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 Taylor 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,
A QUIET YEAR AT HA WORTH 293
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 satisfaction 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. 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. 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 scrupulous 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 clay
cold, expressionless, bloodless ; for every appearance of feeling,
of joy, sorrow, friendliness, antipathy, admiration, 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 them-
selves, 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 composed, 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. Good-bye, dear
Nell C. B.
Letter 153
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 24^, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, You are a very good girl indeed to send me
such a long and interesting letter. In all that account of the
young lady and gentleman in the railway carriage, I recognise
294 THE BRONTES
your faculty for observation, which is a rarer gift than you imagine.
You ought to be thankful for it. I never yet met with an
individual devoid of observation whose conversation was interest-
ing; nor with one possessed of that power, in whose society I
could not manage to pass a pleasant hour. I was amused with
your allusions to Hunsworth. I have little doubt of the truth of
the report you mention. Money would decide that point as it
does most others of a similar nature. You are perfectly right in
saying that Mr. Joe is more influenced by opinion than he himself
suspects. I saw his lordship in a new light last time I was at
Hunsworth. I could scarcely believe my ears when I heard the
stress he laid on wealth, appearance, family, and all those advan-
tages which are the acknowledged idols of the world. I raised
no argument against anything he said ; I listened and laughed
inwardly to think how indignant I should have been eight years
since if any one had accused Joe Taylor of being a worshipper of
Mammon and of interest. The world with its hardness and
selfishness has utterly changed him. He thinks himself grown
wiser than the wisest ; in a worldly sense he is wise, his feelings
have gone through a process of petrifaction which will prevent
them from ever warring against his interest, but Ichabod ! all
glory of principle and much elevation of character is gone !
I have just received a note from Ellen Taylor requesting me to
write to you, as they do not know your address, and beg you to
send the French papers when you have done with them to Mr. T.
Dixon, care of Mr. J., Civil Engineer, Sheffield. Be sure and write
to me soon. No further news yet from Mary. Many happy
returns of your birthday. In my answer to Ellen Taylor I gave
her your address. C. BRONTE.
Letter 154
TO FRANCIS H, GRUNDY
October 1845.
I fear you will burn my present letter on recognising the hand-
writing ; but if you will read it through, you will perhaps rather
pity than spurn the distress of mind which could prompt my
communication, after a silence of nearly three (to me) eventful
years. While very ill and confined to my room, I wrote to you
two months ago, hearing that you were resident engineer of the
Skipton Railway, to the inn at Skipton. I never received any
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 295
reply, and as to my letter asked only for one day of your society
to ease a very weary mind in the company of a friend who always
had what I always wanted, but most want now, cheerfulness. I
am sure you never received my letter, or your heart would have
prompted an answer.
Since I last shook hands with you in Halifax, two summers
ago, my life till lately has been one of apparent happiness and
indulgence. You will ask, 'Why does he complain then?' I
can only reply by showing the under-current of distress which
bore my bark to a whirlpool, despite the surface waves of life that
seemed floating me to peace. In a letter begun in the spring of
1844 and never finished, owing to incessant attacks of illness, I
tried to tell you that I was tutor to the son of , a wealthy
gentleman whose wife is sister to the wife of , M.P., for the
county of , and the cousin of Lord . This lady (though
her husband detested me) showed me a degree of kindness which,
when I was deeply grieved one day at her husband's conduct,
ripened into declarations of more than ordinary feeling. My
admiration of her mental and personal attractions, my knowledge
of her unselfish sincerity, her sweet temper, and unwearied care
for others, with but unrequited return where most should have
been given . . . although she is seventeen years my senior, all
combined to an attachment on my part, and led to reciprocations
which I had little looked for. During nearly three years I had
daily troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear.' Three months
since I received a furious letter from my employer, threatening to
shoot me if I returned from my vacation, which I was passing at
home; and letters from her lady's-maid and physician informed
me of the outbreak, only checked by her firm courage and resolu-
tion that whatever harm came to her, none should come to me
... I have lain during nine long weeks utterly shattered in body
and broken down in mind. The probability of her becoming free
to give me herself and estate never rose to drive away the prospect
of her decline under her present grief. I dreaded, too, the wreck
of my mind and body, which, God knows, during a short life have
been severely tried. Eleven continuous nights of sleepless horror
reduced me to almost blindness, and being taken into Wales to
recover, the sweet scenery, the sea, the sound of music caused me
fits of unspeakable distress. You will say, * What a fool ! ' but if
you knew the many causes I have for sorrow which I cannot even
hint at here, you would perhaps pity as well as blame. At the
kind request of Mr. Macaulay and Mr. Baines, I have striven to
296 THE BRONTfiS
arouse my mind by writing something worthy of being read, but
I really cannot do so. Of course, you will despise the writer of
all this. I can only answer that the writer does the same, and
would not wish to live if he did not hope that work and change
may yet restore him.
Apologising sincerely for what seems like whining egotism,
and hardly daring to hint about days when in your company I
could sometimes sink the thoughts which ' remind me of departed
days, 1 I fear departed never to return, I remain, etc.
P. B. BRONTE.
Letter 155
TO FRANCIS II. GRUNDY
HAWORTH, NR. BRADFORD,
ind May 1846.
DEAR SIR, I cannot avoid the temptation to cheer my spirits
by scribbling a few lines to you while I sit here alone all the
household being at church the sole occupant of an ancient
parsonage among lonely hills, which probably will never hear the
whistle of an engine till I am in my grave. 1
After experiencing, since my return home, extreme pain and
illness, with mental depression worse than either, I have at length
acquired health and strength and soundness of mind, far superior,
I trust, to anything shown by that miserable wreck you used to
know under my name. I can now speak cheerfully and enjoy
the company of another without the stimulus of six glasses of
whisky ; I can write, think, and act with some apparent approach
to resolution, and I only want a motive for exertion to be happier
than I have been for years. But I feel my recovery from almost
insanity to be retarded by having nothing to listen to except the
wind moaning among old chimneys and older ash trees, nothing
to look at except heathery hills walked over when life had all to
hope for and nothing to regret with me no one to speak to
except crabbed old Greeks and Romans who have been dust the
last five thousand years. And yet this quiet life, from its contrast,
makes the year passed at Luddenden Foot appear like a nightmare,
for I would rather give my hand than undergo again the grovel-
ling carelessness, the malignant yet cold debauchery, the determina-
tion to find how far mind could carry body without both being
chucked into hell, which too often marked my conduct when
1 The line from Keighley to Haworth was opened J3th April 1867.
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 297
there, lost as I was to all I really liked, and seeking relief in the
indulgence of feelings which form the black spot on my character.
Yet I have something still left in me which may do me service.
But I ought not to remain too long in solitude, for the world soon
forgets those who have bidden it * Good-bye/ Quiet is an excel-
lent cure, but no medicine should be continued after a patient's
recovery, so I am about, though ashamed of the business, to dun
you for answers to ... (Here follow inquiries as to obtaining
some appointment).
Excuse the trouble I am giving to one on whose kindness I
have no claim, and for whose services I am offering no return
except gratitude and thankfulness, which are already due to you.
Give my sincere regards to Mr. Stephenson. A word or two to
show that you have not altogether forgotten me will greatly
please yours, etc. P. B. BRONTE.
Letter 156
TO FRANCIS H. GRUNDY
HAWORTH, BRADFORD, YORK.
July 1846.
DEAR SIR, I must again trouble you with (Here comes
another prayer for employment, with, at the same time, a con-
fession that his health alone renders the wish all but hopeless).
Subsequently he says : ' The gentleman with whom I have been
is dead. His property is left in trust for the family, provided I
do not see the widow ; and if I do, it reverts to the executing
trustees, with ruin to her. She is now distracted with sorrows
and agonies ; and the statement of her case, as given by her
coachman who has come to see me at Haworth, fills me with
inexpressible grief. Her mind is distracted to the verge of
insanity, and mine is so wearied that I wish I were in my grave.
Yours very sincerely, P. B. BRONTE.
Since I saw Mr. George Gooch, I have suffered much from the
accounts of the declining health of her whom I must love most in
this world, and who, for my fault, suffers sorrows which surely
were never her due. My father, too, is now quite blind, and from
such causes literary pursuits have become matters I have no heart
to wield. If I could see you it would be a sincere pleasure, but
. . . Perhaps your memory of me may be dimmed, for you have
known little in me worth remembering ; but I still think often
298 THE BRONTES
with pleasure of yourself, though so different from me in head
and mind.
If I have strength enough for the journey, and the weather be
tolerable, I shall feel happy in visiting you at the Devonshire 1 on
Friday, the 3ist of this month. The sight of a face I have been
accustomed to see and like when I was happier and stronger,
now proves my best medicine.
Letter 157
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Sunday Evening, June u/, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, You probably know that another letter has
been received from Mary Taylor. It is, however, possible that
your absence from home will have prevented your seeing it, so I
will give you a sketch of its contents. It was written at about
4 N. of the Equator. The first part of the letter contained an
account of their landing at Santiago. Her health at that time
was very good, and her spirits seemed excellent. They had had
contrary winds at first setting out, but their voyage was then
prosperous. In the latter portion of the letter she complains of
the excessive heat, and says she lives chiefly on oranges ; but still
she was well, and freer from headache and other ailments than any
other person on board. The receipt of this letter will have relieved
all her friends from a weight of anxiety. I am uneasy about
what you say respecting the French newspapers do you mean to
intimate that you have received none since you went to Harrogate?
I have despatched them regularly. Emily and I keep them
usually three days, sometimes only two, and then send them
forward to you. I see by the cards you sent and also by the
newspaper that Henry is at last married. How did you like your
office of bridesmaid ? and how do you like your new sister and
her family? You must write to me as soon as you can, and give
me an observant account of everything. It seems strange that
after all Henry should be married, and well married, before George.
Who would have thought that such would have been the case
ten years ago ? I saw in the papers some weeks since a notice of
the death of Mr. Ringrose, merchant of Hull. Is that the father
of Amelia Ringrose? If so, in what way will the event affect
George's interests, favourably or otherwise ? I still believe these
1 A well-known hotel in Keigliley.
A QUIET YEAR AT HA WORTH 299
matters will terminate happily for him. I still fancy there is
comfort in store for him somewhere. Should it turn out other-
wise, my ideas on the subject of Compensation and Providential
Care will be singularly baffled. Still I know that the course of
events cannot be calculated by human sagacity, nor the justice of
destinies decided on by human opinion ; therefore it is absurd
either to predict or to prejudge, so I hold my tongue.
Write to me soon, dear Ellen, and don't forget to tell me about
the newspapers. I sent one yesterday, and I shall send one with
the letter to-morrow. How is your health, and how is Mary?
Remember me kindly to her. C. B.
Letter 158
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
June 13, '45.
DEAR ELLEN, Your letter was, as usual, very interesting to
me. You really must have a great deal to do, but if the responsi-
bility does not harass your mind and fatigue your body too much,
it is, on the whole, rather a good thing for you. It is practice in
case you should soon marry yourself, and have a house of your
own to look after and if you should not, it is still exercise of the
faculties, which is always beneficial. These brides, by the bye,
are well off, to have everything done to their hand so nicely.
What I should like the least, if I were in your place, would be
the choosing of servants and the ordering of furniture the parish
business I should object far less to.
I am very glad you like your new sister so well, and I hope the
longer you know her the more meritorious she will appear. As
to Mrs. P , who, you say, is like me, I somehow 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 a rather shrewd, very
ugly, meddling, talking woman.
How long are you going to stay at Hathersage? As to my
going to see you there, it is quite out of the question. It is
hardly worth while to take so long a journey for a week or a
fortnight, and longer I could not stay. I feel reluctant indeed to
300 THE BRONTfiS
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
now has 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 atone for the want
of it. Still, he is never peevish, never impatient, only anxious
and dejected.
I read Miss Ringrose's note attentively. There is great pro-
priety and discretion in it ; it seems to me somewhat calm,
perhaps too calm for the circumstances ; yet she may be an
excellent and affectionate girl, notwithstanding that, to me,
incomprehensible tranquillity. I should say she would pre-
cisely have suited George as a wife, if she be ladylike,
affectionate, and sensible her decorum and touch of phlegm
would have been in decided recommendation to most men, as
a wife. Those are the people that are made for marriage such,
at least, is my belief. I think if I were in your place, I would
answer that one letter, but by no means carry on a reckless
correspondence ; it is evidently not a case in which a third person
ought to interfere.
When you return to Brookroyd, I hope I shall be able to pay
you a short visit, for I certainly long to see you. Write to me
again as soon as you can. I was on the point of saying,
remember me to Mary Gorham, as if she had been an acquaint-
ance of mine ; somehow from your description I always imagine
her to resemble Mary Taylor, and feel a respect for her
accordingly.
You do not tell me how Mercy is is she still at Hathersage?
If she be, give my love to her. Good-bye, C. BRONTE.
Letter 159
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
/^i8,'45-
DEAR NELL, 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
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 801
now a little changed. Branwell and Anne are both come home,
and Anne, I am rejoiced to say, has decided not to return to Mr.
Robinson's ; her presence at home certainly makes me feel more
at liberty. Then, dear Ellen, 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 to see your
medical-clerical curate. I think he must be like most 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 God knows, there is not one to
mend another. The other day, they all three, accompanied by
Mr. Smidt 1 (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 glorifying themselves and abusing
Dissenters 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. I don't regret
it. Give my respects (as Joe Taylor says) to Miss Gorham. By
the bye, I reserve the greatest part of Master Joe's epistle till we
meet. I can only say that it is highly characteristic. Write soon.
Come to Sheffield to meet me, if you can. C. BRONTE.
Letter 160
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
June iind, 1845.
DEAR NELL, When did you write your letter? I only got it
to-day, therefore, of course, I cannot come till Tuesday. Mind
you do not put yourself to any inconvenience to come to Sheffield
to meet me. I am sorry I shall not be in time to go with you to
Chatsworth and the Peak ; but observe, I will certainly make you
go again. I feel shy at the thought of seeing Miss Gorham, though
I am a middle-aged person, and she is a young lady. Good-bye,
dear Nell, C. BRONTE.
1 A playful reference to the new curate of Keighley.
802 THE BRONTES
Letter 161
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
June 24/yfc, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, It is very vexatious for you to have had to go
to Sheffield in vain. I am glad to hear that there is an omnibus
on Thursday, and I have told Emily and Anne I will try to come
on that day. The opening of the railroad is now postponed till
July 7th. I should not like to put you off again, and for that and
some other reasons they have decided to give up the idea of going
to Scarbro', and instead, to make a little excursion next Monday
and Tuesday to Ilkley or elsewhere. I hope no other obstacle
will arise to prevent my going to Hathersage. I do long to be
with you, and I feel nervously afraid of being prevented, or put
off in some way. Branwell only stayed a week with us, but he
is to come home again when the family go to Scarboro'. I will
write to Brookroyd directly. Yesterday I had a little note from
Henry inviting me to go to see you. This is one of your con-
trivances, for which you deserve smothering. You have written
to Henry to tell him to write to me. Do you think I stood on
ceremony about the matter?
The French papers have ceased to come. Good-bye for the
present. C. B.
Letter 162
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July 2$rd, '45.
DEAR ELLEN, I was glad to get your little packet ; it was
quite a treasure of interest to me. I think the intelligence about
George is cheering. I read the lines to Miss Ringrose ; they are
expressive of the affectionate feelings of his nature, and are
poetical in so much as they are true faults in expression, rhythm,
metre, were of course to be expected.
I got home very well. There was a gentleman in the railroad
carriage whom I recognised by his features immediately as a
foreigner and Frenchman. So sure was I of it, that I ventured to
say to him in French ' Monsieur est fran^ais, n'est-ce pas? ' He
gave a start of surprise, and answered immediately in his own
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 808
tongue; he appeared still more astonished, and even puzzled,
when after a few minutes' further conversation, I inquired if he
had not passed the greater part of his life in Germany. He
said the surmise was correct. I had guessed it from his speaking
French with the German accent.
It was ten o'clock at night when I got home. I found Branwcll
ill ; he is so very often owing to his own fault. I was not there-
fore shocked at first, but when Anne informed me of the
immediate cause of his present illness, I was greatly shocked.
He had last Thursday received a note from Mr. Robinson
sternly dismissing him, intimating that he had discovered his
proceedings, which he characterised as bad beyond expression,
and charging him on pain of exposure to break off instantly and
for ever all communication with every member of his family. We
have had sad work with Branwell since. He thought of nothing
but stunning or drowning his distress of mind. No one in the
house could have rest. 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 morning, and expresses some sense of
contrition for his frantic folly ; he promises amendment on his
return, but so 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. I
cannot now ask Miss Wooler or any one else. Give my love to
Miss Ringrose, and ask her to forgive me for disfiguring her
album. Write to me soon as you can, after the bride and bride-
groom are come home. Good-bye, dear Nell, C. BRONTE.
Letter 163
TO MRS. NUSSEY
July2,?>rd, 1845.
MY DEAR MRS. NUSSEY, I lose no time after my return home
in writing to you and offering you my sincere thanks for the kind-
ness with which you have repeatedly invited me to go and stay
a few days at Brookroyd. It would have given me great pleasure
to have gone, had it been only for a day, just to have seen you
and Miss Mercy (Miss Nussey, I suppose, is not at home) and to
have been introduced to Mrs. Henry, but I have stayed so long with
Ellen at Hathersage that I could not possibly now go to Brook-
304 THE BRONTfiS
royd. I was expected at home ; and after all, home should always
have the first claim on our attention. When I reached home (at
ten o'clock on Saturday night) I found papa, I am thankful to
say, pretty well, but he thought I had been a long time away.
I left Ellen well, and she had generally good health while I
stayed with her, but she is very anxious about matters of business,
and apprehensive lest things should not be comfortable against
the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Henry she is so desirous that the
day of their arrival at Hathersage should be a happy one to
both.
I hope, my dear Mrs. Nussey, you are well ; and I should be
very happy to receive a little note either from you or from Miss
Mercy to assure me of this. Believe me, yours affectionately and
sincerely, C. BRONTE.
At this point we are admitted once more to a glimpse
of the interior of the Haworth parsonage even more
interesting than Charlotte's letters. I have already given
two fragments of the diary of Emily and Anne under
date 1841. In the little box that contained these frag-
ments were two further scraps of paper. They were
written on July the 3ist, 1845. I S IVG Emily's memo-
randum first of all :
Haworth, Thursday, July $Qth, 1845.
My birthday showery, breezy, cool. I am twenty-seven years
old to-day. This morning Anne and I opened the papers we wrote
four years since, on my twenty-third birthday. This paper we
intend, if all be well, to open on my thirtieth three years hence, in
1848. Since the 1841 paper the following events have taken place.
Our school scheme has been abandoned, and instead Charlotte and I
went to Brussels on the 8/// of February 1842.
Branwell left his place at Luddenden Foot. C. and I returned
from Brussels, November 8///, 1842, in consequence of aunfs death.
Branwell went to TJiorp Green as a tutor, where Anne still
continued, January \ 843.
Charlotte returned to Brussels the same month, and after staying
a year y came back again on New Year's Day 1844.
Anne left her situation at Thorp Green of her own accord, June
1845.
Anne and I went our first long journey by ourselves together,
A QUIET YEAR AT HA WORTH 805
leaving home on the $oth of June, Monday, sleeping at York,
returning to Keighley Tuesday evening, sleeping there and walking
home on Wednesday morning. Though the weather was broken
we enjoyed ourselves very much, except during a few hours at
Bradford. And during our excursion we were, Ronald Macalgin,
Henry Angora, Juliet Angusteena, Rosabella Esmaldan, Ella and
Julian Egremont, Catharine Navarre, and Cordelia Fitzaphnold,
escaping from the palaces of instruction to join the Royalists who
are hard driven at present by ttie victorious Republicans. The
Gondals still flourish bright as ever. I am at present writing
a work on the First War. Anne has been writing some articles
on this, and a book by Henry Sophona. We intend sticking firm
by the rascals as long as they delight us, which I am glad to say
ttiey do at present. I should have mentioned that last summer the
school scheme was revived in full vigour. We had prospectuses
printed^ despatched letters to all acquaintances imparting our plans ',
and did our little all ; but it was found no go. Now I dont desire
a school at all, and none of us have any great longing for it. We
have cash enough for our present wants, with a prospect of accu-
mulation. We are all in decent health, only that papa has a complaint
in his eyes, and with the exception of B. , who, I hope, will be better
and do better hereafter. I am quite contented for myself : not as
idle as formerly, altogether as hearty, and having leatnt to make
the most of the present and long for the future ^v^th the fidgetiness
that I cannot do all I wish ; seldom or ever troubled with nothing
to do, and merely desiring that everybody could be as comfortable
as myself and as undesponding, and then we should have a very
tolerable world of it.
By mistake I find we have opened the paper on the ^\st instead of
the $otk. Yesterday was much such a day as this, but the morning'
was divine.
Tabby, who was gone in our last paper, is come back, and has
lived wit /i us two years and a half, and is in good health. Martha,
who also departed, is here too. We have got Flossy ; got and lost
Tiger ; lost the hawk Hero, which, with the geese, was given away,
and is doubtless dead, for when I came back from Brussels I inquired
on all hands and could hear nothing of him. Tiger died early last
year. Keeper and Flossy are well, also the canary acquired four
years since. We are now all at home, and likely to be there some
time. Branwcll went to Liverpool on Tuesday to stay a week.
Tabby has just been teasing me to turn as formerly to ' Pilloputate!
VOL. I. U
806 THE BRONTES
Anne and I should have picked the black currants if it had been
fine and sunshiny. I must hurry off now to my turning and ironing.
I have plenty of work on hands, and writing, and am altogether fuh
of business. With best wishes for the whole house till 1 848, July $Qth>
and as much longer as may be, I conclude. Emily Bronte.
Finally, I give Anne's last fragment :
Thursday ', July the ^\st, 1845. Yesterday was Emily's birthday,
and the time when we should have opened our 1841 paper, but
by mistake we opened it to-day instead. How many things have
happened since it was written some pleasant, some far otherwise.
Yet I was then at Thorp Green, and now I am only just escaped
from it. I was wishing to leave it then, and if I had known that
I had four years longer to stay how wretched I should have been ;
but during my stay I have had some very unpleasant and undreamt-
of experience of human nature. Others have seen more changes.
Charlotte has left Mr. Whites, and been twice to Brussels, where
she stayed each time nearly a year. Emily has been there too, and
stayed nearly a year. Branwell has left Luddenden Foot, and
been a tutor at Thorp Green, and had much tribulation and ill
health. He was very ill on Thursday, but he went with John
Brown to L iverpool, where he now is, I suppose ; and we hope he
will be better and do better in future. This is a dismal, cloudy,
wet evening. We have had so far a very cold, wet summer.
Charlotte has lately been to Hathersagc, in Derbyshire, on a visit
of three weeks to Ellen Nussey. She is now sitting sewing in the
dining-room. Emily is ironing upstairs. I am sitting in the
dining-room in the rocking-chair before the fire with viy feet on
the fender. Papa is in the parlour. Tabby and Martha are, I
think, in the kitchen. Keeper and Flossy are, I do not know
where. Little Dick is hopping in his cage. When the last paper
was written we were thinking of setting up a school. The scheme
has been dropt, and long after taken up again, and dropt again,
because we could not get pupils. Charlotte is thinking about getting
another situation. She wishes to go to Paris. Will she go ? She
has let Flossy in, by-the-by, and he is now lying on the sofa. Emily
is engaged in writing the Emperor Julius's Life. She has read
some of it, and 1 want very much to hear the rest. She is writing
some poetry, too. I wonder what it is about ? I have begun the
third volume of Passages in the Life of an Individual. I wish I
had finished it. This afternoon I began to set about making my
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 807
grey figured silk frock that was dyed at Keighley. What sort
of a tiand shall I make of it ? E. and I have a great deal of
work to do. When shall we sensibly diminish it? I want to get
a habit of early rising. Shall I succeed? We have not yet finished
our Gondal Chronicles that we began three years and a half ago.
When will they be done? The Gondals are at present in a sad
state. The Republicans are uppermost, but the Royalists are not
quite overcome. The young sovereigns^ with their brothers and
sisters, are still at the Palace of Instruction. The Unique Society \
about half a year ago % were wrecked on a desert island as they were
returning from Gaul. 7* hey are still there \ but we have not played
at them much yet. The Gondals in general are not in first-rate
playing condition. Will they improve? I wonder how we shall all
be, and where and how situated, on the thirtieth of July 1848, when,
if we are all alive, Emily will be just 30. / shall be in my ZQth
year, Charlotte in her 33^, and Branwell in his $2nd ; and what
changes shall we have seen and known ; and shall we be much
changed ourselves? I hope not ', for the worse at least. I for my
fart, cannot well be flatter or older in mind than I am now. Hoping
for the best, I conclude. Anne Bronte.
The two girls still keep young in the four years of acute
experience. There is wonderfully little difference in the
tone or spirit of the journals. Emily's concluding ' best
wishes for this whole house till July the 3Oth, 1848, and as
much longer as may be/ contain no premonition of coming
disaster. Yet July 1848 was to find Branwell Bronte on
the verge of the grave, and Emily almost in similar plight.
She died on the i4th of December of that year.
Letter 164
TO ELLKN NUSSEY, IIATI1ERSAGE
Aug. \%th, '45.
DEAR ELLEN, You will think I have been long in writing to
you, and long in sending you the French newspaper. I did not
send the paper because I did not get it myself. 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. His bad habits seem more deeply rooted than
808 THE BRONTES
I thought. The late blow to his prospects and feelings has quite
made him reckless. 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
a fallacy. I am writing to you, not because I have anything to
tell you, but because I want you to write to me. I am glad to see
that you were pleased with your new sister. When I was at Hather-
sage, you were talking of writing to Mary Taylor. I have lately
written to her, a brief, shabby epistle of which I am ashamed, but
I found when I began to write I had really very little to say. I
sent the letter to Hunsworth, and I suppose it will go sometime.
You must write to me soon, a long letter. Remember me respect-
fully to Mr. and Mrs. Henry Nussey. Give my love to Miss R.
Yours, C. B.
Letter 165
TO ELLEN NUSSEY, HATHERSAGE
HAWORTH, August, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, I shall just scribble a line or two in answer to
your last, as you wished me to write soon.
Things here at home are much as usual not very bright as
regards Branwcll, though his health and consequently his temper
have been somewhat better this last day or two, because he is now
forced to abstain.
Poor Miss Ringrose's note interested me greatly ; your
position with regard to her is a difficult one, and I feel it
hazardous to advise you ; I can only say that were you or I
either of us in her place, we should be most anxious to know the
truth. Still, if you do tell her all, Ellen, convey your intelligence
in careful and guarded language ; above all, remove from her
mind the idea that she is the cause of this disaster, otherwise
the news would be too dreadful.
You are, however, far the best judge as to whether disclosures
are advisable or not ; and I would not, on this point, bias your
judgment one grain.
Dr. B.'s letter did not please me much it seems so cold, so
formal, so little explanatory yet \\e cannot judge ; what to you
is a matter where your very best affections are concerned, to
him is only business; and if he discharges that business with
integrity, I suppose it is all we can expect from him.
A QUIET YEAR AT HA WORTH 809
You must be sure and not leave Hathersage till Joe Taylor has
paid his visit, and tell me how he looks and what he says ; if
he comes out in the colours in which we have seen him, he will be
a strong dose to Mrs. Henry.
I am not, just at present, disposed to augur so well of her as I
was. It seems most astonishing to me that she should not be
most desirous to receive you.
Write again very soon. C B.
Letter 166
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Sep. 8M, '45.
DEAR ELLEN, You will wonder why I have not sent the
French newspaper. I did not finish reading it till yesterday. I
am glad you have got home, and yet I scarcely know why I should
be. I neither intend to go and see you soon, nor to ask you to
come and see us. Branwell makes no effort to seek a situation,
and while he is at home I will invite no one to come and share
our discomfort. I was much struck with . I could not live
with one so cold and narrow, though she were correct as a
mathematical straight line, and upright as perpendicularity itself.
Emily and Anne regret, as I do, that we cannot ask you to come
to Haworth ; we think during this fine weather how we should
enjoy your company. Write to me soon, dear Nell.
C. BRONTE.
Letter 167
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Sep. i8M, '45.
DEAR ELLEN, I have just read Mary's letters; they are very
interesting, and show the vigorous and original cast of her mind.
There is but one thing I could wish otherwise in them, that is
a certain tendency to flightiness-- it is not safe, it is not wise, and
will often cause her to be misconstrued. Perhaps flightiness is not
the right word, but it is a devil-may-care tone ; which I do not
like when it proceeds from under a hat, and still less from under
a bonnet I long to hear of Mary being arrived at her remote
destination and occupied in serious business, then she will be in
her element ; then her powerful faculties will be put to their
right use. Write to me again soon. All continues the same here.
Good-bye. C. B.
310 THE BRONTES
Letter 168
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Oct. -jih, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, Your position seems to be one full of difficulties
and embarrassments, but how often does it happen that in situa-
tions precisely similar to yours, when a hedge of danger and trial
seems to enclose us on every side, an opening is suddenly made
and a way of escape afforded where we thought it least practicable.
I see you have courage and calmness ; this is the state of mind
which will enable you best to take advantage of the means of
safety should they offer. I have complete faith in your moral
fortitude, and I trust and believe God will grant you physical
health and strength to bear up against whatever trial may await
you. You and your sister Ann could work your way well you
have each in a different way resources within yourselves but
your poor mother, Mercy, George, Joseph, what can they do, what
can be done for them? If these Swaines are really acting a false
and dishonest part, I would not be in their place for the wealth of
a Rothschild ; no one ever yet unjustly oppressed the defenceless
without his sin being visited fearfully upon him.
Depend upon it, dear Ellen, it is better that you should have
no visitors at present, not even one so insignificant as me. I
have told you without apology, that I cannot ask you to Haworth
at present. I told Miss Wooler the same.
It gave me a feeling of painful surprise to learn that you had
not yet seen Joe Taylor. Surely with a man so strong-minded
and firm-principled as we have always been accustomed to believe
Joe Taylor to be, even the circumstance of his being about to
become closely connected with the Nusseys of White-Lee ought
not fairly to extinguish his regard for old friends. When is he
likely to be married to Isabella Nussey, do you think? Possibly
it may be the pressure of business which prevents his coming to
Brookroyd. I had a note from Ellen Taylor to-day in which it
was mentioned that John Taylor was gone from home.
Let me hear from you again, dear Ellen, with as little delay as
possible. Such a long interval elapsed between your last letter
and the one before, that I began to grow quite uneasy.
I have scribbled this note by candle-light my eyes are tired
which must plead my excuse for the almost illegible writing.
A QUIET YEAR AT HA WORTH 811
Give my best love to your mother and sisters. Emily was
wondering the other day how poor little Flossy gets on.
Good-night, dear Nell. C. B.
Letter 169
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
November tfh, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, You do not reproach me in your last, but I fear
you must have thought me unkind in being so long without
answering you. The fact is, I had hoped to be able to ask you
to come to Haworth. Branwell seemed to have a prospect 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 railroad 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
know of him. I wish I could say one word to you in his favour,
but I cannot, therefore I will hold my tongue.
Poor Miss Ringrose's letters interest me much they are quiet
and unpretending, but seem affectionate and sincere. Will she
and George ever be married ? Such an event seems to human
eyes very unlikely now ; yet that is no proof that it will not one
day take place. Oh, I wish brighter days would come for all
your family, and they may do so sooner than we calculate. We
are all obliged to you, dear Ellen, for your kind suggestion about
Leeds, but I think our school schemes arc for the present at rest.
Emily and Anne wish me to tell you that they think it very
unlikely for little Flossy to be expected to rear so numerous a
family ; they think you are quite right in protesting against all
the pups being preserved, for if kept they will pull their poor little
mother to pieces. The French newspaper I send you to-day is
the first we have had for an age two have missed. Be sure I
shall always be punctual in despatching them to you, so that
when there is a long gap you will know to what quarter to ascribe
the delay. I believe Joe Taylor is at present at Ilkley, or has
been there lately. I saw his name in the newspaper in the list
of visitors * at this fashionable watering-place.'
Do not think about my coming to Brookroyd for the present,
Ellen. Give my sincere love to your mother, Ann, and Mercy,
and believe me, yours faithfully, C. B.
312 THE BRONTES
Letter 170
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Nov. 2oM, '45.
DEAR ELLEN, I was very glad to get your little note, short
as it was. I consider on the whole it contained good news ; the
last sentence concerning George is quite cheering. I persist in
saying good times are still in store for Brookroyd, for I have ever
remarked that after much distress comes a proportionate degree
of happiness. And so Joseph Taylor, Esq., of Hunsworth Mills,
Cleckheaton, has rediscovered the way to Brookroyd. High time
he did so. I am not surprised to hear that Mr. and Mrs. T. are
about to leave the old lady; her unhappy disposition is preparing
for her a most desolate old age.
Good-bye, write directly. Once more I tell you not to ask
me to go to Brookroyd. I have no thought of leaving home at
present. C. B.
Letter 171
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Dec. 14th, 1845.
DEAR ELLEN, I was glad to get your last note, though it was
so short and crusty. Three weeks had elapsed without my having
heard a word from you, and I began to fear that some new mis-
fortune had occurred that George was worse, or something of
that kind. I was relieved to find that such was not the case.
Anne is obliged to you for the kind regret you express at not
being able to ask her to Brookroyd ; she wishes you could come
to Haworth. I think you are a trifle 'out of your head/ Do
you scold me out of habit, Ellen, or are you really angry? In
either case it is all nonsense. You know as well as I do that to
go to Brookroyd is always a great pleasure to me, and that to one
who has so little change and so few friends as I have, it must be
a great pleasure but I am not at all times in the mood or
circumstances to take my pleasure. I wish so much to see you,
that I shall certainly sometime after New Year's Day, if all be
well, be going over for a day or two to Birstall. Now I could not
go if I would. At the latter end of February or the beginning of
March I may be able to do so. If you think I stand upon
ceremony in this matter, you miscalculate sadly. I have known
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 818
you, your mother and sisters, too long to be ceremonious with any
of you.
invite me no more now, Nell, till I invite myself, be too proud
to trouble yourself, and if, when at last I mention coming (for I
shall give you warning), it does not happen to suit you, tell me
so with quiet hauteur.
I should like a long letter next time, with full particulars, and
in the name of Common Sense, no more lover's quarrels.
Good-bye. C. B.
My best love to your mother and sisters.
Letter 172
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Dec. 3U/, '45.
DEAR ELLEN, I don't know whether most to thank you for
the very pretty slippers you have sent me, or to scold you for
occasioning yourself, in the slightest degree, trouble or expense
on my account. I will have them made up and bring them with
me, if all be well, when I come to Brookroyd.
Reading your letter left me a somewhat ' sair heart.' These
Swaines seem to be so selfish and mean a set, and it seems so
hard that people like them should have it in their power to annoy
you. I greatly fear they will not scruple to use such power with-
out reserve of delicacy as far as they can. I only hope that their
capability to injure your mother may be limited. Never doubt
that I shall come to Birstall as soon as I can, Nell. I dare say
my wish to see you is equal to your wish to see me. I had a note
on Saturday from Ellen Taylor informing me that letters had
been received from Mary, and that she was very well and in good
spirits. I suppose you have not yet seen them as you do not
mention them but you will probably have them in your possession
before you get this note : I am glad you are pretty well satisfied
respecting George's position. I should think the calm, tranquil
state of his mind is a favourable symptom. Miss Ringrose, I
suppose, has ceased to write to you, as you do not mention her
now. You say well, in speaking of Bran well, that no sufferings
are so awful as those brought on by dissipation : alas ! I see the
truth of this observation daily proved. Ann and Mercy must
have a weary and burdensome life of it, in waiting upon their
314 THE BRONTES
unhappy brother. It seems grievous, indeed, that those who
have not sinned should suffer so largely. Write to me a little
oftener, I am very glad to get your notes. Remember me
kindly to your mother and sisters. Yours faithfully,
C BRONT.
Letter 173
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Jan. yd, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I must write to you to-day whether I have
anything to say or not, or else you will begin to think that I
have forgotten you ; whereas, never a day passes, seldom an
hour, that I do not think of you, and the scene of trial in which
you live, move, and have your being. Mary Taylor's letter was
deeply interesting and strongly characteristic. I have no news
whatever to communicate. No changes take place here. Bran-
well offers no prospect of hope, he professes to be too ill to think
of seeking for employment, he makes comfort scant at home. I
hold to my intention of going to Birstall as soon as I can, that is,
provided you will have me.
Give my best love to your mother and sisters. Yours, dear
Nell, always faithful, C. BRONTE.
Letter 174
TO MISS WOOLER
January 30^, 1846.
MY DEAR MlSS WOOLER, I have not yet paid my usual
visit to Brookroyd, but I frequently hear from Ellen, and she
did not fail to tell me that you were gone into Worcestershire.
She was unable, however, to give me your address ; had I known
it I should have written to you long since.
I thought you would wonder how we were getting on when
you heard of the Railway Panic, and you may be sure I
am very glad to be able to answer your kind inquiries by an
assurance that our small capital is as yet undiminished. The
' York and Midland ' is, as you say, a very good line, yet I
confess to you I should wish, for my part, to be wise in time.
I cannot think that even the very best lines will continue for
many years at their present premiums, and I have been most
A QUIET YEAR AT HAWORTH 315
anxious for us to sell our shares ere it be too late, and to secure
the proceeds in some safer, if, for the present, less profitable
investment. I cannot, however, persuade my sisters to regard
the affair precisely from my point of view, and I feel as if I
would rather run the risk of loss than hurt Emily's feelings by
acting in direct opposition to her opinion. She managed in a
most handsome and able manner for me when I was at Brussels,
and prevented by distance from looking after my own interests ;
therefore, I will let her manage still, and take the consequences.
Disinterested and energetic she certainly is, and if she be not
quite so tractable or open to conviction as I could wish, I must
remember perfection is not the lot of humanity. And as long as
we can regard those we love, and to whom we are closely
allied, with profound and very unshaken esteem, it is a small
thing that they should vex us occasionally by, what appear to
us, unreasonable and headstrong notions. You, my dear Miss
Wooler, know full as well as I do the value of sisters' affections
to each other ; there is nothing like it in this world, I believe,
when they are nearly equal in age, and similar in education,
tastes, and sentiments.
You ask about Branwell. He never thinks of seeking employ-
ment, and I begin to fear he has rendered himself incapable of
filling any respectable station in life ; besides, if money were at
his disposal he would use it only to his own injury ; the faculty
of self-government is, I fear, almost destroyed in him. You ask
me if I do not think men are strange beings. I do, indeed I
have often thought so ; and I think too that the mode of bringing
them up is strange, they are not half sufficiently guarded from
temptations. Girls are protected as if they were something very
frail and silly indeed, while boys are turned loose on the world as
if they, of all beings in existence, were the wisest and the least
liable to be led astray.
I am glad you like Bromsgrove, though I dare say there are few
places you would not like with Mrs. M for a companion. I
always feel a peculiar satisfaction when I hear of your enjoying
yourself, because it proves to me that there is really such a thing
as retributive justice even in this life ; now you are free, and that
while you have still, I hope, many years of vigour and health in
which you can enjoy freedom. Besides, I have another and very
egotistical motive for being pleased: it seems that even 'alone
woman ' can be happy, as well as cherished wives and proud
316 THE BRONTES
mothers. I am glad of that I speculate much on the existence
of unmarried and never-to-be married woman now-a-days, and
I have already got to the point of considering that there is no
more respectable character on this earth than an unmarried
woman who makes her own way through life quietly, per-
severingly, without support of husband or mother, and who,
having attained the age of forty-five or upwards, retains in her
possession a well-regulated mind, a disposition to enjoy simple
pleasures, fortitude to support inevitable pains, sympathy with
the sufferings of others, and willingness to relieve want as far as
her means extend. Jane had the pleasure of seeing Mfs. M
at . Will you offer her my respectful remembrances. I
wish to send this letter off by to-day's post, I must therefore con-
clude in haste. Believe me, my dear Miss Wooler, yours, most
affectionately, C. BRONTE.
Write to me again when you have time.
Letter 175
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Feb. i$th, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, Will it suit you if I come to Brookroyd next
Wednesday, and stay till the Wednesday after ; if convenient tell
me so at once and fix your own time. Is there a coach from
Bradford to Birstall on Wednesday? If so, do you know what
time it leaves Bradford ? I should be there at the Talbot about
4.30 P.M.
Letter 176
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HA WORTH, Feb. 2$th, 1846.
DEAR Miss NUSSEY, I fancy this note will be too late to decide
one way or other with respect to Charlotte's stay. Yours only came
this morning (Wednesday), and unless mine travels faster you will
not receive it till Friday. Papa, of course, misses Charlotte, and
will be glad to have her back. Anne and I ditto ; but as she
goes from home so seldom, you may keep her a day or two longer,
if your eloquence is equal to the task of persuading her that is,
if she still be with you when you get this permission. Love from
Anne. Yours truly, EMILY J. BRONTE.
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 317
CHAPTER XIV
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL
OUR last chapter began and concluded in a merely
domestic strain, taking us up to the end of February
1846. But in January of this year had begun a corre-
spondence which was entirely to revolutionise the life of
this quiet family in a remote Yorkshire village. Charlotte
wrote a letter to a firm of booksellers in Paternoster Row
as to the publication by them of a volume of poems.
She has herself told the story of this project in an eloquent
introduction to an edition of her sisters' novels published
in 1850.
One day in the autumn of 1845 I accidentally lighted on a
MS. volume of verse in my sister Emily's handwriting. Of course
I was not surprised, knowing that she could and did write verse.
I looked it over, and something 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 con-
densed 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 character, 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 to
persuade her that such poems merited publication. . . . Mean-
time my younger sister quietly produced some of her own com-
positions, intimating 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 a small selection
of our poems, and, if possible, get them printed. Averse to per-
sonal publicity, we veiled our own names under those of Currer,
818 THE BRONTES
Ellis, and Acton Bell ; the ambiguous choice being dictated by a
sort of conscientious scruple at assuming Christian names posi-
tively 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 bringing out of our little
book was hard work. 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 ot
getting answers of any kind from the publishers to whom we
applied. Being greatly harassed by this obstacle, I ventured to
apply to 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.
Letter 177
TO AYLOTT & JONES
January 28^, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, May I request to be informed whether you
would undertake the publication of a collection of short poems
in one volume, 8vo.
If you object to publishing the work at your own risk, would
you undertake it on the author's account? I am, gentlemen,
your obedient humble servant, C. BRONTE.
Address Rev. P. Bronte, Ilaworth, Bradford, Yorkshire.
Letter 178
TO AYLOTT & JONES
January 3U/, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, Since you agree to undertake the publication
of the work respecting which 1 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 remittance, 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
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 819
edition of Wordsworth. The poems will occupy, I should think,
from 200 to 250 pages. They are not the production of a clergy-
man, nor are they exclusively of a religious character; but I
presume these circumstances will be immaterial. 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. C. BRONTE.
Address Rev. P. Bronte, Haworth, Bradford, Yorkshire.
Letter 179
TO AYLOTT & JONES
Feb. 6M, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, You will perceive that the poems are the work
of three persons, relatives ; their separate pieces are distinguished
by their respective signatures. C. BRONTfc.
Letter 180
TO AYLOTT & JONES
Feb. i6/>&, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, 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 duodecimo form
and a somewhat reduced, though still clear type, would be pre-
ferable. I only stipulate for clear type, not too small, and good
paper. C. BRONTE.
Address Rev. P. Bronte, Haworth, Bradford, Yorkshire.
Letter 181
TO AYLOTT & JONES
March $rd, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, I send a draft for 31, ios., being the amount
of your estimate.
I suppose there is nothing now to prevent your immediately
commencing the printing of the work.
When you acknowledge the receipt of the draft, will you state
how soon it will be completed ? I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
C. BRONT.
320 THE BRONTES
I have not been able to find out very much about the
individuality of the two young men to whom belongs the
distinction of issuing the first book by Charlotte Bronte
and her sisters. They were booksellers and stationers
rather than publishers, but they were responsible for two
noteworthy literary undertakings, neither of which implied
any financial success. Not only did they publish the
poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, but they issued in
common for Dante Gabriel Rossetti and his Pre-Raphaelite
colleagues the parts of T/ie Germ : Thoughts towards
Nature in Poetry, Literature, and Art)
Meanwhile two domestic tragedies were going on side
by side with this aspiration to success in poetry, as the
following letter indicates; one was the father's approaching
blindness and the question of an operation by a Manchester
oculist, the other was the moral deterioration of Branwell.
Letter 182
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March -$rd, 1846.
DEAR ELLEN, I reached home a little after two o'clock, all
safe and right, yesterday ; I found papa very well ; his sight
1 Mrs. Martyn, a daughter of Mr. Aylott, has written to a correspondent as follows
concerning her father's publishing cfiorts :
' I thank you very much for your kind reply to my note, and I will endeavour to give
you what information I can about my fathers business life It m so many years since he
died (1872) and many more years since his connection with Charlotte Bronte for I was
quite a young gul when he used to tell us about her, and how she would make a
three days' journey from the Yorkshire Moors to come and see him about her books.
I believe it was only her poems that my lather published, for he refused her novels,
as he was rather old-fashioned and had very narrow views regarding light literature,
so that he suggested that she should take tlu m to Messrs Smith and Elder. My father
much preferred publishing classical and theological books, and the enclosed list is the
only one 1 have, showing some of his publications. He commenced business in 1828
in Chancery Lane, and from there he went to 8 Paternoster Row. Mr. Jones was his
partner for a few years, but I believe he was rather a hard man, and my father being
of a very amiable and genial disposition, they did not pull together very veil, and so
that partnership was dissolved and the firm was Aylott and Co., as another partner was
taken in, though not having his n.ime known. After that my brother was made partner
and the firm was then Aylott and Son until my father retired in 1866. Besides publish-
ing he did a very gieat deal in export with the Church Missionary Society in West
Africa, and his house of business was the centre for the Church of England Book
Hawking Union. Our home was in Mildmay Park, and for many years we belonged
to the late Rev W. PennefatherV church, where my father was churchwarden and a
much-loved friend of the Vicar's.*
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 321
much the same. Emily and Anne were gone to Keighley to
meet me; unfortunately, I had returned by the old road, while
they were gone by the new, and we missed each other. They
did not get home till half-past four, and were caught in a heavy
shower of rain which fell in the afternoon. I am sorry to say
Anne has taken a little cold in consequence, but I hope she will
soon be well. Papa was much cheered by my report of Mr.
Carr's opinion, and of old Mrs. Carr's experience ; but I could
perceive he caught gladly at the idea of deferring the operations
a few months longer. I went into the room where Branwell was,
to speak to him, about an hour after I got home ; it was very
forced work to address him. I might have spared myself the
trouble, as he took no notice, and made no reply ; he was stupe-
fied. My fears were not in vain. I hear that he had got a
sovereign from papa while I have been away, under pretence of
paying a pressing debt ; he went immediately and changed it at a
public-house, and has employed it as was to be expected. Emily
concluded her account by saying he was a hopeless being ; it is
too true. In his present state, it is scarcely possible to stay in the
room where he is. What the future has in store I do not know.
I hope Mary and Miss B got home without any wet; give my
love to your mother and sisters. Let me hear from you if possible
on Thursday. Believe me, dear Nell, yours faithfully, C. B.
Emily calls her brother 'a hopeless being,' and Branwell
had already reached that stage of physical and moral
wreckage where even his most broadminded sister had
had to give him up. We who have read his weak and
foolish letters have seen what a moral degenerate he had
long since become, but much of his crookedness of nature
was never revealed to his sisters his infinite capacity for
lying for example.
Branwell after the many changes of occupation that we
have noted had obtained a post as tutor to the son of Mr.
Robinson in the very house at Thorp Green in which his
sister Anne was a governess. He had commenced his
duties in December 1842.
It would not be rash to assume although it is only an
assumption that Branwell took to opium soon after he
VOL. i. x
822 THE BRONTES
entered upon his duties at Thorp Green. I have already
said something of the trouble which befell Mrs. Gaskell in
accepting the statements of Charlotte Bronte, and after
Charlotte's death of her friends, to the effect that Bran-
well became the prey of a designing woman, who promised
to marry him when her husband a venerable clergyman
should be dead. The story has been told too often.
Branwell was dismissed, and returned to the parsonage to
rave about his wrongs. If Mr. Robinson should die, the
widow had promised to marry him, he assured his friends.
Mr. Robinson did die (May 26, 1846), and then Branwell
insisted that by his will he had prohibited his wife from
marrying, under penalties of forfeiting the estate. A copy
of the document is in my possession :
The eleventh day of September 1846 the Will of the Reverend
Edmund Robinson late of Thorp Green, in the Parish of Little
Ouseburn, in the County of York^ Clerk, deceased, was proved in the
Prerogative Court of York by the oaths of Lydla Robinson, Widow,
his Relict , the Venerable Charles Thorp and Henry Newton, the
Executors, to whom administration was granted.
Needless to say, the will, a lengthy document, put no
restraint whatever upon the actions of Mrs. Robinson.
Upon the publication of Mrs. Gaskell's Life she was eager
to clear her character in the law-courts, but was dissuaded
therefrom by friends, who pointed out that a withdrawal
of the obnoxious paragraphs in succeeding editions of the
Memoir, and the publication of a letter in the Times,
would sufficiently meet the case.
Here is the letter from the advertisement pages of the
Times :
8 BEDFORD Row,
LONDON, May 26///, 1857.
DEAR SIRS, As solicitor for and on behalf of the Rev. W. Gas-
kell and of Mrs. Gaskell, his wife, the latter of whom is authoress
of the Life of Charlotte Bronte, I am instructed to retract every
statement contained in that work which imputes to a widowed
lady, referred to, but not named therein, any breach of her con-
jugal, of her maternal, or of her social duties, and more especially
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 323
of the statement contained in chapter 13 of the first volume, and
in chapter 2 of the second volume, which imputes to the lady in
question a guilty intercourse with the late Branwell Bronte. All
those statements were made upon information which at the time
Mrs. Gaskell believed to be well founded, but which, upon in-
vestigation, with the additional evidence furnished to me by
you, I have ascertained not to be trustworthy. I am therefore
authorised not only to retract the statements in question, but to
express the deep regret of Mrs. Gaskell that she should have been
led to make them. I am, dear sirs, yours truly,
WILLIAM SHAEN.
Messrs. Newton & Robinson, Solicitors, York.
A certain * Note ' in the Atkenaum a few days later is
not without interest now :
We are sorry to be called upon to return to Mrs. Gaskell's
Life of Charlotte Bronte, but we must do so, since the book has
gone forth with our recommendation. Praise, it is needless to
point out, implied trust in the biographer as an accurate collector
of facts. This, we regret to state, Mrs. Gaskell proves not to
have been. To the gossip which for weeks past has been seething
and circulating in the London coteries, we gave small heed ; but
the Times advertises a legal apology, made on behalf of Mrs.
Gaskell, withdrawing the statements put forth in her book respect-
ing the cause of Branwell Bronte's wreck and ruin. These Mrs.
GaskelPs lawyer is now fain to confess his client advanced on
insufficient testimony. The telling of an episodical and gratuitous
tale so dismal as concerns the dead, so damaging to the living,
could only be excused by the story of sin being severely, strictly
true ; and every one will have cause to regret that due caution was
not used to test representations not, it seems, to be justified. It
is in the interest of Letters that biographers should be deterred
from rushing into print with mere impressions in place of proofs,
however eager and sincere those impressions may be. They may
be slanders, and as such they may sting cruelly. Meanwhile the
Life of Charlotte Bronte must undergo modification ere it can be
further circulated/
It is pleasant after this to return to the little publishing
project, and I give the remainder of the letters treating
of the issue of the poems of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell,
the first book issued by the three sisters.
324 THE BRONTES
Letter 183
TO AYLOTT & JONES
March Mth, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, I have received the proof-sheet, and return it
corrected. If there is any doubt at all about the printer's com-
petency to correct errors, I would prefer submitting each sheet
to the inspection of the authors, because such a mistake, for
instance, as tumbling stars, instead of trembling \ would suffice to
throw an air of absurdity over a whole poem ; but if you know
from experience that he is to be relied on, I would trust to your
assurance on the subject, and leave the task of correction to him,
as I know that a considerable saving both of time and trouble
would be thus effected.
The printing and paper appear to me satisfactory. Of course
I wish to have the work out as soon as possible, but I am still
more anxious that it should be got up in a manner creditable to
the publishers and agreeable to the authors. I am, gentlemen,
yours truly, C. BRONTE.
Letter 184
TO AYLOTT & JONES
March 13^, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, I return you the second proof. The authors
have finally decided that they would prefer having all the proofs
sent to them in turn, but you need not enclose the MS., as they
can correct the errors from memory. I am, gentlemen, yours
truly, C. BRONTE.
Letter 185
TO AYLOTT & JONES
March i^rd, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, As the proofs have hitherto come safe to hand
under the direction of C. Bronte, Esq., I have not thought it
necessary to request you to change it, but a little mistake having
occurred yesterday, I think it will be better to send them to
me in future under my real address, which is Miss Bronte, Rev.
P. Bronte, etc. I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
C. BRONTE.
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 825
Letter 186
TO AYLOTT & JONES
April bth, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, C, E., and A. Bell are now preparing for the
press a work of fiction, consisting of three distinct and uncon-
nected tales, which may be published either together, as a work
of three volumes, of the ordinary novel size, or separately as
single volumes, as shall be deemed most advisable.
It is not their intention to publish these tales on their own
account. They direct me to ask you whether you would be
disposed to undertake the work, after having, of course, by due
inspection of the MS., ascertained that its contents are such as to
warrant an expectation of success.
An early answer will oblige, as, in case of your negativing
the proposal, inquiry must be made of other publishers. I am,
gentlemen, yours truly, C. BRONTE.
Letter 187
TO AYLOTT & JONES
April nth, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, I beg to thank you, in the name of C., E., and
A. Bell, for your obliging offer of advice. I will avail myself of
it to request information on two or three points. It is evident
that unknown authors have great difficulties to contend with
before they can succeed in bringing their works before the public.
Can you give me any hint as to the way in which these difficulties
are best met ? For instance, in the present case, where a work
of fiction is in question, in what form would a publisher be most
likely to accept the MS., whether offered as a work of three vols.,
or as tales which might be published in numbers, or as contribu-
tions to a periodical ?
What publishers would be most likely to receive favourably a
proposal of this nature?
Would it suffice to write to a publisher on the subject, or would
it be necessary to have recourse to a personal interview ?
Your opinion and advice on these three points, or on any
other which your experience may suggest as important, would
be esteemed by us as a favour. C. BRONTE.
326 THE BRONTES
Letter 188
TO AYLOTT & JONES
April I5/A, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, I have to thank you for your obliging answer
to my last. The information you give is of value to us, and when
the MS. is completed your suggestions shall be acted on.
There will be no preface to the poems. The blank leaf may be
filled up by a table of contents, which I suppose the printer will
prepare. It appears the volume will be a thinner one than was
calculated on. I am, gentlemen, yours truly, C. BRONTE.
Letter 189
TO AYLOTT & JONES
April 20, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, The poems are to be neatly done up in cloth.
Have the goodness to send copies and advertisements, as early
as possible, to each of the undermentioned periodicals:
Colburris New Monthly Magazine.
Bentley's Magazine.
Hood's Magazine.
Jerrold's Shilling Magazine.
Blackwood*s Magazine.
The Edinburgh Review.
Tait's Edinburgh Magazine.
The Dublin University Magazine.
Also to the Daily News and to the Britannia newspapers. I
am, gentlemen, yours truly, C. BRONTE.
Letter 190
TO AYLOTT & JONES
May uM, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, The books may be done up in the style of
Moxon's duodecimo edition of Wordsworth.
The price may be fixed at 55., or if you think that too much for
the size of the volume, say 45.
I think the periodicals I mentioned in my last will be sufficient
for advertising in at present, and I should not wish you to lay out
a larger sum than 2, especially as the estimate is increased by
nearly $, in consequence, it appears, of a mistake. I should
think the success of a work depends more on the notice it receives
from periodicals, than on the quantity of advertisements.
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 327
If you do not object, the additional amount of the estimate can
be remitted when you send in your account at the end of the first
six months.
I should be obliged to you if you could let me know how soon
copies can be sent to the editors of the magazines and newspapers
specified. I am, gentlemen, yours truly, C. BRONTE.
Letter 191
TO AYLOTT & JONES
May 25///, 1846
GENTLEMEN, I received yours of the 22nd this morning.
I now transmit 5, being the additional sum necessary to defray
the entire expense of paper and printing. It will leave a small
surplus of us. 9d., which you can place to my account.
I am glad you have sent copies to the newspapers you mention,
and in case of a notice favourable or otherwise appearing in them,
or in any of the other periodicals to which copies have been sent,
I should be obliged to you if you would send me down the
numbers ; otherwise, I have not the opportunity of seeing these
publications regularly. I might miss it, and should the poems be
remarked upon favourably, it is my intention to appropriate a
further sum to advertisements. If, on the other hand, they should
pass unnoticed or be condemned, I consider it would be quite use-
less to advertise, as there is nothing either in the title of the work
or the names of the authors to attract attention from a single
individual, I am, gentlemen, yours truly, C. BRONTE.
Letter 192
TO AYLOTT & JONES
July xoM, 1846.
GENTLEMEN, I am directed by the Messrs. Bell to acknow-
ledge the receipt of the Critic and the Athenczum containing
notices of the poems.
They now think that a further sum of 10 may be devoted to
advertisements, leaving it to you to select such channels as you
deem most advisable.
They would wish the following extract from the Critic to be
appended to each advertisement :
'They in whose hearts are chords strung by Nature to sym-
pathise with the beautiful and the true, will recognise in these
compositions the presence of more genius than it was supposed
328 THE BRONTES
this utilitarian age had devoted to the loftier exercises of the
intellect. 1
They likewise request you to send copies of the poems to
Eraser's Magazine^ Chambers 's Edinburgh Journal^ the Globe, and
Examiner. I am, gentlemen, yours truly, C. BRONTE.
The book then was published, and the title-page ran as
follows :
Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell. London : Ay lot t and
Jones, 8 Paternoster Row. \ 846.
Two years later the unbound copies were issued with a
title-page bearing the imprint of Smith, Elder, & Co.,
and the same date, 1846, although the sheets were not
taken over by Smith, Elder, & Co. until 1848.
The book secured reviews such as any volume of verse
might obtain, and the kind of reception from the public
that, then as now, verse, when it is real poetry, always
commands two copies were sold. The Athenaeum critic
declared that Ellis possessed *a fine quaint spirit' and
'an evident power of wing that may reach heights not
here attempted. 1 Here is a letter of thanks to a critic.
Letter 193
TO THE EDITOR OF THE 'DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE
October 6th, 1846.
SIR, I thank you in my own name and that of my brothers,
Ellis and Acton, for the indulgent notice that appeared in your
last number of our first humble efforts in literature ; but I thank
you far more for the essay on modern poetry which preceded
that notice an essay in which seems to me to be condensed the
very spirit of truth and beauty. If all or half your other readers
shall have derived from its perusal the delight it afforded to
myself and my brothers, your labours have produced a rich
result.
After such criticism an author may indeed be smitten at first
by a sense of his own insignificance as we were but on a second
and a third perusal he finds a power and beauty therein which
stirs him to a desire to do more and better things. It fulfils the
right end of criticism : without absolutely crushing, it corrects
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 829
and rouses. I again thank you heartily, and beg to subscribe
myself, Your constant and grateful reader,
CURRER BELL.
While treating of the Poems, I may as well carry the
correspondence a stage further. Six or eight months later
Charlotte Bronte sent copies of the little volume to several
of the leading authors of the day. Reference to the
biographies of Wordsworth, Tennyson, Lockhart, and
De Quincey shows that the same letter accompanied each
little volume.
Letter 194
TO THOMAS DE QUINCEY
June i6M, 1847.
SIR, My relatives, Ellis and Acton Bell, and myself, heedless
of the repeated warnings of various respectable publishers, have
committed the rash act of printing a volume of poems.
The consequences predicted have, of course, overtaken us: our
book is found to be a drug ; no man needs it or heeds it. In the
space of a year our publisher has disposed but of two copies, and
by what painful efforts he succeeded in getting rid of these two,
himself only knows.
Before transferring the edition to the trunkmakers, we have
decided on distributing as presents a few copies of what we can-
not sell ; and we beg to offer you one in acknowledgment of the
pleasure and profit we have often and long derived from your
works. 1 am, sir, yours very respectfully, CURRER BELL. 1
Apart from this tantalising and exciting venture into
book-publishing concerning which the three sisters did not
breathe a word to any member of their household, and
not even to Ellen Nussey, all the history of the year is
contained in letters to her friend.
Letter 195
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March 31 sf, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I begin to feel somewhat uneasy about your
long silence. Is all well at Brookroyd? I have sometimes
1 De Quincey Memorials^ by Alexander H. Jap p. See also Alfred^ Lord Tennyson:
a Afcmetr, by his son, 1898, and Lockhart's Life by Andrew Lang, 1897.
830 THE BRONTES
feared your mother is worse, for the late sharp change in the
weather has been a most trying one for many weak and elderly
persons about here.
Our poor old servant Tabby had a sort of fit a fortnight since,
but is nearly recovered now. Martha is ill with a swelling in her
knee, and obliged to go home. I fear it will be some time before
she will be in working condition again. I received the number of
the Record you sent, and sent it forward to Mr. Young. I read
D'Aubigne^s letter. 1 It is clever, and in what he says about
Catholicism very good. The Evangelical Alliance part is not
very practicable, yet certainly it is more in accordance with the
spirit of the Gospel to preach unity among Christians than to
inculcate mutual intolerance and hatred. Any visits from Huns-
worth lately ? I begin to be anxious to hear again from Mary
Taylor. I am very glad I went to Brookroyd when I did, for
the changed weather has somewhat changed my health and
strength since. How do you get on ? I long for mild south and
west winds. I am thankful papa continues pretty well, though
often made very miserable by Bran well's wretched conduct.
There there is no change but for the worse.
I have no news to tell you, and I only scribble these few lines
to entreat you to write to me immediately. I sent you a French
newspaper yesterday.
Good-morning. Love to all. C. BRONTE.
Letter 196
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 14^, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I assure you I was very glad indeed to get
your last note for when three or four days elapsed after my
second despatch to you and I got no answer, I scarcely doubted
something was wrong. It relieved me much to find my apprehen-
sions unfounded. I return you Miss Ringrose's notes with thanks.
I always like to read them, they appear to me so true an index
of an amiable mind, and one not too conscious of its own worth;
beware of awakening in her this consciousness by undue praise.
It is the privilege of simple-hearted, sensible but not brilliant
1 Jean Henri Merle D'Aubigne" (1794-1872), born near Geneva. In 1818 he became
pastor of the French Protestant Church at Hamburg, and in 1823, the Court preacher
at Brussels. He returned to Geneva after 1830. His History of the Reformation is his
best known book.
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 331
people that they can be and do good without comparing their
own thoughts and actions too closely with those of other people,
and thence drawing strong food for self-appreciation. Talented
people almost always know full well the excellence that is in
them. I am very glad that you have seen George; still, the inter-
view must have been a painful one in many respects. It disap-
pointed me rather that you mentioned it so briefly. How did he
receive you ? Joe Taylor has performed a good action in the best
manner. You ask if we are more comfortable. I wish I could
say anything favourable, but how can we be more comfortable so
long as Branwell stays at home, and degenerates instead of
improving? It has been lately intimated to him, that he would
be received again on the railroad where he was formerly stationed
if he would behave more steadily, but he refuses to make an
effort ; he will not work and at home he is a drain on every
resource an impediment to all happiness. But there is no use
in complaining.
My love to all. Write again soon. C. B.
Letter 197
TO ELLEN NUSFEY
June '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I hope all the mournful contingencies of death
are by this time removed from Brookroyd, and that some little
sense of relief is beginning to be experienced by its wearied
inmates. suffered greatly. I trust and even believe that his
long sufferings on earth will be taken as sufficient expiation.
I wish you all may get a little repose and enjoyment now.
I should like to hear from you shortly, and whether any new
plans are in contemplation about poor George. Give my love
to all. C. BRONT&
Letter 198
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
June ilth, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I was glad to perceive by the tone of your last
letter, that you are beginning to be a little more settled and com-
fortable. I should think Dr. Belcombe is quite right in opposing
George's removal home. We, I am sorry to say, have been some-
what more harassed than usual lately. The death of Mr. Robinson,
which took place about three weeks or a month ago, served
882 THE BRONTES
Branwell for a pretext to throw all about him into hubbub and con-
fusion with his emotions, etc., etc. Shortly after, came news from
all hands that Mr. Robinson had altered his will before he died and
effectually prevented all chance of a marriage between his widow
and Branwell, by stipulating that she should not have a shilling if
she ever ventured to reopen any communication with him. Of
course, he then became intolerable. To papa he allows rest
neither day nor night, and he is continually screwing money out
of him, sometimes threatening that he will kill himself if it is
withheld from him. He says Mrs. Robinson is now insane ; that her
mind is a complete wreck owing to remorse for her conduct to-
wards Mr. Robinson (whose end it appears was hastened by distress
of mind) and grief for having lost him. I do not know how much
to believe of what he says, but I fear she is very ill. Branwell
declares that he neither can nor will do anything for himself;
good situations have been offered him more than once, for which,
by a fortnight's work, he might have qualified himself, but he will
do nothing, except drink and make us all wretched. I had a note
from Ellen Taylor a week ago, in which she remarks that letters
were received from New Zealand a month since, and that all was
well. I should like to hear from you again soon. I hope one
day to see Brookroyd again, though I think it will not be yet
these are not times of amusement. Love to all. C. B.
Letter 199
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July ioth> '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I see you are in a dilemma, and one of a
peculiar and difficult nature. Two paths lie before you, you con-
scientiously wish to choose the right one, even though it be the
most steep, strait and rugged ; but you do not know which is
the right one; you cannot decide whether duty and religion com-
mand you to go out into the cold and friendless world, and there
to earn your bread by governess drudgery, or whether they enjoin
your continued stay with your aged mother, neglecting, for the
present, every prospect of independency for yourself, and putting
up with daily inconvenience, sometimes even with privations.
Dear Ellen, I can well imagine, that it is next to impossible for
you to decide for yourself in this matter, so I will decide it for
you. At least I will tell you what is my earnest conviction on
the subject ; I will show you candidly how the question strikes
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 833
me. The right path is that which necessitates the greatest sacri-
fice of self-interest which implies the greatest pood to others ;
and this path, steadily followed, will lead, I believe, in time, to
prosperity and to happiness ; though it may seem, at the outset,
to tend quite in a contrary direction. Your mother is both old
and infirm ; old and infirm people have few sources of happiness,
fewer almost than the comparatively young and healthy can con-
ceive ; to deprive them of one of these is cruel. If your mother
is more composed when you are with her, stay with her. If she
would be unhappy in case you left her, stay with her. It will not
apparently, as far as short-sighted humanity can see, be for your
advantage to remain at Brookroyd, nor will you be praised and
admired for remaining at home to comfort your mother; yet,
probably, your own conscience will approve, and if it does, stay
with her. I recommend you to do what I am trying to do myself.
Who gravely asked you whether Miss Bronte was not going to
be married to her Papa's Curate ? I scarcely need say that never
was rumour more unfounded. A cold far-away sort of civility
are the only terms on which I have ever been with Mr. Nicholls.
I could by no means think of mentioning such a rumour to him
even as a joke. It would make me the laughing-stock of himself
and his fellow curates for half a year to come. They regard me
as an old maid, and I regard them, one and all, as highly un-
interesting, narrow and unattractive specimens of the coarser sex.
Write to me again soon, whether you have anything particular
to say or not. Give my sincere love to your mother and sisters,
C. BRONTE.
The enigmas are very smart and well worded.
Letter 200
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July 24/A, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, A series of tooth-aches, prolonged and severe,
bothering me both day and night, have kept me very stupid of
late, and prevented me from writing to you. More than once I
have sat down and opened my desk, but have not been able to
get up to par ; to-day, after a night of fierce pain, I am better
much better, and I take advantage of the interval of ease to dis-
charge my debt. I wish I had .50 to spare at present, and that
you, Emily, Anne and I, were all at liberty to leave home without
our absence being detrimental to anybody. How pleasant to set
834 THE BRONTES
off en masse to the sea- side, and stay there a few weeks taking in
a stock of health and strength. We could all do with recreation.
I retain Miss Ringrose's * portrait.' It is skilfully painted a little
flattering to be exposed to the view of the original but it gives
a stranger a sweet and attractive idea of ' notre Amlie/ I will
not attempt a companion picture of my friend \ for it is unnecessary.
Miss Ringrose's own letters had delineated her clearly and faith-
fully enough without the aid of this finished miniature ; and yours
will, I know, do for you the same office, independently of elaborate
assistance from me.
You have acted well, very well, in telling Miss Ringrose the
simple truth respecting the position of your family. Adversity
agrees with you, Ellen. Your good qualities are never so obvious
as when under the pressure of affliction. Continued prosperity
might develop too much a certain germ of ambition latent in
your character. I saw this little germ putting out green shoots
when I was staying with you at Hathersage. It was not then
obtrusive, and perhaps might never become so. Your good sense,
firm principle, and kind feeling, might keep it down ; but if riches
were ever to accrue to you, I prophesy that your many virtues
would have a severe struggle with this one defect. Still I wish
Fortune would try you, but not with too strong a temptation.
Holding down my head does not suit my tooth-ache. Give my
love to your mother and sisters. Write again as soon as may
be. Yours faithfully, C. B.
Letter 201
TO ELLEN NUSSKY
August 9/k, 1846.
DEAR NELL, Anne and I both thank you for your kind in-
vitation, and our thanks are not mere words of course they are
very sincere, both as addressed to yourself and your mother and
sisters, but we cannot accept it, and 1 t/nnk even JY>W will consider
our motives for declining valid this time.
In a fortnight I hope to go with papa to Manchester to have
his eyes couched. Emily and I made a pilgrimage there a week
ago to search out an operator, and we found one in the person of
Mr. Wilson. He could not tell from the description whether the
eyes were ready for an operation. Papa must therefore necessarily
take a journey to Manchester to consult him. If he judges the
cataract ripe, we shall remain, if, on the contrary, he thinks it not
yet sufficiently hardened, we shall have to return and papa must
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 885
remain in darkness a while longer. Poor Bessy H. ! I was
thinking about her only a day or two before. Do you know
whether she suffered much pain, or whether her death was easy?
There is a defect in your reasoning about the feelings a wife
ought to experience. Who holds the purse will wish to be master,
Ellen, depend on it, whether man or woman. Who provided the
cash will now and then value himself or herself upon it, and even
in the case of ordinary minds, reproach the less wealthy partner.
Besides, no husband ought to be an object of charity to his wife,
as no wife to her husband. No, dear Ellen, it is doubtless pleasant
to marry well> as they say, but with all pleasures are mixed bitters.
I do not wish for you a very rich husband, I should not like you
to be regarded by any man ever as *a sweet object of charity/
Give my sincere love to all. Yours, C. BRONTE.
Letter 202
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
83 MOUNT PLEASANT, BOUNDARY ST., OXFORD ROAD,
MANCHESTER, Augitst 2u/, '46
DEAR ELLEN, I just scribble a line to let you know where I
am, in order that you may write to me here, for it seems to me
that a letter from you would relieve me from the feeling of
strangeness I have in this big town. Papa and I came here on
Wednesday ; we saw Mr. Wilson, 1 the oculist, the same day ; he
pronounced papa's eyes quite ready for an operation, and has
fixed next Monday for the performance of it. Think of us* on
that day ! We got into our lodgings yesterday. I think we shall
be comfortable ; at least, our rooms are very good, but there is
no mistress of the house (she is very ill, and gone out into the
country), and I am somewhat puzzled in managing about pro-
visions ; we board ourselves. I find myself excessively ignorant.
I 'can't tell what to order in the way of meat. For ourselves I
could contrive, papa's diet is so very simple ; but there will be a
nurse coming in a day or two, and I am afraid of not having
things good enough for her. Papa requires nothing, you know,
but plain beef and mutton, tea and bread and butter ; but a nurse
1 Dr. William James Wilson, M.R.C.S., was born at Leeds, but the exact date is
not known. He was honorary surgeon to the Manchester Infirmary from 1826 to
1855, and was mainly instrumental in founding the Manchester Institution for curing
diseases of the eye. He died at Tickwood, near Wellington, I9th July 1855. See
Honorary Medical Stajf of the Manchester Infirmary^ by Dr. E. M. Brockbank. 410.
1904. Pp. 269-272.
886 THE BRONTES
will probably expect to live much better ; give me some hints if
you can. Mr. Wilson says we shall have to stay here for a month
at least. It will be dreary. I wonder how poor Emily and Anne
will get on at home with Branwell ? They too will have their
troubles. What would I not give to have you here! One is
forced, step by step, to get experience in the world ; but the
learning is so disagreeable. One cheerful feature in the business
is that Mr. Wilson thinks most favourably of the case. Write
very soon remember me kindly to all. Yours, C. BRONTE.
Letter 203
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
MANCHESTER, August 26^, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, The operation is over ; it took place yesterday.
Mr. Wilson performed it ; two other surgeons assisted. Mr.
Wilson says he considers it quite successful ; but papa cannot yet
see anything. The affair lasted precisely a quarter of an hour ; it
was not the simple operation of couching Mr. Carr described, but
the more complicated one of extracting the cataract. Mr. Wilson
entirely disapproves of couching. Papa displayed extraordinary
patience and firmness ; the surgeons seemed surprised. I was in
the room all the time, as it was his wish that I should be there ;
of course, I neither spoke nor moved till the thing was done, and
then I felt that the less I said, either to papa or the surgeons, the
better. Papa is now confined to his bed in a dark room, and is
not to be stirred for four days ; he is to speak and be spoken to as
little as possible. I am greatly obliged to you for your letter and
your kind advice, which gave me extreme satisfaction, because I
found 1 had arranged most things in accordance with it, and, as
your theory coincides with my practice, I feel assured the latter is
right. I hope Mr. Wilson will soon allow me to dispense with the
nurse ; she is well enough, no doubt, but somewhat too obsequious,
and not, I should think, to be much trusted ; yet I am obliged to
trust her in some things. Your friend Charlotte has had a letter
from M. T., and she was only waiting to hear from one Ellen
Nussey, that she had received a similar document. Greatly was
I amused by your account of Joe's flirtations, and yet some-
what saddened also. I think Nature intended him for something
better than to fritter away his time in making a set of poor, un-
occupied spinsters unhappy. The girls, unfortunately, are forced
to care for him, because, while their minds are mostly unemployed,
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 837
their sensations are all unworn, and consequently, fresh and keen ;
and he, on the contrary, has had his fill of pleasure, and can with
impunity make a mere pastime of other people's torments. This
is an unfair state of things ; the match is not equal. I only wish
I had the power to infuse into the souls of the persecuted a little
of the quiet strength of pride, of the supporting consciousness
of superiority (for they are superior to him, because purer), of the
fortifying resolve of firmness to bear the present, and wait the end.
Could all the virgin population of Birstall and Gomersall receive
and retain these sentiments, he would eventually have to vail his
crest before them. Perhaps, luckily, their feelings are not so acute
as one would think, and the gentleman's shafts consequently don't
wound so deeply as he might desire. I hope it is so. Give my
best love to your mother and sisters. Write soon.
C. BRONTK.
Letter 204
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
MANCHESTER, August 31^, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, Thank you for Mary Taylor's letter. It contains
later news than mine, and good news too. Papa is still lying in
bed, in a dark room, with his eyes bandaged. No inflammation
ensued, but still it appears the greatest care, perfect quiet, and
utter privation of light are necessary to ensure a good result from
the operation. He is very patient, but of course depressed and
weary. He was allowed to try his sight for the first time yester-
day. He could see dimly. Mr. Wilson seemed perfectly satisfied,
and said all was right. I have had bad nights from the toothache
since I came to Manchester. Give my sincere love to Miss
Wooler when you see her. Give her my address too. In great
haste ; love to all, and hopes and good wishes for George. Yours,
C. B.
Letter 205
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
MANCHESTER, September i^th, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, Papa thinks his own progress rather slow, but
the doctor affirms he is getting on very well. He complains of
extreme weakness and soreness in the eye, but I suppose that is
VOL. I. Y
838 THE BRONTES
to be expected for some time to come. He is still kept in the
dark, but now sits up the greater part of the day, and is allowed
a little fire in the room from the light of which he is carefully
screened.
By this time you will have got Mary's letters ; most interesting
they are, and she is in her element because she is where she has a
toilsome task to perform, an important improvement to effect, a
weak vessel to strengthen. You ask if I have any enjoyment
here ; in truth, I can't say I have and I long to get home,
though, unhappily, home is not now a place of complete rest. It
is sad to think how it is disquieted by a constant phantom, or
rather two sin and suffering ; they seem to obscure the cheer-
fulness of day and to disturb the comfort of evening.
Give my love to all at Brookroyd, and believe me, yours faith-
fully, C. B.
PS. I am sorry for Joe. Does Ellen Taylor live at Huns-
worth now ?
Letter 206
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
MANCHESTER, September 2ind, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I have nothing new to tell you except that
papa continues to do well, though the process of recovery appears
to me very tedious. I dare say it will yet be many weeks before
his sight is completely restored, yet every time Mr. Wilson comes,
he expresses his satisfaction at the perfect success of the opera-
tion, and assures me papa will ere long be able to both read and
write. He is still a prisoner in his dark room, into which, how-
ever, a little more light is admitted than formerly. The nurse
goes to-day ; her departure will certainly be a relief, though she
is, I dare say, not the worst of her class. Write to me again soon,
and believe me, yours faithfully, C. BRONTE.
Letter 207
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, September 28^, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, When I wrote to you last, our return to
Haworth was uncertain indeed, but Mr. Wilson was called away
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 889
to Scotland ; his absence set us at liberty. I hastened our
departure, and now we are at home. Papa is daily gaining
strength ; he cannot yet exercise his sight much but it improves,
and I have no doubt will continue to do so. I feel truly thankful
for the good ensured, and the evil exempted during our absence.
What you say about Joe grieves me much, and surprises me too.
Mary Taylor sits on a wooden stool without a back, in a log house
without a carpet, and neither is degraded nor thinks herself
degraded by such poor accommodation. C. BRONTE.
Letter 208
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
October i^th^ '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I read your letter with attention, not on my
own account, for any project which infers the necessity of my
leaving home is impracticable to me. If I could leave home I
should not be at Haworth now I know life is passing away and
I am doing nothing, earning nothing a very bitter knowledge it
is at moments but I see no way out of the mist. More than
one very favourable opportunity has now offered which I have
been obliged to put aside ; probably when I am free to leave home
I shall neither be able to find a place nor employment ; perhaps,
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 conscience, 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, prompted by what then seemed an
irresistible impulse. I was punished for my selfish folly by a total
withdrawal for more than two years of happiness and peace of
mind. I could hardly expect success if I were to err again in the
same way.
I should like to hear from you again soon. Bring R. to the
point, and make him give you a clear, not a vague, account of
what pupils he really could procure ; people often think they can
do great things in that way till they have tried ; but getting
pupils is unlike getting any other sort of goods.
C. BRONTE.
840 THE BRONTES
Letter 209
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
November 17 th, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I will just write a brief despatch to say that I
received yours, and that I was very glad to get it. I do not know
when you have been so long without writing to me before ; I had
begun to imagine you were gone to your brother Joshua's.
Papa continues to do very well. He read prayers twice in the
church last Sunday. Next Sunday he will have to take the whole
duty of the three services himself, as Mr. Nicholls is in Ireland.
Remember me to your mother and sisters. Write as soon as you
possibly can, after you get to Oundle. Good luck go with you.
C. BRONTE.
Letter 210
TO MISS \VOOLER
Papa's spirits are improved since his restoration to sight.
This last circumstance alone furnishes a continual subject for
gratitude ; those were indeed mournful days when papa's vision
was wholly obscured, when he could do nothing for himself, and
sat all day long in darkness and inertion. Now to see him walk
about independently, read, write, etc., is indeed a joyful change.
There is still one point on which I do not feel quite easy it is
that he continues to sec spots before the very eye which has been
operated on, and from which the lens is removed ; he mentioned
the circumstance to Mr. Wilson, who put it off as a matter of no
consequence, but without offering any explanation of the cause
or nature of the appearance. I should much like to know Mr.
Wilson's opinion on the point. Will you ask him some day when
you have an opportunity ?
I pity Mr. Taylor from my heart. For ten years he has now,
I think, been a sufferer from nervous complaints, for ten years he
has felt the tyranny of Hypochondria, a most dreadful doom, far
worse than that of a man with healthy nerves buried for the same
length of time in a subterranean dungeon. I endured it but a
year, and assuredly I can never forget the concentrated anguish
of certain insufferable moments, and the heavy gloom of many long
hours, besides the preternatural horrors which seemed to clothe
existence and nature, and which made life a continual waking
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 841
nightmare. Under such circumstances the morbid nerves can
know neither peace nor enjoyment ; whatever touches pierces them,
sensation for them is suffering. A weary burden nervous patients
become to those about them ; they know this and it infuses a new
gall, corrosive in its extreme acritude, into their bitter cup. When
I was at Dewsbury Moor I could have been no better company
for you than a stalking ghost, and I remember I felt my incapa-
city to impart pleasure fully as much as my powerlessness to
receive it. Mr. Taylor, no doubt, feels the same. How grievous,
with his principles, talents, and acquirements.
Letter 211
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
December 15^, '46.
DEAR ELLEN, I hope you are not frozen up in Northampton-
shire ; the cold here is dreadful. 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. I cannot keep myself
warm. We have all had severe colds and coughs in consequence
of the severe weather. Poor Anne has suffered greatly from
asthma, but is now, I am 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
distressing to suffer ; she bore it, as she does all affliction, without
one complaint, only sighing now and then when nearly worn out.
She has an extraordinary heroism of endurance. I admire, but I
certainly could not imitate her. . . . You say I am to tell 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 did for us to witness, 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 lo'se money, time
after time, in this way ; but it is ten times worse to witness the
shabbiness of his behaviour on such occasions ; but where is the
use of dwelling on such subjects ? It will make him no better. I
send you the last French newspaper ; several have missed coming.
842 THE BRONTES
Do you intend paying a visit to Sussex before you return home ?
Write again soon ; your last epistle was very interesting. I am,
dear Nell, yours in spirit and flesh, C. B.
Letter 212
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
December 2%tk, 1846.
DEAR ELLEN, 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 off the
business at least a fortnight hence. The first reason is, I want
another letter from you, for your letters are interesting, they have
something in them ; some information, some results of experience
and observation. One receives them with pleasure, and reads
them with relish ; and these letters I cannot expect to get unless
I reply to them. I wish the correspondence could be so managed
so as to be all on your side. The second reason is derived from
a remark in your last, that you felt lonely, something as I was at
Stonegappe and Brussels, and that consequently you had a peculiar
desire to hear from old acquaintance. I can understand and sym-
pathise with this. I remember the shortest note was a treat to
me when I was at the above-named places ; therefore I now 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. Nothing
irritates and stings me like this. It is not in my nature to forget
your nature ; though I dare say, I should spit fire and explode
sometimes if we lived together continually; and you too would
be angry now and then, 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, sub
jected to one monotonous species of annoyance? I do: I am
now in that unenviable frame of mind ; my humour, I think, is
too soon overthrown, too sore, too demonstrative 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. Alter all, I should
prefer being as I am. You do right not to be annoyed at any
nuisances of conventionality you meet with. Regard all new
ways in the light of fresh experience for you: if you see any
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 343
honey, gather it. (See Punch.) 1 1 don't, after all, consider that
we ought to despise everything in the world, merely because it is
not what we are accustomed to. I suspect, on the contrary, that
there are not unfrequently substantial reasons underlaid, for
customs that appear to us absurd ; AND IF I WERE EVER AGAIN
TO FIND MYSELF AMONGST STRANGERS, I SHOULD BE SOLICI-
TOUS TO EXAMINE BEFORE I CONDEMNED. Indiscriminating
irony and fault-finding are just sumphishness^ 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 dis-
tressing cough, and his spirits are much depressed. This cold
weather would try anybody.
I wish you a happy Christmas ; write again soon. C. B.
Letter 213
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January , '47.
DEAR ELLEN, I thank you again for your last letter, which I
found as full or fuller of interest than either of the preceding ones ;
it is just written as I wish you to write to me, not a detail too
much, a correspondence of that sort is the next best thing to
actual conversation though it must be allowed that between the
two there is a wide gulf still.
I imagine your face, voice, presence, very plainly when I read
your letters; still, imagination is not reality, ancL when I return
them to their envelopes, and put them by in myticsk I feel the
difference sensibly enough. My curiosity is a little piqued about
that Countess you mention.
I cannot decide from what you say whether she is really clever
or only eccentric ; the two sometimes go together but are often
seen apart. I generally feel inclined to fight very shy of eccentri-
city, and have no small horror of being thought eccentric myself,
by which observation I don't mean to insinuate that I class myself
under the head Clever ; God knows, a more consummate ass in
1 A recent number of Punch (No. 241, vol. x. p. 91, February 21, 1846) had con-
tained a paper entitled * Little Fables for Little Politicians.' The second of these
fables, entitled 'The Drones,' sets forth how *a swarm of drones Itved 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.'
344 THE BRONTES
sundry important points has seldom browsed the green herb of
His bounties than I. Oh ! dear, I 'm in danger sometimes of falling
into self- weariness. ... As to money, from all I can hear and see
it seems to be regarded as the Alpha and Omega of requisites in
a wife. As to society, I don't understand much about it, but from
the few glimpses I have had of its machinery it seems to me to be
a very strange, complicated affair indeed, wherein Nature is turned
upside down. Your well-bred people appear to me (figuratively
speaking) to walk on their heads, to see everything the wrong way
up ; a lie is with them truth, truth a lie ; eternal and tedious
botheration is their notion of happiness, sensible pursuits their
ennui. But this may be only the view ignorance takes of what it
cannot understand. I refrain from judging them, therefore, but if
I were called upon to 'swap' (you know the word, I suppose?), to
swap tastes and ideas and feelings, I should prefer walking into a
good Yorkshire kitchen fire, and conclude the bargain at once by
an act of voluntary combustion.
All here is as usual. Write again soon. Yours faithfully,
C. BKONT&
Letter 214
TO ELLEN NUSSFY
January 2S//&, '47.
DEAR NFLL, I got your letter, but it had been opened the
paper was burnt in melting the wax, and an unsuccessful attempt
had been made to reseal it with a blank seal fortunately the
contents were not abstracted. The pretty little cuffs were safe,
and I am obliged for them they are just the sort of thing I
wanted to keep my wrists warm.
I am truly glad you arc safe at home. Was nut your mother
delighted to see you? I wish somebody would have the sense to
leave you a fortune of ^10,000 or so it would be fun to witness
the servile adulation of such people as Mr. and Mrs. . There
I am afraid, however, there is no chance of such a prize falling to
your share out of the wheel of fortune. I must say that from
what you say of the coldness, dreariness, and barrenness of these
respected individuals' minds and hearts, I pity them full as much
as I dislike them.
To-day you will be at W r . It is too late to tell you to adopt
the white and scarlet by all means you know I always consider
that white suits you. Be sure and tell me all about the party I
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 845
hope Joe and John Taylor will not fail to be there, and to lay
themselves out properly to your observation.
I had a note a very short one from Ellen Taylor yesterday
I had not heard from her before for months. They had just
received letters from Waring, but none from Mary both were
well. Don't think of my coming to Brookroyd yet, Ellen per-
haps before the summer is over we may meet again, but let the
matter rest at present. I am sorry to hear of your sister Ann's
bad health I fear she makes herself too anxious, and constant
anxiety will wear any nerves and fibres. Give my very best love
to them all, and say I thank them sincerely for their kind remem-
brance of me.
What is it that makes Mrs. . . . such a very disagreeable person,
and that renders her own friends so anxious to be rid of her? Is
her upper story sound ? Write again to me as soon as ever you
can. Yours faithfully, C. BRONT&
Letter 215
TO ELLEN NUSSKY
February 8/// ? '47.
DEAR ELLEN, I shall scribble you a short note about nothing,
just to have a pretext for screwing a letter out of you in return. I
was sorry you did not go to Woodhouse, firstly because you lost
the pleasure of observation and enjoyment, and secondly because
I lost the second-hand indulgence of hearing your account of what
you had seen. It was stupid of Mr. and Mrs. Richard not to think
of asking you when they asked the Taylors. I laughed at the
candour with which you quote your reason for wishing to be there.
Thou hast an honest soul, Nell, as ever animated human frame,
and a clean one, for it is not ashamed of showing its inmost
recesses, only be careful with whom you are frank some would
not rightly appreciate the value of your frankness and never cast
pearls before swine.
You are quite right in wishing to look well in the eyes of those
whom you desire to please ; it is natural to desire to appear to
advantage (honest, r\otfa/se advantage, of course) before people we
respect Long may the power and inclination to do so be spared
you. Long may you look young and handsome enough to dress
in white, dear Nell, and long may you have a right to feel the con-
sciousness that you look agreeable. I know you have too much
346 THE BRONTES
judgment to let an overdose of vanity spoil the blessing and turn
it into a misfortune. After all, though, age will come on, and it is
well you have something better than a nice face for friends to
turn to when that is changed. I hope this excessively cold
weather has not harmed you or yours much. It has nipped me
severely, taken away my appetite for a while, and given me tooth-
ache ; in short, put me in the ailing condition in which I have
more than once had the honour of making myself such a nuisance
both at Brookroyd and Hunsworth. The consequence is that at
this present speaking I look almost old enough to be your mother
grey, sunk, and withered. To-day, however, it is milder, and I
hope soon to feel better ; indeed, I am not ill now, and my tooth-
ache is now subsided, but I experience a loss of strength and a
deficiency of spirit which would make me a sorry companion to
you or any one else. I would not be on a visit now for a large
sum of money.
Write soon. Give my best love to your mother and sisters.
Good-bye, dear Nell, C. BRONTE.
Letter 216
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, March u/, '47.
DEAR ELLEN, Even at the risk of appearing very exacting,
I can't help saying that I should like a letter as long as your 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 appetite 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 materials, 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.
Dear Nell, as you wish to avoid making me uneasy, say nothing
more about my coming to Brookroyd. Let your visit to Sussex
be got over, let the summer arrive, and then we shall see how
matters stand. To confess the truth, I really should like you to
come to Haworth before I again go to Brookroyd, and it is
natural and right that I should have this wish. To keep friend-
ship in proper order, the balance of good offices must be preserved,
otherwise a disquieting and anxious feeling creeps in, and destroys
CIJRRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 347
mutual comfort. In summer and in fine weather, your visit here
might be much better managed than in winter. We could go out
more, be more independent of the house and of one 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, The Misses Robinson, who had entirely ceased their corre-
spondence with Anne for half a year after their father's death, have
lately recommenced it. For a fortnight they sent her a letter
almost every day, crammed with warm protestations of endless
esteem and gratitude. They speak with great affection too of
their mother, and never make any allusion intimating acquaint-
ance with her errors. We take special care that Branwell docs
not know of their writing to Anne. My health is better: I lay
the blame of its feebleness on the cold weather, more than on an
uneasy mind. For after all, I have many things to be thankful
for. Write again soon. C. BRONTE.
Letter 217
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March 24///, '47.
DEAR NELL, As I am going to send the French newspaper
to-day, I will send a line or two with it, just to ask how you arc,
and to request you to let me have another letter or note as soon
as may be. I am sorry for poor Miss Ringrosc. Do you think
there is any chance of her father permitting her to visit you at
Brookroyd ? I wish he would, both for your sake and hers ; she
would have a comforter, and you a companion, and then you
would let me alone awhile.
I should like you to be pleasantly occupied till I can ask you
to come to Haworth with some prospect of making you decently
comfortable. It is at Haworth, if all be well, that we must next
see each other again. There was a word in your last note which
I could not make out. After remarking that two of Miss Ring-
rose's younger sisters are far from well, you said Amy was very
something I don't know what and then asked, could Miss
Ringrose have learned this superstition in Holland ? What super-
stition is it ?
Did Miss Wooler come to Brookroyd on the occasion of
348 THE BRONTES
your mother's birthday? If so, was she well, and in good
spirits ? 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. I '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.
No arguments in the next epistle. Yours faithfully,
C. B.
Letter 218
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 4///, '47.
DEAR NELL, Your last letter amused and edified me exceed-
ingly. I could not but laugh at your account of the fall in
Birstall, yet I should by no means have liked to have made a
third party in that exhibition. I have endured one fall in your
company, and undergone one of your ill-timed laughs, and don't
wish to repeat my experience. Allow me to compliment you on
the skill with which you can seem to give an explanation without
enlightening one one whit on the question. I know no more
about Miss Ringrose's superstition than I did before. What is the
superstition ? When a dead body is limp what is the inference
drawn ?
It seems strange that should attempt to gloss over what is
deplorable ; such efforts are vain and never answer. We should
not unnecessarily expose relations under such circumstances, but
neither should we degrade ourselves and them by inventing false
excuses.
Do you remember my telling you, or did I ever tell you, about
that wretched and most criminal Mr. C , after running an
infamous career of vice, both in England and France, abandoned
his wife with two children and without a farthing in a strange
lodging-house? Yesterday evening Martha came upstairs to say
that a woman, rather ladylike, she said, wished to speak to me in
the kitchen. I went down : there stood Mrs. C , pale and
worn, but still interesting-looking and neatly dressed, as was her
little girl who was with her. I kissed her heartily. I could
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 349
almost have cried to see her, for I had pitied her with my whole
soul when I had heard of her undeserved sufferings and agonies
and physical degradation. She took tea with us and entered
frankly into the narrative of her appalling distresses ; her excellent
sense, her activity and perseverance, have enabled her to procure
a respectable maintenance for herself and her children. She
keeps a lodging-house at . She is now staying at House
with the , who, I believe, have been all along very kind to
her, and the circumstance is greatly to their credit
I wish to know whether about Whitsuntide would suit you for
coming to Haworth. We often have fine weather just then, at
least I remember last year it was beautiful at that season.
Winter seems to have returned with severity upon us at present,
consequently we are all in the full enjoyment of colds ; much
blowing of noses is heard, and much making of gruel goes on in
the house. How are you all ? Give my best love to your
mother, and believe me, yours, C. BRONTE.
Letter 219
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 21 tf, '47.
DEAR NELL, I am very much obliged to you for your gift,
which you must not undervalue, for I like the articles, they look
extremely pretty and light. They are for wrist frills, are they
not? Will you condescend to accept a scrubby yard of lace
made up into nothing? I thought I would not offer to spoil it by
stitching it into any shape. Your creative fingers will turn it to
better account than my destructive ones. I hope such as it is
they will not pick it out of the envelope at the Bradford Post
Office, where they generally take the liberty of opening letters
when they feel soft as if they contained anything. I had forgotten
all about your birthday and mine, till your letter arrived to remind
me of it. I wish you many happy returns of yours. Are both
Ann and Mercy from home? Of course, your visit to Haworth
must be regulated by Miss Ringrose's movements. I was rather
amused at your fearing I should be jealous. I never thought of
it, Nell. She and I could not be rivals in your affections. You
allot her, I know, a different set of feelings to what you allot me.
She is peculiarly amiable and estimable, I am not amiable, but
still we shall stick to the last I don't doubt. In short, I should as
350 THE BRONTES
soon think of being jealous of Emily and Anne in these days as
of you. If Miss Ringrose does not come to Brookroyd about
Whitsuntide, I should like you to come about the middle of the
week before Whitsunday, if it suits you. I shall feel a good deal
disappointed if the visit is put off I would rather Miss Ringrose
fixed her time in summer, and then I would come to see you
(D.v.) in the autumn. I don't think it will be at all a good plan
to go back with you. We see each other so seldom, that I would
far rather divide the visits. I wish Mrs. N 's daughter may
be a nice child, and that you may get her for a pupil. Remember
me to all. Any news about poor George lately? Yours faith-
fully, C. BRONTE.
Letter 220
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May I2//&, '47.
DEAR ELLEN, We shall all be glad to see you on the Thursday
or Friday of next week, whichever day will suit you best About
what time will you be likely to get here, and how will you come?
By coach to Keighley, or by a gig all the way to Haworth?
There must be no impediments now? I cannot do with them ; I
want very much to see you ; I hope you will be decently comfort-
able while you stay.
Branwell is quieter now and for a good reason ; he has got to
the end of a considerable sum of money, and consequently is
obliged to restrict himself in some degree. You must expect to
find him weaker in mind, and a complete rake in appearance.
I have no apprehension of his being at all uncivil to you ; on the
contrary, he will be as smooth as oil. I pray for fine weather
that we may be able to get out while you stay. Good-bye for the
present. Prepare for much dulness and monotony. Give my
love to all at Brookroyd. Did you get Mary Taylor's letter?
C. BRONTE.
Letter 221
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May 14/yfc, '47.
DEAR ELLEN, Your letter and its contents were most welcome.
You must direct your luggage to Mr. Bronte's, and we will tell
the carrier to inquire for it. The railroad has been opened some
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 851
time, but it only comes as far as Keighley. If you arrive about 4
o'clock in the afternoon, Emily, Anne, and I will all meet you at
the station. We can take tea jovially together at the Devonshire
Arms, and walk home in the cool of the evening. This arrange-
ment will be much better than fagging through four miles in the
heat of noon. Write by return of post if you can, and say if
this plan suits you. Yours, C. BRONTE.
Letter 222
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May ijth y '47.
DEAR NELL, 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 expect 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 Nussey, all will be right : d bientdt.
C. BRONTE.
Letter 223
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May 2oM, '47.
DEAR ELLEN, 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
reproach. . . . This is bitter, but I feel bitter. As to going to
Brookroyd, I will not go near the place till you have been to
Haworth. My respects to all and sundry, accompanied with a
large amount of wormwood and gall, from the effusion 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 unjust, for I am
deeply annoyed. I thought I had arranged your visit tolerably
comfortably for you this time. I may find it more difficult on
another occasion.
852 THE BRONTES
Letter 224
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May 25/V47-
DEAR NELL, I acknowledge I was in fault in my last letter,
and that it was as you say quite unreasonable, especially as it
regards Ann. After all, I cannot deny that she was in the right
to take the chance that offered of going from home. I forgive her,
and I hope she will forgive me for my cross words. ... I have a
small present for Mercy. You must fetch it, for I repeat you shall
come to Haworth before I go to Brookroyd.
I do not say this from pique or anger, I am not angry now, but
because my leaving home at present would from solid reasons be
difficult to manage. If all be well I will visit you in the autumn,
at present I cannot come. Be assured that if I could come I
should, after your last letter, put scruples and pride away and ' go
over into Macedonia 1 at once. I never could manage to help you
yet. You have always found me something like a new servant,
who requires to be told where everything is, and shown how
everything is to be done.
My sincere love to your mother and Mercy. Yours,
C. B.
Letter 225
TO ELLKN NUSSEY
June 5/A, '47.
DEAR ELLEN, I return you Mary Taylor's letter ; it made me
somewhat sad to read it, for I fear she is not quite content with
her existence in New Zealand. She finds it too barren. I believe
she is more home-sick than she will confess. Her gloomy ideas
respecting you and me prove a state of mind far from gay. I
have also received a letter, its tone is similar to your own and its
contents too.
What brilliant weather we have had. Oh ! Nell, I do indeed
regret you could not come to Haworth at the time fixed, these
warm sunny days would have suited us exactly ; but it is not to
be helped. Give my best love to your mother and Mercy. Yours
faithfully, C B.
CURRER, ELMS, AND ACTON BELL 853
Letter 226
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
June 2QM, 1847.
DEAR ELLEN, I return you Miss Ringrose's letter. I was
amused by what she says respecting her wish that, when she
marries, her husband will, at least, have a will of his own, even
should he be a tyrant. Tell her, when she forms that aspiration
again, she must make it conditional ; if her husband has a strong
will, he must also have strong sense, a kind heart, and a thoroughly
correct notion of justice ; because a man with a weak brain, chill
affections^ and a strong will, is merely an intractable fiend ; you
can have no hold of him ; you can never lead him right. A
tyrant under any circumstances is a curse.
When can you come to Haworth? Another period of fine
weather is passing without you. I fear now your visit will be dull
indeed, for it is doubtful whether there will even be a curate to
enliven you. Mr. Nicholls is likely to get a distiict ere long. The
whole duty is too much for papa at his a^e. He is pretty well, but
often complains of weakness. Write again, and tell me how soon
you are likely to come. Yours faithfully, C. BKONTiL
Letter 227
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
August I2///, '47.
DEAR ELLEN, Your letter made us all serious enough, for
though truly thankful that you escaped so well, one cannot but
reflect, with a degree of horror, upon what might have happened ;
had a limb been broken, or had something worse taken place, what
a dreadful conclusion to your visit here ! l What tidings to send to
your mother! What news to send back to Haworth! Indeed, I
am grateful it is no worse. May you be protected from every peril
as effectually! It is evidently urgent that Miss Amelia Ringrose
should have a change of scene ; the sadness and oppression of
mind are part of her complaint, which, it appears to me certain, is
all on the nerves, and by that I do not mean she is fanciful but
that her mind is cramped in some points and over-wrought in
1 A carriage accident.
VOL. I. Z
:i54 THE BRONTES
others, and wants freedom and repose, both of which she will
enjoy at Brookroyd, and therefore to Brookroyd it is to be hoped
her parents will let her migrate without the children.
I received yesterday a letter from Miss Wooler it is written
under the impression that you were still with me and she desires
me to tell you with her love that she has at length procured a copy
of the Sunday Scholar's Christian Year, and hopes soon to take
it to Brookroyd. Miss Catherine, it appears, is gone on a visit to
Scotland, and Miss Sarah has been spending some time at
the house of a former pupil in London, where she had a livery
servant daily at her disposal to accompany her to see all the Lions
of the Capital of which privilege, Miss W. says, she availed
herself freely.
Give my best love to your mother and sisters. Emily and Anne
unite in love to you. Yours thankfully, C. B.
Letter 228
TO ELLKN NILSSEY
August 29^, '47.
DEAR ELLEN, I am very glad to hear Miss Ringrose has come
at last ; glad both for your sake and for hers. I know it would
have been a severe disappointment to you had she failed to come,
and I believe it would have been an injury to her had her visit
been prohibited. You do not say how she is now, but I trust
her health is improved since her arrival at Brookroyd. Cheerful
change and congenial society is, I have no doubt, the best thing
for her. As to my visit, Nell, I certainly do think in my own
mind it would be more judicious to place an interval between
Miss Ringrose's departure and my arrival, than to have us treading
on each other's heels. Consider the matter, and when you have
considered it ripely, I will be guided by your deliberate judgment,
only be sure and give me a few days' notice whatever time you fix.
And be sure also to take into consideration the convenience and
inclinations of your mother and sisters. We have glorious weather
for which we cannot be too thankful. I sincerely hope a day of
general thanksgiving will be appointed after the harvest is got in.
Write to me again soon. Yours, C. B.
CURHEK, ELLIS, AND ACTON HELL 355
Letter 229
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
September 25/A, '47.
DEAR NELL, I got to Leeds all right at ten, but the train was
just gone, and I had to cool my heels at the station for two hours.
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 kindly 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 j sort as Miss Nussey 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 Birstall. However, the inscription A. B. softened me much. It
was at once kind and villainous fn you to send it. You ought first
to be tenderly kissed, and then afterwards as tenderly whipped.
Emily is just now sitting on the floor of the bedroom where I am
writing, looking at her apples. She smiltd when I gave them and
the collar to her as your presents, with an expression at once well
pleased and slightly surprised. Anne thanks you much. All
send their love.
It appears Emily did send off a letter for me yesterday under
the delusion that it would reach me by the evening post. Tell
me what you had to pay for it, and I will send the amount in
postage stamps.
Give my best love to your mother and Ann and Mary, and
believe me, Yours, in a mixture of anger and love, C. B.
Letter 230
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTIT, October 4/$, '47.
MY DEAR MlSS NUSSEY, Many thanks to you for your un-
expected and welcome epistle. Charlotte is well, and meditates
writing to you. Happily for all parties the east wind no longer
prevails. During its continuance she complained of its influence
356 THE BRONTES
as usual. I too suffered from it in some degree, as I always do,
more or less ; but this time, it brought me no reinforcement of
colds and coughs which is what I dread the most. Emily con-
siders it a very uninteresting wind, but it does not affect her
nervous system. Charlotte agrees with me in thinking the l
a very provoking affair. You are quite mistaken about her
parasol, she affirms she brought it back and I can bear witness to
the fact, having seen it yesterday in her possession. As for my
book, I have no wish to see it again till I see you along with it,
and then it will be welcome enough for the sake of the bearer. We
are all here much as you left us. I have no news to tell you, except
that Mr. Nicholls begged a holiday and went to Ireland three or
four weeks ago, and is not expected back till Saturday, but that,
I dare say, is no news at all. We were all and severally pleased
and gratified for your kind and judiciously selected presents, from
papa down to Tabby, or down to myself, perhaps I ought rather
to say. The crab cheese is excellent and likely to be very useful,
but I don't intend to need it. It is not choice, but necessity has
induced me to choose such a tiny sheet of paper for my letter,
having none more suitable at hand ; but perhaps it will contain
as much as you need wish to read, and I to write, for I find I have
nothing more to say, except that your little Tabby must be a
charming little creature. And , and that is all, for as Charlotte
is writing, or about to write to you herself, I need not send any
messages from her. Therefore, accept my best love. I must
not omit the Major's 2 compliments. And believe me to be your
affectionate friend, ANNE BRONTE.
Letter 231
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
October y/, '47.
DEAR ELLEN, I have been expecting you to write to me, but
as you don't do it, and as moreover you may possibly think it is
my turn, and not yours, though on that point I am far from clear,
I shall just send you one of my scrubby notes for the express
purpose of eliciting a reply. Anne was very much pleased with
1 The original of this letter is lost, so that it is not possible to fill in the hiatus.
2 Emily who was called the Major, because on one occasion she guarded Miss
Nussey from the attentions of Mi. \Veightman during an evening walk.
CURRER, ELLIS, AND ACTON BELL 357
your letter ; I presume she has answered it before now. I would
fain hope that her health is a little stronger than it was, and her
spirits a little better, but she leads much too sedentary a life, and
is continually sitting stooping either over a book or over her desk.
It is with difficulty we can prevail 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 sea-side.
I am sorry I inoculated you with fears about the east wind.
I did not feel the last blast so severely as I have often done. My
sympathies were much awakened by the touching anecdote re-
specting you, Dr. Lewis, and Mrs. Jenkins. Did you salute your
boy-messenger with a box on the ear the next time he came across
you? I think I should have been strongly tempted to have done
as much. Mr. Nicholls is not yet returned. I am sorry to say that
many of the parishioners express a desire that he should not
trouble himself to recross the Channel. This is not the feeling
that ought to exist between shepherd and flock. It is not such
as is prevalent at Birstall. It is not such as poor Mr. Weightman
excited. Mr. and Mrs. Grant called a day or two ago, and were
full of unintelligible apologies about not having paid you more
attention while you were here. One cannot owe a grudge where
no suffering is inflicted. When you write, dear Nell, be sure to
tell me how Miss Ringrose is getting on ; I certainly know few
persons whom I have not seen that excite in me more interest than
she does.
Give my best love to all, and believe me, yours faithfully,
C. BRONTE.
358 THE BRONTES
CHAPTER XV
'THE PROFESSOR' AND 'JANE EYRE 1
FULL justice has never been done to the real excellence of
Charlotte Bronte's first novel The Professor. It was
rejected by many publishers, and has been dispraised by
competent critics, but to some of us it will always stand
forth as a remarkable work of genius, inferior though it
be to the three great romances that succeeded it from
the same pen. Six publishers in succession rejected the
manuscript. It returned again and again to the author,
who with the inexperience of a novice often sent it off
again on its travels in the tell-tale wrappers that told of
previous rejections. Mrs. Gaskell informs us that it was
actually returned by a short-sighted publisher while the
author was at Manchester and on the very day that her
father underwent his operation for the eyes. Mrs.
Gaskell tells further of the courage with which she not only
sent off The Professor once again upon its travels, but
began a second novel Jane Jiyre in a certain darkened
room in Boundary Street, Manchester, while in attendance
on her father. The first record of her book during these
journeyings is contained in a letter to the firm which
ultimately issued all her works.
Letter 232
TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER AND CO.
July I5M, 1847
GENTLEMEN, I beg to submit to your consideration the ac-
companying manuscript. I should be glad to learn whether it
6 THE PROFESSOR' AND 'JANE EYRE' 859
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, Bradford, Yorkshire.
CURRER BELL.
Letter 233
TO MESSRS, SMITH, ELDER AND CO.
August 2nd, 1847.
GENTLEMEN, About three weeks since I sent for your con-
sideration 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 convenience, whether it be
such as you can undertake to publish. I am, gentlemen, yours
respectfully, CURRER BELL.
I enclose a directed cover for your reply.
The reply when it came was more encouraging than any
previous publisher had given. In a * Biographical Notice '
to the second edition of Wuthering Heights she says :
As a forlorn hope he tried one publishing house more. Ere
long, in a much shorter space than that on which experience had
taught him to calculate, there came a letter, which he opened in
the dreary anticipation of finding two hard, hopeless lines, inti-
mating that f 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
acceptance would have done. It was added that a work in three
volumes would meet with careful attention.
Letter 234
TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER AND CO.
August 24/7*, 1847.
I now send you per rail a MS. entitled Jane Eyre, a novel in
three volumes, by Currer Bell. I find I cannot prepay the carriage
of the parcel, as money for that purpose is not received at the
860 THE BRONTfiS
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, Yorkshire, as
there is a risk of letters otherwise directed not reaching me at
present. To save trouble, I enclose an envelope.
CURRER BELL.
Jane Eyre appeared on October 16, 1847. Meanwhile
Emilys novel Wuthcring Heights and Anne's novel
Agnes Grey had been accepted by another publisher,
Mr. Thomas Cautley Newby of Mortimer Street. He
had demanded money in part payment, and had apparently
driven rather a hard bargain with the two unknown writers,
Ellis and Acton Bell. Not till Jane Eyre had become
a success, however, did he issue the two books, taking
care to give it out to ' the trade ' that Ellis, Acton, and
Currer Bell were a single writer.
Jane Eyre was a success from the first The reviewers
were enthusiastic. The second edition of Jane Eyre, of
which a copy is before me, contains no less than seven
pages of 'opinions of the press.' 'Decidedly the best
novel of the season,' said the Westminster Review, and
others were similarly laudatory. Here, however, are
further letters which better tell the tale than any para-
phrase of them could do. The first is to Mr. William
Smith Williams the ' reader ' or literary adviser to Smith
and Elder, for whom she soon came to feel a strong
friendship.
Letter 235
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
October tfh, '47.
DEAR SIR, I thank you sincerely for your last letter. It
is valuable to me because it furnishes me with a sound opinion
on points respecting which I desired to be advised ; be assured I
shall do what I can to profit by your wise and good counsel.
'THE PROFESSOR' AND 'JANE EYRE' 361
Permit me, however, sir, to caution you against forming too
favourable an idea of my powers, or too sanguine an expectation
of what they can achieve. I am myself sensible both of deficien-
cies of capacity and disadvantages of circumstance which will, I
fear, render it somewhat difficult for me to attain popularity as an
author. The eminent writers you mention Mr. Thackeray, Mr.
Dickens, Mrs. Marsh, 1 etc., doubtless enjoyed facilities for observa-
tion such as I have not ; certainly they possess a knowledge of
the world, whether intuitive or acquired, 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 unworthy. Yours respectfully, C. BELL.
Letter 236
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
October 9^, 1847.
DEAR SIR, I do not know whether the Dublin University
Magazine is included in the list of periodicals to which Messrs
Smith & Elder are accustomed to send copies of new publica-
tions, but as a former work, the joint production of myself and
my two relatives, Ellis and Acton Bell, received a somewhat
favourable notice in that magazine, it appears to me that if the
editor's attention were drawn to Jane Eyre he might possibly
bestow on it also a few words of remark.
The Critic and the Athenceum also gave comments on the work
I allude to. The review in the first-mentioned paper was un-
expectedly and generously eulogistic, that in the Athenccum more
qualified, but still not discouraging. I mention these circumstances
and leave it to you to judge whether any advantage is derivable
from them.
You dispensed me from the duty of answering your last letter,
1 Anne Marsh (1791-1874), a daughter of James Caldwell, J.P., of Linley Wood,
Staffordshire, married a son of the senior partner in the London banking firm of Marsh,
Stacey, and Graham. Her first volume appeared in 1834, and contained, under the
title of Two Old Men's J^ales, two stories, The Admiral's Daughter and The Deformed^
which won considerable popularity. Emilia Wyndham, Time the Avenger, Mount
Sort/, and Castle Avon, are perhaps the best of her many subsequent novels.
862 THE BRONTfiS
but my sense of the justness of the views it expresses will not
permit me to neglect this opportunity both of acknowledging it
and thanking you for it. Yours sincerely, C. BELL.
Letter 237
TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER AND CO.
October \tyh> 1847.
GENTLEMEN, The six copies of Jane Eyre reached me this
morning. You have given the work every advantage 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.
Letter 238
TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER AND 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 Athen&um has a style of its own,
which I respect, but cannot exactly relish ; still, when one con-
siders that journals of that standing have a dignity to maintain
which would be deranged by a too cordial recognition of the claims
of an obscure author, I suppose there is every reason to be satisfied.
Meantime a brisk sale would be effectual support under the
hauteur of lofty critics. I am, gentlemen, yours respectfully,
C BELL.
Letter 239
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
HA WORTH, October 28^, 1847.
DEAR SIR, Your last letter was very pleasant to me to read,
and is very cheering to reflect on. I feel honoured in being
approved by Mr. Thackeray, because I approve Mr. Thackeray.
This may sound presumptuous perhaps, but I mean that I have
long recognised in his writings genuine talent, such as I admired,
'THE PROFESSOR 1 AND 'JANE EYRE' 868
such as I wondered at and delighted in. No author seems to
distinguish so exquisitely as he does dross from ore, the real from
the counferfcit. 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.
You are right in having faith in the reality of Helen Burns's
character ; she was real enough. I have exaggerated nothing
there. I abstained from recording much that I remember respect-
ing her, lest the narrative should sound incredible. Knowing
this, I could not but smile at the quiet self-complacent dogmatism
with which one of the journals lays it down that ( such creations
as Helen Burns are very beautiful but very untrue.'
The plot of Jane Eyre may be a hackneyed one. Mr. Thackeray
remarks that it is familiar to him. But having read comparatively
few novels I never chanced to meet with it, and I thought it
original. The work referred to by the critic of the Athcnceum I
had not the good fortune to hear of.
The Weekly Chronicle seems inclined to identify me with Mrs.
Marsh. I never had the pleasure of perusing a line of Mrs.
Marsh's in my life, but I wish very much to read her works, and
shall profit by the first opportunity of doing so. I hope I shall
not find I have been an unconscious imitator.
I would still endeavour to keep my expectations low respecting
the ultimate success of Jane Eyre. But my desire that it should
succeed augments, for you have taken much trouble about the
work, and it would grieve me seriously if your active efforts
should be baffled and your sanguine hopes disappointed. Excuse
me if I again remark that I fear they are rather too sanguine : it
would be better to moderate them. What will the critics of the
monthly reviews and magazines be likely to see in Jane Eyre (if
indeed they deign to read it), which will win from them even
a stinted modicum of approbation? It has no learning, no
research, it discusses no subject of public interest. A mere
domestic novel will, I fear, seem trivial to men of large views and
solid attainments.
Still, efforts so energetic and indefatigable as yours ought to
realise a result in some degree favourable, and I trust they will.
I remain, dear sir, yours respectfully, C. BELL.
I have just received the Tablet and the Morning Advertiser.
Neither paper seems inimical to the book, but I see it produces a
364 THE BRONTfiS
very different effect on different natures. I was amused at the
analysis in the Tablet, it is oddly expressed in some parts. I
think the critic did not always seize my meaning ; he speaks, for
instance, of 'Jane's inconceivable alarm at Mr. Rochester's
repelling manner.' I do not remember that.
Letter 240
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
November 6tk, 1 847.
DEAR SIR, I should be obliged to you if you will direct the
enclosed to be posted in London as I wish to avoid giving any
clue to my place of residence, publicity not being my ambition.
It is an answer to the letter I received yesterday, favoured by
you. This letter bore the signature G. H. Lewes, and the writer
informs me that it is his intention to write a critique on Jane
Eyre for the December number of Eraser s Magazine, and possibly
also, he intimates, a brief notice to the Westminster Review.
Upon the whole he seems favourably inclined to the work, though
he hints disapprobation of the melodramatic portions.
Can you give me any information respecting Mr. Lewes?
what station he occupies in the literary world and what works he
has written? He styles himself 'a fellow novelist' There is
something in the candid tone of his letter which inclines me to
think well of him.
I duly received your letter containing the notices from the
Critic, and the two magazines, and also the Morning Post. I
hope all these notices will work together for good ; they must
at any rate give the book a certain publicity. Yours sincerely,
C. BELL.
The literary lights of London began now to shed their
beams. George Henry Lewes was one of the first. He
wrote thus to Mrs. Gaskell :
When /<0 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
Eraser'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 1 847.
4 THE PROFESSOR' AND 'JANE EYRE' 865
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.
Letter 241
TO G. H. LEWES
November 6M, 1 847.
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 cheering commendation
and valuable advice.
You warn me to beware of melodrama, and you exhort me to
adhere to the real. When I first began to write, so impressed was
I with the truth of the principles you advocate, that I determined
to take Nature and Truth as my sole guides, and to follow to their
very footprints ; I restrained imagination, eschewed romance,
repressed excitement ; 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 succession ; 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
libraries 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 exemption
from censure, but in order to direct your attention to the root of
certain literary evils. If, in your forthcoming article in Fraser,
you would bestow a few words of enlightenment on the public who
support the circulating libraries, you might, with your powers, do
some good.
You advise me, too, not to stray far from the ground of experi-
ence, as I become weak when I enter the region of fiction ; and
you say 'real experience is perennially interesting, and to all men/
I feel that this also is true ; but, dear sir, is not the real experi-
ence of each individual very limited ? And, if a writer dwells upon
that solely or principally, is he not in danger of repeating himself,
866 THE BRONTES
and also of becoming an egotist ? 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 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 ?
I shall anxiously search the next number of Fraser for your
opinions on these points. Believe me, dear sir, yours gratefully,
C. BELL.
Letter 242
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
November io/^, 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 fortitude ; even if it
goes against me I shall not murmur; ability 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 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 consequently impressed with a somewhat
weighty notion of his own merits, thought them too vast to be
concentrated in a single individual, and accordingly divided him-
self 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.
A prose work, by Ellis and Acton, will soon appear: it should
have been out, indeed, long since ; for the first proof-sheets were
'THE PROFESSOR' AND 'JANE EYRE* 367
already in the press at the commencement of last August, before
Currer Bell had placed the MS. of Jane Eyre in your hand^. Mr.
Newby, however, does not do business like Messrs. Smith &
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 businesslike
and gentlemanlike, energetic and considerate.
I should like to know if Mr. Newby often acts as he has done
to my relations, or whether this is an exceptional instance 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 questions are impertinent you
are, of course, at liberty to decline answering them. I am yours
respectfully, C. BELL.
Letter 243
TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER AND CO.
November ijM, 1847.
GENTLEMEN, I have to acknowledge the receipt of yours of
the nth inst., and to thank you for the information it communi-
cates. The notice from the People 's Journal also duly reached
me, and this morning I received 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 followed
by other notices of a similar nature. The way to detraction has
been pointed out, and will probably be pursued. Most future
notices will in all likelihood have a reflection 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, C. BELL.
Letter 244
TO G. H. LEWES
November 2ind, 1 847.
DEAR SIR, I have now read Ranthorpe. I could not get it till
a day or two ago ; but I have got it and read it at last ; and in
868 THE BRONTfiS
reading Ranthorpe I have read a new book not a reprint not
a reflection of any other book, but a new book.
1 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 Ranthorpe.
You were a stranger to me. I did not particularly respect 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. Now
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 severity ; and besides,
though I am now sure you are a just, discriminating man, yet
being mortal, you must be fallible; and if any part of your
censure galls me too keenly to the quick gives me deadly pain
I shall for the present 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, C. BELL.
Letter 245
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
November 27th, 1847.
DEAR SIR, Will you have the goodness in future to direct all
communications to me to Haworth, near Kcigliley, 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 Jerrold's Newspaper. The Examiner^
it appears, has not yet given a notice. I am, dear sir, yours
respectfully, C. BELL.
Letter 246
TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER AND CO.
November 3O/^, 1 847.
GENTLEMEN, I have received the Economist, but not the
Examiner ; from some cause that paper has missed, as the
'THE PROFESSOR ' AND 'JANE EYRE' 869
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 Withering
Heights. I am, gentlemen, yours respectfully, C. BELL.
Letter 247
TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER AND CO.
December I.?/, 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
understood 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, gentlemen, 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.
Letter 248
TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER AND CO.
December loth, 1847.
GENTLEMEN, I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your letter
enclosing a bank post bill, for which I thank you. Having al-
ready expressed my sense of your kind and upright 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 able 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 1 am
VOL. I. 2 A
370 THE BRONTES
truly glad to hear from Mr. Williams likewise ; 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.
Meanwhile we must not forget Miss Ellen Nussey.
That the letters to her friend during the last three months
of this memorable year were not numerous is not sur-
prising. So much energy must have gone into the new
correspondence with Cornhill. But a visit to Brookroyd
which took place while the pages of Jane Eyre were
being passed for press, and her friend's visit to Haworth,
partially account for the fact that there are but few letters
of this period.
Letter 249
TO ELLKN NUSSEY
November 2gtk t '47.
DEAR ELLEN, The old pang of fearing you should fancy I
forget you drives me to write to you, though heaven knows I
have precious little to say, and if it were not that I wish to hear
from you, and hate to appear disregardful when I am not so, I
might let another week or perhaps two slip away without writing.
R. Robinson's letter, as you say, docs her credit. There is a pleasing
simplicity and absence of affectation in the style. There is much
in R.'s letter that 1 thought very melancholy. Poor girlb ! theirs,
I fear, must be a very unhappy home. Yours and mine, with all
disadvantages, all absences of luxury and wealth and style, are I
doubt not, happier. I wish to goodness you were rich that you
might give Miss a temporary asylum, and a relief from
uneasiness, suffering and gloom. What you say about the effects
of ether on C. S. rather startled me. I had always consoled
myself with the idea of having some teeth extracted some day
under its soothing influence, but now I should think twice before
1 consented to inhale it ; one would not like to make a fool of
oneself. When you write again, and let it be soon, don't forget
to give me a bulletin of R.'s health. I am, yours faithfully,
C. BRONTE.
4 THE PROFESSOR' AND MANE EYRE' 371
Letter 250
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
Thursday,
DEAR ELLEN, I shall expect you on Saturday, and have ordered
a gig to meet you at Keighley Station at 3$ past. Don't dis-
appoint me if you can possibly help it. I am very sorry to hear
your mother is not so well, but trust she will be better. Give
her my love. Mercy is tiresome. At Haworth you will have
rest and repose at any rate. I truly long to see you, C. B.
Letter 251
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
December , 1847.
DEAR ELLEN, It was high time you wrote ; I should soon have
begun to think something was wrong if you had delayed much
longer.
I am glad Miss Ringrose has returned with you, both for her
sake and yours ; still, with two visitors in the house you must
have plenty to do. It is really most desirable to be able to
provide attendance on such occasions without having constantly
to deprive oneself of the pleasure of one's guests' company.
People who can afford servants who can comfortably trust
the preparation of meals to the superintendence of a cook
enjoy a very great privilege under such circumstances.
I have no patience with either your brother John or the Duke
of Devonshire. In the first place, what an illogical ass the Duke
must be to make one brother responsible for the acts of another
to cut John because Henry had made what seems to me a not
unreasonable demand that of compensation for improvements
on a living in the Duke's gift !
In the second place, what earthly business had John to write
his mother and sisters an unpleasant letter on the subject?
What right had he to annoy them ? I intensely dislike some of
his conduct to the female members of his family it is unjust, it
is coldly tyrannous. His brothers wrong him and annoy him?
It is possible ; but why mix up his sisters, his mother, with conduct
in which they had no share why lavish his revenge on them ?
I should think Rosy Ringrose, from what you say, must be a
872 THE BRONTES
very attractive personage to the ' worthier sex ' as some say, or
the ' coarser sex ' as others phrase it much more so probably
than her sister, though for sterling worth Amelia no doubt bears
away the palm. A pretty Martha Taylor (for Martha, though
piquant, was not pretty) must be a very charming creature indeed.
I had a letter from Mary Taylor last week short and without
one word of news in it, except that she was in better health and
spirits than she had usually enjoyed in Europe. She asks after
you.
I wish all Brookroyd a happy Christmas and to yourself double
good wishes. C. BRONTE.
Letter 252
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
December uth> 1847.
DEAR SIR, I have delayed writing to you in the hope that the
parcel you sent would reach me ; but after making due inquiries
at the Keighley, Bradford, and Leeds Stations and obtaining no
news of it, I must conclude that it has been lost.
However, I have contrived to get a sight of Frasers Magazine
from another quarter, so that I have only to regret Mr. Home's
kind present. Will you thank that gentleman for me when you
see him, and tell him that the railroad is to blame for my not
having acknowledged his courtesy before ?
Mr. Lewes is very lenient : I anticipated a degree of severity
which he has spared me. This notice differs from all the other
notices. He must be a man of no ordinary mind: there is a
strange sagacity evinced in some of his remarks : yet he is not
always right. I am afraid if he knew how much I write from
intuition, how little from actual knowledge, he would think me
presumptuous ever to have written at all. 1 am sure such would
be his opinion if he knew the narrow bounds of my attainments,
the limited scope of my reading.
There are moments when 1 can hardly credit that anything
I have done should be found worthy to give even transitory
pleasure to such men as Mr. Thackeray, Sir John Herschel, Mr.
Fonblanque, Leigh Hunt, and Mr. Lewes that my humble
efforts should have had such a result is a noble reward.
I was glad and proud to get the bank bill Mr. Smith sent me
yesterday, but I hardly ever felt delight equal to that which
'THE PROFESSOR ' AND 'JANE EYRE' 373
cheered me when I received your letter containing an extract
from a note by Mr. Thackeray, in which he expressed himself
gratified with the perusal of Jane Eyre. Mr. Thackeray is a keen,
ruthless satirist. I had never perused his writings but with
blended feelings of admiration and indignation. Critics, it
appears to me, do not know what an intellectual boa-constrictor
he is. They call him 'humorous,' 4 brilliant' his is a most
scalping humour, a most deadly brilliancy : he does not play with
his prey, he coils round it and crushes it in his rings. He seems
terribly in earnest in his war against the falsehood and follies of
' the world/ I often wonder what that ' world ' thinks of him. I
should think the faults of such a man would be distrust of any-
thing good in human nature galling suspicion of bad motives
lurking behind good actions. Are these his failings?
They are, at any rate, the failings of his written sentiments, for
he cannot find in his heart to represent either man or woman as
at once good and wise. Does he not too much confound bene-
volence with weakness and wisdom with mere craft ?
But I must not intrude on your time by too long a letter.
Believe me, yours respectfully, C. BELL.
Letter 253
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
UAWORIH, December i3//r, 1847.
DEAR SIR, Your advice merits and shall have my most
serious attention. I feel the force of your reasoning. It is my
wish to do my best in the career on which I have entered. So
I shall study and strive ; and by dint of time, thought, and effort,
1 hope yet to deserve in part the encouragement you and others
have so generously accorded me. But time will be necessary
that I feel more than ever. In case of Jane Eyre reaching a
second edition, I should wish some few corrections to be made,
and will prepare an errata. How would the accompanying
preface do ? I thought it better to be brief.
The Observer has just reached me. I always compel myself to
read the analysis in every newspaper-notice. It is a just punish-
ment, a clue though severe humiliation for faults of plan and
construction. I wonder if the analyses of other fictions read as
absurdly as that of Jane Eyre always does. I am, dear sir, yours
respectfully, C BELL.
374 THE BRONTES
Letter 254
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
December I4/A, 1847.
DEAR SIR, I have just received your kind and welcome letter
of the nth. I shall proceed at once to discuss the principal
subject of it.
Of course a second work has occupied my thoughts much. I
think it would be premature in me to undertake a serial now
I am not yet qualified for the task : I have neither gained a
sufficiently firm footing with the public, nor do I possess sufficient
confidence in myself, nor can I boast those unflagging animal
spirits, that even command of the faculty of composition, which
as you say, and, I am persuaded, most justly, is an indispensable
requisite to success in serial literature. I decidedly feel that ere
I change my ground I had better make another venture in the
three-volume novel form.
Respecting the plan of such a work, I have pondered it, but as
yet with very unsatisfactory results. Three commencements
have I essayed, but all three displease me. A few days since
I looked over The Professor. I found the beginning very feeble,
the whole narrative deficient in incident and in general attractive-
ness. Yet the middle and latter portion of the work, all that
relates to Brussels, the Belgian school, etc., is as good as I can
write: it contains more pith, more substance, more reality, in my
judgment, than much of Jane Eyre. It gives, I think, a new view
of a grade, an occupation, and a class of characters all very
commonplace, very insignificant in themselves, but not more so
than the materials composing that portion of Jane Eyre which
seems to please most generally.
My wish is to recast The Professor, add as well as I can what is
deficient, retrench some parts, develop others, and make of it a
three-volume work no easy task, I know, yet I trust not an
impracticable one.
I have not forgotten that The Professor was set aside in my
agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder ; therefore before I take
any step to execute the plan I have sketched, I should wish to
have your judgment on its wisdom. You read or looked over the
MS. what impression have you now respecting its worth ? and
what confidence have you that I can make it better than it is ?
Feeling certain that from business reasons as well as from
'THE PROFESSOR' AND 'JANE EYRE' 375
natural integrity you will be quite candid with me, I esteem it
a privilege to be able thus to consult you. Believe me, dear sir,
yours respectfully, C BELL.
Withering Heights is, I suppose, at length published, at least
Mr. Newby has sent the authors their six copies. I wonder how
it will be received. I should say it merits the epithets of 'vigor-
ous* and 'original' much more decidedly than Jane Eyre did.
Agnes Grey should please such critics as Mr. Lewes, for it is
1 true* and ' unexaggerated ' enough. The books are not well got
up they abound in errors of the press. On a former occasion
I expressed myself with perhaps too little reserve regarding Mr.
Newby, yet I cannot but feel, and feel painfully, that Ellis and
Acton have not had the justice at his hands that I have had at
those of Messrs. Smith & Elder.
Mr. R. H. Home 1 sent her his Orion.
Letter 255
TO R. II. HORNE
December i$th, 1847.
DEAR SIR, You will have thought me strangely tardy in
acknowledging your courteous present, but the fact is it never
reached me till yesterday ; the parcel containing it was missent
consequently it lingered a fortnight on its route.
1 have to thank you, not merely for the gift of a little book of
137 pages, but for that of a poem. Very real, very sweet is the
poetry of Orion ; there are passages I shall recur to again and
yet again passages instinct both with power and beauty. All
through it is genuine pure from one flaw of affectation, rich in
noble imagery. How far the applause of critics has rewarded the
author of Orion I do not know, but I think the pleasure he
enjoyed in its composition must have been a bounteous meed in
itself. You could not, I imagine, have written that epic without
at times deriving deep happiness from your work.
With sincere thanks for the pleasure its perusal has afforded
me, I remain, clear sir, yours faithfully, C. BELL.
1 Richard Ilengist Home (1803-1884). Published Cosmo dc Medici, 1837; Orion y
an epic poem in ten books, passed through six editions in 1843, the first three editions
being issued at a farthing ; A New Spirit of the A&e, 1844 ; Letters of E. B. Browning
to R. H. Horne, 1877.
376 THE BRONTES
Letter 256
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
HAWORTH, December i$th, 1847.
DEAR SIR, I write a line in haste to apprise you that I have
got the parcel. It was sent, through the carelessness of the
railroad people, to Bingley, where it lay a fortnight, till a Haworth
carrier happening to pass that way brought it on to me.
I was much pleased to find that you had been kind enough to
forward the Mirror along with Fraser. The article on * the last
new novel ' is in substance similar to the notice in the Sunday
Times. One passage only excited much interest in me ; it was
that where allusion is made to some former work which the
author of Jane Eyre is supposed to have published there, I own,
my curiosity was a little stimulated. The reviewer cannot mean
the little book of rhymes to which Currer Bell contributed a
third ; but as that, and Jane Eyre, and a brief translation of some
French verses sent anonymously to a magazine, are the sole
productions of mine that have ever appeared in print, I am
puzzled to know to what else he can refer.
The reviewer is mistaken, as he is in perverting my meaning,
in attributing to me designs I know not, principles I disown.
I have been greatly pleased with Mr. R. H. Home's poem of
Orion. Will you have the kindness to forward to him the enclosed
note, and to correct the address if it is not accurate? Believe me,
dear sir, yours respectfully, C. BELL.
Letter 257
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
December 2 1 sf, 1 847.
DEAR SIR, I am, for my own part, dissatisfied with the
preface I sent I fear it savours of flippancy. If you see no
objection I should prefer substituting the enclosed. It is rather
more lengthy, but it expresses something I have long wished to
express.
Mr. Smith is kind indeed to think of sending me The Jar of
Honey. When I receive the book I will write to him. I cannot
thank you sufficiently for your letters, and I can give you but a
faint idea of the pleasure they afford me ; they seem to introduce
'THE PROFESSOR' AND 'JANE EYRE' 377
such light and life to the torpid retirement where we live like
dormice. But, understand this distinctly, you must never write
to me except when you have both leisure and inclination. I
know your time is too fully occupied and too valuable to be often
at the service of any one individual.
You are not far wrong in your judgment respecting Wuthering
Heights and Agnes Grey. Ellis has a strong, original mind, full
of strange though sombre power. When he writes poetry that
power speaks in language at once condensed, elaborated, and
refined, but in prose it breaks forth in scenes which shock more
than they attract. Ellis will improve, however, because he knows
his defects. Agnes Grey is the mirror of the mind of the writer.
The orthography and punctuation of the books are mortifying to
a degree : almost all the errors that were corrected in the proof-
sheets appear intact in what should have been the fair copies. If
Mr. Newby always does business in this way, few authors would
like to have him for their publisher a second time. Believe me,
dear sir, yours respectfully, C. BELL.
Letter 258
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
HAWORTH, December 2yd, 1847.
DEAR SIR, I am glad that you and Messrs. Smith & Elder
approve the second preface.
I send an errata of the first volume, and part of the second. I
will send the rest of the corrections as soon as possible.
Will the enclosed dedication suffice? I have made it brief,
because I wished to avoid any appearance of pomposity or pre-
tension.
The notice in the Church of England Journal gratified me much,
and chiefly because it was the Church of England Journal. What-
ever such critics as he of the Mirror may say, I love the Church
of England. Her ministers, indeed, I do not regard as infallible
personages. I have seen too much of them for that, but to the
Establishment, with all her faults the profane Athanasian creed
preluded I am sincerely attached.
Is the forthcoming critique on Mr. Thackeray's writings in the
Edinburgh Review written by Mr. Lewes ? I hope it is. Mr.
Lewes, with his penetrating sagacity and fine acumen, ought to
be able to do the author of Vanity Fair justice. Only he must
378 THE BRONTfiS
not bring him down to the level 01 rieicung he is far, far above
Fielding. It appears to me that Fielding's style is arid, and
his views of life and human nature coarse, compared with
Thackeray's.
With many thanks for your kind wishes, and a cordial re-
ciprocation of them, I remain, dear sir, yours respectfully,
C. BELL.
On glancing over this scrawl, I find it so illegibly written that
I fear you will hardly be able to decipher it; but the cold is
partly to blame for this my fingers are numb.
Letter 259
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
December 3U/, 1847.
DEAR SIR, I think, for the reasons you mention, it is better
to substitute author for editor. \ should not be ashamed to be
considered the author of Wuthcring Heights and Agnes Grey, but,
possessing no real claim to that honour, I would rather not have
it attributed to me, thereby depriving the true authors of their
just meed. 1
You do very rightly and very kindly to tell me the objections
1 A cutting fiom The Atlas newspaper was found among others in Emily Bronte's
dcsls. ITeie is the opening of its review of Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey :
* About two years ago a small volume of poems by " Currer, Acton, and Ellis " Bell was
given to the woikl. The poems were of varying excellence ; those by Currer Bell, for
the most part, exhibiting the highest order of merit ; but, as a whole, the little work
pioduced little or no sensation, and was speedily forgotten. Currer, Acton, and Ellis
Hell have now all come before us as novelists, and all with so much success as to make
their future career a matter of interesting speculation in the literary world.
Whethei, as there is little reason to believe, the names which we have written are the
genuine names of actual personages whether they are, on the other hand, mere
publishing names, as is our own private conviction whether they represent three
distinct individuals, or whether a single personage is the actual representative of the
* three gentlemen at once ' of the title-pageswhether the authorship of the poems and
the novels is to be assigned to one gentleman or one lady, to three gentlemen or three
ladies, or to a mixed male and female triad of authors are questions over which the
curious may puzzle themselves, but are matters really of little account. One thing is
certain ; as in the poems, so in the novels, the signature of " Currer Bell " is attached to
pre-eminently the best performance. We were the first to welcome the authoi of Jane
Eytc as a new writer of no ordinary power. A new edition of that singular work has
been called for, and we do not doubt that its success has done much to ensure a favour-
able reception for the volumes which are now before us.'
'THE PROFESSOR 1 AND 'JANE EYRE' 379
made against Jane Eyre they are more essential than the praises.
I feel a sort of heart-ache when I hear the book called 'godless 1
and ' pernicious ' by good and earnest-minded men ; but I know
that heart-ache will be salutary at least I trust so.
What is meant by the charges of trickery and artifice I have
yet to comprehend. It was no art in me to write a tale it was
no trick in Messrs. Smith & Elder to publish it. Where do the
trickery and artifice lie ?
I have received the Scotsman, and was greatly amused to see
Jane Eyre likened to Rebecca Sharp the resemblance would
hardly have occurred to me.
I wish to send this note by to-day's post, and must therefore
conclude in haste. I am, dear sir, yours respectfully,
C. BELL.
380 THE BRONTES
CHAPTER XVI
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP
IT is at this point that the letters of Charlotte Bronte
become profoundly interesting. Hers was a courageous,
independent nature, and she delighted at all times to say
what she thought about men and things. It was not until
she came into contact with London literary life that real
opportunity was afforded her of a direct expression of her
outlook. If the letters to M. H^ger had not been destroyed
we should doubtless have found in them the beginnings of
that disposition to fearless opinion upon books and men in
which M. Heger encouraged his pupil. The letters we have
read so far those written before Jane Eyre was published
have been addressed for the most part to her friend Ellen
Nussey. Miss Nussey was a kindly, amiable girl whom
those who knew her as a woman will recall with reverence
as devout, hero-worshipping, but of no strong intellectual
or critical capacity. She was one of thousands of estimable
churchwomen who place the portraits of the bishop of the
diocese and their parish priest upon their mantelpiece, and
whose life in the main centres round their Church. We have
from Charlotte in a later letter to Mr. Williams a quite frank
analysis of her friend's nature. Henceforth she is to live
in a wider world, and the attraction of her letters increases
accordingly. Mr. William Smith Williams, her principal
correspondent, was in many ways a remarkable man.
Charlotte has emphasised the fact that she adapted
herself to her correspondents, and in her letters to
Mr. Williams we have her at her very best. Mr.
r (( (Unun (^///////TV MuvnA&tof..
Jn>t<><jntli /// //.'< ,>"// M/r-//^/Y\ '////// T
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 381
Williams occupied for many years the post of ' reader ' in
the firm of Smith & Elder. That is a position scarcely
less honourable and important than authorship itself. In
our own days Mr. George Meredith and Viscount Morley
have been 'readers,' and Mr. James Payn once held the
same post in the firm which published the Bronte novels.
Mr. Williams, who was born in 1800, and died in 1875,
had an interesting career even before he became associated
with Smith & Elder. In his younger days he was
apprenticed to Taylor & Hessey of Fleet Street ; and he
used to relate how his boyish ideals of Coleridge were
shattered on beholding, for the first time, the bulky and
ponderous figure of the great talker. When Keats left
England, for an early grave in Rome, it was Mr.
Williams who saw him off. Hazlitt, Leigh Hunt, and
many other well-known men of letters were friendly with
Mr. Williams from his earliest days, and he had for
brother-in-law, Wells, the author of Joseph and his Brethren.
In his association with Smith & Elder he secured the
friendship of Thackeray, of Mrs. Gaskell, and of many
other writers. Some of Mrs. Gaskell's letters to him are
in my possession. He attracted the notice of Ruskin by
a keen enthusiasm for the work of Turner. It was he, in
fact, who compiled that most interesting volume of Selec-
tions from the Writings of John Ruskin^ which has long
gone out of print in its first form, but is still greatly sought
for by the curious. 1
1 In connection with this volume I may print here a letter written by John Ruskin's
father to Mr. Williams.
DENMARK HILL, November 2$th, 1861.
MY DEAR SIR, I am requested by Mrs. Ruskin to return her very sincere and
grateful thanks for your kind consideration in presenting her with so beautifully bound
a copy of the Selections from her son's writings ; and which she will have great pleasure
in seeing by the side of the very magnificent volumes which the liberality of the
gentlemen of your house has already enriched our library with.
Mrs. Ruskin joins me in offering congratulations on the great judgment you have
displayed in your Selections^ and, sending my own thanks and those of my son for the
handsome gift to Mrs. Ruskin, I am, my dear sir, yours very truly,
JOHN JAMES RUSKIN,
382 THE BRONTES
What Charlotte Bronte thought of Mr. Williams is
sufficiently revealed by the multitude of letters which I
have the good fortune to print, and that she had a reason
to be grateful to him is obvious when we recollect that to
him, and to him alone, was due her first recognition. The
parcel containing The Professor had, as we have seen,
wandered from publisher to publisher before it came into
the hands of Mr. Williams. It was he who recognised
what all of us recognise now, that in spite of faults it
is really a most considerable book. I am inclined to
think that it was refused by Smith & Elder rather on
account of its insufficient length than for any other
cause. At any rate it was the length which was assigned
to her as a reason for non-acceptance. She was told
that another book, which would make the accredited
three-volume novel, might receive more favourable con-
sideration.
Charlotte Bronte took Mr. Williams's advice. She had
already written Jane Eyre, and she despatched it quickly
to Smith & Elder's house in Cornhill. It was read by
Mr. Williams, and read afterwards by Mr. George Smith ;
and it was published with the success that we know.
Charlotte awoke to find herself famous. She began a
regular correspondence with Mr. Williams, and not less
than a hundred letters were sent to him, most of them
treating of interesting literary matters.
One of Mr. Williams's daughters, I may add, married
Mr. Lowes Dickinson the portrait-painter; his youngest
child, a baby when Miss Bronte was alive, is famous in
the musical world as Miss Anna Williams. The family
has an abundance of literary and artistic association, but
the father we know as the friend and correspondent of
Charlotte Bronte. He still lives also in the memory of a
large circle as a kindly and attractive a singularly good
and upright man.
In printing a succession of these letters I am compelled,
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 383
in my desire for chronological sequence, to interleave them
with her still regular correspondence with Ellen Nussey
and letters to other friends.
Letter 260
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
HAWORTH, January 4/tf, 1848.
DEAR SIR, Your letter made me ashamed of myself that I
should ever have uttered a murmur, or expressed by any sign
that I was sensible of pain from the unfavourable opinions of
some misjudging but well-meaning people. But, indeed, let
me assure you, I am not ungrateful for the kindness which has
been given me in such abundant measure. I can discriminate
the proportions in which blame and praise have been awarded to
my efforts : I see well that I have had less of the former and more
of the latter than I merit. I am not therefore crushed, though I
may be momentarily saddened by the frown, even of the good.
It would take a good deal to crush me, because I know, in the
first place, that my own intentions were correct, that I feel in my
heart a deep reverence for religion, that impiety is very abhorrent
to me ; and in the second, I place firm reliance on the judgment
of some who have encouraged me. You and Mr. Lewes are quite
as good authorities, in my estimation, as Mr. Dilke or the editor
of the Spectator, and I would not under any circumstances, or for
any opprobrium, regard with shame what my friends had approved
none but a coward would let the detraction of an enemy out-
weigh the encouragement of a friend. You must not, therefore,
fulfil your threat of being less communicative in future ; you must
kindly tell me all.
Miss Kavanagh's view of the maniac coincides with Leigh
Hunt's. I agree with them that the character is shocking, but I
know that it is but too natural. There is a phase of insanity
which may be called moral madness, in which all that is good or
even human seems to disappear from the mind, and a fiend-nature
replaces it. The sole aim and desire of the being thus possessed
is to exasperate, to molest, to destroy, and preternatural ingenuity
and energy are often exercised to that dreadful end. The aspect,
in such cases, assimilates with the disposition all seem demon-
ised. It is true that profound pity ought to be the only senti-
ment elicited by the view of such degradation, and equally true is
884 THE BRONTES
it that I have not sufficiently dwelt on that feeling : I have erred
in making horror too predominant Mrs. Rochester, indeed, lived
a sinful life before she was insane, but sin is itself a species of
insanity the truly good behold and compassionate it as such.
Jane Eyre has got down into Yorkshire, a copy has even pene-
trated into this neighbourhood. I saw an elderly clergyman
reading it 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)
1 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 observa-
tion in confidence.
What makes you say that the notice in the Westminster Review
is not by Mr. Lewes? It expresses precisely his opinions, and he
said he would perhaps insert a few lines in that periodical.
I have sometimes thought that I ought to have written to
Mr. Lewes to thank him for his review in Fraser-, and, indeed, I
did write a note, but then it occurred to me that he did not
require the author's thanks, and I feared it would be superfluous
to send it, therefore I refrained ; however, though I have not
expressed gratitude, I haveyW/ it.
I wish you, too, many many happy new years, and prosperity
and success to you and yours. Believe me, etc.,
CURRER BELL.
I have received the Courier and the Oxford Chronicle.
Letter 261
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
HAWORTH, January tfh, '48.
MY DEAR Miss NUSSEY, I am not going to give you a * nice
long letter ' on the contrary, I mean to content myself with a
shabby little note, to be engulphed in a letter of Charlotte's,
which will, of course, be infinitely more acceptable to you than
any production of mine, though I do not question your friendly
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 885
regard for me, or the indulgent welcome you would accord to a
missive of mine even without a more agreeable companion to
back it ; but you must know there is a lamentable deficiency in
my organ of language, which makes me almost as bad a hand at
writing as talking unless I have something particular to say. I
have now, however, to thank you and your friend Miss Ringrose
for your kind letter and her pretty watch-guards, which I am sure
we shall all of us value the more for being the work of her own
hands. . . . You do not tell us how you bear the present un-
favourable weather. We are all cut up by this cruel east wind,
most of us, i.e. Charlotte, Emily, and I have had the influenza, or
a bad cold instead, twice over within the space of a few weeks.
Papa has had it once. Tabby has escaped it altogether. I have
no news to tell you, for we have been nowhere, seen no one, and
done nothing (to speak of) since you were here and yet we
contrive to be busy from morning to night. Flossy is fatter than
ever, but still active enough to relish a sheep hunt. I hope you
and your circle have been more fortunate in the matter of colds
than we have.
With kind regards to all, I remain, dear Miss Nussey, yours
ever affectionately, ANNE BRONTfi.
Letter 262
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January \\th, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, How are you getting on by this time? How is
your houseful of guests? Especially how is Amelia Ringrose?
I hope you are not ill yourself in consequence of over fatigue, the
only good side of the bustle seems to me to be that it will keep
you on the alert oblige you to act, and prevent you from sitting
still and thinking. At present it is much better to be worried
with too much company than to be alone ; to be fagged with
excess of action than to be ennuied with monotonous tranquillity.
What a pity you and Amelia could not go to the party at Oak-
well Hall ! We have not been very comfortable here at home
lately, far from it, indeed. Branwell has, by some means, con-
trived 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 [Branwell] is
always sick ; has two or three times fallen down in fits; what will
VOL. I, 2 B
386 THE BRONTftS
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.
I wish all Brookroyd a happy new year, and to you I dedicate
an especial wish of your own. Good-bye, dear Nell.
C. BRONTfi,
Letter 263
TO GEORGE HENRY LEWES
HAWORTH, January i2th> 1848.
DEAR SIR, I thank you, then, sincerely for your generous
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 experience, my acquire-
ments, 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 dis-
posed to think better of the author of Jane Eyre than that
individual deserved ; and I would rather you had a correct thin a
flattering opinion of me, even though I should never see you.
If I ever do write another book, I think I will have nothing of
what you 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 sub-
dued'; 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, dictating
certain words, and insisting on their being used, whether vehement
or measured in their nature; new-moulding characters, giving
unthought-of turns to incidents, rejecting carefully elaborated old
ideas, and suddenly creating and adopting new ones.
Is it not so? And should we try to counteract this influence?
Can we indeed counteract it ?
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 887
I 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 Ranthorpc 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 ?
I 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 commonplace face; a care-
fully fenced, highly cultivated garden, 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 confined houses. These observations will probably irritate
you, but I shall run the risk.
Now 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 extravagance 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
Austen 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 subject ; if not,
or if you think the question frivolous, do not trouble yourself to
reply. I am yours respectfully, C. BELL.
Letter 264
TO G. H. LEWES
January i8/>%, 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 ' ;
888 THE BRONTES
well, I accept your definition of what the effects of that influence
should be ; I recognise the wisdom of your rules for its regula-
tion. . . .
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 scornfully enclose the
word in inverted commas), ' no eloquence, none of the ravishing
enthusiasm of poetry ' ; and then you add, I must l learn to
acknowledge her as one of the greatest artists, of the greatest
painters of human character, 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 am sure,
you understand something different to what 1 do, as you do by
'sentiment/ It is poetry, as I comprehend the word, which ele-
vates 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 corrosive 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 cannot 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 1 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, C. BELL.
Letter 265
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
January 22nd, 1848.
DEAR SIR, I have received the Morning Herald, and was
much pleased with the notice, chiefly on account of the reference
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 889
made to that portion of the preface which concerns Messrs.
Smith & Elder. If my tribute of thanks can benefit my pub-
lishers, it is desirable that it should have as much publicity
as possible.
I do not know if the part which relates to Mr. Thackeray is
likely to be as well received ; but whether generally approved of
and understood or not, I shall not regret having written it, for I
am convinced of its truth. l
I see I was mistaken in my idea that the Athenaum and others
wished to ascribe the authorship of Wuthering Heights to Currer
Bell ; the contrary is the case, Jane Eyre is given to Ellis Bell
and Mr. Newby, it appears, thinks it expedient so to frame his
advertisements as to favour the misapprehension. If Mr. Newby
had much sagacity he would see that Ellis Bell is strong enough
to stand without being propped by Currer Bell, and would have
disdained what Ellis himself of all things disdains recourse to
trickery. However, Ellis, Acton, and Currer care nothing for the
matter personally ; the public and the critics are welcome to
confuse our identities as much as they choose ; my only fear
is lest Messrs. Smith & Elder should in some way be annoyed
by it.
I was much interested in your account of Miss Kavanagh. The
character you sketch belongs to a class I peculiarly esteem : one
in which endurance combines with exertion, talent with goodness ;
where genius is found unmarred by extravagance, self-reliance
unalloyed by self-complacency. It is a character which is, I
believe, rarely found except where there has been toil to undergo
and adversity to struggle against : it will only grow to perfection
in a poor soil and in the shade ; if the soil be too indigent, the
shade too dank and thick, of course it dies where it sprung. But
I trust this will not be the case with Miss Kavanagh. I trust she
will struggle ere long into the sunshine. In you she has a kind
friend to direct her, and 1 hope her mother will live to see the
daughter, who yields to her such childlike duty, both happy and
successful.
You asked me if I should like any copies of the second edition
of Jane Eyre, and I said no. It is true I do not want any for
myself or my acquaintances, but if the request be not unusual, I
should much like one to be given to Miss Kavanagh. If you
would have the goodness, you might write on the fly-leaf that the
1 This was the Dedication of the second edition of Jane Eyre to Thackeray.
390 THE BRONTfiS
book is presented with the author's best wishes for her welfare
here and hereafter. My reason for wishing that she should
have a copy is because she said the book had been to her a
suggestive one, and I know that suggestive books are valuable
to authors.
I am truly sorry to hear that Mr. Smith has had an attack of
the prevalent complaint, but I trust his recovery is by this time
complete. I cannot boast entire exemption from its ravages, as
I now write under its depressing influence. Hoping that you
have been more fortunate, I am, dear sir, yours faithfully,
C. BELL.
Letter 266
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
HA WORTH, January i&th^ 1848.
DEAR SIR, I need not tell you that when I saw Mr. Thack-
eray's letter enclosed under your cover, the sight made me very
happy. It was some time before I dared open it, lest my pleasure
in receiving it should be mixed with pain on learning its contents
lest, in short, the dedication should have been, in some way, un-
acceptable to him.
And, to tell you the truth, I fear this must have been the case ;
he does not say so, his letter is most friendly in its noble sim-
plicity, but he apprises me, at the commencement, of a circum-
stance which both surprised and dismayed me.
I suppose it is no indiscretion to tell you this circumstance, for
you doubtless know it already. It appears that his private posi-
tion is in some points similar to that I have ascribed to Mr. Roch-
ester, that thence arose a report that Jane Eyre had been written
by a governess in his family, and that the dedication coming now
has confirmed everybody in the surmise.
Well may it be said that fact is often stranger than fiction !
The coincidence struck me as equally unfortunate and extra-
ordinary. Of course I knew nothing whatever of Mr. Thackeray's
domestic concerns, he existed for me only as an author. Of all
regarding his personality, station, connections, private history, I
was, and am still in a great measure, totally in the dark ; but I
am very very sorry that my inadvertent blunder should have made
his name and affairs a subject for common gossip.
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 891
The very fact of his not complaining at all and addressing me
with such kindness, notwithstanding the pain and annoyance I
must have caused him, increases my chagrin. I could not half
express my regret to him in my answer, for I was restrained by
the consciousness that that regret was just worth nothing at all
quite valueless for healing the mischief I had done.
Can you tell me anything more on this subject? or can you
guess in what degree the unlucky coincidence would affect him
whether it would pain him much and deeply: for he says so
little himself on the topic, I am at a loss to divine the exact truth
but I fear.
Do not think, my dear sir, from my silence respecting the advice
you have, at different times, given me for my future literary
guidance, that I am heedless of, or indifferent to, your kindness.
I keep your letters and not unfrequently refer to them. Circum-
stances may render it impracticable for me to act up to the letter
of what you counsel, but I think I comprehend the spirit of your
precepts, and trust I shall be able to profit thereby. Details,
situations which I do not understand and cannot personally in-
spect, I would not for the world meddle with, lest I should make
even a more ridiculous mess of the matter than Mrs. Trollope did
in her Factory Boy, Besides, not one feeling on any subject,
public or private, will I ever affect that I do not really experience.
Yet though I must limit my sympathies ; though my observation
cannot penetrate where the very deepest political and social truths
are to be learnt ; though many doors of knowledge which are
open for you are for ever shut to me ; though I must guess and
calculate and grope my way in the dark, and come to uncertain
conclusions unaided and alone where such writers as Dickens
and Thackeray, having access to the shrine and image of Truth,
have only to go into the temple, lift the veil a moment, and come
out and say what they have seen yet with every disadvantage, I
mean still, in my own contracted way, to do tny best. Imperfect
my best will be, and poor, and compared with the works of the
true masters of that greatest modern master Thackeray in
especial (for it is him I at heart reverence with all my strength)
it will be trifling, but I trust not affected or counterfeit. Believe
me, my dear sir, yours with regard and respect.
CURRER BELL.
892 THE BRONTES
Letter 267
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
January 2%th, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, I meant to have written to you by to-day's
post, but two or three little things occurred to hinder me. I did
not answer Amelia's letter, not because I was indifferent to her
kindness in writing or to the pleasure of hearing from her, but
because I really had nothing to say worth saying, or which could
interest her. I might, indeed, have sat down and concocted
something elaborate, but where is the use of scribbling letters of
that sort? It is merely time thrown away.
I am very glad to hear she is better, and that she still remains
at Brookroyd, but I fear, poor thing, she will feel the change
severely when she returns to her somewhat uncongenial home.
She always speaks of you in her notes with such a trusting,
childlike affection ; it is easy to see the loss of your society will
be a very great loss indeed to her. My praise of you does not
half satisfy her. I said you had your faults or you would not be
human, but that with all these you were, etc. some very good
things. Amelia declared I quite amused her by talking in that
way to her you seemed faultless !
I hope she will not regard many people with the same over-
partial affection, or it will be her lot in life to be often dis-
appointed.
It is kind in you to continue to write occasionally to Anne
for I think your letters do her good and give her pleasure. The
Robinsons still amaze me by the continued frequency and con-
stancy of their correspondence. Poor girls ! they still complain
of their mother's proceedings; that woman is a hopeless being;
calculated to bring a curse wherever she goes by the mixture of
weakness, perversion, and deceit in her nature. Sir Edward Scott's
wife is said to be dying ; if she goes I suppose they will marry, that
is if Mrs. R. can marry. She affirmed her husband's will bound
her to remain single, but I do not believe anything she says.
We all thank you for the pretty, tasteful watch-guards you
sent ; the steel beads glitter like diamonds by candle-light. We
chose them by lot. I got the single bead, Anne the double,
Emily the treble.
I will try to get this off to-day. Good-bye, yours,
C. BRONT&
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 393
Letter 268
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
February ist, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, I shall not scold you for being so long in
writing to me, but I really was beginning to fear there was some
unpleasant cause for your silence ; however it is all right now as I
have heard from you at last, and as you are not ill. I was sur-
prised but pleased to find that Amelia Ringrose was still with you ;
her long stay will do her good, and I doubt not her society has
enabled you to pass the winter more pleasantly than you would
alone.
I think the choice of the Bishop of Chester to the Primacy is as
good a one as under the circumstances could have been made.
The curates, as you conjecture, are wroth on the circumstance.
Papa received a letter from a brother of H . It expressed
shame and indignation at what the writer termed the shameful
termination of his ministry in England. It appears he absconded
without the knowledge or sanction of his friends, and that they do
not know where he is or whether he is yet in the land of the living.
His principles must have been bad indeed, he can have had no
sense of honour. Amongst other debts it appears he got five
pounds of Miss Sugden for a charitable purpose, and that he
appropriated the money to his own use. Believe me, dear Nell,
yours, C. B.
Letter 269
TO MISS KAVANAGII 1
Feby. 2nd, 1848.
DEAR MADAM, Jane Eyre is but a defective production, yet I
dare say whatever merit it has will be appreciated by you ; of its
faults, too, you will be a competent judge : you had a right,
therefore, to possess a copy. I only wish it had been in my
power to offer you some less insipid token of esteem than a
1 Julia Kavanagh (1824-1877) was the daughter of M. P. Kavanagh, who wrote The
Wanderings of Lttcan and Dinah, a poetical romance, and other works. Miss Kavanagh
was born at Thurles and died at Nice. Her first book, Tht Three Paths, a tale for
children, was published in 1847. Madeline, a story founded on the life of a peasant girl
of Auvergne, in 1848. Women in France during the Eighteenth Century appeared in
1850, Nathalie the same year. In the succeeding years she wrote innumerable stories
and biographical sketches.
394 THE BRONTES
novel which had already undergone perusal With sincere wishes
for the success of your own undertakings, I remain, my dear
madam, yours faithfully, CURRER BELL.
Letter 270
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
February 5/A, 1848.
DEAR SIR, A representation of Jane Eyre at a minor theatre
would no doubt be a rather afflicting spectacle to the author of
that work. I suppose all would be wofully exaggerated and pain-
fully vulgarised by the actors and actresses on such a stage.
What, I cannot help asking myself, would they make of Mr.
Rochester? And the picture my fancy conjures up by way oi
reply is a somewhat humiliating one. What would they make
of Jane Eyre? I see something very pert and very affected as
an answer to that query. 1
1 Although fane Eyre has been dramatised by several hands, the play has never
been as popular as one might suppose from a story of such thrilling incident. I can
find no trace of the pai ticular version which is referred to in this letter, but in the next
year the novel was dramatised by John Brougham, the actor and dramatist, and pro-
duced in New York on March 26, 1849. Brougham is rather an interesting figure. An
Irishman by birth, he had a chequered experience of every phase of theatrical life
both in London and New York. It was he who adapted 'The Queen's Motto' and
'Lady Audley's Secret,' and he collaborated with Dion Boucicault in 'London
Assurance.' In 1849 he seems to have been managing Niblo's Garden in New York,
and in the following year the Lyceum Theatre in Broadway. Miss Wemyss took the
title role in Jane -Eyre, J. Gilbert was Rochester, and Mrs. J. Gilbert was Lady
Ingram ; and though the play proved only moderately successful, it was revived in 1856
at Laura Keene'b Varieties at New York, with Laura Keenc as Jane Eyre. This
version has been published by Samuel French, and is also in Dick's Penny Plays.
Divided into five Acts and twelve Scenes, Brougham starts the story at Lowood
Academy. The second Act introduces us to Rochester's house, and the curtain
descends in the fourth as Jane announces that the house is in flames. At the end of
the fifth, Brougham reproduced verbatim much of the conversation of the dialogue
between Rochester and Jane. Perhaps the best-known dramatisation of the novel was
that by the late W. G. Wills, who divided the story into four Acts. His play was pro-
duced on Saturday, December 23, 1882, at the Globe Theatre, by Mrs. Bernard-Beere,
with the following cast :
Jane Eyre, Mrs. Bernard-Beere.
Lady Jngram^ Miss Carlotta Leclercq.
Blanche Ing) ant, ..,.. Miss Kate Bishop.
Mary Ingram , Miss Maggie Hunt.
Miis Beechey, ...... Miss Nellie Jordan.
Mrs. Fairfax, Miss Alexes Leighton.
Grace Poole % ....*.. Miss Masson.
Bertha, Miss D'Almaine.
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 895
Still, were It in my power, I should certainly make a point of
being myself a witness of the exhibition. Could I go quietly
and alone, I undoubtedly should go ; I should endeavour to en-
dure both rant and whine, strut and grimace, for the sake of the
useful observations to be collected in such a scene.
As to whether I wish you to go, that is another question. I am
afraid I have hardly fortitude enough really to wish it. One can
endure being disgusted with one's own work, but that a friend
should share the repugnance is unpleasant. Still, I know it
would interest me to hear both your account of the exhibition
and any ideas which the effect of the various parts on the
spectators might suggest to you. In short, I should like to
know what you would think, and to hear what you would say on
the subject. But you must not go merely to satisfy my curiosity ;
you must do as you think proper. Whatever you decide on will
content me : if you do not go, you will be spared a vulgarising
impression of the book ; if you do go, I shall perhaps gain a little
information either alternative has its advantage.
I am glad to hear that the second edition is selling, for the
sake of Messrs. Smith & Elder. I rather feared it would remain
on hand, and occasion loss. Wuthering Heights, it appears, is
selling too, and consequently Mr. Newby is getting into
marvellously good tune with his authors. I remain, my dear
sir, yours faithfully, CURRER BELL.
Letter 271
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
February I5/7/, 1848.
DEAR SIR, Your letter, as you may fancy, has given me some-
thing to think about. It has presented to my mind a curious
Adele, Mdllc. Clemence Colic.
Mr. Rochester, Mr. Charles Kelly.
Lord Desmond, Mr. A. M. Dcnison.
Rev. Mr. Price, Mr. II. E. Russel.
Nat Lee Mr. II. II. Cameron.
James, Mr. C. Stevens.
Mr. Wills confined the story to Thornfield Hall. One critic described the drama at
the time as 'not so much a play as a long conversation.' A few years ago James
Willing made a melodrama of fane Eyr* under the title of Poor Relations This piece
was performed at the Standard, Surrey, and Park Theatres. A version of the story,
dramatised by Charlotte Birch -Pfeiffer, called Die Waise von Lowood> has been rather
popular in Germany. It was also dramatised in Danish and Italian.
396 THE BRONTES
picture, for the description you give is so vivid, I seem to
realise it all. I wanted information and I have got it. You
have raised the veil from a corner of your great world your
London and have shown me a glimpse of what I might call
loathsome, but which I prefer calling strange. Such, then, is a
sample of what amuses the metropolitan populace ! Such is a
view of one of their haunts !
Did I not say that I would have gone to this theatre and
witnessed this exhibition if it had been in my power? What
absurdities people utter when they speak of they know not
what !
You must try now to forget entirely what you saw.
As to my next book, I suppose it will grow to maturity in
time, as grass grows or corn ripens ; but I cannot force it.
It makes slow progress thus far : it is not every day, nor
even every week, that I can write what is worth reading ; but
I shall (if not hindered by other matters) be industrious when
the humour comes, and in due time I hope to see such a result
as I shall not be ashamed to offer you, my publishers, and the
public.
Have you not two classes of writers the author and the book-
maker? And is not the latter more prolific than the former? Is
he not, indeed, wonderfully fertile? but does the public, or the
publisher even, make much account of his productions ? Do not
both tire of him in time?
Is it not because authors aim at a style of living better suited
to merchants, professed gain-seekers, that they are often com-
pelled to degenerate to mere bookmakers, and to find the great
stimulus of their pen in the necessity of earning money? If
they were not ashamed to be frugal, might they not be more
independent ?
I should much very much like to take that quiet view of the
* great world ' you allude to, but I have as yet won no right to
give myself such a treat : it must be for some future day when,
I don't know. Ellis, I imagine, would soon turn aside from the
spectacle in disgust. 1 do not think he admits it as his creed
that 'the proper study of mankind is man' at least not the
artificial man of cities. In some points I consider Ellis somewhat
of a theorist: now and then he broaches ideas which strike my
sense as much more daring and original than practical ; his reason
may be in advance of mine, but certainly it often travels a
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 397
different road. I should say Ellis will not be seen in his full
strength till he is seen as an essayist.
I return to you the note enclosed under your cover ; it is from
the editor of the Berwick Warder ; he wants a copy of Jane Eyre
to review.
With renewed thanks for your continued goodness to me, I
remain, my dear sir, yours faithfully, CURRER BELL.
Letter 272
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
February 2$th, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, I thank you for your note ; its contents moved
me much, though not to unmingled feelings of exultation. Louis
Philippe (unhappy and sordid old man !) and M. Guizot doubtless
merit the sharp lesson they are now being taught, because they
have both proved themselves men of dishonest hearts. And
every struggle any nation makes in the cause of Freedom and
Truth has something noble in it something that makes me wish
it success ; but I cannot believe that France or at least Paris
will ever be the battle-ground of true Liberty, or the scene of its
real triumphs. I fear she does not know ' how genuine glory is
put on.' Is that strength to be found in her which will not bend
'but in magnanimous weakness'? Have not her * unceasing
changes' as yet always brought 'perpetual emptiness'? Has
Paris the materials within her for thorough reform? Mean, dis-
honest Guizot being discarded, will any better successor be found
for him than brilliant, unprincipled Thiers ?
But I damp your enthusiasm, which I would not wish to do, for
true enthusiasm is a fine feeling whose flash I admire wherever I
see it.
The little note enclosed in yours is from a French lady, who
asks my consent to the translation of Jane Eyre into the French
language. I thought it better to consult you before I replied. I
suppose she is competent to produce a decent translation, though
one or two errors of orthography in her note rather afflict the
eye ; but I know that it is not unusual for what are considered
well-educated French women to fail in the point of writing their
mother tongue correctly. But whether competent or not, I
presume she has a right to translate the book with or without my
398 THE BRONTES
consent. She gives her address: MdlleB , care of W. Gumming,
Esq., 23 North Bank, Regent's Park.
Shall I reply to her note in the affirmative ?
Waiting your opinion and answer, I remain, dear sir, yours
faithfully, C. BELL.
Letter 273
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
February 28/tf, 1848.
DEAR SIR, I have done as you advised me respecting Mdlle
B , thanked her for her courtesy, and explained that I do not
wish my consent to be regarded in the light of a formal sanction
of the translation.
From the papers of Saturday I had learnt the abdication of
Louis Philippe, the flight of the royal family, and the proclama-
tion of a republic in France. Rapid movements these, and some
of them difficult of comprehension to a remote spectator. What
sort of spell has withered Louis Philippe's strength? Why, after
having so long infatuatedly clung to Guizot, did he at once
ignobly relinquish him ? Was it panic that made him so suddenly
quit his throne and abandon his adherents without a struggle to
retain one or aid the other?
Perhaps it might have been partly fear, but I dare say it was
still more long-gathering weariness of the dangers and toils of
royalty. Few will pity the old monarch in his flight, yet I own
he seems to me an object of pity. His sister's death shook him ;
years are heavy on him ; the sword of Damocles has long been
hanging over his head. One cannot forget that monarchs and
ministers are only human, and have only human energies to
sustain them ; and often they are sore beset. Party spirit has no
mercy ; indignant Freedom seldom shows forbearance in her hour
of revolt. I wish you could see the aged gentleman trudging
down Cornhill with his umbrella and carpet-bag, in good earnest ;
he would be safe in England ; John Bull might laugh at him, but
he would do him no harm.
How strange it appears to see literary and scientific names
figuring in the list of members of a Provisional Government!
How would it sound if Carlyle and Sir John Herschel and
Tennyson and Mr. Thackeray and Douglas Jerrold were selected
to manufacture a new constitution for England ? Whether do
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 899
such men sway the public mind most effectually from their quiet
studies or from a council-chamber?
And Thiers is set aside for a time ; but won't they be glad of
him by-and-by? Can they set aside entirely anything so clever,
so subtle, so accomplished, so aspiring in a word, so thoroughly
French, as he is? Is he not the man to bide his time to watch
while unskilful theorists try their hand at administration and
fail ; and then to step out and show them how it should be
done?
One would have thought political disturbance the natural
element of a mind like Thiers 1 ; but I know nothing of him
except from his writings, and I always think he writes as if the
shade of Bonaparte were walking to and fro in the room behind
him and dictating every line he pens, sometimes approaching and
bending over his shoulder, pour voir de ses yeux that such an
action or event is represented or ;;/;Vrepresented (as the case
may be) exactly as he wishes it. Thiers seems to have contem-
plated Napoleon's character till he has imbibed some of its nature.
Surely he must be an ambitious man, and, if so, surely he will at
this juncture struggle to rise.
You should not apologise for what you call your ( crudities.'
You know I like to hear your opinions and views on whatever
subject it interests you to discuss.
From the little inscription outside your note I conclude you
sent me the Examiner. I thank you therefore for your kind
intention, and am sorry some unscrupulous person at the Post
Office frustrated it, as no paper has reached my hands. I suppose
one ought to be thankful that letters are respected, as newspapers
are by no means sure of safe conveyance. I remain, dear sir,
yours sincerely, C. BELL.
Letter 274
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
March ^rd, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, I have received the Christian Remembrancer,
and read the review. It is written with some ability ; but to do
justice was evidently not the critic's main object, therefore he
excuses himself from performing that duty.
I dare say the reviewer imagines that Currer Bell ought to
be extremely afflicted, very much cut up, by some smart things
400 THE BRONTES
he says this, however, is not the case. C. Bell is on the whole
rather encouraged than dispirited -by the review : the hard-wrung
praise extorted reluctantly from a foe is the most precious praise
of all you are sure that this, at least, has no admixture of flattery.
I fear he has too high an opinion of my abilities and of what I can
do ; but that is his own fault. In other respects, he aims his
shafts in the dark, and the success, or, rather, ill-success of his hits
makes me laugh rather than cry. His shafts of sarcasm are nicely
polished, keenly pointed ; he should not have wasted them in
shooting at a mark he cannot see.
I hope such reviews will not make much difference with me,
and that if the spirit moves me in future to say anything about
priests, etc., I shall say it with the same freedom as heretofore.
I hope also that their anger will not make me angry. As a body,
I had no ill-will against them to begin with, and I feel it would
be an error to let opposition engender such ill-will. A few indivi-
duals may possibly be called upon to sit for their portraits some
time ; if their brethren in general dislike the resemblance and
abuse the artist tant pis! Believe me, my dear sir, yours
sincerely, C. BELL.
Letter 275
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March 6th, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, I am afraid you will by this time begin in good
earnest to feel the void Amelia must have left by her departure.
She really seems to be, from what you say, and I have a certain
dependence on your accurate judgment of character, one of the
most prepossessing as well as most sterling characters that can
well be imagined. Why is it that sound, strong health of body
is so rarely visited with perfect amiability of disposition ? Why
is it that when we love a fellow-creature very much we are often
kept in constant fear of losing them ? I suppose to prevent us
from regarding them with a too idolatrous attachment.
The symptoms you mention seem to indicate the presence of
a constant low fever in the system, a bad sign, often accom-
panying scrophulous (sic) habits. Anne suffered from much the
same ailments, except that constant thirst, I recollect, was one
of her peculiarities, and you have not mentioned that as observ-
able in Amelia. Mary Taylor, too, has more than once been in
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 401
the state you describe she has however got the better of it, and
perhaps that may be the case with Miss Ringrose indeed, I trust
and believe it will, for I fancy that complaint usually kills in early
youth if it is destined to be fatal.
You ask me to write to her occasionally, but I don't think I
shall do anything of the kind, for I cannot see of what use my
letters could be ; you can say all to her in the way of advice
and consolation that I could say, and more than all, as being
thoroughly acquainted with her case and character. I am glad
she cherishes no false hopes about George, for such hopes, long
deferred as they too probably would be, would only have a con-
suming and injurious tendency.
We have had some curious, startling news lately from France,
and I believe this news has been received with enthusiasm by a
party in London who regard the proclamation of a republican
form of government in France as a grand triumph of freedom.
What the end will be I don't know, nor does anybody else, I
fancy. The provisional government have committed no atrocities
as yet, thank God ! and they have taken one good and humane
step the abolition of the punishment of death. It is well the
French royal family have arrived safely in England; our little
Island seems literally to be the home of the world, and the last
refuge of exiled Kings.
Write to me as soon as the multiplicity of your tasks will
permit you. Give my love to all, and believe me, dear Ellen,
Yours faithfully, C. BRONTE,
Letter 276
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
March nth, 1848.
DEAR SIR, I have just received the copy of the second edition,
and will look over it, and send the corrections as soon as possible ;
I will also, since you think it advisable, avail myself of the oppor-
tunity of a third edition to correct the mistake respecting the
authorship of Wuthenng Heights and Agnes Grey.
As to your second suggestion, it is, one can see at a glance, a
very judicious and happy one ; but I cannot adopt it, because I
have not the skill you attribute to me. It is not enough to have
the artist's eye, one must also have the artist's hand to turn the
first gift to practical account. I have, in my day, wasted a certain
VOL. I. 2 C
402 THE BRONTES
quantity of Bristol board and drawing-paper, crayons and cakes
of colour, but when I examine the contents of my portfolio now,
it seems as if during the years it has been lying closed some fairy
had changed what I once thought sterling coin into dry leaves,
and I feel much inclined to consign the whole collection of
drawings to the fire ; I see they have no value. If, then, Jane
Eyre is ever to be illustrated, it must be by some other hand than
that of its author. But I hope no one will be at the trouble to
make portraits of my characters. Bulwer and Byron heroes and
heroines are very well, they are all of them handsome ; but my per-
sonages are mostly unattractive in look, and therefore ill-adapted
to figure in ideal portraits. At the best, I have always thought
such representations futile. You will not easily find a second
Thackeray. How he can render, with a few black lines and dots,
shades of expression so fine, so real ; traits of character so minute,
so subtle, so difficult to seize and fix, I cannot tell I can only
wonder and admire. Thackeray may not be a painter, but he is
a wizard of a draughtsman ; touched with his pencil, paper lives.
And then his drawing is so refreshing ; after the wooden limbs
one is accustomed to see portrayed by commonplace illustrators,
his shapes of bone and muscle clothed with flesh, correct in pro-
portion and anatomy, are a real relief. All is true in Thackeray. If
Truth were again a goddess, Thackeray should be her high priest.
I read my preface over with some pain I did not like it. I
wrote it when I was a little enthusiastic, like you, about the
French Revolution. I wish I had written it in a cool moment ;
I should have said the same things, but in a different manner.
One may be as enthusiastic as one likes about an author who has
been dead a century or two, but I see it is a fault to bore the
public with enthusiasm about a living author. I promise myself
to take better care in future. Still I will think as I please.
Are the London republicans, and you amongst the number,
cooled down yet ? I suppose not, because your French brethren
are acting very nobly. The abolition of slavery and of the punish-
ment of death for political offences are two glorious deeds, but
how will they get over the question of the organisation of labour !
Such theories will be the sand-bank on which their vessel will run
aground if they don't mind. Lamartine, there is not doubt, would
make an excellent legislator for a nation of Lamartines but where
is that nation ? I hope these observations are sceptical and cool
enough. Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely, C. BELL.
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 408
Letter 277
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March nth, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, There is a great deal of good sense in your
last letter. Be thankful that God gave you sense, for what are
beauty, wealth, or even health without it ? I had a note from
Miss Ringrose the other day. I do not think I shall write again
for the reasons I before mentioned to you, but the note moved
me much; it was so truly amiable, so sincere. It was almost all
about her * dear Ellen,' a kind of gentle enthusiasm of affection,
enough to make one at once smile and weep, her feelings are
half truth, half illusion. No human being could be altogether
what she supposes you to be, yet your kindness must have been
very great to her to have awakened such attachment in return.
Whether you will miss her or not, she will indeed miss you. Mrs.
Nussey's letter is interesting and nicely expressed. People often
write more affectionately to their relatives than they speak or
behave. If one were only rich, how delightful it would be to
travel and spend the winter in climates where there are no winters.
I trust Henry's health will be re-established. What a state the
family must be in ! I daresay Ann is a great comfort to them.
Give my love to your mother and sisters. Believe me, faithfully
yours, C. BRONTE.
Letter 278
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
March 28M, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, I return the two letters, both of which interested
me much. Miss Carr's is characteristic there is much of the old
bitter character still, though in an improved form, a certain keen
edge her nature still possesses, though covered carefully up in
a neat case of good manners, and, I hope, and indeed am inclined
to believe, good principles.
There is, and there always was amidst much that is noxious,
a touch of something that is superior about Miss Carr, no great-
ness of mind whatever, but a little refinement, a considerable
aptitude for cultivation. I always found her an intelligent though
never an agreeable pupil, for some reason or other she was docile
with me, though utterly untractable with Miss Wooler. I pity
Marianne, if Miss Carr represents the case aright, and if she has
really not been flirting. Why should Mrs. Anderton wish to
404 THE BRONTES
compel her to marry the prig of a curate? (as prig I have no doubt
he is). It is a shame.
I had a letter from Miss Wooler a few days ago. She says that
Mary will probably be advanced before she can redeem her pledge
of coming to spend a month at Brookroyd, and hopes that if any-
thing occurs in the meantime to render her visit inconvenient,
you will have no hesitation in mentioning it. She is now staying
at the Vicarage, at Heckmondwike.
Amelia Ringrose gives a good account of Mary Gorham's
brother ; what age is he, older or younger than you ? It is nonsense
building castles in the air. But certainly if some kind, sensible
man, with something competent to live on, would take a fancy to ask
you to have him, and you could take a fancy to say ' yes,' I should
be glad to hear of the event. However, I don't expect it, the
world takes its own course, and we cannot help it. I was glad
to see by the papers that poor Mrs. S is released from her
sufferings at last. I trust you are all well at home. Love to all.
Yours faithfully, C. BRONTE.
Letter 279
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
March 29^, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, The notice from the Church of England
Quarterly Review is not on the whole a bad one. True, it con-
demns the tendency of Jane Eyre, and seems to think Mr.
Rochester should have been represented as going through the
mystic process of * regeneration ' before any respectable person
could have consented to believe his contrition for the past errors
sincere ; true, also, that it casts a doubt on Jane's creed, and
leaves it doubtful whether she was Hindoo, Mahommedan, or
infidel. But notwithstanding these eccentricities, it is a con-
scientious notice, very unlike that in the Mirror, for instance,
which seemed the result of a feeble sort of spite, whereas this is the
critic's real opinion : some of the ethical and theological notions
are not according to his system, and he disapproves of them.
I am glad to hear that Mr. Lewes's new work is soon to appear,
and pleased also to learn that Messrs. Smith & Elder are the
publishers. Mr. Lewes mentioned in the last note I received from
him that he had just finished writing his new novel, and I have
been on the look-out for the advertisement of its appearance ever
since. I shall long to read it, if it were only to get a further insight
into the author's character. I read Ranthorpevfith lively interest
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 405
there was much true talent in its pages. Two-thirds of it I thought
excellent, the latter part seemed more hastily and sketchily written.
I trust Miss Kavanagh's work will meet with the success that,
from your account, I am certain she and it deserve. I think I
have met with an outline of the facts on which her tale is founded in
some periodical, Chambers* s Journal I believe. No critic, however
rigid, will find fault with * the tendency ' of her work, I should think.
I will tell you why you cannot fully sympathise with the
French, or feel any firm confidence in their future movements:
because too few of them are Lamartines, too many Ledru Rollins.
That, at least, is my reason for watching their proceedings with
more dread than hope. With the Germans it is different : to their
rational and justifiable efforts for liberty one can heartily wish well.
It seems, as you say, as if change drew near England too.
She is divided by the sea from the lands where it is making
thrones rock, but earthquakes roll lower than the ocean, and we
know neither the day nor the hour when the tremor and heat,
passing beneath our island, may unsettle and dissolve its founda-
tions. Meantime, one thing is certain, all will in the end work
together for good.
You mention Thackeray and the last number of Vanity Fair.
The more I read Thackeray's works the more certain I am that
he stands alone alone in his sagacity, alone in his truth, alone
in his feeling (his feeling, though he makes no noise about it, is
about the most genuine that ever lived on a printed page), alone
in his power, alone in his simplicity, alone in his self-control.
Thackeray is a Titan, so strong that he can afford to perform
with calm the most herculean feats ; there is the charm and
majesty of repose in his greatest efforts ; he borrows nothing from
fever, his is never the energy of delirium his energy is sane
energy, deliberate energy, thoughtful energy. The last number
of Vanity Fair proves this peculiarly. Forcible, exciting in its
force, still more impressive than exciting, carrying on the interest
of the narrative in a flow, deep, full, resistless, it is still quiet
as quiet as reflection, as quiet as memory ; and to me there are
parts of it that sound as solemn as an oracle. Thackeray is
never borne away by his own ardour he has it under control.
His genius obeys him it is his servant, it works no fantastic
changes at its own wild will, it must still achieve the task which
reason and sense assign it, and none other Thackeray is unique.
I can say no more, I will say no less. Believe me, yours
sincerely, C. BELL.
406 THE BRONTES
Letter 280
TO MISS WOOLER
HAWORTH, March 3u/, 1848.
MY DEAR MISS WOOLER, I had been wishing to hear from
you for some time before I received your last. There has been
so much sickness during the last winter, and the influenza especi-
ally has been so severe and so generally prevalent, that the sight
of suffering around us has frequently suggested fears for absent
friends. Ellen Nussey told me, indeed, that neither you nor Miss
C. Wooler had escaped the influenza, but, since your letter contains
no allusion to your own health or hers, I trust you are completely
recovered. I am most thankful to say that papa has hitherto
been exempted from any attack. My sisters and myself have
each had a visit from it, but Anne is the only one with whom it
stayed long or did much mischief; in her case it was attended
with distressing cough and fever; but she is now better, though
it has left her chest weak.
I 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 only to
think of I remember even, I think, being a little impatient that
you would not fully sympathise with my feelings on this subject,
that you heard my aspirations and speculations very tranquilly,
and by no means seemed to think the flaming sword could be
any pleasant addition to the joys of paradise. I have now out-
lived 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,
certainly, many things are not to me what they were ten years
ago; and amongst the rest, the 'pomp and circumstance of war 1
have quite lost in my eyes their factitious 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 largeness 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
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 407
acute diseases of nations, and that their tendency is to exhaust
by their violence the vital energies of the countries where they
occur. That England may be spared the spasms, cramps, and
frenzy-fits now contorting the Continent and threatening Ireland,
I earnestly pray !
With the French and Irish I have no sympathy. With the
Germans and Italians I think the case is different as different
as the love of freedom is from the lust of license.
To pass to other subjects, perhaps more within the grasp of my
comprehension ; about a fortnight since I had a letter from .*
Letter 281
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 20th, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, I send you the drawing and copy which is
Anne's doing. Miss Ringrose's letter is the most interesting I have
yet seen, but I think when you write again you cannot give her
too plain an explanation of the real state of matters ; the longer
she is suffered to indulge false hopes, the more bitter will be her
final disappointment. You said I was to think of you on Monday,
why ? The 2oth is not your birthday, is it ? I thought it was
the 22nd. I return your kind wishes on that point with interest.
It is hoped Mrs. Heald will now have better health. What
does Mrs. J. Swain know about J. T and I. N , what are
her reasons for incredulity ?
I had a very short note from Ellen Taylor last week, she is at
Hunsworth. Joe Taylor was at Brussels. No news yet from
Mary. I suppose you have received my last, ere this ; it crossed
yours. Good-bye, dear Nell, C. B.
Letter 282
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
[Undated].
DEAR ELLEN, I have just received your little parcel and beg
to thank you in all our names for its contents, and also for your
letter, of the arrival of which I was, to speak truth, getting rather
impatient.
The Housewife's travelling companion is a most commodious
1 This letter is mutilated and cannot be completed.
408 THE BRONTES
thing just the sort of article which suits one to act, and which
yet, I should never have the courage or industry to sit down and
make for myself; I shall keep it for occasions of going from
home, it will save me a world of trouble ; it must have required
some thought to arrange the various compartments and their
contents so aptly. I had quite forgotten, till your letter reminded
me, that it was the anniversary of your birthday and mine. I am
now thirty-two. Youth is gone gone and will never come
back : can't help it. I wish you many returns of your birthday
and increase of happiness with increase of years. It seems to
me that sorrow must come sometime 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 expect a purer and more palatable draught to succeed.
So, at least, one fain would hope. It touched me at first a little
painfully to hear of your effort, but on second thoughts I dis-
covered this to be quite a foolish feeling. You are doing right
even though you should not gain much. The effort will do you
good ; no one ever does regret a step made towards self-help ; it
is so much gained in independence. Is Mary Swain better?
Give my love to your mother and sisters. Yours faithfully,
C. BRONTL.
Letter 283
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
A/ml 2$th, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, I was not at all surprised at the contents of
your note ; indeed what part of it was new to us? Joe Taylor has
his good and bad side like most others ; there is his own original
nature, and there are the alterations the world has made in him.
Meantime, why do Birstall and Gomersall trouble themselves with
matching him ? Let him in God's name court half the country-
side and marry the other half, if such procedure seem good in his
eyes, and let him do it all in quietness, he has his own bothera-
tions no doubt ; it does not seem to be such very easy work
getting married even for a man, since it is necessary to make up
to so many ladies. More tranquil are those who have settled
their bargain with celibacy.
I like Miss Ringrose's letters more and more, her goodness is
indeed better than mere talent. I fancy she will never be married,
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 409
but the amiability of her character will give her comfort ; to be sure
one has only her letters to judge from, and letters often deceive,
but hers seem so artless and unaffected. Still, were I in your
place, I should feel uneasy in the midst of this correspondence.
Does a doubt of mutual satisfaction in case you should one day
meet never torment you ?
I am sure you have done right to be plain with her about
George. She seems at last to have caught a glimpse of the real
truth.
Anne says it pleases her to think that you have kept her little
drawing, she would rather have done it for you than for a stranger.
I have got a trifle of a headache to-day, and can write only in
the most stupid manner.
Good-bye to you, dear Nell. Give my love to your mother and
sisters. C. BRONTE.
Letter 284
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
April 26/7*, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, I have now read Rose, BlancJic, 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. G. 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 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 acknowledge that he offers you gems of
pure truth : why do you keep perpetually scrutinising them for
flaws?
410 THE BRONTES
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 impressions, 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
somewhat too uniformly vehement : would not a more subdued
style of treatment often have produced a more masterly effect ?
Now and then Mr. Lewes takes a French pen into his hand,
wherein he differs from Mr. Thackeray, who always 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 tendency 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 affectation. When people
belong to a clique-, they must, I suppose, 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 dis-
posed to give the book the reception it merits ; and that is a very
cordial one, far beyond anything due to a Bulwer or D'Israeli
production. I am, dear sir, yours sincerely, C. BELL.
Letter 285
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
April 28//*, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, Write another letter, and explain that last
note of >ours distinctly. If your allusions are to myself, which
I suppose they are, understand this I have given no one a right
to gossip about me, and am not to be judged by frivolous conjec-
tures, emanating from any quarter whatever. Let me know what
you heard, and from whom you heard it. You do wrong to feel
any pain from any circumstance, or to suppose yourself slighted.
You can only chagrin me and yourself by such an idea, and not
do any good or make any difference in any way. C. BRONTE.
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 411
Letter 286
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
May ist, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, I am glad you sent me your letter just as you
had written it without revisal, without retrenching or softening
touch, because I cannot doubt that I am a gainer by the omission.
It would be useless to attempt opposition to your opinions,
since, in fact, to read them was to recognise, almost point for
point, a clear definition of objections I had already felt, but had
found neither the power nor the will to express. Not the power,
because I find it very difficult to analyse closely, or to criticise
in appropriate words ; and not the will, because I was afraid of
doing Mr. Lewes injustice. I preferred overrating to underrating
the merits of his work.
Mr. Lewes's sincerity, energy, and talent assuredly command
the reader's respect, but on what points he depends to win his
attachment I know not. I do not think he cares to excite the
pleasant feelings which incline the taught to the teacher as much
in friendship as in reverence. The display of his acquirements,
to which almost every page bears testimony citations from
Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, French, and German authors
covering as with embroidery the texture of his English- awes
and astonishes the plain reader ; but if, in addition, you permit
yourself to require the refining charm of delicacy, the elevating
one of imagination if you permit yourself to be as fastidious
and exacting in these matters as, by your own confession, it
appears you are, then Mr. Lewes must necessarily inform you
that he does not deal in the article ; probably he will add that
therefore it must be non-essential. I should fear he might even
stigmatise imagination as a figment, and delicacy as an affecta-
tion.
An honest rough heartiness Mr. Lewes will give you ; yet in
case you have the misfortune to remark that the heartiness might
be quite as honest if it were less rough, would you not run the
risk of being termed a sentimentalist or a dreamer?
Were I privileged to address Mr. Lewes, and were it wise or
becoming to say to him exactly what one thinks, I should utter
words to this effect
'You have a sound, clear judgment as far as it goes, but I
412 THE BRONTES
conceive it to be limited ; your standard of talent is high, but I
cannot acknowledge it to be the highest ; you are deserving of ail
attention when you lay down the law on principles, but you are
to be resisted when you dogmatise on feelings.
* To a certain point, Mr. Lewes, you can go, but no farther.
Be as sceptical as you please on whatever lies beyond a certain
intellectual limit ; the mystery will never be cleared up to you,
for that limit you will never overpass. Not all your learning, not
all your reading, not all your sagacity, not all your perseverance
can help you over one viewless line one boundary as impassable
as it is invisible. To enter that sphere a man must be born
within it ; and untaught peasants have there drawn their first
breath, while learned philosophers have striven hard till old age
to reach it, and have never succeeded. 1 I should not dare, nor
would it be right, to say this to Mr. Lewes, but I cannot help
thinking it both of him and many others who have a great name
in the world.
Hester Mason's character, career, and fate appeared to me so
strange, grovelling, and miserable, that I never for a moment
doubted the whole dreary picture was from the life. I thought
in describing the ' rustic poetess,' in giving the details of her
vulgar provincial and disreputable metropolitan notoriety, and
especially in touching on the ghastly catastrophe of her fate, he
was faithfully recording facts thus, however repulsively, yet
conscientiously * pointing a moral,' if not 'adorning a tale'; but
if Hester be the daughter of Lewes's imagination, and if her
experience and her doom be inventions of his fancy, I wish him
better, and higher, and truer taste next time he writes a novel.
Julius's exploit with the side of bacon is not defensible; he
might certainly, for the fee of a shilling or sixpence, have got a
boy to carry it for him.
Captain Heath, too, must have cut a deplorable figure behind
the post-chaise.
Mrs. Vyner strikes one as a portrait from the life; and it
equally strikes one that the artist hated his original model with
a personal hatred. She is made so bad that one cannot in the
least degree sympathise with any of those who love her ; one
can only despise them. She is a fiend, and therefore not like
Mr. Thackeray's Rebecca, where neither vanity, heartlessness,
nor falsehood have been spared by the vigorous and skilful hand
which portrays them, but where the human being has been pre-
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 418
served nevertheless, and where, consequently, the lesson given is
infinitely more impressive. We can learn little from the strange
fantasies of demons we are not of their kind ; but the vices of
the deceitful, selfish man or woman humble and warn us. In
your remarks on the good girls I concur to the letter ; and I
must add that I think Blanche, amiable as she is represented,
could never have loved her husband after she had discovered
that he was utterly despicable. Love is stronger than Cruelty,
stronger than Death, but perishes under Meanness ; Pity may
take its place, but Pity is not Love.
So far, then, I not only agree with you, but I marvel at the
nice perception with which you have discriminated, and at the
accuracy with which you have marked each coarse, cold, impro-
bable, unseemly defect. But now I am going to take another
side : I am going to differ from you, and it is about Cecil
Chamberlayne.
You say that no man who had intellect enough to paint a
picture, or write a comic opera, could act as he did ; you say
that men of genius and talent may have egregious faults, but
they cannot descend to brutality or meanness. Would that the
case were so! Would that intellect could preserve from low
vice! But, alas! it cannot. No, the whole character of Cecil
is painted with but too faithful a hand ; it is very masterly,
because it is very true. Lewes is nobly right when he says that
intellect is not the highest faculty of man, though it may be the
most brilliant ; when he declares that the moral nature of his
kind is more sacred than the intellectual nature ; when he prefers
* goodness, lovingness, and quiet self-sacrifice to all the talents in
the world/
There is something divine in the thought that genius preserves
from degradation, were it but true ; but Savage tells us it was
not true for him ; Sheridan confirms the avowal, and Byron seals
it with terrible proof.
You never probably knew a Cecil Chamberlayne. If you had
known such a one you would feel that Lewes has rather subdued
the picture than overcharged it ; you would know that mental
gifts without moral firmness, without a clear sense of right and
wrong, without the honourable principle which makes a man
rather proud than ashamed of honest labour, are no guarantee
from even deepest baseness.
I have received the Dublin University Magazine. The notice
414 THE BRONTES
is more favourable than I had anticipated : indeed, I had for a
long time ceased to anticipate any from that quarter ; but the
critic does not strike one as too bright. Poor Mr. James is
severely handled ; you, likewise, are hard upon him. He always
strikes me as a miracle of productiveness.
I must conclude by thanking you for your last letter, which
both pleased and instructed me. You are quite right in thinking
it exhibits the writer's character. Yes, it exhibits it unmistakably
(as Lewes would say). And whenever it shall be my lot to submit
another MS. to your inspection, I shall crave the full benefit 01
certain points in that character : I shall ever entreat my first
critic to be as impartial as he is friendly; what he feels to be
out of taste in my writings, I hope he will unsparingly condemn.
In the excitement of composition, one is apt to fall into errors
that one regrets afterwards, and we never feel our own faults so
keenly as when we see them exaggerated in others.
I conclude in haste, for I have written too long a letter ; but it
is because there was much to answer in yours. It interested me.
I could not help wishing to tell you how nearly I agreed with
you. Believe me, yours sincerely, C. BELL.
Letter 287
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May yd, 1848.
DEAR ELLEN, 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 fancied
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 hint, in the most distant manner, that I am 'publishing'
(humbug!) Whoever has 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 an ill-bred thing. The most profound obscurity
is infinitely preferable to vulgar notoriety ; and that notoriety I
neither seek nor will have. If then any Birstallian or Gomersallian
should presume to bore you on the subject, to ask you what
'novel 1 Miss Bronte has been 'publishing,' you can just say,
with the distinct firmness of which you are perfect mistress, when
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 415
you choose, that you are authorised 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 not absolutely 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 anything more,
let me know it. I was astonished to hear of Miss Dlxon being
likely to go to the West Indies ; probably this too is only rumour.
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 Ann out of the publish-
ing notion ; and believe me through all chances and changes,
whether calumniated or let alone, Yours faithfully,
C. BRONTE.
Letter 288
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
May i2f/>, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, I take a large sheet of paper, because I foresee
that I am about to write another long letter, and for the same
reason as before, viz., that yours interested me.
I have received the Morning Chronicle, and was both surprised
and pleased to see the passage you speak of in one of its leading
articles. An allusion of that sort seems to say more than a
regular notice. I do trust I may have the power so to write in
future as not to disappoint those who have been kind enough to
think and speak well of Jane Eyre ; at any rate, I will take pains.
But still, whenever I hear my one book praised, the pleasure I
feel is chastened by a mixture of doubt and fear ; and, in truth,
1 hardly wish it to be otherwise : it is much too early for me to
feel safe, or to take as my due the commendation bestowed.
Some remarks in your last letter on teaching commanded my
attention. I suppose you never were engaged in tuition yourself;
but if you had been, you could not have more exactly hit on the
great qualification I had almost said the one qualification
necessary to the task : the faculty, not merely of acquiring but of
imparting knowledge the power of influencing young minds
that natural fondness for, that innate sympathy with, children,
416 THE BRONTES
which, you say, Mrs. Williams is so happy as to possess. He or
she who possesses this faculty, this sympathy though perhaps
not otherwise highly accomplished need never fear failure in the
career of instruction. Children will be docile with them, will
improve under them ; parents will consequently repose in them
confidence. Their task will be comparatively light, their path
comparatively smooth. If the faculty be absent, the life of a
teacher will be a struggle from beginning to end. No matter how
amiable the disposition, how strong the sense of duty, how active
the desire to please ; no matter how brilliant and varied the
accomplishments ; if the governess has not the power to win her
young charge, the secret to instil gently and surely her own
knowledge into the growing mind intrusted to her, she will have
a wearing, wasting existence of it. To educate a child, as I dare
say Mrs. Williams has educated her children, probably with as
much pleasure to herself as profit to them, will indeed be im-
possible to the teacher who lacks this qualification. But, I
conceive, should circumstances as in the case of your daughters
compel a young girl notwithstanding to adopt a governess's
profession, she may contrive to instruct and even to instruct well.
That is, though she cannot form the child's mind, mould its
character, influence its disposition, and guide its conduct as she
would wish, she may give lessons even, good, clear, clever lessons
in the various branches of knowledge. She may earn and doubly
earn her scanty salary as a daily governess. As a school-teacher
she may succeed ; but as a resident governess she will never
(except under peculiar and exceptional circumstances) be happy.
Her deficiency will harass her not so much in school-time as in
play-hours ; the moments that would be rest and recreation to the
governess who understood and could adapt herself to children,
will be almost torture to her who has not that power. Many a
time, when her charge turns unruly on her hands, when the
responsibility which she would wish to discharge faithfully and
perfectly, becomes unmanageable to her, she will wish herself a
housemaid or kitchen girl, rather than a baited, trampled, desolate,
distracted governess.
The Governesses* Institution may be an excellent thing in some
points of view, but it is both absurd and cruel to attempt to raise
still higher the standard of acquirements. Already governesses
are not half nor a quarter paid for what they teach, nor in most
instances is half or a quarter of their attainments required by
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 417
their pupils. The young teacher's chief anxiety, when she sets
out in life, always is to know a great deal ; her chief fear that she
should not know enough. Brief experience will, in most instances,
show her that this anxiety has been misdirected. She will rarely
be found too ignorant for her pupils ; the demand on her know-
ledge will not often be larger than she can answer. But on her
patience on her self-control, the requirement will be enormous;
on her animal spirits (and woe be to her if these fail !) the pressure
will be immense.
I have seen an ignorant nursery-maid who could scarcely read
or write, by dint of an excellent, serviceable, sanguine, phlegmatic
temperament, which made her at once cheerful and immovable;
of a robust constitution and steady, unimpassionable nerves, which
kept her firm under shocks and unharassed under annoyances
manage with comparative ease a large family of spoilt children,
while their governess lived amongst them a life of inexpressible
misery: tyrannised over, finding her efforts to please and teach
utterly vain, chagrined, distressed, worried so badgered, so
trodden on, that she ceased almost at last to know herself, and
wondered in what despicable, trembling frame her oppressed
mind was prisoned, and could not realise the idea of ever being
treated with respect and regarded with affection till she finally
resigned her situation and went away quite broken in spirit and
reduced to the verge of decline in health.
Those who would urge on governesses more acquirements, do
not know the origin of their chief sufferings. It is more physical
and mental strength, denser moral impassibility that they require,
rather than additional skill in arts or sciences. As to the forcing
system, whether applied to teachers or taught, I hold it to be a
cruel system.
It is true the world demands a brilliant list of accomplishments.
For 20 per annum, it expects in one woman the attainments of
several professors but the demand is insensate, and I think
should rather be resisted than complied with. If I might plead
with you in behalf of your daughters, I should say, ' Do not
let them waste their young lives in trying to attain manifold
accomplishments. Let them try rather to possess thoroughly,
fully, one or two talents ; then let them endeavour to lay in a
stock of health, strength, cheerfulness. Let them labour to attain
self-control, endurance, fortitude, firmness ; if possible, let them
learn from their mother something of the precious art she possesses
VOL. I. 2 D
418 THE BRONTES
these things, together with sound principles, will be their best
supports, their best aids through a governess's life.
As for that one who, you say, has a nervous horror of exhibi-
tion, I need not beg you to be gentle with her ; I am sure you
will not be harsh, but she must be firm with herself, or she will
repent it in after life. She should begin by degrees to endeavour
to overcome her diffidence. Were she destined to enjoy an
independent, easy existence, she might respect her natural dis-
position to seek retirement, and even cherish it as a shade-loving
virtue ; but since that is not her lot, since she is fated to make
her way in the crowd, and to depend on herself, she should
say : I will try and learn the art of self-possession, not that I may
display my accomplishments, but that I may have the satisfaction
of feeling that I am my own mistress, and can move and speak
undaunted by the fear of man. While, however, I pen this piece
of advice, I confess that it is much easier to give than to follow.
What the sensations of the nervous are under the gaze of publicity
none but the nervous know ; and how powerless reason and
resolution are to control them would sound incredible except to
the actual sufferers.
The rumours you mention respecting the authorship of Jane
Eyre amused me inexpressibly. The gossips are, on this subject,
just where I should wish them to be, i.e. as far from the truth as
possible ; and as they have not a grain of fact to found their
fictions upon, they fabricate pure inventions. Judge Erie must, I
think, have made up his story expressly for a hoax ; the other fib
is amazing so circumstantial! called on the author, forsooth!
Where did he live, I wonder? In what purlieu of Cockayne?
Here I must stop, lest if I run on further 1 should fill another
sheet, Believe me, yours sincerely, CURRER BELL.
P.S. I must, after all, add a morsel of paper, for I find, on
glancing over yours, that I have forgotten to answer a question
you ask respecting my next work. I have not therein so far
treated of governesses, as I do not wish it to resemble its prede-
cessor. I often wish to say something about the ' condition of
women' question, but it is one respecting which so much 'cant'
has been talked, that one feels a sort of repugnance to approach
it. It is true enough that the present market for female labour is
quite overstocked, but where or how could another be opened ?
Many say that the professions now filled only by men should be
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 419
open to women also ; but are not their present occupants and
candidates more than numerous enough to answer every demand?
Is there any room for female lawyers, female doctors, female
engravers, for more female artists, more authoresses? One can
see where the evil lies, but who can point out the remedy? When
a woman has a little family to rear and educate and a household
to conduct, her hands are full, her vocation is evident ; when her
destiny isolates her, I suppose she must do what she can, live as
she can, complain as little, bear as much, work as well as possible.
This is not high theory, but I believe it is sound practice, good to
put into execution while philosophers and legislators ponder over
the better ordering of the social system. At the same time, I
conceive that when patience has done its utmost and industry its
best, whether in the case of women or operatives, and when both
are baffled, and pain and want triumph, the sufferer is free, is
entitled, at last to send up to Heaven any piercing cry for relief,
if by that cry he can hope to obtain succour. C. BELL.
Letter 289
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
May 24/A, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, I shall begin by telling you that you have no
right to be angry at the length of time I have suffered to slip by,
since receiving your last, without answering it ; because you have
often kept me waiting much longer ; and having made this gracious
speech, thereby obviating reproaches, I will add that I think it a
great shame when you receive a long and thoroughly interesting
letter, full of the sort of details you fully relish, to read the same
with selfish pleasure and not even have the manners to thank
your correspondent, and express how much you enjoyed the
narrative. I did enjoy the narrative in your last very keenly ;
the exquisitely characteristic traits concerning the Brooks were
worth gold ; just like not only them but all their class, respectable,
well-meaning people enough ; but with all that petty assumption
of dignity, that small jealousy of senseless formalities which to
such people seems to form a second religion. Your position
amongst them was detestable. I admire the philosophy with
which you bore it. Their taking offence because you stayed all
night at their aunt's is rich. Which of the Miss Woolers did you
see at Mr. Allbutt's. It is right not to think much of casual
420 THE BRONTES
attentions, it is quite justifiable also to derive from them temporary
gratification, insomuch as they prove that their object has the
power of pleasing. Let them be as ephemera to last an hour,
and not be regretted when gone. Write to me again soon, and
believe me, Yours faithfully, C. BRONTE.
Letter 290
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
June 2, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, I snatch a moment to write a hasty line to
you, for it makes me uneasy to think that your last kind letter
should have remained so long unanswered. A succession of
little engagements, much more importunate than important,
have quite engrossed my time lately, to the exclusion of more
momentous and interesting occupations. Interruption is a sad
bore, and I believe there is hardly a spot on earth, certainly not
in England, quite secure from its intrusion. The fact is, you
cannot live in this world entirely for one aim ; you must take
along with some single serious purpose a hundred little minor
duties, cares, distractions ; in short, you must take life as it is,
and make the best of it. Summer is decidedly a bad season for
application, especially in the country ; for the sunshine seems to
set all your acquaintances astir, and, once bent on amusement,
they will come to the ends of the earth in search thereof. I
was obliged to you for your suggestion about writing a letter to
the Morning Chronicle, but I did not follow it up. I think I
would rather not venture on such a step at present. Opinions
I would not hesitate to express to you because you are indul-
gent are not mature or cool enough for the public ; Currer Bell
is not Carlyle, and must not imitate him.
Whenever you can write to me without encroaching too much
on your valuable time, remember I shall always be glad to hear
from you. Your last letter interested me fully as much as its
two predecessors ; what you said about your family pleased me ;
I think details of character always have a charm even when they
relate to people we have never seen, nor expect to see. With
eight children you must have a busy life ; but, from the manner
in which you allude to your two eldest daughters, it is evident
that they at least are a source of satisfaction to their parents ; I
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 421
hope this will be the case with the whole number, and then you
will never feel as if you had too many, A dozen children with
sense and good conduct may be less burdensome than one who
lacks these qualities. It seems a long time since I heard from
you. I shall be glad to hear from you again. Believe me, yours
sincerely, C. BELL.
Letter 291
TO SUSEY - l
*/^ 3, 1848.
MY DEAR SUSEY, I was very glad to receive your note, especi-
ally as it informed me you were quite well. I was afraid that at
the first you would not feel very comfortable among strangers ;
persons who have lived most of their lives in a quiet little place
like Haworth find a great difference when they go to a fresh
neighbourhood and enter the society of strangers. The change
will, however, do you good, though it be but for a short time ; I
thought when you left you would be absent six months at the
least, and was much surprised to learn that you would scarcely
stay at York as many weeks. You cannot make all the improve-
ment that could be wished in so short a time, but, from what I
know of you, I am convinced that you will make the most of
your opportunities.
Meantime, if ever you feel troubled about anything, you will not
forget who is your best Help and Guide in every difficulty, and,
separated as you are for a little while from your earthly friends,
you will humbly and faithfully entreat the protection of your
Friend and Father which is in Heaven. With best wishes for
your welfare, believe me, my dear Susey, yours sincerely,
C. BRONTE.
Letter 292
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
HAWORTH,///^ \yh, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, Thank you for your two last letters. In
reading the first I quite realised your May holiday; I enjoyed
1 Name unknown. Evidently a pupil from her Sunday-school class who had gone
out as a servant.
422 THE BRONTfiS
it with you. I saw the pretty south-of-England village, so
different from our northern congregations of smoke-dark houses
clustered round their soot-vomiting mills. I saw, in your descrip-
tion, fertile, flowery Essex a contrast indeed to the rough and
rude, the mute and sombre yet well-beloved moors overspreading
this corner of Yorkshire. I saw the white school-house, the
venerable schoolmaster I even thought I saw you and your
daughters ; and in your second letter I see you all distinctly, for
in describing your children you unconsciously describe yourself.
I may well say that your letters are of value to me, for I
seldom receive one but I find something in it which makes me
reflect, and reflect on new themes. Your town life is somewhat
different from any I have known, and your allusions to its ad-
vantages, troubles, pleasures, and struggles are often full of
significance to me.
I have always been accustomed to think that the necessity of
earning one's subsistence is not in itself an evil, but I feel it
may become a heavy evil if health fails, if employment lacks,
if the demand upon our efforts made by the weakness of others
dependent upon us becomes greater than our strength suffices
to answer. In such a case I can imagine that the married man
may wish himself single again, and that the married woman,
when she sees her husband over-exerting himself to maintain
her and her children, may almost wish out of the very force
of her affection for him that it had never been her lot to add
to the weight of his responsibilities. Most desirable then is it
that all, both men and women, should have the power and the
will to work for themselves most advisable that both sons and
daughters should early be inured to habits of independence and
industry. Birds teach their nestlings to fly as soon as their wings
are strong enough, they even oblige them to quit the nest if they
seem too unwilling to trust their pinions of their own accord.
Do not the swallow and the starling thus give a lesson by which
man might profit ?
It seems to me that your kind heart is pained by the thought
of what your daughter may suffer if transplanted from a free
and indulged home existence to a life of constraint and labour
amongst strangers. Suffer she probably will ; but take both
comfort and courage, my dear sir, try to soothe your anxiety
by this thought, which is not a fallacious one. Hers will not be
a barren suffering ; she will gain by it largely ; she will * sow in
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 423
tears to reap in joy.' A governess's experience is frequently
indeed bitter, but its results are precious : the mind, feeling,
temper are there subjected to a discipline equally painful and
priceless. I have known many who were unhappy as governesses,
but not one who regretted having undergone the ordeal, and
scarcely one whose character was not improved at once
strengthened and purified, fortified and softened, made more
enduring for her own afflictions, more considerate for the afflic-
tions of others, by passing through it.
Should your daughter, however, go out as governess, she
should first take a firm resolution not to be too soon daunted
by difficulties, too soon disgusted by disagreeables ; and if she
has a high spirit, sensitive feelings, she should tutor the one to
submit, the other to endure, for the sake of those at home. That
is the governess's best talisman of patience, it is the best balm
for wounded susceptibility. When tried hard she must say, * I
will be patient, not out of servility, but because I love my parents,
and wish through my perseverance, diligence, and success, to
repay their anxieties and tenderness for me.' With this aid the
least-deserved insult may often be swallowed quite calmly, like
a bitter pill with a draught of fair water.
I think you speak excellent sense when you say that girls
without fortune should be brought up and accustomed to support
themselves ; and that if they marry poor men, it should be with
a prospect of being able to help their partners. If all parents
thought so, girls would not be reared on speculation with a
view to their making mercenary marriages; and, consequently,
women would not be so piteously degraded as they now too
often are.
Fortuneless people may certainly marry, provided they pre-
viously resolve never to let the consequences of their marriage
throw them as burdens on the hands of their relatives. But as
life is full of unforeseen contingencies, and as a woman may be
so placed that she cannot possibly both ' guide the house ' and
earn her livelihood (what leisure, for instance, could Mrs. Williams
have with her eight children ?), young artists and young gover-
nesses should think twice before they unite their destinies.
You speak sense again when you express a wish that Fanny
were placed in a position where active duties would engage her
attention, where her faculties would be exercised and her mind
occupied, and where, I will add, not doubting that my addition
424 THE BRONTES
merely completes your half-approved idea, the image of the
young artist would for the present recede into the background
and remain for a few years to come in modest perspective, the
finishing point of a vista stretching a considerable distance into
futurity. Fanny may feel sure of this : if she intends to be an
artist's wife she had better try an apprenticeship with Fortune
as a governess first ; she cannot undergo a better preparation for
that honourable (honourable if rightly considered) but certainly
not luxurious destiny.
I should say then judging as well as I can from the materials
for forming an opinion your letter affords, and from what I can
thence conjecture of Fanny's actual and prospective position
that you would do well and wisely to put your daughter out
The experiment might do good and could not do harm, because
even if she failed at the first trial (which is not unlikely) she
would still be in some measure benefited by the effort.
I duly received Mirabcau from Mr. Smith. I must repeat, it
is really too kind. When I have read the book, I will tell you
what I think of it its subject is interesting. One thing a little
annoyed me as I glanced over the pages I fancied I detected
a savour of Carlyle's peculiarities of style. Now Carlyle is a
great man, but I always wish he would write plain English ; and
to imitate his Germanisms is, I think, to imitate his faults. Is
the author of this work a Manchester man ? I must not ask his
name, I suppose. Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely,
CURRER BELL.
Letter 293
TO W. S. \VILLIAMS
June 22nd, 1848.
My DEAR SIR, After reading a book which has both interested
and informed you, you like to be able, on laying it down, to speak
of it with unqualified approbation to praise it cordially ; you do
not like to stint your panegyric, to counteract its effect with
blame.
For this reason I feel a little difficulty in telling you what I
think of The Life of Mirabcau. It has interested me much, and
I have derived from it additional information. In the course of
reading it, I have often felt called upon to approve the ability and
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 425
tact of the writer, to admire the skill with which he conducts the
narrative, enchains the reader's attention, and keeps it fixed upon
his hero ; but I have also been moved frequently to disapproba-
tion. It is not the political principles of the writer with which
I find fault, nor is it his talents I feel inclined to disparage ; to
speak truth, it is his manner of treating Mirabeau's errors that
offends then, I think, he is neither wise nor right there, I
think, he betrays a little of crudeness, a little of presumption, not
a little of indiscretion.
Could you with confidence put this work into the hands of
your son, secure that its perusal would not harm him, that it
would not leave on his mind some vague impression that there is
a grandeur in vice committed on a colossal scale ? Whereas, the
fact is, that in vice there is no grandeur, that it is, on whichever
side you view it, and in whatever accumulation, only a foul,
sordid, and degrading thing. The fact is, that this great
Mirabeau was a mixture of divinity and dirt ; that there was no
divinity whatever in his errors, they were all sullying dirt ; that
they ruined him, brought down his genius to the kennel, deadened
his fine nature and generous sentiments, made all his greatness as
nothing; that they cut him off in his prime, obviated all his aims,
and struck him dead in the hour when France most needed him.
Mirabeau's life and fate teach, to my perception, the most
depressing lesson 1 have read for years. One would fain have
hoped that so many noble qualities must have made a noble
character and achieved noble ends. No the mighty genius
lived a miserable and degraded life, and died a dog's death, for
want of self-control, for want of morality, for lack of religion.
One's heart is wrung for Mirabeau after reading his life ; and it
is not of his greatness we think, when we close the volume, so
much as of his hopeless recklessness, and of the sufferings,
degradation, and untimely end in which it issued. It appears to
me that the biographer errs also in being too solicitous to present
his hero always in a striking point of view too negligent of the
exact truth. He eulogises him too much ; he subdues all the
other characters mentioned and keeps them in the shade that
Mirabeau may stand out more conspicuously. This, no doubt,
is right in art, and admissible in fiction ; but in history (and
biography is the history of an individual) it tends to weaken the
force of a narrative by weakening your faith in its accuracy.
C. BELL.
426 THE BRONTfiS
Letter 294
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, I should have answered your last long ago if
I had known your address, but you omitted to give it me, and I
have been waiting in the hope that you would perhaps write
again and repair the omission. Finding myself deceived in this
expectation, however, I have at last hit on the plan of sending
the letter to Brookroyd to be directed ; be sure to give me your
address when you reply to this.
I was glad to hear that you were well received at London, and
that you got safe to the end of your journey. Your naivett in
gravely inquiring my opinion of the ' last new novel ' amuses me ;
we do not subscribe to a circulating library at Haworth, and
consequently * new novels ' rarely indeed come in our way, and
consequently again, we are not qualified to give opinions thereon.
About three weeks ago I received a brief note from Hunsworth,
to the effect that Mr. Joe Taylor and his cousin Henry would
make some inquiries respecting Mde. Hdger's school on account
of Ellen Taylor, and that if I had no objection, they would ride
over to Haworth in a day or two. I said they might come if
they would. They came, accompanied by Miss Mossman, of
Bradford, whom I had never seen, only heard of occasionally. It
was a pouring wet and windy day ; we had quite ceased to expect
them. Miss Mossman was quite wet, and we had to make her
change her things, and dress her out in ours as well as we could.
I do not know if you are acquainted with her ; I thought her
unaffected and rather agreeable looking, though she has very red
hair. Henry Taylor does indeed resemble John most strongly.
Joe looked thin, he was in good spirits, and I think in tolerably
good-humour. I would have given much for you to have been
there. I had not been very well for some days before, and had
some difficulty in keeping up the talk, but I managed on the
whole better than I expected. I was glad Miss Mossman came,
for she helped. Nothing new was communicated respecting
Mary. Nothing of importance in any way was said the whole
time ; it was all rattle, rattle, of which I should have great
difficulty now in recalling the substance. They left almost
immediately after tea. I have not heard a word respecting them
A LITERARY FRIENDSHIP 427
since, but I suppose they got home all right The visit strikes
me as an odd whim. I consider it quite a caprice, prompted
probably by curiosity.
Joe Taylor mentioned that he had called at Brookroyd, and
that Ann had told him you were ill, and going into the South for
change of air.
I hope you will soon write to me again and tell me particularly
how your health is, and how you get on, Give my regards to
Mary Gorham, for really I have a sort of regard for her by hear-
say, and believe me, dear Nell, yours faithfully,
C. BRONT
Letter 295
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July 4///, 1848.
DEAR ELLEN, -As far as I can understand your brother John's
proposal, it seems to me very grasping ; if it is so, you do right to
resist it. Still you must consider well, lest unreflecting opposition
should do incalculable mischief. As you say, your own actual
present interest in the matter is small, and none can read the
future, none can say because I am younger than this man or
woman I shall live longer than he. Your brother, of course, does
not mean to say that in case you should marry and have children
of your own, you should not be at liberty to will anything you
might have to them. Should this never happen, certainly his
family are the nearest to you all : to them, whether bound to do
so or not, you would naturally leave your property. It might
under such circumstances be unwise to make a great sacrifice of
present comfort and security for the sake of future possible
contingencies. As to the principle of the matter, it is not a thing
of which you are called upon to make a religion ; it is sometimes
more meritorious to yield our own rights than to cling to them
too tenaciously, if yielding will add greatly to the comfort of
others. But there may be sides of the question known to you, of
which I am ignorant
C. BRONTE.
428 THE BRONTES
CHAPTER XVII
MARY TAYLOR
THE reader will have discovered that one of the most
attractive personalities in Charlotte Bronte's life was Miss
Mary Taylor, the 'M ' of Mrs. Gaskell's biography
and the Rose Yorke of Shirley.
Mary Taylor will always have a peculiar interest to those
who care for the Brontes. She shrank from publicity, and
her name has been less mentioned than that of any other
member of the circle. And yet hers was a personality
singularly strenuous and strong. She wrote two books
* with a purpose, 1 and, as we shall see, vigorously embodied
her teaching in her life. It will be remembered that
Charlotte Bronte, Ellen Nussey, and Mary Taylor first
met at Roe Head School, when Charlotte was fifteen and
her friends about fourteen years of age. Here are Miss
Nussey 's impressions :
She was pretty, and very childish-looking, dressed in a red-
Ellen coloured frock with short sleeves and low neck, as
Nussey's then worn by young girls. Miss Wooler in later years
Narrative. usec j to sa y t j iat w j len Mary went to her as a pupil
she thought her too pretty to live. She was not talkative at
school, but industrious, and always ready with lessons. She
was always at the top in class lessons, with Charlotte Bronte
and the writer ; seldom a change was made, and then only with
the three one move. Charlotte and she were great friends for
a time, but there was no withdrawing from me on either side,
and Charlotte never quite knew how an estrangement arose
with Mary, but it lasted a long time. Then a time came that
both Charlotte and Mary were so proficient in schoolroom at-
tainments there was no more for them to learn, and Miss Wooler
MARY TAYLOR 429
set them Blair's Belles Lettres to commit to memory. We all
laughed at their studies. Charlotte persevered, but Mary took
her own line, flatly refused, and accepted the penalty of dis-
obedience, going supperless to bed for about a month before she
left school. When it was moonlight, we always found her engaged
in drawing on the chest of drawers, which stood in the bay window,
quite happy and cheerful. Her rebellion was never outspoken.
She was always quiet in demeanour. Her sister Martha, on the
contrary, spoke out vigorously, daring Miss Wooler so much, face
to face, that she sometimes received a box on the ear, which hardly
any saint could have withheld. Then Martha would expatiate on
the danger of boxing ears, quoting a reverend brother of Miss
Wooler's. Among her school companions, Martha was called
* Miss Boisterous,' but was always a favourite, so piquant and
fascinating were her ways. She was not in the least pretty, but
something much better, full of change and variety, rudely out-
spoken, lively, and original, producing laughter with her own
good-humour and affection. She was her father's pet child. He
delighted in hearing her sing, telling her to go the piano, with his
affectionate * Patty lass/
Mary never had the impromptu vivacity of her sister, but was
lively in games that engaged her mind. Her music was very
correct, but entirely cultivated by practice and perseverance. Any-
thing underhand was detestable to both Mary and Martha ; they
had no mean pride towards others, but accepted the incidents of
life with imperturbable good-sense and insight. They were not
dressed as well as other pupils, for economy at that time was the
rule of their household. The girls had to stitch all over their new
gloves before wearing them, by order of their mother, to make
them wear longer. Their dark blue cloth coats were worn when
too short, and black beaver bonnets quite plainly trimmed, with the
ease and contentment of a fashionable costume. Mr. Taylor was
a banker as well as a monopolist of army cloth manufacture in the
district. He lost money, and gave up banking. He set his mind
on paying all creditors, and effected this during his lifetime as far
as possible, willing that his sons were to do the remainder, which
two of his sons carried out, as was understood, during their lifetime
Mark and Martin of Shirley!
Let us now read Charlotte's description in Shirley, and
I think we have a tolerably fair estimate of the sisters.
480 THE BRONTfiS
The two next are girls, Rose and Jessie ; they are both now at
their father's knee ; they seldom go near their mother, except
when obliged to do so. Rose, the elder, is twelve years old ; she
is like her father the most like him of the whole group but it is
a granite head copied in ivory ; all is softened in colour and line.
Yorke himself has a harsh face ; his daughter's is not harsh,
neither is it quite pretty ; it is simple childlike in feature ; the
round cheeks bloom ; as to the grey eyes, they are otherwise than
childlike a serious soul lights them a young soul yet, but it will
mature, if the body lives ; and neither father nor mother has a
spirit to compare with it. Partaking of the essence of each, it will
one day be better than either stronger, much purer, more aspiring.
Rose is a still, and sometimes a stubborn girl now ; her mother
wants to make of her such a woman as she is herself a woman
of dark and dreary duties ; and Rose has a mind full-set, thick-
sown with the germs of ideas her mother never knew. It is agony
to her often to have these ideas trampled on and repressed.
She has never rebelled yet ; but if hard driven, she will rebel one
day, and then it will be once for all. Rose loves her father ; her
father does not rule her with a rod of iron ; he is good to her.
He sometimes fears she will not live, so bright are the sparks of
intelligence which, at moments, flash from her glance and gleam
in her language. This idea makes him often sadly tender to her.
He has no idea that little Jessie will die young, she is so gay
and chattering, arch original even now ; passionate when pro-
voked, but most affectionate if caressed ; by turns gentle and
rattling ; exacting yet generous ; fearless of her mother, for in-
stance, whose irrationally hard and strict rule she has often defied
yet reliant on any who will help her. Jessie, with her little
piquant face, engaging prattle, and winning ways, is made to be a
pet ; and her father's pet she accordingly is.
Mary Taylor was called ' Pag ' by her friends and some-
times ' Polly.' In a letter we have read, 1 reference is
made to her father's death. He was the Mr. Yorke of
Briarmains in Shirley. Soon after that event Mary began
to talk of going to New Zealand, but four years were to
pass ere she carried out her plan. Instead she went to
Brussels, which, as we have seen, was the direct cause of
1 Jan. 31, 1841.
MARY TAYLOR 481
Charlotte and Emily establishing themselves at the
Pensionnat Hger. In Brussels Martha Taylor died.
It was while Charlotte was making her second stay in
Brussels that she heard of Mary's determination to go
with her brother Waring to New Zealand, with a view to
earning her own living in any reasonable manner that
might offer.
Here she was joined by her cousin Ellen Taylor, and it
was from Wellington that she wrote the many interesting
letters that I have been permitted by her executors to
publish. Her letter on receipt of a copy of Jane Eyre is
particularly noteworthy.
Letter 296
TO CHARLOTTE BRONTE
WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND,
July 24///, 1848.
DEAR CHARLOTTE, About a month since I received and read
Jane Eyre. It seemed to me incredible that you had actually
written a book. Such events did not happen while I was in
England. I begin to believe in your existence much as I do in
Mr. Rochester's. In a believing mood I don't doubt either of
them. After I had read it I went on to the top of Mount
Victoria and looked for a ship to carry a letter to you. There
was a little thing with one mast, and also H.M.S. Fly, and
nothing else. If a cattle vessel came from Sydney she would
probably return in a few days, and would take a mail, but we
have had east wind for a month and nothing can come in.
Aug. i. The Harlequin has just come from Otago, and is to
sail for Singapore when the wind changes^ and by that route
(which I hope to take myself sometime) I send you this.
Much good may it do you. Your novel surprised me by
being so perfect as a work of art. I expected something more
changeable and unfinished. You have polished to some purpose.
If I were to do so I should get tired, and weary every one
else in about two pages. No sign of this weariness in your
book you must have had abundance, having kept it all to
yourself !
482 THE BRONTES
You are very different from me in having no doctrine to
preach. It is impossible to squeeze a moral out of your pro-
duction. Has the world gone so well with you that you have no
protest to make against its absurdities? Did you never sneer or
declaim in your first sketches? I will scold you well when I see
you. I do not believe in Mr. Rivers. There are no good men of
the Rivers species. A missionary either goes into his office for
a piece of bread, or he goes from enthusiasm, and that is both
too good and too bad a quality for St. John. It's a bit of your
absurd charity to believe in such a man. You have done wisely
in choosing to imagine a high class of readers. You never stop
to explain or defend anything, and never seem bothered with the
idea * If Mrs. Fairfax or any other well-intentioned fool gets
hold of this, what will she think ? ' And yet, you know, the world
is made up of such, and worse. Once more, how have you written
through three volumes without declaring war to the knife against
a few dozen absurd doctrines, each of which is supported by ' a
large and respectable class of readers * ? Emily seems to have
such a class in her eye when she wrote that strange thing
Wuthering Heights. Anne, too, stops repeatedly to preach
commonplace truths. She has had a still lower class in her
mind's eye. Emily seems to have followed the bookseller's
advice. As to the price you got, it was certainly Jewish. But
what could the people do? If they had asked you to fix it,
do you know yourself how many ciphers your sum would have
had? And how should they know better? And if they did,
that's the knowledge they get their living by. If I were in your
place, the idea of being bound in the sale of two more would
prevent me from ever writing again. Yet you are probably now
busy with another. It is curious to me to see among the old
letters one from Sarah sending a copy of d whole article on the
currency question written by Fonblanque ! I exceedingly regret
having burnt your letters in a fit of caution, and I Ve forgotten all
the names. Was the reader Albert Smith? What do they think
of you ? I perceive I Ve betrayed my habit of writing only on
one side of the paper. Go on to the next page.
I mention the book to no one and hear no opinions. I lend
it a good deal because it 's a novel, and it } s as good as another \
They say 'it makes them cry.' They are not literary enough
to give an opinion. If ever I hear one I'll embalm it for you.
As to my own affair, I have written 100 pages, and lately 50
MARY TAYLOR 488
more. It 's no use writing faster. I get so disgusted, I can do
nothing. I have sent three or four things to Joe for Tait. Troup
(Ed.) never acknowledges them, though he promised to pay or
send them back. Joe sent one to Chambers^ who thought it
unsuitable, in which I agree with them.
I think I told you I built a house. I get I2S. a week for it.
Moreover, in accordance with a late letter of John's, I borrow
money from him and Joe and buy cattle with it. I have already
spent 100 or so and intend to buy some more as soon as Waring
can pay me the money perhaps as much by degrees as ^400 or
$oo. As I only pay 5 per cent, interest I expect [to] profit
much by this, viz. about 30 per ct. a year, perhaps 40 or 50.
Thus if I borrow 500 in two years' time (I cannot have it
quicker) I shall perhaps make 250 to 300. I am pretty certain
of being able to pay principal and interest. If I could command
^"300 and 50 a year, afterwards I would 'hallack' 1 about N.Z.
for a twelvemonth, then go home by way of India, and write my
travels, which would prepare the way for my novel. With the
benefit of your experience I should perhaps make a better bargain
than you. I am most afraid of my health. Not that I should
die, but perhaps sink into a state of betwcenity, neither well nor
ill, in which I should observe nothing, and be very miserable
besides. My life here is not disagreeable. I have a great
resource in the piano, and a little employment in teaching.
Then I go in to Mrs. Taylor's and astonish the poor girl with
calling her favourite parson a spoon. She thinks I am astonish-
ingly learned but rather wicked, and tries hard to persuade me to
go to chapel, though I tell her I only go for amusement. She
would have sense but for her wretched health, which is getting
rapidly worse from her irrational mode of living.
I can hardly explain to you the queer feeling of living, as I
do, in two places at once. One world containing books, England,
and all the people with whom I can exchange an idea ; the other
all that I actually see and hear and speak to. The separation
is as complete as between the things in a picture and the
things in the room. The puzzle is that both move and act,
and [I] must say my say as one of each. The result is that one
world at least must think me crazy. I am just now in a sad
mess. A drover, who has grown rich with cattle-dealing, wanted
me to go and teach his daughter. As the man is a widower I
1 To idle away time.
VOL, I. 2 E
484 THE BRONTES
astonished this world when I accepted the proposal, and still more
because I asked too high a price (70) a year. Now that I have
begun, the same people can't conceive why I don't go on and
marry the man at once, which they imagine must have been my
original intention, For my part I shall possibly astonish them a
little more, for I feel a great inclination to make use of his
interested civilities to visit his daughter and see the district of
Porirua. If I had a little more money and could afford a horse
(she rides), I certainly would. But I can see nothing till I
get a horse, which I shall have if I'm lucky in two or three
years.
I have just made acquaintance with Dr. and Mrs. Logan. He
is a retired navy doctor, and has more general knowledge than
any one I have talked to here. For instance, he had heard of
Philippe jgalitc; of a camera-obscura ; of the resemblance the
English language has to the German, etc,, etc. Mrs. Taylor,
Miss Knox, and Mrs. Logan sat in mute admiration while he
mentioned these things, being employed in the meantime in
making a patchwork quilt. Did you never notice that the
women of the middle classes are generally too ignorant to talk
to? and that you are thrown entirely on the man for con-
versation? There is no such feminine inferiority In the lower,
The women go hand in hand with the men in the degree of
cultivation they are able to reach. I can talk very well to a
joiner's wife, but seldom to a merchant's.
I must now tell you the fate of your cow. The creature gave
so little milk that she is doomed to be fatted and killed. In
about two months she will fetch perhaps 1$, with which I shall
buy three heifers. Thus you have the chance of getting a calf
sometime. My own thrive well, and possibly I have a calf
myself. Before this reaches England I shall have three or four.
It's a pity you don't live in this world, that I might entertain
you about the price of meat. Do you know, I bought six heifers
the other day for 23, and now it is turned so cold I expect to
hear one-half of them are dead. One man bought twenty sheep
for $, and they are all dead but one. Another bought 150 and
has 40 left, and people have begun to drive cattle through a
valley into the Wairau plains and thence across the straits to
Wellington, etc., etc. This is the only legitimate subject of
conversation we have, the rest is gossip concerning our superiors in
station who don't know us on the road, but it is astonishing how
MARY TAYLOB, 485
well we know all their private affairs, making allowance always
for the distortion in our own organs of vision.
I have now told you everything I can think of except that the
cat 's on the table and that I 'm going to borrow a new book to
read no less than an account of all the systems of philosophy of
modern Europe. I have lately met with a wonder, a man who
thinks Jane Eyre would have done better to marry Mr. Rivers !
He gives no reason such people never do.
MARY TAYLOR,
This brings me to a letter by Charlotte which throws a
flood of light upon an event of July in this year that
provided a moment of too wild excitement ; for two of the
three sisters, Charlotte and Anne, went up to London to
see their publishers, who up to that time had no knowledge
of their appearance, although they had long known the
sex of 'Mr. Currer Bell/
Letter 297
TO 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
Grey 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 copyright, 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 Byre 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
438 THE BRONTES
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 meaning of such false play ; it enclosed an extract
from a letter from Mr. Newby (A. and C. Bell's publisher) affirm-
ing that to the best of his belief Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights,
and Agnes Grey, and The Tenant of Wildfett Hall (the new work)
were all the production of one author.
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 the trade believe that he had got hold of
Currer Bell, and 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 and
Elder's letter, Anne and I packed up a small box, sent it down to
Keighley, set out ourselves after tea, walked through a snow-
storm to the station, got to Leeds, and whirled up by the night
train to London with the view of proving our separate identity to
Smith and Elder, and confronting Newby with his lie.
We arrived at the Chapter Coffee- House 1 (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 then set off in queer inward excitement to 65 Corn-
hill. Neither Mr. Smith nor Mr. Williams knew we were corning
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 perplexity a recognition
1 The Chapter Coffee-House at the west corner of Paul's Alley, Paternoster Row,
'was noted in the last century as the place of meeting of the London publishers'
(Wheatley's London). It was destroyed in 1858.
MARY TAYLOR 437
took place. I gave my real name : Miss Bronte. We were in a
small room ceiled with a great skylight and there explanations
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 excite-
ment of the interview by a thundering headache and harassing
sickness. Towards evening, 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 an-
nounced. They came in, two elegant young ladies, in full dress,
prepared for the Opera Mr. Smith himself in evening costume,
white gloves, etc. We had by no means understood that it was
settled we were to go to the Opera, and were not ready. More-
over, 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 pocket, we attired our-
selves 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, especi-
ally 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 superciliousness quite warranted by the
circumstances. Still, I felt pleasantly excited In spite of headache
and sickness and conscious clownishness, and I saw Anne was
calm and gentle, which she always Is. l
1 They took the pseudonym of ' Brown ' when introduced to Mr. Smith's friends.
'All this time, 3 says Mrs. Gaskell, 4 those who came in contact with the "Miss Browns"
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
438 THE BRONTfiS
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
the night before, 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 appro-
priate language in which to express himself, which throws him into
the background in conversation ; but I had been his correspon-
dent 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 residence is at Bayswater, six miles
from Cornhill ; the rooms, the drawing-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, 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 decidedly
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 a practical man,
I wish Mr. Williams were more so, but he is altogether of the
contemplative, 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 residence and his fine family of eight children. A
daughter of Leigh Hunt's 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
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. '
MARY TAYLOR 489
Mr. Smith had given us, and got safely home, A more jaded
wretch than I looked when I returned it would be difficult to con-
ceive. 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 excite-
ment went off and I regained my normal condition. We saw
Mr. Newby, but of him more another time. Good-bye. God
bless you. Write. C B.
Here we may return to the regular order of the corre-
spondence, which fully explains itself.
Letter 298
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
CHAPTER COFFEE-HOUSE, IVY LANE,
Julylth, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, Your invitation is too welcome not to be at
once accepted. I should much like to see Mrs. Williams and her
children, and very much like to have a quiet chat with yourself.
Would it suit you if we came to-morrow, after dinner say about
seven o'clock, and spent Sunday evening with you ?
We shall be truly glad to see you whenever it is convenient to
you to call. I am, my dear sir, yours faithfully,
C. BRONTE.
Letter 299
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
HAWORTH, //y 13/7;, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, We reached home safely yesterday, and in a
day or two I doubt not we shall get the better of the fatigues of
our journey.
It was a somewhat hasty step to hurry up to town as we
did, but I do not regret having taken it. In the first place
mystery is irksome, and I was glad to shake it off with you and
Mr. Smith, and to show myself to you for what I am, neither
more nor less thus removing any false expectations that may
have arisen under the idea that Currer Bell had a just claim to
440 THE BRONTfiS
the masculine cognomen he, perhaps somewhat presumptuously,
adopted that he was, in short, of the nobler sex.
I was glad also to see you and Mr. Smith, and am very happy
now to have such pleasant recollections of you both, and of your
respective families. My satisfaction would have been complete
could I have seen Mrs. Williams. The appearance of your children
tallied on the whole accurately with the description you had
given of them. Fanny was the one I saw least distinctly ; I
tried to get a clear view of her countenance, but her position in
the room did not favour my efforts.
I have just read your article in the John Bull\ it very clearly
and fully explains the cause of the difference obvious between
ancient and modern paintings. I wish you had been with us
when we went over the Exhibition and the National Gallery : a
little explanation from a judge of art would doubtless have
enabled us to understand better what we saw ; perhaps, one day,
we may have this pleasure.
Accept my own thanks and my sister's for your kind attention
to us while in town, and Believe me, yours sincerely,
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
I trust Mrs. Williams is quite recovered from her indisposi-
tion.
Letter 300
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
July 2%th, 1848.
DEAR ELLEN, There were passages in your last letter which
touched me, but I shall not dwell on them. I am writing now
simply because I want to hear from you again, not because I
have anything of the slightest interest to say. I observe in your
letters you have not said much about Mary Gorharn. I hope you
find reason to like her as well as ever ; and indeed I cannot doubt
that this is the case, as from your account of her I should con-
jecture that she is not of those characters that deteriorate with
time and experience, or even that change, except for the
better. Perhaps the presence of the two other young ladies
would, at first, keep you a little apart from her, but since you
wrote last you will have been with her more alone, and can tell
me more about her.
I should suppose the brothers, from what you say, are of the
MARY TAYLOR 441
better end of mankind ; Mrs. Gorham I always stand a little in
awe of; I fancy her somewhat cold and severe, even suspicious.
I think I confuse her character with that of our old friend Mrs.
Taylor ; doubtless I do her great injustice. As to Mr. Gorham,
he seems a nonentity to me ; I dare say you may have described
him to me at some time, but if so I have forgotten the very out-
lines of the portrait ; you must sketch it again.
Anne continues to hear constantly, almost daily, from her old
pupils, the Robinsons. They are both now engaged to different
gentlemen, and if they do not change their minds, which they have
done already two or three times, will probably be married in a
few months. Not one spark of love does either of them profess
for her future husband, one of them openly declares that interest
alone guides her, and the other, poor thing ! is acting according to
her mother's wish, and is utterly indifferent herself to the man
chosen for her. The lighter-headed of the two sisters takes a
pleasure in the spectacle of her fine wedding-dresses and costly
bridal presents ; the more thoughtful can derive no gratification
from these things and is much depressed at the contemplation of
her future lot. Anne does her best to cheer and counsel her, and
she seems to cling to her quiet, former governess, as her only true
friend. Of their mother I have not patience to speak ; a worse
woman, I believe, hardly exists ; the more I hear of her the more
deeply she revolts me ; but I do not like to talk about her in a
letter.
Branwell is the same in conduct as ever ; his constitution seems
shattered. Papa, and sometimes all of us, have sad nights with
him, he sleeps most of the day, and consequently will lie awake at
night. But has not every house its trial ?
Write to me very soon, dear Nell, and believe me, yours
sincerely, C. BRONTE.
Letter 301
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
HAWORTHj/tf/y 31 J/, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, I have lately been reading Modern Painters,
and I have derived from the work much genuine pleasure and, I
hope, some edification ; at any rate, it made me feel how ignorant
I had previously been on the subject which it treats. Hitherto
442 THE BRONTfiS
I have only had instinct to guide me in judging of art; I feel
more as if I had been walking blindfold this book seems to give
me eyes. I do wish I had pictures within reach by which to test
the new sense. Who can read these glowing descriptions of
Turner's works without longing to see them ? However eloquent
and convincing the language in which another's opinion is placed
before you, you still wish to judge for yourself. I like this
author's style much : there is both energy and beauty in it ; I like
himself too, because he is such a hearty admirer. He does not
give Turner half-measure of praise or veneration, he eulogises,
he reverences him (or rather his genius) with his whole soul. One
can sympathise with that sort of devout, serious admiration (for
he is no rhapsodist) one can respect it ; and yet possibly many
people would laugh at it. I am truly obliged to Mr. Smith for
giving me this book, not having often met with one that has
pleased me more.
You will have seen some of the notices of Wildfell Hall. I
wish my sister felt the unfavourable ones less keenly. She does
not say much, for she is of a remarkably taciturn, still, thoughtful
nature, reserved even with her nearest of kin, but I cannot avoid
seeing that her spirits are depressed sometimes. The fact is,
neither she nor any of us expected that view to be taken of the
book which has been taken by some critics. That it had faults
of execution, faults of art, was obvious, but faults of intention or
feeling could be suspected by none who knew the writer. For
my own part, I consider the subject unfortunately chosen it was
one the author was not qualified to handle at once vigorously and
truthfully. The simple and natural quiet description and simple
pathos are, I think, Acton Bell's forte. I liked Agnes Grey
better than the present work.
Permit me to caution you not to speak of my sisters when you
write to me. I mean, do not use the word in the plural. Ellis
Bell will not endure to be alluded to under any other appellation
than the now dc plume. I committed a grand error in betraying
his identity to you and Mr. Smith. It was inadvertent the
words 4 we are three sisters ' escaped me before I was aware. I
regretted the avowal the moment I had made it ; I regret it
bitterly now, for I find it is against every feeling and intention of
Ellis Bell.
I was greatly amused to see in the Examiner of this week one
of Newby's little cobwebs neatly swept away by some dexterous
MARY TAYLOR 448
brush. If Newby is not too old to profit by experience, such an
exposure ought to teach him that * Honesty is indeed the best
policy/
Your letter has just been brought to me. I must not pause to
thank you, I should say too much. Our life is, and always has
been, one of few pleasures, as you seem in part to guess, and for
that reason we feel what passages of enjoyment come in our way
very keenly ; and I think if you knew how pleased I am to get a
long letter from you, you would laugh at me.
In return, however, I smile at you for the earnestness with
which you urge on us the propriety of seeing something of
London society. There would be an advantage in it a great
advantage; yet it is one that no power on earth could induce
Ellis Bell, for instance, to avail himself of. And even for Acton
and Currer, the experiment of an introduction to society would be
more formidable than you, probably, can well imagine, An exist-
ence of absolute seclusion and unvarying monotony, such as we
have long I may say, indeed, ever been habituated to, tends, I
fear, to unfit the mind for lively and exciting scenes, to destroy
the capacity for social enjoyment.
The only glimpses of society I have ever had were obtained
in my vocation of governess, and some of the most miserable
moments I can recall were passed in drawing-rooms full of strange
faces. At such times, my animal spirits would ebb gradually till
they sank quite away, and when I could endure the sense of
exhaustion and solitude no longer, I used to steal off, too glad to
find any corner where I could really be alone. Still, I know very
well, that though that experiment of seeing the world might give
acute pain for the time, it would do good afterwards ; and as I
have never, that I remember, gained any important good without
incurring proportionate suffering, I mean to try to take your
advice some day, in part at least to put off, if possible, that
troublesome egotism which is always judging and blaming itself,
and to try, country spinster as I am, to get a view of some sphere
where civilised humanity is to be contemplated.
I smile at you again for supposing that I could be annoyed by
what you say respecting your religious and philosophical views ;
that I could blame you for not being able, when you look
amongst sects and creeds, to discover any one which you can
exclusively and implicitly adopt as yours. I perceive myself that
some light falls on earth from Heaven that some rays from the
444 THE BRONTES
shrine of truth pierce the darkness of this life and world; but they
are few, faint, and scattered, and who without presumption can
assert that he has found the only true path upwards ?
Yet ignorance, weakness, or indiscretion must have their creeds
and forms ; they must have their props they cannot walk alone.
Let them hold by what is purest in doctrine and simplest in
ritual ; something^ they must have.
I never read Emerson ; but the book which has had so healing
an effect on your mind must be a good one. Very enviable is the
writer whose words have fallen like a gentle rain on a soil that so
needed and merited refreshment, whose influence has come like a
genial breeze to lift a spirit which circumstances seem so harshly
to have trampled. Emerson, if he has cheered you, has not
written in vain.
May this feeling of self-reconcilement, of inward peace and
strength, continue ! May you still be lenient with, be just to,
yourself! I will not praise nor flatter you, I should hate to pay
those enervating compliments which tend to check the exertions
of a mind that aspires after excellence ; but I must permit myself
to remark that if you had not something good and superior in
you, something better, whether more showy or not, than is often
met with, the assurance of your friendship would not make one
so happy as it does ; nor would the advantage of your corre-
spondence be felt as such a privilege.
I hope Mrs. Williams's state of health may soon improve and
her anxieties lessen. Blamable indeed are those who sow
division where there ought to be peace, and especially deserving
of the ban of society.
I thank both you and your family for keeping our secret. It
will indeed be a kindness to us to persevere in doing so ; and I
own I have a certain confidence in the honourable discretion of
a household of which you are the head. Believe me, yours very
sincerely, C. BRONTE.
Letter 302
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
August i4/tf, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, My sister Anne thanks you, as well as myself,
for your just critique on Wildfell Hall. It appears to me that
your observations exactly hit both the strong and weak points of
MARY TAYLOR 445
the book, and the advice which accompanies them is worthy of,
and shall receive, our most careful attention.
The first duty of an author is, I conceive, a faithful allegiance
to Truth and Nature; his second, such a conscientious study of
Art as shall enable him to interpret eloquently and effectively
the oracles delivered by those two great deities. The Bells are
very sincere in their worship of Truth, and they hope to apply
themselves to the consideration of Art, so as to attain one day
the power of speaking the language of conviction in the accents
of persuasion ; though they rather apprehend that whatever pains
they take to modify and soften, an abrupt word or vehement tone
will now and then occur to startle ears polite, whenever the subject
shall chance to be such as moves their spirits within them.
I have already told you, I believe, that I regard Mr. Thackeray
as the first of modern masters, and as the legitimate high priest of
Truth ; I study him accordingly with reverence. Me, I see, keeps
the mermaid's tail below water, and only hints at the dead men's
bones and noxious slime amidst which it wriggles ; but, his hint
is more vivid than other men's elaborate explanations, and never
is his satire whetted to so keen an edge as when with quiet
mocking irony he modestly recommends to the approbation of
the public his own exemplary discretion and forbearance. The
world begins to know Thackeray rather better than it did two
years or even a year ago, but as yet it only half knows him. His
mind seems to me a fabric as simple and unpretending as it is
deep-founded and enduring there is no meretricious ornament
to attract or fix a superficial glance ; his great distinction of the
genuine is one that can only be fully appreciated with time.
There is something, a sort of * still profound,' revealed in the
concluding part of Vanity Fair which the discernment of one
generation will not suffice to fathom. A hundred years hence,
if he only lives to do justice to himself, he will be better
known than he is now. A hundred years hence, some
thoughtful critic, standing and looking down on the deep
waters, will see shining through them the pearl without price of
a purely original mind such a mind as the Bulwers, etc., his
contemporaries have not, not acquirements gained from study,
but the thing that came into the world with him his inherent
genius: the thing that made him, I doubt not, different as a child
from other children, that caused him, perhaps, peculiar griefs and
struggles in life, and that now makes him as a writer unlike other
446 THE BRONTfiS
writers. Excuse me for recurring to this theme, I do not wish to
bore you.
You say Mr. Huntingdon reminds you of Mr. Rochester. Does
he? Yet there is no likeness between the two; the foundation of
each character is entirely different Huntingdon is a specimen
of the naturally selfish, sensual, superficial man, whose one merit
of a joyous temperament only avails him while he is young and
healthy, whose best days are his earliest, who never profits by
experience, who is sure to grow worse the older he grows. Mr.
Rochester has a thoughtful nature and a very feeling heart ; he is
neither selfish nor self-indulgent ; he is ill-educated, misguided ;
errs, when he does err, through rashness and inexperience : he
lives for a time as too many other men live, but being radically
better than most men, he docs not like that degraded life, and is
never happy in it. He is taught the severe lessons of experience
and has sense to learn wisdom from them, Years improve him ;
the effervescence of youth foamed away, what is really good in
him still remains. His nature is like wine of a good vintage,
time cannot sour, but only mellows him. Such at least was the
character I meant to portray.
Heathcliffc, again, of Wuthering Heights is quite another
creation. He exemplifies the effects which a life of continued
injustice and hard usage may produce on a naturally perverse,
vindictive, and inexorable disposition. Carefully trained and
kindly treated, the black gipsy-cub might possibly have been
reared into a human being, but tyranny and ignorance made of
him a mere demon. The worst of it is, some of his spirit seems
breathed through the whole narrative in which he figures : it
haunts every moor and glen, and beckons in every fir-tree of the
Heights.
I must not forget to thank you for the Examiner and Atlas
newspapers. Poor Mr. Newby 1 It is not enough that the
Examiner nails him by both ears to the pillory, but the Atlas
brands a token of disgrace on his forehead. This is a deplorable
plight, and he makes all matters worse by his foolish little
answers to his assailants. It is a pity that he has no kind friend
to suggest to him that he had better not bandy words with the
Examiner. His plea about the ' printer' was too ludicrous, and
his second note is pitiable. I only regret that the names of
Ellis and Acton Bell should perforce be mixed up with his pro-
ceedings. My sister Anne wishes me to say that should she ever
MARY TAYLOR 447
write another work, Mr. Smith will certainly have the first offer of
the copyright.
I hope Mrs. Williams's health is more satisfactory than when
you last wrote. With every good wish to yourself and your
family, Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely,
C. BRONTE.
Letter 303
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
August i8/^ 1848.
DEAR ELLEN, I fear the broken weather will have interfered
with the pleasure of your visit lately ; perhaps, though, you have
had more sunshine in Sussex, but in Yorkshire, nearly for the
last month, one showery day has succeeded another, which cir-
cumstance has caused some dire forebodings about the crops. To-
day, however, it is very fine, and I hope people's hearts and
prospects will be cheered by a return of summer. About ten
days ago I received a parcel containing the Life of Mr. Simeon,
which you offered to lend me before you went South. It has been
lying at the George Hotel in Bradford during the whole interval,
a period of nearly two months. I have always found it unsafe to
send parcels by Bradford, the innkeepers are so very careless.
Papa has been very much interested in reading the book. There
is frequent mention made in it of persons and places formerly well
known to him ; he thanks you for lending it.
The Robinsons are not married yet, but expect to be in the
course of a few months. The unhappy Lady Scott is dead, after long
suffering both mental and physical. I imagine she expired two or
three weeks ago. Mrs. Robinson is anxious to get her daughters
husbands of any kind, that they may be off her hands, and that she
may be free to marry Sir Edward Scott, whose infatuated slave,
it would appear, she is. I do not know whether you remember
the house called Woodlands, near Haworth, belonging to Mr. Jas.
G d. The owner has failed lately, and the house and all its furni-
ture have been sold by auction. The S s purchased a large
portion of the latter to return to their relatives, who have now left
the neighbourhood, and are gone to reside somewhere (I believe)
in the East Riding. This is a great and unexpected reverse of
fortune, and by throwing many of the poor of Haworth out of
employment, has occasioned great distress in the village. I have
448 THE BRONTfiS
heard nothing whatever of the Taylors since their visit here. Write
to me again soon, and believe me, yours faithfully,
C. BRONTE.
I had just written the foregoing when I received yours of the
i6th. Dear Ellen, you must be careful in riding out ; it is a most
merciful thing that your late accident was not more serious ; this
is the second time your life or your limbs have been in serious
peril. I hope no third risk will befall you. It gives me genuine
pleasure to hear that you are so well amused, and that coming
enjoyment is in prospect. I doubt not your health will benefit by
the change. Good-bye.
Letter 304
TO MISS WOOLER
HAWORTH, August 28M, 1848.
MY DEAR Miss WOOLER, 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 you asked me, and was
sorry afterwards for the omission ; I will begin, therefore, by
replying to it, though I fear what I can give will now come a
little late. You said Mrs. Chapham had some thoughts of send-
ing her daughter to school, and wished to know whether the
Clergy Daughters' School at Casterton was an eligible place.
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, which bad
air and water, and bad, insufficient diet can generate, preyed on
the ill-fated pupils. It would not then have been a fit place for
any of Mrs. Chapham's children. But, I understand, it is very
much altered for the better since those days. The school is
removed from Cowan Bridge (a situation as unhealthy as it was
picturesque low, damp, beautiful with wood and water) to
Casterton ; the accommodation, the diet, the discipline, the system
of tuition, all are, I believe, entirely altered and greatly improved.
MARY TAYLOR 449
I was told that such pupils as behaved well and remained at
school until their educations were finished were provided with
situations as governesses, if they wished to adopt that vocation, and
that much care was exercised in the selection ; it was added they
were also furnished with an excellent wardrobe on quitting
Casterton.
If I have the opportunity of reading the Life of Dr. Arnold, I
shall not fail to profit thereby ; your recommendation makes me
desirous to see it. Do you remember once speaking with appro-
bation of a book called Mrs. Leicester's School, which you said you
had met with, and you wondered by whom it was written ? I was
reading the other day a lately published collection of the Letters
of Charles Lamb, edited by Serjeant Talfourd, where I found it
mentioned that Mrs. Leicester's School was the first production of
Lamb and his sister. These letters are themselves singularly
interesting ; they have hitherto been suppressed in all previous
collections of Lamb's works and relics, on account of the frequent
allusions they contain to the unhappy malady of Miss Lamb, and
a frightful incident which darkened her earlier years. She was, it
appears, a woman of the sweetest disposition, and, in her normal
state, of the highest and clearest intellect, but afflicted with
periodical insanity which came on once a year, or oftener. To her
parents she was a most tender and dutiful daughter, nursing them
in their old age, when one was physically and the other men-
tally infirm, with unremitting care, and at the same time toiling
to add something by needlework to the slender resources of the
family. A succession of laborious days and sleepless nights
brought on a frenzy fit, in which she had the miserable misfortune
to kill her own mother. She was afterwards placed in a mad-
house, where she would have been detained for life, had not her
brother Charles promised to devote himself to her and take her
under his care and for her sake renounce a project of marriage
he then entertained. An instance of abnegation of self scarcely,
I think, to be paralleled in the annals of the ' coarser sex. 1 They
passed their subsequent lives together models of fraternal affec-
tion, and would have been very happy but for the dread visitation
to which Mary Lamb continued liable all her life. I thought it
both a sad and edifying history. Your account of your little
niece's natve delight in beholding the morning sea for the first
time amused and pleased me ; it proves she has some sensations
a refreshing circumstance in a day and generation when the
VOL. I. 2 F
THE DEATH OF BRAN WELL BRONTfi 451
CHAPTER XVIII
THE DEATH OF HRANWELL BRONTE
ONE sympathises greatly with those who resent the
constant intrusion of Branwell Bronte's name into the
biography of his sisters. His is a painful, sordid story.
He is responsible, moreover, either directly or indirectly,
for all the fables that have grown up round the subject
the bogus portraits, the claim on his behalf that he wrote
Wuthering Heights, and much else that is despicable.
Neither his letters nor the various manuscripts of his that
have survived show any of the talent that his sisters were
at one time disposed to attribute to him. As for the
foolish legend that he wrote Wuthering Heights? it is only
less crazy than another suggestion, that that book was
written by Charlotte.
The growth of the legend as to Branwell's authorship
is amazing. January Searle (George Searle Phillips),
writing in The Mirror, gave a most circumstantial account
of conversations with Branwell concerning a story he had
written, and indeed he is made to discuss pretty freely
Charlotte's novel as well. Another acquaintance, New-
man Dearden, contributed to the Halifax Guardian of
1867 some 'facts/ as he called them, whence we learn that
Branwell read to this and other friends a large part of the
story in manuscript exactly as it reads in Wuthering
Heights. Yet another witness, Edward Sloane, of
Halifax, made similar statements, and Francis Grundy is
even more explicit, as the following passage indicates :
1 Sec Leyland's Brontt Family.
THE DEATH OF BRAN WELL BRONTE 451
CHAPTER XVIII
THE DEATH OF BRANWELL BRONTE
ONE sympathises greatly with those who resent the
constant intrusion of Branwell Bronte's name into the
biography of his sisters. His is a painful, sordid story.
He is responsible, moreover, either directly or indirectly,
for all the fables that have grown up round the subject >
the bogus portraits, the claim on his behalf that he wrote
Wuthering Heights, and much else that is despicable.
Neither his letters nor the various manuscripts of his that
have survived show any of the talent that his sisters were
at one time disposed to attribute to him. As for the
foolish legend that he wrote Wuthering Heights? it is only
less crazy than another suggestion, that that book was
written by Charlotte.
The growth of the legend as to Branwell's authorship
is amazing. January Searle (George Searle Phillips),
writing in The Mirror, gave a most circumstantial account
of conversations with Branwell concerning a story he had
written, and indeed he is made to discuss pretty freely
Charlotte's novel as well. Another acquaintance, New-
man Dearden, contributed to the Halifax Guardian of
1867 some 'facts/ as he called them, whence we learn that
Branwell read to this and other friends a large part of the
story in manuscript exactly as it reads in Wuthering
Heights. Yet another witness, Edward Sloane, of
Halifax, made similar statements, and Francis Grundy is
even more explicit, as the following passage indicates :
1 See Ley land's Brontt Family.
452 THE BRONTES
*
Patrick Bronte declared to me, and what his sister said bore
out the assertion, that he wrote a great portion of Wuthering
Heights himself. Indeed, it is impossible for me to read that
story without meeting with many passages which I feel certain
must have come from his pen. The weird fancies of diseased
genius with which he used to entertain me in our long talks at
Luddendenfoot reappear in the pages of the novel, and I am
inclined to believe that the very plot was his invention rather
than his sister's. 1
All this ' evidence ' causes little commotion in the mind
of any one who has watched how legends grow and gather
force. Branwell could not have written a line of Wnther-
ing Heights, although he did doubtless furnish phrases for
the mouth of this or that example of human wreckage
flitting so tragically through its pages. His last two years
of life, the years of his three sisters' greatest literary
activity, were spent by him in utter debasement entirely
outside all intellectual interests. He was the author of
his sisters' books only so far as he was the shameful cause
of their intense isolation during this period. ' Branwell
still remains at home, and while he is here you shall not
come. I am more confirmed in that resolution the more I
think of him/ writes Charlotte to her friend, Ellen Nussey,
in November 1845, and thence to his death, in September
1848, things grew worse and worse.
Charlotte Bronte, who was the soul of sincerity, has
said the final word in her letter to Mr. William Smith
Williams announcing Branweirs death :
My unhappy brother never knew what his sisters had done in
literature 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?
The account of Branwell's death is fully recorded in his
sister's letters.
1 Pictures of the Past, by Francis H. Grundy.
THE DEATH OF BRANWELL BRONTE 458
Letter 306
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
October 2nd) 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, ' We have buried our dead out of our sight*
A lull begins to succeed the gloomy tumult of last week. It
is not permitted 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. Branwell 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 bereavementthere is no prop
withdrawn, 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 aspira-
tions 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 previously, 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 would do for want of sustained animal spirits and
efficient bodily vigour.
454 THE BRONTES
My unhappy brother never knew what his sisters had done in
literature 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 on
the subject at present it is too painful.
I thank you for your 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. BRONTE.
Letter 307
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
HAWORTH, October 6th, 1848,
MY DEAR SIR, I thank you for your last truly friendly letter,
and for the number of Blackwood which accompanied it. Both
arrived at a time when a relapse of illness had depressed me
much. Both did me good, especially the letter. I have only one
fault to find with your expressions of friendship: they make me
ashamed, because they seem to imply that you think better of me
than I merit. I believe you are prone to, think too highly of your
fellow-creatures in general to see too exclusively the good points
of those for whom you have a regard. Disappointment must be
the inevitable result of this habit. Believe all men, and women
too, to be dust and ashes a spark of the divinity now and then
kindling in the dull heap that is all. When I looked on the
noble face and forehead of my dead brother (nature had favoured
him with a fairer outside, as well as a finer constitution, than his
sisters) and asked myself what had made him go ever wrong, tend
ever downwards, when he had so many gifts to induce to, and aid
in, an upward course, I seemed to receive an oppressive revelation
of the feebleness of humanity of the inadequacy of even genius
to lead to true greatness if unaided by religion and principle. In
the value, or even the reality, of these two things he would never
believe till within a few days of his end ; and then all at once he
seemed to open his heart to a conviction of their existence and
worth. The remembrance of this strange change now comforts
my poor father greatly. I myself, with painful, mournful joy,
heard him praying softly in his dying moments ; and to the last
prayer which my father offered up at his bedside he added.
THE DEATH OF BRANWELL BRONTE 455
'Amen.' How unusual that word appeared from his lips, of
course you, who did not know him, connot conceive. Akin to
this alteration was that in his feelings towards his relations all
the bitterness seemed gone.
When the struggle was over, and a marble calm began to
succeed the last dread agony, I felt, as I had never felt before,
that there was peace and forgiveness for him in Heaven. All his
errors to speak plainly, all his vices seemed nothing to me in
that moment : every wrong he had done, every pain he had
caused, vanished ; his sufferings only were remembered ; the
wrench to the natural affections only was left. If man can thus
experience total oblivion of his fellow's imperfections, how much
more can the Eternal Being, who made man, forgive His creature?
Had his sins been scarlet in their dye, I believe now they are
white as wool. He is at rest, and that comforts us all. Long
before he quitted this world, life had no happiness for him.
Blackwootfs mention of Jane Eyre gratified me much, and will
gratify me more, I dare say, when the ferment of other feelings
than that of literary ambition shall have a little subsided in
my mind.
The doctor has told me I must not expect too rapid a restora-
tion to health ; but to-day I certainly feel better. I am thankful
to say my father has hitherto stood the storm well ; and so have
my dear sisters, to whose untiring care and kindness I am chiefly
indebted for my present state of convalescence. Believe me, my
dear sir, yours faithfully, C. BRONTE.
Letter 308
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
October th, '48.
MY DEAR ELLEN, I should have written to you ere now had
I been sure of your address, but I thought by this you had pro-
bably left Rye as you talked of being in London soon. The past
three weeks have been a dark interval in our humble home.
Branwell's constitution has been failing fast all the summer ; but
still, neither the doctors nor himself thought him so near his end
as he was. He was entirely confined to his bed for but one single
day, and was in the village two days before his death. He died,
after twenty minutes' struggle, on Sunday morning, September
24th. He was perfectly conscious till the last agony came on.
456 THE BRONTES
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, suffering, feverish life, fills and quiets my
mind now. The final separation, the spectacle of his pale corpse,
gave more acute, bitter pain than I could have imagined. Till
the last hour comes, we never know how much we can forgive,
pity, regret a near relation, 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 present. 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 eat a morsel. At last,
bilious fever declared itself. I was confined to bed a week a
dreary week, but, thank God ! health seems now returning. I
can sit up all day, and take moderate nourishment. The doctor
said at first I should be very slow in recovering, but I seem to get
on faster than he anticipated. I am ordered to be scrupulously
careful about diet, etc., and I try to be obedient to directions.
I shall be very glad to hear from you again, dear Ellen, it
is true enough that your letters interest me ; there is no mistake
there. I feel that I do not write to you enough in detail, but
I cannot help it ; forgive me that shortcoming as you have
forgiven me many others. Yours faithfully, C. BRONTE.
P.S. You are to understand that my bilious fever is quite gone
now and that I am truly much better.
Letter 309
TO MERCY NUSSEY
HAWORTH, October 14^, 1848.
MY DEAR Miss NUSSEY, Accept my sincere thanks for your
kind letter. The event to which you allude came upon us with
startling suddenness and was a severe shock to us all. My poor
brother has long had a shaken constitution, and during the
THE DEATH OF BRANWELL BRONTE 457
summer his appetite had been diminished, and he had seemed
weaker, but neither we, nor himself, nor any medical man who
was consulted on his case, thought it one of immediate danger:
he was out of doors two days before his death, and was only
confined to bed one single day.
I thank you for your kind sympathy ; many, under the circum-
stances, would think our loss rather a relief than otherwise : in
truth, we must acknowledge, in all humility and gratitude, that
God has greatly tempered judgment with mercy ; but yet, as you
doubtless know from experience, the last earthly separation
cannot take place between near relatives without the keenest
pangs on the part of the survivors. Every wrong and sin is
forgotten then ; pity and grief share the heart and the memory
between them. Yet we are not without comfort in our affliction.
A most propitious change marked the few last days of poor
BranwelFs life ; his demeanour, his language, his sentiments were
all singularly altered and softened. This change could not be
owing to the fear of death, for till within half an hour of his
decease he seemed unconscious of danger. In God's hands we
leave him : He sees not as man sees.
Papa, I am thankful to say, has borne the event pretty well ;
his distress was great at first, to lose an only son is no ordinary
trial, but his physical strength has not hitherto failed him, and he
has now in a great measure recovered his mental composure ; my
dear sisters are pretty well also. Unfortunately illness attacked
me at the crisis when strength was most needed ; I bore up for
a day or two, hoping to be better, but got worse. Fever, sickness,
total loss of appetite, and internal pain were the symptoms. The
doctor pronounced it to be bilious fever, but I think it must have
been in a mitigated form ; it yielded to medicine and care in
a few days. I was only confined to my bed a week, and am, I
trust, nearly well now. I felt it a grievous thing to be incapacitated
from action and effort at a time when action and effort were most
called for. The past month seems an overclouded period in
my life.
I am truly sorry to hear that Ellen is not in good health, having
fully depended on her deriving benefit from her stay in the South.
Mrs. Gorham is raised in my estimation by her favourable opinion
of Ellen ; it proves she has some discrimination.
Give my best love to Mrs. Nussey and Miss M., and believe me,
my dear Miss Nussey, yours sincerely C. BRONTE.
458 THE BRONTES
Letter 310
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
October i8M, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, Not feeling competent this evening either for
study or serious composition, I will console myself with writing to
you. My malady, which the doctors call a bilious fever, lingers,
or rather returns with each sudden change of weather, though I
am thankful to say the relapses have hitherto been much milder
than the first attack ; but they keep me weak and reduced,
especially as I am obliged to observe a very low spare diet.
My book, alas ! is laid aside for the present ; both head and
hand seem to have lost their cunning ; imagination is pale,
stagnant, mute. This incapacity chagrins me ; sometimes I have
a feeling of cankering care on the subject, but I combat it as well
as I can ; it does no good.
I am afraid I shall not write a cheerful letter to you. A letter,
however, of some kind I am determined to write, for I should be
sorry to appear a neglectful correspondent to one from whose
communications I have derived, and still derive, so much pleasure.
Do not talk about not being on a level with Currer Bell, or regard
him as ' an awful person ' ; if you saw him now, sitting muffled at
the fireside, shrinking before the east wind (which for some days
has been blowing wild and keen over our cold hills), and incapable
of lifting a pen for any more formidable task than that of writing
a few lines to an indulgent friend, you would be sorry not to deem
yourself greatly his superior, for you would feel him to be a poor
creature.
You may be sure I read your views on the providence of God
and the nature of man with interest. You are already aware that
in much of what you say my opinions coincide with those you
express, and where they differ I shall not attempt to bias you.
Thought and conscience are, or ought to be, free ; and, at any
rate, if your views were universally adopted there would be no
persecution, no bigotry. But never try to proselytise, the world is
not yet fit to receive what you and Emerson say : man, as he now
is, can no more do without creeds and forms in religion than he
can do without laws and rules in social intercourse. You and
Emerson judge others by yourselves ; all mankind are not like
you, any more than every Israelite was like Nathaniel.
THE DEATH OF BRAN WELL BRONTE 459
1 Is there a human being/ you ask, ' so depraved that an act of
kindness will not touch nay, a word melt him?' There are
hundreds of human beings who trample on acts of kindness and
mock at words of affection. I know this though I have seen but
little of the world. I suppose I have something harsher in my
nature than you have, something which every now and then tells
me dreary secrets about my race, and I cannot believe the voice
of the Optimist, charm he never so wisely. On the other hand, I
feel forced to listen when a Thackeray speaks. I know truth is
delivering her oracles by his lips.
As to the great, good, magnanimous acts which have been per-
formed by some men, we trace them up to motives and then
estimate their value ; a few, perhaps, would gain and many lose
by this test. The study of motives is a strange one, not to be
pursued too far by one fallible human being in reference to his
fellows.
Do not condemn me as uncharitable. I have no wish to urge
my convictions on you, but I know that while there are many
good, sincere, gentle people in the world, with whom kindness is
all-powerful, there are also not a few like that false friend (I had
almost written fiend} whom you so well and vividly described in
one of your late letters, and who, in acting out his part of domestic
traitor, must often have turned benefits into weapons wherewith to
wound his benefactors. Believe me, yours sincerely,
C. BRONTE.
Letter 311
TO ELLEN NUSSEY
October zgth, '48.
DEAR ELLEN, I am sorry you should have been uneasy at my
not writing to you ere this, but you must remember it is scarcely
a week since I received your last, and my life is not so varied that
in the interim much should have occurred worthy of mention.
You insist that I should write about myself this puts me in
straits for I really have nothing interesting to say about myself.
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 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
460 THE BRONTfiS
sisters than myself just now. Emily's cold and cough are very
obstinate. I fear she has pain in the chest, and I sometimes catch
a shortness in her breathing, when she has moved at all quickly.
She looks very, very thin and pale. Her reserved nature occasions
me great uneasiness of mind. It is useless to question her ; you
get no answers. It is still more useless to recommend remedies ;
they are never adopted. Nor can I shut my eyes to the fact of
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 resignation 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 settled, perhaps a favourable effect
might be produced on the general health, and those harassing
coughs and colds be removed. Papa has not quite escaped, but
he has, so far, stood it out 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. I am truly sorry to hear
of Miss Heald's serious illness, it seems to me she has been for
some years out of health now. These things make one/^/as well
as know, that this world is not our abiding-place. We should not
knit human ties too close, or clasp human affections too fondly.
They must leave us, or we must leave them, one day. Good-bye
for the present. God restore health and strength to you and to
all who need it Yours faithfully, C. BRONTfi.
Letter 312
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
November 2nd, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, I have received, since I last wrote to you, two
papers, the Standard of Freedom and the Morning Herald, both
containing notices of the Poems ; which notices, I hope, will at
least serve a useful purpose to Mr. Smith in attracting public
attention to the volume. As critiques, I should have thought more
of them had they more fully recognised Ellis Bell's merits ; but
the lovers of abstract poetry are few in number.
Your last letter was very welcome, it was written with so kind
an intention : you made it so interesting in order to divert my
THE DEATH OF BRANWELL BRONTE 461
mind. I should have thanked you for it before now, only that I
kept waiting for a cheerful day and mood in which to address you,
and I grieve to say the shadow which has fallen on our quiet home
still lingers over it. I am better, but others are ill now. Papa is
not well, my sister Emily has something like a slow inflammation
of the lungs, and even our old servant, who has lived with us
nearly a quarter of a century, is suffering under serious indis-
position.
I would fain hope that Emily is a little better this evening, but
it is difficult to ascertain this. She is a real stoic in illness : she
neither seeks nor will accept sympathy. To put any questions, to
offer any aid, is to annoy ; she will not yield a step before pain or
sickness till forced ; not one of her ordinary avocations will she
voluntarily renounce. You must look on and see her do what she
is unfit to do, and not dare to say a word a painful necessity for
those to whom her health and existence are as precious as the life
in their veins. When she is ill there seems to be no sunshine in the
world for me. The tie of sister is near and dear indeed, and I
think a certain harshness in her powerful and peculiar character
only makes me cling to her more. But this is all family egotism
(so to speak) excuse it, and, above all, never allude to it, or to
the name Emily, when you write to me. I do not always show
your letters, but I never withhold them when they are inquired
after.
I am sorry I cannot claim for the name Bronte the honour of
being connected with the notice in the Bradford Observer. That
paper is in the hands of dissenters, and I should think the best
articles are usually written by one or two intelligent dissenting
ministers in the town. Alexander Harris 1 is fortunate in your
encouragement, as Currer Bell once was. He has not forgotten
the first letter he received from you, declining indeed his MS. of
The Professor, but in terms so different from those in which the
rejections of the other publishers had been expressed with so
much more sense and kind feeling, it took away the sting of dis-
appointment and kindled new hope in his mind.
Currer Bell might expostulate with you again about thinking
too well of him, but he refrains; he prefers acknowledging that the
expression of a fellow-creature's regard even if more than he
deserves does him good : it gives him a sense of content. What-
1 Alexander Harris wrote A Converted Atheisfs Testimony to the Truth of Chris-
tianity ' t and other now forgotten works.
462 THE BRONTES
ever portion of the tribute is unmerited on his part, would, he is
aware, if exposed to the test of daily acquaintance, disperse like a
broken bubble, but he has confidence that a portion, however
minute, of solid friendship would remain behind, and that portion
he reckons amongst his treasures.
I am glad, by the bye, to hear that Madeline is come out at last,
and was happy to see a favourable notice of that work and of The
Three Paths in the Morning Herald. I wish Miss Kavanagh all
success.
Trusting that Mrs. Williams's health continues strong, and that
your own and that of all your children is satisfactory, for without
health there is little comfort, I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely,
C. BRONTE.
Letter 313
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
November i6t/i, 1848.
MY DEAR SIR, I have already acknowledged in a note to
Mr. Smith the receipt of the parcel of books, and in my thanks
for this well-timed attention I am sure I ought to include you ;
your taste, I thought, was recognisable in the choice of some of
the volumes, and a better selection it would have been difficult to
make.
To-day I have received the Spectator and the Revue des deux
Mondes. The Spectator consistently maintains the tone it first
assumed regarding the Bells. I have little to object to its opinion
as far as Currer Bell's portion of the volume is concerned. It is
true the critic sees only the faults, but for these his perception is
tolerably accurate. Blind is he as any bat, insensate as any
stone, to the merits of Ellis. He cannot feel or will not acknow-
ledge that the very finish and labor lima which Currer wants,
Ellis has ; he is not aware that the ' true essence of poetry ' per-
vades his compositions. Because Ellis's poems are short and
abstract, the critics think them comparatively insignificant and
dull, They are mistaken.
The notice in the Revue des deux Mondes is one of the most
able, the most acceptable to the author, of any that has yet
appeared, Eugene Forbade understood and enjoyed Jane Eyre.
I cannot say that of all who have professed to criticise it. The
censures are as well-founded as the commendations. The speci-
THE DEATH OF BRANWELL BRONTE 468
mens of the translation given are on the whole good ; now and
then the meaning of the original has been misapprehended, but
generally it is well rendered.
Every cup given us to taste in this life is mixed. Once it
would have seemed to me that an evidence of success like that
contained in the Revue would have excited an almost exultant
feeling in my mind. It comes, however, at a time when counter-
acting circumstances keep the balance of the emotions even
when my sister's continued illness darkens the present and dims
the future. That will seem to me a happy day when I can an-
nounce to you that Emily is better. Her symptoms continue to
be those of slow inflammation of the lungs, tight cough, difficulty
of breathing, pain in the chest, and fever. We watch anxiously
for a change for the better may it soon come. I am, my dear
sir, yours sincerely, C. BRONTE.
As I was about to seal this I received your kind letter. Truly
glad am I to hear that Fanny is taking the path which pleases
her parents. I trust she may persevere in it. She may be sure
that a contrary one will never lead to happiness ; and I should
think that the reward of seeing you and her mother pleased
must be so sweet that she will be careful not to run the risk of
forfeiting it.
It is somewhat singular that I had already observed to my
sisters, I did not doubt it was Mr. Lewes who had shown you
the Revue.
Letter 314
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
November 22nd, 1848.
MY DEAR SlR, 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 homoeopathy 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 intention was kind
464 THE BRONTES
and good, but he was under a delusion : Homoeopathy was only
another form of quackery.' Yet she may 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 fireside, I studied the two ferocious
authors. Ellis, the ' man of uncommon 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. 1 How I laugh
in my sleeve when I read the solemn assertions that Jane Eyre
was written in partnership, 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
estimation 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 it no masculine eye had scanned a line of its con-
tents, 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 gentle-
man, of course, doing the rough work, the lady getting up the
finer parts. I admire the idea vastly.
I have read Madeline. It is a fine pearl in simple setting.
Julia Kavanagh has my esteem ; I would rather know her than
many far more brilliant personages. Somehow my heart leans
more to her than to Eliza Lynn, for instance. Not that I have
THE DEATH OF BRANWELL BRONTE 465
read either A mymone or Azetk t \ntfi I have seen extracts from them
which I found it literally impossible to digest They presented
to my imagination Lytton Bulwer in petticoats an overwhelming
vision. By the bye, the American critic talks admirable sense
about Bulwer candour obliges me to confess that.
I must abruptly bid you good-bye for the present. Yours
sincerely, CURRER BELL.
END OF VOL. L
VOL. I. 2 G
Printed by T. and A CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty
at the Edinburgh University Press
Date Due
BEG
4
Demcu 293-5
Carnegie Institute of Technology
Library
Pittsburgh, Pa.
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